-21-

The doe was in plain sight, her delicate front hooves foraging the ground for vegetation. Winter had made food scarce for both human and creature. Carefully hidden in the undergrowth, Amaryllis steadied her bow. She was as still as the cold air, monitoring her breathing so as to keep her presence unknown. The doe grazed on, entirely unaware that she had a watcher. The arrow tip was pointed straight at the deer's heart. Ryll hated killing to eat, but since she had been banished from Camelot four months before, she'd had to work for every scrap of food. Camelot seemed like a distant memory now. Sometimes she almost wondered if she had really been there at all. Then she traced her finger along the faint scar that ran down the side of her face. The scar was a memory. She had received it when she had fallen under the possession of the wraith, striking her head on a sharp stone in the rotted cathedral. It hadn't healed quickly without the power of her ring though Merlin had done everything to help her.

Merlin….

She thought of him a lot in her solitude. She missed her friend, her confidant. She'd forced herself to forget the feelings she'd had for him. It was too painful to remember them. It was hard enough being banished from someplace she had come to call home, but losing her friends was even harder. She worried from time to time about Arthur and his apparent knack for getting into dangerous situations and Morgana and her constant strife with Uther. Was Uther treating her well? Ryll feared the passion and pain she had seen behind Morgana's eyes when she spoke of her foster-father's involvement in her father's death. And Merlin. She wouldn't let herself think about Merlin.

She realized her distraction as the doe moved further away, losing interest in the measly offering of grass where she'd been foraging before. Ryll snapped to attention, her survival instincts kicking in. She adjusted her bow slightly, waiting until the doe was in perfect position. Then she shot.

The arrow whizzed through the air. And hit the trunk of a tree.

Ryll cursed out loud. The deer had run off before her arrow could hit its target. She looked around cautiously. Something had disturbed the deer. Ryll hadn't made a sound, but something had. On alerty, she waited with baited breath, utterly still and silent, waiting for the possibility of danger. She'd grown cautious over the past months after a few run-ins with bandits. Without the protection of the ring, she'd had to be more careful. An injury could slow her down significantly.

For a minute she heard nothing and was beginning to think the deer had just caught wind of her somehow. Then she heard the breaking of a twig. She froze, her bow strung and ready to fire. Someone was approaching. Perfectly hidden in the undergrowth, Ryll waited for the person to pass. Too late, she remembered the arrow that sat still quivering in the tree trunk across the small clearing from her. It was too late to retrieve it. She would just have to hope that whoever it was didn't notice it.

The undergrowth rustled to her left, and Ryll stiffened awaiting the arrival of the person who had scared her dinner off. She gave a small jolt of surprise when she saw the person. He was young, perhaps a few years older than her with short dark hair in need of a trim and brown eyes so dark that they were closer to black. Ryll eyed him critically. He was handsome. But that didn't mean he wasn't dangerous. Ryll kept watching, not moving an inch. The man noticed the arrow. Ryll watched as he approached it, touching the end to stop the slight quiver that still vibrated the notch. Ryll watched as he processed the arrow, realizing that it had been fired recently and that the shooter could still be nearby. He backed off, his hand going to his belt where a sword hung.

He didn't seem like a threat. Ryll didn't know if he was any good with the sword, but she had a feeling he wasn't looking for a fight. He looked as hungry as she felt. Perhaps he was like her – alone, homeless, looking to survive. Still, it wouldn't do any good to jump to conclusions and trust him. Making sure her bow was ready to shoot, Ryll rose from the undergrowth.

"Who are you?" she asked. The man started, his eyes seeking her out. His hand wrapped around the hilt of his sword. When he saw who had spoken, his eyes widened slightly.

"I'm just a traveler," he replied cautiously. "I don't wish to cause you any trouble."

"Then take your hand off your sword," Ryll commanded.

"Considering you're the one with an arrow aimed at my heart, I think I'll leave my hand where it is."

Ryll eyed him speculatively. She hid her smile at his words and said, "Perhaps we should get to know each other a little better before we put down our weapons," she suggested.

"What would you like to know?" he asked, his dark eyes cautious. Ryll liked that he considered her a threat. He didn't discredit her just because she was a woman.

"Why are you traveling through these woods?" Ryll asked.

"I guess you could say I'm trying to escape my past," he replied.

"And why do you need to escape it?"

"Haven't we all got ghosts we'd like to leave behind? Places we can't return to?" His words struck true with Ryll. She relaxed her bow slightly.

"I suppose that's true. But why we're running remains to be seen. You haven't murdered anyone have you? Stolen? Pillaged?" His eyes widened at her accusations.

"No, of course not," he said quickly. "I tried to become someone I was not and now I must pay the price by wandering. By not being anyone."

"We're always someone whether anyone knows us or not," Ryll said quietly. The man looked curiously at her.

"You're running from something too, aren't you?" he asked.

Ryll smiled slowly. "Maybe I tried to be someone I wasn't too. And now I'm paying the price by being someone that nobody knows."

"Now that we've established that neither of us is a bandit or a murderer, can we safely put our weapons down?" he asked, eyeing her bow.

"I never said I wasn't a bandit." Ryll smiled at the look of alarm on the man's face. "But I can assure you that I am not." He looked relieved. "Only when it suits me."

Ryll slowly let the tension out of her bow. She left the arrow notched, but let the bow fall to her side. The man took his hand away from his sword, letting it hang by his side.

"That's better," he said. "Are you any good with that bow?"

Ryll lifted an eyebrow. "Are you any good with that sword?" she countered.

He laughed, and the sound of his laugher filled Ryll with a contentment she hadn't felt for a long time. "Quite good," he replied once he'd stopped laughing. "I've practiced all my life."

"Same here. With the bow and the sword."

"Then you have me outskilled. I'm not nearly as good with a bow."

"How do you survive out here then?" Ryll asked, motioning toward the forest. "With naught but a sword, I can't imagine you'd be catching many deer."

"No, I usually stop in a pub for dinner or lend a hand at a farm."

"That sounds like quite the life."

"Yes, well, it's all I've got now. How about you? Do you live in this forest hunting deer for food?"

"Some of the time. I wander a lot. I can't ever find anywhere worth staying," Ryll answered after a pause.

"I know the feeling," the man answered, his voice sounding woeful. "I thought I'd found somewhere I belonged, but it seems I was wrong."

"I'm beginning to think I don't belong anywhere," Ryll said sadly. "Maybe I'm cursed to wander this earth without ever finding anywhere to stop and rest my head besides the cold hard ground." A thoughtful silence fell between them. Ryll watched the man under her eyelashes.

"You look hungry," she said finally. He nodded, still cautious. "You scared away my dinner, but I can catch something else if you promise not to blunder around the forest anymore."

He looked slightly abashed. "I didn't realize I was that loud," he said. "I have some food leftover from the last village I stopped in. Why don't you share a meal with me. It will make up for me scaring off your prey."

Ryll studied him for a moment. This could all be a trap. Men like him, even as good looking as him, had been known to lure women off before, but he didn't look like the type to do this. There was an undeniable honesty in his eyes as he watched her. He seemed to want to trust her. Maybe he was just as lonely as she.

"Thank you," she said after a pause. "I'd be most grateful. My camp is just a little ways away. We can eat there if you like."

He nodded in agreement and they set off through the woods after Ryll had retrieved her arrow from the tree, stowing it in her quiver after checking for any signs of damage. Her camp was nothing more than a small alcove against the side of a large rock. It was sheltered, and she had disguised it well. It was a far stretch from her room in Camelot, but then again, everything these days was a far stretch from Camelot.

As they entered the small clearing, Ryll waved a hand around. "My humble dwelling," she said. Her small chestnut mare, Owl, whinnied a greeting to her from where she stood grazing. Ryll never tied her up in case bandits tried to steal her. If that happened, the mare would run off and return later after the bandits had lost her trail. She knew how to survive, just like Ryll.

"I never learned your name," the man said

"I'm Amaryllis," she said. She almost added that everyone called her 'Ryll' but there wasn't an 'everyone' anymore. No one called her anything these days.

"Lancelot," the man said in turn. His voice was honest, and Ryll felt herself relaxing in his presence. "Let's get that dinner ready." He pulled some food out of his pack and they sat down across from each other on fallen tree trunks. Ryll has fashioned a small table out of a rock, and Lancelot laid out some bread, cheese, and dried meat. "It isn't much," he confessed, "but I like having someone to share it with."

"It's kind of you to share." She hadn't met much kindness in her travels. Not since… No, she wouldn't let herself think of him.

Lancelot kept eyeing her as if he couldn't quite imagine what a girl like her was doing out in the wilderness dressed like a man. She couldn't blame him for wondering.

"Did you have a home?" he asked her finally.

"A long time ago," she answered. "But after my parents were killed, I left. I thought I'd found somewhere else to call home, but I was wrong." When Lancelot didn't press her for more information she asked, "What about you?"

"My family was killed when I was young as well," he replied. "I promised myself that I would never let something like that happen again. I dedicated my life to learning to fight with a sword."

"We're more alike than I thought," Ryll said.

"I thought I had found a home just like you, but it didn't work out the way I'd planned."

"What happened?" Ryll was intrigued.

"Have you ever heard of Camelot?" Lancelot asked.

Ryll nearly choked on her stew. "Camelot? Yes, I have."

"I went there seeking to become a knight. It's always been a dream of mine, but to be a knight of Camelot you must be of noble blood. I am not, and so I was not allowed to become a knight." He was silent for a moment. "I had help from a friend and forged a family crest that stated I was of noble blood. I tried out for the knights and made it. But I was found out and the king banished me. Now I'm wandering the world, unable to become who I believe I was meant to be."

"I'm sorry." Ryll didn't know what to say. Her heart was beating quickly at the thought of Camelot. Lancelot's story was so similar to hers. Did she trust him enough to tell him her story?

"Thank you. I wasn't ready to become a knight though. A true knight of Camelot would not lie about his identity."

"A true knight of Camelot shouldn't have to be of noble blood to be noble and worthy of such a title," Ryll said passionately. Lancelot looked at her, surprised. "I know of this rule," she added. "I met someone who also wished to become a knight but could not because of this rule. I don't think that it's fair."

"Well, the king wants to know he can trust the knights. If they come from noble families who have served him well, then he knows they will follow him. A stranger cannot claim the same trust." He seemed resigned to Uther's decision. Ryll tried to feel the same. "Have you been to Camelot?" Lancelot asked her.

"Once," she replied vaguely. "Awhile ago. But I found that I didn't quite fit in there. I thought I did, but I was wrong."

Lancelot studied her for a moment before speaking. "I made a friend there who spoke of a girl with the heart of a lion and the bravery of a knight. He said that she was exactly what a knight should be. He spoke quite fondly of her."

"Oh. And who was this friend?" Ryll asked, her heart beating a little more quickly than before.

"His name was Merlin."

"I know of him," Ryll replied softly. "We were friends."

"You were the one who tried to become a knight. He called you Ryll when he spoke of you. Short for Amaryllis."

Ryll looked up at him in surprise. "He spoke of me?" she asked.

"Yes, he did."

"I didn't try to become a knight. I wished to, but it was impossible. Is impossible. I joined a tournament and disguised myself as a knight. I was banished for my actions in the end even though everything I did was to help Camelot."

"It was a brave thing that you did. Merlin spoke of what you did and how you saved Arthur."

Ryll blushed. "I did what was right," she replied.

"As a true knight would do."

"We're not so different, are we?" Ryll asked, smiling. "Two outlaws with the dream of becoming knights of Camelot."

Lancelot smiled back at her. "Not so different at all," he said. "Maybe it was fate that brought us together."

"I thought I believed in fate when I came to Camelot, but now I'm not so sure." She smiled sadly. "I don't have much to live for anymore."

"There's always something to live for."

"Then what?" Ryll questioned. "I've spent months wandering around without finding a safe place to stay or a friendly face to greet me. I never had much of a life before, and now I have even less of one."

"I used to think the same thing," Lancelot admitted. "But I can't give up just yet. I still want to become a knight. Maybe someday my wish will come true. And yours."

"If the fates change." They were silent for a moment before Ryll spoke again. "Tell me what else has passed in Camelot. How is Merlin?"

"He misses you. He didn't have to say so for me to tell. But he's fine. He saved my life, you know. More than once."

"That sounds like him." Ryll smiled. "And Arthur?"

"He spoke for me when his father banished me. He's a good man."

"A much better man than his father," Ryll said bitterly.

"There are many who would agree with you."

"His cruelty will catch up with him in the end. He's hurt too many people. I can look past some of his crimes – those against me because I did perhaps deserve them – but not others. He would persecute all who do not agree with him."

"Perhaps so, but he is king and that is all that he needs to think and act that way."

"I suppose you're right. It doesn't do to dwell on such things. The things we can't change."

"What will you do now?" Lancelot asked her after a pause.

"I don't know," Ryll replied in a small voice. "I don't really have the courage to keep going anymore. I'm afraid one day I'll wake up and find that I'm not really going anywhere and then what will I do?"

"Keep going because you've got people who care about you. They wouldn't want you to give up. The girl I heard about wouldn't give up."

"The girl you heard about doesn't exist anymore," Ryll said bitterly.

"Yes, she does," Lancelot told her, putting a tentative hand on her arm. Ryll jumped, unused to the feel of another person's touch after so long. Lancelot pulled away, but he didn't look hurt. "You just need to find her again," he said softly.

And here we embark on the next part of my story! I've got a few chapters stored up, and now that I've finished my Robin Hood fanfiction (after three freaking years) I'll have much more time to commit to this story!