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Moving On

As Bors had promised, Abigail was seemingly fine by the time most of the knights had found their beds. Dagonet had checked her injured wrist and said that no further damage had been done. It had simply been jostled unpleasantly. Abigail had been far too emotional at that point to care whether her wrist was fine or if it needed to be amputated. What difference did it make if she felt as though she were dying anyway? However, Vanora, in her infinite wisdom, knew what the problem was. Once Dagonet rewrapped the injured wrist and took his leave, Vanora turned to her suffering friend.

"Just let it out Abby," Vanora whispered as she held Abigail's head in her lap as she ran her fingers through the younger woman's hair. "Crying about it is not going to solve anything, but let it out anyway" Vanora spoke in a motherly tone as she signaled for her young daughter to go to bed and stay out of the kitchens.

"Why did I come back Vanora," Abigail asked through her weak sobs. She turned her head away from Vanora's skirts in order to look up into the older woman's kind eyes. Vanora nearly gasped at fragile look in the young woman's eyes. Their glassy brown looked as though it could shatter at the slightest touch.

"Honey, you came back because you love him. He is your heart. Darling, you care about him, but part of caring about him is being able to let him go. If you truly do love him the way I know you do, you have to be willing to let him find his own path. You can't force him recognize his feelings for you; you have to let him find them for himself. Certain things can't be rushed, honey. Tristan loves you and he knows it, but he has to realize that he is the best, the only, man for you. It may take some time, but he will realize it. And when he does, you shall never be free of his possessive nature. Trust me, Bors was insecure for the longest time but once I had One, he wouldn't let me out of his sight for over a month. You'll get sick of him pretty fast, love. Now cheer up and enjoy your freedom while you have it. How about the darling lad that carried you in here," Vanora smiled kindly as she pushed Abigail's hair away from her tearstained face.

"Who carried me in here," Abigail asked in confusion. She couldn't for the life of her remember who it was that had carried her to the tavern after her fall. It was a bit unnerving to the young woman that she had simply let a stranger do with her as he saw fit.

"The young Roman soldier with the pretty green eyes," Vanora prompted but saw no recognition in Abigail's features. "Darius, I think his name was. Handsome fellow, he is. I can't believe you haven't seen him beat Lancelot at dice before," Vanora said with a warm smile. She was just happy to get Abigail's mind off her troubles for a moment.

"He is new here too, he was part of the escort that I came here with. Oh god, h-he must think I am a complete harlot. He has to know about why I left Fort Maia. How could I face him if he knows my past? It would be terribly embarrassing," Abigail worried her bottom lip as she thought of what he must think of her.

"Abigail, Tristan knows your past and you are not embarrassed to speak to him. You are not embarrassed by the other knights. It is not your fault that you were thrown into a marriage agreement with a man you could never find love for. It is the fault of those who forced it upon you. You had love, but now you have to work to get it back," Vanora spoke sagely as she wiped a few stray tears from Abigail's cheek.

"How do you do it Van," Abigail asked with an exhausted sigh as she began to sit up. Her hair hung in her face in thick tangled strands, but she didn't look as though she cared at all. She looked wild with her determined eyes and tight jaw.

"Trust me; I've had it pretty easy. As thick headed as Bors can be, he is a passionate man. He can't hide his feelings for long. When he shows them, it makes all our troubles seem to fade away," Vanora said wistfully.

"Sometimes I think that Tristan could hide his forever," Abigail said with a sad smile as a few final tears found their way down her rosy cheeks.

"He can't, love. No one can. He's just better at holding them off than the rest of us, but trust me, when he cracks, he'll be insatiable. You'll be rivaling me with a brood of your own," Vanora laughed as she wiggled her eyebrows.

"Vanora!"

"What? Everyone doesn't call him feral for nothing, but you already know that," Vanora said innocently but she was anything but.

"It wasn't like that. Most of the time we just talked or enjoyed each other's company," Abigail said with a nostalgic look glazing her brown eyes.

"There is nothing wrong with getting to know the man before you do anything you might regret," Vanora said thoughtfully.

"Lot of good that did me," Abigail said as she began to straighten her clothes.

"That's not the attitude, Abby. You have to go out there and act as though you own the place. You have to show him that you aren't a child anymore. You can take care of yourself and don't need him. When he realizes that you could have your pick of any man in this fort but you want him, he'll change his song right fast," Vanora said as she stood helping Abigail gather herself.

"You're right. This fort was my home first. I won't leave just because he is upset with me. He's going to have to get used to the fact that I'm just as independent as he is," Abigail said with a bit of determination.

"Let's hope that you're a little more independent than he is, otherwise you'll be taking orders from Arthur too," Vanora giggled as she embraced her friend. Abigail joined in her laughter before offering to help clean up for the night. "No, you go home darling and relax. Tomorrow you have to show off the brand new you," Vanora encouraged Abigail as she led her to the exit of the kitchens. Abigail smiled and thanked Vanora before hurrying out into the night, toward home. Though her mood had been lightened considerably, it did not stop Abigail from feeling as though she had been stabbed in the heart.

Neasa watched as Abigail snuck into the small hut. Sitting beside the fire, the healer could feel the heart ache all the way from the door. She also felt determination, but it was still covered in layers of despair. Neasa knew that Abigail was a strong young woman, but that didn't stop the elderly healer from feeling regret as to allowing her to return. She had known long before Abigail's arrival that the girl would suffer for her love, but Neasa still believed that it would all be worth it in the end. A soul, after all, only had one mate, and Tristan's was the only one that could completely satisfy Abigail.

Many thoughts rolled through the healer's mind as Abigail snuck off to her room, but she said nothing to the hurting girl. Words could not heal the wounds embedded in one's heart. Sometimes it was best to let the soul soothe itself.

XxXxXxX

Dawn came too early for the injured scout. He could feel his body protesting consciousness, but he had made a decision before he had passed out only hours before. After hours of tormenting thoughts, Tristan decided that he needed to apologize before Abigail could leave. He would smooth things over with her so that she could go on and find someone who could truly care for her.

Slowly, Tristan rose from the heap he had slept in on the cot. His entire body was sore as he sat up and threw his legs over the edge of the bed. He couldn't believe he had survived the ambush. There had been so many of them just pouring out of the forest, but some greater force had smiled down upon Tristan that day because he had escaped what should have been certain death. Tristan knew that the only reason he had escaped was because he refused to die without making sure that Abigail was going to be taken care of. Now, he was the reason she was upset and threatening to run away.

Tristan sighed as he pulled on his bloody tunic before finding his weapons and exiting the healing chambers. The sun was barely reaching the horizon, and Tristan hoped to get to the stables before Abigail. Arthur would send a wagon with her as well as guards if she pleased, but he wished to see her before such necessities arrived. He hoped to end things calmly so she could go find herself the love she deserved.

The stables were musty and humid as usual. Even in the dead of a crisp winter it seemed as though the stables were unbearably dank. Tristan simply slipped through the still shadowy spaces of the stable as he went to see his horse. He hadn't wished to leave the exhausted beast the previous night; however, he himself had been far too injured to see to its needs. Instead, Tristan found Jols sleeping against the outer wall of his charger's stall. Tristan smiled as he noticed the dark shadow of a bruise on Jols' upper arm. Obviously his horse was not as exhausted as he had thought.

Slowly, Tristan knelt beside the loyal squire. Gently, he placed a bandaged hand upon Jols' slumped shoulder, and immediately the squire sprung to life. "Tristan, I did not expect to see you here today," Jols exclaimed in a shocked whisper.

Tristan simply shrugged his shoulders at Jols, but regretted the action immediately because it stretched his sore muscles. "You were not fast enough," Tristan noted as he pointed to the bruise upon Jols' arm.

"He is a strong warrior even when injured," Jols commented as he rubbed his arm thoughtfully. "Just like his master."

"Thank you," Tristan bowed his head slowly so as not to aggravate any other injuries he had forgotten about.

"I shall leave you to tend him since you are the only one he does not attack," Jols said as he stood and returned to his duties. Tristan watched the squire slowly walk toward the back of the stables where food and other necessities were kept for the animals. Jols had one of the hardest duties in the fort, but he never complained. He was a good man, or else Tristan would have never trusted his charger in the other man's care.

Tristan stepped into the stall and rummaged through a saddle bag in search of something to eat. For his effort, Tristan was rewarded by finding an apple. It was rather bruised, but Tristan would not complain. Slowly he carved himself what he wanted before tossing what remained to his mount. The grey stallion quickly devoured the rest of the delicious fruit before venturing over to Tristan to find some more.

"Sorry my friend, but that is all I have," Tristan whispered gently. His horse, which had several cuts along its flank, gently nipped at his owner's hair. Tristan laughed lightly as the beast tried to eat the tangled mess of braids. "That is not edible," he said as he good naturedly pushed the horse's nose away. The stallion retaliated by tugging Tristan's longest braid with its teeth. "Hey, what's got you all worked up today," Tristan whispered as he rubbed the tender spot on his head from the attack. The fierce stallion flicked back his dappled ears and snorted. Tristan groaned as he leaned back against the side of the stall. "Don't you start too. She is better off without me," he sighed dejectedly.

Tristan knew that he wasn't fooling anyone. They all knew that he still harbored deep feelings for the vivacious Briton. Anyone who had known them before her father had sold her off to the first Roman he could find, knew that they were meant for each other. She was the only one who could make him show emotion around others.

She had walked into the tavern well after sunset one night, in hopes of finding him. Tristan had returned just as the sun was setting. He had ridden straight past her, so she knew that he had important news for Arthur. She had continued with her work in the fields instead of rushing to find him. He would find her when he was finished with his own duties. Quickly, Abigail had made her way over to Vanora who was cleaning off a cluttered table. She had not seen an exhausted Tristan slip in behind her, nor did she notice the drunken patron following her.

Before Abigail even reached Vanora she was lifted by the waist by a strong pair of hands and spun to face her attacker. Before Abigail could react, she felt firm lips pressed against her own as she was hugged tightly against her assailant. Without having to think Abigail's body responded as her lips parted to welcome the familiar kiss. The man who had been following her quickly turned on his heel when he saw the fierce scout embracing her passionately.

Abigail didn't need to open her eyes to know whose lips were passionately caressing her own. She had memorized every taste and touch that was her Tristan. She was shocked by his public display, but she hand known from the moment his arms wrapped around her that it was him. Tristan finally broke the heated kiss and pulled back to look into her warm eyes. He pulled a stray strand of auburn hair out of her face before kissing her forehead gently.

"It is nice to see that you still have time for me," Abigail joked as she tugged one of his braids. He never showed this side of himself in public and she was going to enjoy it.

"I had an important message for Arthur," Tristan apologized as he guided her toward the corner where he usually sat.

"Excuses, excuses," Abigail chastised with mock sincerity. "What could be more important than the woman you love," she asked sweetly as she gazed up into his amber eyes.

"Nothing is more important than you, but I have duties just as you do," he said as he kissed her once more before taking their seats.

All of the other knights had been watching the passionate moment between the two. All were shocked by Tristan's forwardness in public. Never before had they seen their brother show true emotion, never mind passion. Even Lancelot had found himself shocked into silence. In the months that the pair had been enjoying each other's company, the knights had joked and given Abigail their sympathies for being attached to a stone instead of a man. Now, however, they were beginning to see that she brought out the life that lay beneath the surface of the stoic scout.

"You never do that," Abigail whispered in a bit of shock, herself.

"Is it wrong that I want all to know that you are mine, as I am yours? No other man shall love you as I, so they need not try," Tristan whispered into her ear as his fingers wound into thick hair. Abigail smiled gently as she simply leaned into his embrace and enjoyed the rarity of this night together.

Tristan hadn't noticed that he had dozed off until he heard Jols come back with fresh supplies for his steed. Tristan got to his feet as quickly as his weak body allowed before signaling over to Jols. "Jols has Abigail left yet," Tristan asked as he leaned against his horse in order not to fall over from exhaustion and pain.

"She hasn't come through here, perhaps she has chosen to use her feet for once. She is injured after all," Jols answered, referring to her daily rides instead of her permanent departure, as he poured some feed into a trough for the horse. Tristan felt light headed as he thought on Jols' words. She hadn't been through here. Perhaps, she left in the night without telling anyone. Perhaps she was out there all alone, and easy target for any predator. She was injured and upset, and it would be his fault if she was hurt or worse… Tristan couldn't finish the thought.

Before Jols could talk him out of it, Tristan had his horse saddled and was mounted rather uncomfortably. Though he was in no condition to sit on a horse, never mind ride one, he was determined to go find her. She could be out there without a hope in the world, and he wouldn't let her down again. With a light heel to his mount's flank, Tristan was a blur like a whisper on the wind.

XxXxX

Sorry this took a week to post, but I just started school again and I am trying to balance everything. I hope you liked this chapter, and I promise you won't have to wait too long for the net. Thank you to everyone who reviewed, you are what inspire me to continue writing. Please tell me what you thought of this chapter, I always enjoy hearing what you have to say whether it is good or bad.