The knights and the Romans huddled near their own fires. There was a small but noticeable separation between the two groups. Tristan kept a sharp eye on the treeline while he made sure once again that his weapons were ready for an attack. He wasn't going to get caught off-guard again. Not that he expected another attack. The Woads were clearly after only one person.

"Unnatural," Lancelot muttered to himself yet again.

"He was a little bit older than you when you first started fighting," Bors said with a hearty laugh.

"It's not the age of the lad," Lancelot said with a shake of his head. "The way I cut his leg, he should have fallen."

Tristan gave his friend a glance. After burning their dead, it had gotten too late to travel any further back to the Wall. They had to set up camp near the funeral pyre. The injured Romans weren't as badly wounded as Tristan had initially thought. Which was a good thing. But, they still needed to rest for the night before making their way back home.

If two of the Romans weren't in the shape they were in, Tristan had little doubt that the centurion would have ordered them to search for the closest Woad village for some revenge. The knights would have to follow his command and innocents would die. And Arthur would not be happy. But, two Romans were in just the right poor shape that going to the Wall was a better option. He felt relief about that.

Lancelot hissed.

"Don't be such a baby," Bors said with a chuckle.

"Stop stabbing me so hard," Lancelot shot back. "You're going to leave a scar."

Of the three, Lancelot received the most injuries. He had several long cuts along his chest. A deeper wound on his left arm and one on his left leg. Injuries that weren't life-threatening.

Bors snorted. "As if you need to worry about another scar. There, done," he said as he put in the last stitch then playfully pressed on the wound.

"Bors!"

Bors waved a hand in the air as he opened his back and brought out some food. "Think they were after the girl?" he asked, taking a sip from his flask.

Tristan didn't reply.

"All that for a girl? A pretty one, but," Lancelot shook his head. "Did she escape?"

"Yes," Tristan replied softly. His mind brought back the images of that moment: The wolf releasing the Roman's neck and walking toward the young woman in a way that made him think it was going to attack her. He kept replaying those moments in his head. The wolf was there and then it wasn't. The woman who attacked him. Rina? Yes. She'd called the prisoner Nola. Maybe the wolf belonged to Rina and she'd called it off. But, why put herself in danger to save the beast? But, he didn't hear a whistle or any sort of signal.

Tristan closed his eyes for a moment. Those wild light brown eyes had stared down at him with such a ferocity. Her long dark brown hair, with deep curls that were a tangled mess, tried to hide her nudity, not that she seemed to mind. Her skin was so soft. Something that hadn't sunk in until he let himself think about it.

It was useless, wishing that she'd not put herself in danger like that again. Someone had wounded her right shoulder. A wound he'd noticed when she fought him. The Woads were getting far too desperate, sending in young women like her to attack and die? It was unfortunate.

Tristan frowned as he thought about her shoulder again. There was something about that wound. He felt as if he knew something, but his brain refused to give up the answer, whatever that was.

"A life," she had said. What did that mean? She looked at him as if she recognized him. But, he had no idea who she was.

"I'm telling you, he was unnatural," Lancelot stated, breaking through Tristan's musing. Tristan looked down at his weapons and got busy making sure that they were clean as he listened to his friends.

"Never seen anyone look like that. His eyes. Black as night. Focused on one thing. Almost as if he weren't here. None of the wounds he received seemed to affect him."

Bors snorted. "What? You thinkin' they somehow training their people to not feel pain? Never thought Lancelot would be scared of some boy."

Lancelot glowered at Bors. "If we run into him again, you fight him next time." He shifted his gaze to Tristan before looking at the fire. Lancelot rolled his shoulders, shaking his head. "It was rather unsettling."

Bors let out a sigh. "Remember when we were his age?" he asked. "We'd forced ourselves to pretend we weren't injured. Just normal, trying to act as if he's invincible. He'll learn if he lives long enough."

Lancelot didn't answer. The two knights looked over at him. He'd fallen asleep. It was one thing they were good at. Falling asleep almost instantly when they had the chance.

Movement caught Tristan's attention out of the corner of his eye. Two yellow eyes momentarily flashed, causing him to tense. The wolf. Was it about to be stupid enough to attack? It caught his gaze and then disappeared back into the forest.

Tristan sheathed his sword and got up.

"Where ya going?" Bors asked, noticing the scout's movements.

"I'll take first shift," Tristan stated.

"Course you will, you always do," Bors said. He let out a yawn despite himself and wrapped his cloak around him. "Wake me up next. Let Sleeping Beauty over there get as much rest as possible."

Tristan didn't reply. He fell into his zone, pretending to go one way as he entered the forest. He double back and around. Getting his bow and arrow ready to kill the beast. It was a beautiful creature, but he couldn't have it sneaking into camp and killing any of them.

He made sure to stay downwind of it as he crept up to the spot he'd last seen it. It was gone. Unfortunately, the night sky and heavy brush made it impossible for him to be able to track the beast. He let out a soft sigh and started to scout around the area, making sure that there was no one trying to sneak up and attack them.

He crept through the forest, his senses on high alert. Normally, he had his dog with him to help him scout. But the beast had gotten too old so he'd left it back home.

Movement out of the corner of his eye made him still. He spotted someone. Nocking his arrow, he carefully stepped through the trees, trying not to make any noise. He raised his bow then paused.

A woman stood with her back to him. She ran her fingers through her long hair for a moment. It was her. He wasn't sure how he knew. Could have been any woman.

She adjusted her clothes as if she were just getting dressed. Midnight frolick with a lover? But where was the man? And why so close to her enemy's camp?

She bent down and picked up his dagger, slipping it into her belt. He lowered his bow. Probably a mistake, but he didn't want to hurt her.

"I'll take my dagger back," he stated, stepping out from behind the trees to confront her.

She whirled around and placed her hand on her belt. Her hair was a mess and had leaves in it. Dirt was on her hands. She had been with someone. What kind of foolish, idiotic man would leave her alone instead of making sure she was safe?

"Ah, ah," he said with a shake of his head "Don't.".

He watched her muscles tense and inwardly sighed. She was quick. He gave her credit for that as the next thing he knew she was lunging at him, dagger in hand. But he had decades of training behind his muscles, and he was more mentally prepared for her this time.

"You seem to enjoy courting death," Tristan commented, easily dodging her attack.

"You shouldn't have come out here alone, knight," she snapped back.

He dodge the blade again and spun around her. He placed his hand on the small of her back and lightly pushed her forward. She stumbled but corrected herself and spun to face him again.

He hid his amusement, curious as to what she'd do next. She lunged again. He caught her wrist and twisted it, forcing her hand open and the dagger to drop. To his surprise, she seemed to expect his move. Her left hand caught the falling blade and she slashed at him, forcing him to jump back.

He clicked his tongue and cracked his neck. The blade had cut into his leather armor just a little bit. Not enough to worry him. But enough to slightly annoy him.

"I told you next time you would not be so lucky," she said with confidence.

He didn't reply. He let her make the first move. She rushed at him again, dagger in her right hand. At the last second, she switched it to her other hand. That surprised him. He didn't react fast enough. The blade sliced through the back of his hand. It was a shallow wound, but it stung. She smirked as she jumped back, showing him the blood on his knife for a moment. Then her muscles tensed as she readied to attack again.

He let out a heavy sigh. She injured him. He was done playing around. She attacked. He used her momentum against her, grabbing her wrist he threw her over his body. She landed on the ground with a hard thud, knocking the wind out of her. Before she could recover, he quickly straddled her, throwing the dagger far away so she couldn't reach it.

"Enough!" he commanded.

"Get off me," she said as she started to wiggle, pressing her hands against his chest. She was stronger than he expected and nearly succeeded in pushing him off her.

He grabbed her hands and pinned them over her head. "I did not plan on killing a woman tonight," he said.

"Well, I have no problem killing you," she replied as she continued to try and get free. She kicked her legs behind him, digging them into the dirt in an attempt to push her body out.

The darkness lightened around them as the clouds released the moon. They were in a perfect spot, oddly enough. The leaves of the trees were just right, allowing the moon to shine down on them. He cocked his head. Despite her threat, her eyes read otherwise. She didn't want to kill him. She moved her head up to see how his hands held her before looking at him. She was scared, though she hid it well.

"Stop," he said softly as she continued to struggle. "You're going to tire yourself out."

"So you can kill me without a fight?" she asked. Her voice sounded strained from her effort. Soon enough she would stop fighting even if she didn't want to. She clearly didn't see that.

"If you keep struggling right now you won't have the strength to protect yourself later," he said.

She gave him a cold glare but stopped for a moment. Her brown eyes stared into his own with defiance. Such fire, such spirit. It would be a shame for her to die.

"If you think you can so easily kill me-"

"I'm not going to kill you," he interrupted, surprising her and himself. But it was true. He wasn't going to kill her. He examined her. She was actually wearing a dress. "Well, at least you're dressed now." His teasing words surprised him, but he kept his emotions suppressed. He couldn't let her know that.

Her wide eyes immediately narrowed. "Let me go," she demanded as she struggled to push him off.

"I don't think I will," he stated. "You're playing a dangerous game here." He paused. "Rina."

She immediately stilled, confirming her name. "You don't get to call me that, knight," she snapped as she started to struggle again.

"Your lover should have known better than to leave you alone. It's dangerous out here," he stated.

"I don't have a lover," she growled. "And I'm not afraid of the night or danger. I can handle myself." The conviction in her voice would have convinced him. If he didn't have her pinned to the ground.

"Then whoever sent you to fight a Sarmatian knight was a fool," he stated. He watched her reaction, curious to see what she was doing out there alone.

She snarled in annoyance. "No one sent me to fight no one," she said as she wiggled in vain.

"To spy on us?" he asked. The moon hit her brown hair just right. He resisted the urge to let one arm go just to see if it was as soft as it looked. It was a little bit tangled in some areas, but there was a nice lock of hair that was so tempting to touch. Her silence and stilled body were answer enough. "The wolf is yours?" At his question, he looked around. But he didn't hear it.

"I will not let you take me prisoner," she said as she started to struggle again. She nearly got her hands free, but he quickly tightened his hold on them, shaking his head.

"I'm not going to take you back as a prisoner either," he said. The Romans were looking for blood, and it didn't matter whose. Although, she, or at least her wolf, was responsible for the death of one of their own. He knew better than to bring her back with him as a prisoner. The things they'd do to her.

The muscles in his neck tightened as he clenched his jaw.

"Then what do you want?" she asked.

"Are your people so desperate and low on men that they are starting to send their women and old out as well?" he asked.

"If you refer to the prisoners you were escorting, they were falsely accused of a crime that didn't happen," she said with confidence.

He nodded. He could see that. "Why risk so many lives to save one?" he asked. If she were a spy, she would be horrible at it. She didn't answer his question, but her pupils dilated.

"She's important," he said. Her throat moved as she swallowed. To his surprise, she finally stopped struggling.

"Why did you go into the forest? Why did you go after her?" Myrina asked. Her voice was surprisingly softer. The furious fire in her eyes held more curiosity than anger. The way her eyes looked at him, the answer was important to her.

"I heard her scream," he said.

She blinked a couple of times, clearly trying to make sense of the hidden meaning behind his words.

"You were going to help her?"

He couldn't answer that. They both knew that. But the look of surprise in her eyes confirmed to him that she understood.

"Why?" she asked.

Another question he couldn't answer. The air around him seemed to thicken. And he watched as she swallowed again.

You're far too old for her, he thought. She had to be at least ten years younger than him. She's a Woad, Tristan. You're a Sarmatian knight. Enemies. Still, his mind couldn't help but be attracted to her.

Her lips parted as she took in deep long breaths. He felt an urge hit him, to press his lips against hers. So very tempting. He moved his gaze from her lips to her eyes. Her brow was knitted with confusion as she searched his eyes for answers.

Tristan immediately rolled off her and stood up, shaking his head. Do not even think it. He didn't take his eyes off her, though. And watched as she slowly rose to her feet. She still looked confused. She slowly brushed her dress, clearly trying to gain control over her emotions. Did she feel it too?

"You're my enemy," she stated.

"Yes," he said with a nod of his head. "But not for long," he added.

Her eyebrows raised in surprise.

"The Sarmatian knights' duty to Rome is ending soon," he said, turning his head slightly. He still had to keep an eye on her, not completely trusting her to not try and stab him in the back.

"Ending," she said softly. "Why are you telling me this?"

Why was he telling her? Why hadn't he killed her? Why did she mesmerize him?

"Go back home to your husband, Myrina," he said with a wave of his hand as he tried to get control of his attraction toward her. She had to be married. Especially at her age. Probably had a few kids at home. Or maybe, her husband was killed by one of them. Maybe she was out there for revenge. That would explain why she seemed so overly confident when it came to not losing her life. Maybe she didn't treasure it. "If your people are patient they won't have to deal with us for very long."

He started to walk away, making sure not to turn his back to her.

"Knight!" she called out.

"Tristan," he said, turning completely to face her again. His heart picked up. He told her his name. Why did he do that?

She had his dagger in her hands. "This belongs to you," she said, holding it out to him.

"Keep it," he said, holding up his hand and shaking his head. "You won it."

She hesitated, looking down at the dagger for a moment then back at him.

"We're still enemies," she said.

He nodded his head. "Didn't expect anything more from us."

She took a step back and then another and then she ran off. He didn't hesitate in making his way back to camp.

His body pulsed with a need. He ran his fingers through his hair, shaking his head. Bors was right. He was getting soft. A pretty young thing like her had distracted him. He wasn't necessarily old, but he thought he'd passed the years where a woman could excite his interests in such a way. She could have had her Woad friends waiting for that moment, and easily could have killed him. He was lucky that she was alone.

That was a little bit worrisome. Why would they allow a young woman like herself alone out in the middle of the forest like that? She seemed overly confident in her ability to take him on. But then again, she also appeared tired. She was stronger than he expected at the start of their fight, but that strength quickly waned.

Midnight trysts with the enemy, Tristan? he could already hear Bors or Lancelot tease him. He looked behind him but didn't feel as if anything was watching him.

You're getting soft, Bors's voice echoed in his mind.

He paused, the moment he saw the two small fires from the camp. Glancing behind him he couldn't help but hope he wouldn't see her again. He didn't like the way she distracted him. Didn't like the intrigue and desire that she sparked in him. He couldn't wait to get back to the Wall.

He let out another sigh, condemning himself to a bad choice. Although he'd pulled away from her some time ago, he had a feeling he'd have to find his former lover to scratch an itch that this Myrina put inside of him.

Tristan scratched his head. Although, perhaps the trouble and drama that would cause would not be worth it in the end of him.