Okay, this one is very short and NOT exactly a prompt. It started out as one, but then I started really digging the idea of Merlin taking care of himself. I know, not exactly part of the theme of the other stories, but I couldn't help it.

So, thank you, thank you, thank you for all your awesome reviews, alerts, and favorites for this story (This one has the highest number of favorites and alerts out of all my other stories) and I really hope to catch you all in the next chapter.

Thanks for reading, remember I don't own anyone, and leave me a comment if you can.

See ya!

Merlin clutched tightly to his satchel, peeking into a bush, looking for the last herb on Gaius' long list. This was not how he had planned to spend his day off, but if it kept him from cleaning Gaius' leech tank again then Merlin wasn't about to complain.

He finally found the flower, dark red with splashes of yellow, his hand wrapping around the stem when a bolt landed inches from his hand. Merlin reeled back, landing heavily on the ground, the air knocked from his lungs. Another bolt implanted itself near his leg and-with a shout-he scrambled to his feet and ran in the opposite direction of the shooter.

For a second, he actually considered using magic, but he didn't know where the shooter hid nor did he want to risk exposure if someone from Camelot happened to be watching him. So, he kept his magic to himself, zigzagging through the woods, trying to avoid the bolts firing at him, very much aware of his body's need for oxygen becoming more and more apparent the further he ran.

He made a quick left, his shoulder slamming into a tree. His satchel flew from his grasp, disappearing into a clump of bushes, but Merlin didn't bother going after it. He'd get it later, if he managed to survive that long.

Up ahead, he noticed a cluster of trees, making the forest nearly dark. It was his best chance to get away with his life, using magic where he couldn't be seen, and he was going to take it. He sped up, boots slamming against the ground, barely hitting the clump of trees when he felt a bolt impact into his leg.

Merlin went down hard, landing on his shoulder, sending a sickening amount of pain through his body. He lay there, breathing heavily, clutching his leg. Adrenaline still flowed through him, numbing the brunt of his pain, and he dreaded the moment it was going to wear off, but he'd take the pain if it meant he was going to survive.

He heard footsteps crashing towards him, and Merlin did the only thing he could think of. He turned onto his back, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and leg, and shot a jolt of raw, unadulterated magic at his attacker. He heard a shout, followed by a crunch, and a thud, the forest going absolutely silent.

Painfully, Merlin staggered to his feet, heading towards whoever he attacked. He limped heavily, using the trees for support, stopping next to an unfamiliar figure. Blood leaked from their mouth, their eyes half-open, breathing ragged and too fast. Merlin felt a pang of guilt for hurting this person, but his shoulder throbbed and he felt the guilt ebb away. This person, whoever they were, had attacked him. Why should he feel guilty for defending himself?

He turned to leave, wincing when the movement pulled on his shoulder. He needed to let Arthur know about his attacker; Gaius also needed to look at his leg and shoulder. Merlin stopped, looking down at the bolt still sticking out of his leg. With shaking fingers, he wrapped the hand from his uninjured arm around the metal arrow, yanking hard, barely keeping a scream of pain at bay as he slowly slid it from his flesh.

When it was free, he tossed it to the side, using shaking fingers to untie his neckerchief, ignoring the blinding pain radiating from his shoulder. He took a few moments to wrap the cloth around his leg before continuing to limp towards Camelot, snatching his bag on the way.