It was drizzling. The pattering of the rain on the leaves seemed to be the only noise coming from the forest. The sudden shift in cool weather had sent most living things to seek shelter. For now at least. Meanwhile, on the road came the sounds of horses and people walking.

Tristan kept a sharp eye out, watching the forest. He was antsy. He had been since they started their journey in the morning. They were helping a small group of Roman soldiers escort some Woad prisoners to the Wall. It was a silly and an unnecessary task, in Tristan's opinion.

The Woads had always been a particular thorn in the Roman's side. Over the last couple of years they'd gotten bolder, their attacks more frequent. The Roman Empire's slow withdrawal from Britannia had not gone unnoticed. But Rome wasn't completely gone, and when her citizens called for help Arthur was obligated to assist them.

Tristan eyed the seven prisoners who walked in nearly straight line, their hands tied in front of them: Four men and three women. There was a time when all seven of them would have been made an example of to try and deter the Woads. Not that that had ever helped.

Most likely two if not three of the men would be killed. The seven had been part of a group that had attacked and stolen Roman supplies headed towards an important family further up north. Someone had to be punished.

Tristan scrutinized the group of prisoners. Woad attacks were not unusual. But it was unfortunate that their impatience of Rome's slow withdrawal from Britannia was causing them to lose more of their people. They were causing more damage to themselves than to the Romans. The Romans were starting to send their captives further south, further away from their home. Much to Arthur's frustration. He didn't like the idea of slaves. But, in some matters, his hands were tied.

Fortunately, that wasn't Tristan's problem. Britannia was soon going to be a footnote in his life. His day of freedom was drawing nearer and nearer. In fact, all the Sarmatian knights were about to be free. It was strange, actually thinking about freedom. It was an unspoken topic, a future that none of the Sarmatian knights expected to reach. Their numbers had slowly whittled away as the years passed. They mainly met their end in battle, although a few had died due to injury or sickness. It was death on the battlefield that Tristan expected to go. But now he and the remaining five knights commanded by Arthur were on the verge of being free.

He liked Arthur. He liked his fellow knights. He'd die for them if he had to. But, the moment he had his freedom papers in his hands he was going to leave them. Leave the island behind. Where he would go he was unsure. Home seemed like a nice idea, however, he wasn't quite sure he wanted to return.

Tristan's skin prickled and he focused his attention back to the forest. Distractions get you killed, he chastised himself. He shook his head, clearing his thoughts. It had been a while since they were sent north of the Wall. Been a while since they'd done any real fighting. Just because they were a big group, didn't mean Woads would be smart enough to leave them alone.

He scanned the forest again. But there was no movement, no sign of life or that they were being watched. And yet, he felt it.

"Relax," Lancelot said as he pulled up alongside Tristan. "No one's about to attack us. We're too heavily armed."

Bors snorted. "Since when have the Woads been deterred by numbers?"

Tristan glanced at Lancelot, before returning his attention to their surroundings. He was the scout of their group. Always had been. But today, the Roman centurion who was in charge of the operation wanted the knights present and seen. He figured that the Woads wouldn't be so idiotic as to attack a large group of armed men, just to rescue seven prisoners. With twelve Roman soldiers and three Sarmatian knights, it would be a bloodbath to be sure. Tristan would have felt more comfortable if their whole group was present. But Arthur had to split them up, going with the other knights to a village further south that was having troubles of their own.

One of the Roman soldiers moved his horse closer to the prisoners, causing the two older women to press closer to the third. The Roman said something. Whatever it was only the women and his friend behind him seemed to hear as the women huddled closer and his friend behind him chuckled. The woman in the middle of the two glanced up at the Roman soldier. She didn't say anything.

Tristan frowned. He hadn't really examined the prisoners. There was no need. He wasn't going to get to know them. He was just there to help escort them to the Wall.

The woman in the middle looked away, focusing on the road in front of her. Her long brown hair was braided behind her back. It was a rather impressive length. The Roman soldier said something else and laughed. Pulling the reins of his horse he bumped one of the women, nearly knocking her off balance.

"Felix! Enough."

"Yes, Centurion," Felix stated.

Curiosity got the better of him. Giving his horse a light kick, Tristan drew close enough to examine the prisoners. They didn't seem like warriors. The men were older and seemed a little too frail. In fact. Tristan schooled his face back to a more neutral look to not show his concern. Of the seven prisoners, six were roughly the same age, all far older than Tristan or any of the knights for that matter. It was the one woman who was different in age, far younger.

Tristan urged his horse closer to get a better look at her. One of the older females noticed him get closer and immediately moved to the youngest one as if to protect her from view. His insides started to burn with annoyance. She couldn't be more than eighteen years of age. Were the Woads so desperate they had started throwing their old and young at the Romans?

She slowly looked up at the sky, before shifting her gaze to him. She was angry. Not that he blamed her. She returned her focus to the road in front of her.

"Is everything alright?" Lancelot's voice was soft enough for only Tristan to hear.

Tristan nodded his head and pulled back on the reins of his horse. Arthur didn't need his help to state the obvious, but he'd still make sure to point her out. Something felt off.

Tristan flashed another glance at Lancelot, locking eyes with him before glancing at the Roman soldier named Felix who had his focus on the young woman. Lancelot didn't say a word or acknowledge what Tristan was trying to silently tell him.

The knight casually maneuvered his horse to the other side of the group and positioned himself by the two.

"Noticed it too," Bors grumbled softly. "Let's hope they don't try nothin' these next two days."

Tristan gave a slight nod. Two days was a long time. And their pace was slow. Although the Romans were all mounted, their prisoners were on foot. Unfortunately, for her, the knights could only do so much. They would do their best to make sure no harm came to her, but they were still bound to Rome. Which meant that if the Roman centurion told them to look the other way, they'd have to. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to that.

A hawk cried out overhead. The young woman glanced up for a moment yet again, then back down. She turned her head slightly to one side and muttered something to the woman beside her.

The path narrowed as the forest closed in on them. Lancelot managed to position himself next to the young woman as the mounted Romans were forced into a closer, longer group. No longer able to ride two on each side.

Tristan's skin prickled again as his senses kicked into high alert. He didn't have time to shout out an alarm. An arrow flew out from the forest, hitting one of the Roman soldiers in the leg, making him scream. And then all hell broke loose.

A group of Woads came rushing out of the forest, screaming a battle cry as they ran towards the escort group. They had picked the perfect spot. The forest was closed in enough to make it difficult for the group to maneuver their horses into position. But it could prove to be deadly for the prisoners, stuck between heavy horses.

Tristan immediately started firing his arrows at their attackers. His mind went blank and his body cooled. No questions, no thinking, just attack and kill. His life and the lives of his friends were at stack. Bors let out a shout as he made his way towards Lancelot.

Two Romans screamed as they were dragged off their horses. Tristan turned his attention towards them. One was already dead before he hit the ground. The horses reared, causing more chaos.

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the young woman as she made a mad dash towards the forest. Not his problem.

The Roman centurion's horse screamed as it reared up in surprise. A big black dog barked and lunged at the beast, successfully dodging its hooves as the centurion tried to get it under control. Two Woads took advantage of the man's distraction and brought him down.

Tristan shot one of them in the back. He cried out and the dog moved, locking eyes with him. Its hackles rose and lips curled revealing sharp canine teeth.

Sorry, pup, he thought as he nocked an arrow and let it loose. He rather liked animals. It wasn't their fault that they fought for their owners. The dog moved and his arrow missed. He nocked another, firing at the creature. It narrowly avoided the hooves of another horse as it dodged Tristan's arrow yet again.

Tristan nocked an arrow and waited for the right moment as the animal dodged through the melee, clearly aiming its sights on him. Tristan spotted an opening in the path the animal was taking to get to him. He drew back the string of his bow and took in a deep breath.

At the last second, the dog switched its direction and took off into the forest. Somehow, through the fighting, Tristan heard the faint screams of a woman. The female prisoner.

Not my problem.

Tristan spotted Bors and Lancelot. The two men were off their mounts and easily holding their own. Lancelot fought a young man while Bors was holding two other Woads off. Out of the corner of his eye, Tristan spotted two Woads flee back into the forest. As quickly as the fight started, it was drawing to a close. He quickly scanned the apparent dead. Felix fought next to the centurion, but his friend was nowhere in sight.

Not my problem.

Jumping off his horse, Tristan rushed into the forest. He was no savior. But he hated when the Romans were cruel to women and children. Besides, the forest was a dangerous place.

Tristan moved quickly but quietly in the direction he'd heard the scream. It didn't take him long to find her. She sat on her knees, part of her dress was ripped and on the ground, just a little bit in front of her was the Roman soldier. The black dog had its jaws on the man's neck as it growled and tugged at the body. The Roman's eyes were staring off into nothing.

Good pup, Tristan thought to himself. He started to take a step back then froze. His eyes widened in surprise. It wasn't a dog. It was a wolf.

The beast snarled, releasing the dead Roman's neck. It stared at the young woman and started to walk towards her. Its snout was covered in blood. It licked its lips, revealing bloody teeth. His thoughts that it was friendly towards her immediately evaporated. She was in trouble.

He nocked an arrow and drew the string back, taking a step forward. A twig snapped, causing the young woman to twirl.

"Rina!" she screamed.

A sharp pain hit his hand, forcing the arrow to fly but he completely missed his shot. The young woman had thrown a rock at him.

He gave her a surprised look, although he should have expected her to protect the beast. Didn't she see it was about to attack her? He realized his error a little too late. By taking his eyes off the wolf he barely had time to move as it lunged at him.

Its jaws managed to clamp onto his left arm and it swung its body, spinning him to the ground. He landed on his knees, inwardly crying out as pain shot up from his kneecaps.

The beast's jaws pressed harder onto his arm. The thick leather of his armor helped shield his skin from being punctured, but not from being bruised. It growled in frustration, shaking him furiously as he struggled to get free.

He landed a hard punch onto the beast's shoulder, making it cry out, but it let go of him. It recovered before he could, lunging at him yet again, dropping him onto his back. He barely managed to get his right hand under its neck. It clawed at him, its eyes and focus were on his neck to kill him. He was in a better position though. He grabbed the knife from his left boot and quickly stabbed the beast's right shoulder.

It let out an almost human-like cry but released him. He rolled onto his feet and reached to unsheathe his sword.

"Nola, run!" a woman commanded.

His fingers wrapped around the blade's handle and he started to pull. He froze. The cool steel of his knife pressed across his throat. This was it? He partially closed his eyes. It was his time apparently. He gave a silent prayer out to his gods, hoping they'd still accept him to whatever afterlife there was after all he'd done.

His attacker hesitated a second too long.

Tristan turned, grabbing their wrist at the same time, wincing slightly as the blade cut into his flesh. He clamped his hand on the woman's throat and slammed her onto the ground, twisting her arm, forcing her to drop the knife.

A woman? He clamped his hand over her mouth to keep her from screaming, partially straddling her. His knee pressed against her sternum.

"Silence," he commanded, while he prepared for another attack.

Where was it? He quickly searched around for the wolf, but it and the female prisoner were both gone. This new woman's hesitance to kill him would have cost her her life once.

She shouldn't have been able to. Where she got the strength from, he had no idea. But, she somehow managed to kick his legs out from under him, forcing him onto his back on the ground. Before he could react she quickly straddled him.

He froze. The tip of his knife pressed against his throat again as she leaned in. Any move and she'd kill him. Her right hand pushed against his chest. His right hand gripped onto his hidden knife. She'd die too though. And yet, she hesitated again.

"Don't," she growled as he prepared to make his next move. Blood covered her mouth. Most likely a statement. A means to make him fear her.

"Your hesitance will cost you your life," he stated. She had to know that, but still, she didn't kill him. He kept his eyes focused on her face. She wasn't wearing any clothes. It wasn't unusual to see naked Woads rushing at them in battle. But he hadn't seen a woman yet. She was young, maybe a couple of years older than the prisoner, but not by much.

Her face twitched into a frown as she examined him. Her eyes moved frantically. She wasn't going to do it. She wasn't going to kill him. He tensed his muscles, preparing to gain the upper hand again. She read him well, pressing his knife closer to his skin, nicking it.

"Don't," she whispered again. One wrong move and he'd cut his throat with his own knife. Lifting her right arm, she winced, but still reached out and brushed her fingers along his cheek.

Red caught his attention and he glanced at her arm for a moment. Blood trailed down it. She was wounded. But it wasn't a wound he'd given her. And he hadn't seen her with the attacking Woads. He would have definitely remembered.

"A life," she muttered. She quickly rolled off him.

He rolled onto his knees and away from her. He pulled out his sword, ready to fight.

"Next time, Roman," she snarled, keeping her body low, gripping his knife, prepared for an attack. Her long brown hair did its best to cover her up. "You will not be so lucky."

Did she not realize she was the lucky one? If she killed him, he would have killed her before his dying breath.

"Tristan!" Bors called out, distracting him.

He shouldn't have, normally he wouldn't have looked away from his enemy. But he did for a moment. That was all she needed. He looked back at where she'd been but she was gone. The rustling of leaves was all he heard. And then, not too far in the distance, he heard the wolf running away.

"Tristan? Tristan?!" Bors shouted as he drew closer. "Trist- Oy' didn't you hear me shouting your name back there?" he demanded the moment he spotted his fellow knight. "Ah. Umm… did ya?" He nodded toward the Roman soldier.

Tristan shook his head. "It was the dog," he stated. He looked away for a moment and frowned. A dog? A wolf. Why did he lie?

"Well, I don't see its body. Did ya kill it?"

"It ran off," Tristan said as he searched the ground for his knife. She'd apparently taken it with her. He let out a sigh. That was his favorite knife, too.

"I think you're getting soft on us," Bors teased. "Letting a dog go? Not quite like you."

Tristan didn't answer as the two walked back toward the group. Soft? He was getting soft. There was a time he would have easily killed the wolf and the woman. There was a time he didn't let his mind wander and distract him when his life was on the line.

He forced his thoughts and his mind to focus on the present. The Woads were gone for now, and most likely wouldn't return. However, he couldn't lower his guard. Not again. He would contemplate what had happened when he was safe back at the Wall.

His arm throbbed, causing him to pull up his sleeve to look at it. The wolf's teeth had left a shallow puncture wound. Nothing too bad. But his arm would be bruised for a few days. Not impossible to fight with though.

Walking out of the forest, Tristan surveyed the aftermath of the battle. He shook his head. Of the seven prisoners, only three had managed to escape. The young woman and two men. The other four had been killed as well as six of the attacking Woads. They lost more of their numbers than they gained. Foolish. But the Romans had lost as well. Six. He paused and glanced behind him. Seven. Seven of the twelve Roman soldiers were dead. Two seemed severe but not life-threatening injuries if they made it back to the Wall quickly. The rest of them were hurt but to a far lesser extent.

Two of the Roman soldiers were already picking up their dead comrades, moving them to one side while pushing the dead Woads out of the way.

"Tristan! Bors," Lancelot called out as he rode over to them. He had a cut on his cheek and blood dripped from his arm. "The centurion wants to see if we can find some of the horses that were scared off."

Tristan nodded as he mounted his horse. It would be easier to transport the bodies to a more secure location before cremating them. At least, with no more prisoners, their journey back to the Wall would be faster. Although, at the same time. Two soldiers were badly injured and that would slow down their progress.

Tristan glanced at the forest, bringing his guard back up. He felt like a fool. He had gotten sloppy, distracted. His attention was too focused on his upcoming freedom. A naked woman had gotten the upper hand and nearly ended his life.

He wasn't going to let that happen again

Yes, he thought to himself as he went off in search of the runaway horses. If we meet again, you will not be so lucky.

A/N: WOW! I mean, WOW. I am truly amazed that some of you actually remembered the original version of this story. Like, I am shocked and so very very happy. It truly is a story that I've held really close to my heart that I've always wanted to finish. I really hope you continue to enjoy this new version. I'm not going to make any promises. But, I really want to finish this story by the end of the year. So, if I follow my outline that'll be weekly updates (yes, I've mapped out 30 chapters). Tis my hope. Anyway, hope you enjoyed chapter 2. Till next Monday!