The smell of cooking meat filled her nostrils sparking interest in the back of her mind. Was Nola cooking breakfast? Myrina shifted and then groaned as pain shot through her whole body. She must have really ran her body hard in one of her forms the day before.
She slowly opened her eyes and looked around. A frown crossed her face. The house was strange, yet vaguely familiar. An old woman stood by the fireplace and stirred a pot. A stranger. The house was not one she was familiar with.
Reghan's dead. Brandon betrayed you. Your gift is gone. A Sarmatian knight knows your secret.
The events of the day before came tumbling back to her. Right. She'd been picked up by Tristan as an injured hawk and changed in front of him.
Tristan.
Myrina quickly looked around. The knight was nowhere to be seen. Good. If Tristan was gone that meant enough time had passed. She needed to get home. She needed to warn Merlin and her siblings. She was pretty sure Brandon didn't have a full army at his back, yet. But that didn't mean he couldn't lure one of their siblings out and steal their gift instead. Would Brandon go after one of their gifts instead? Or was it just hers? Although, he did covet Darren's.
The old woman didn't seem to notice that she'd woken up. Myrina quietly scooted out of bed and set her feet down on the wooden floor. Summoning her energy, she slowly stood up. A hiss escaped her lips as pain vibrated up her entire right side. She pressed her left hand against her right side. The dagger had cut in deep. That seemed to be the worst of her injuries.
"You're awake," the old woman said in surprise. "I think you should-"
"Thank you, Mistress," Myrina interrupted as she took two stiff steps toward the front door. How long had she been asleep? A day? She felt as if she needed a lot more time to rest and recover.
"Dear-" the old woman stood up and made her way toward Myrina.
Myrina raised her left arm and shook her head. "I appreciate what you've done," she grunted, ignoring the throbbing from her wounds as she forced her body to move. "But, I must return home."
She returned her left hand to her side and placed her right hand on the door handle. There was a brief pause, her eyes focused on the bandage that was wrapped around her right hand. She could feel the stiff sting of her flesh having been sown together.
Nola can fix this.
She winced and whimpered as she pulled the door open. The cool night air hit her sending chills through her body. The thin nightgown she wore wasn't nearly warm enough. What was worse, it was drizzling. She'd be soaked in no time.
You can make it home.
She didn't recognize her surroundings. The night sky didn't help. But she could see some lights in the distance, away from the forest. The house she was in was at the edge of a small village. She stared in the direction of the woods. She needed one of her forms. Preferably the wolf. A far better creature for traversing long distances in the dark.
She closed her eyes for a moment and focused on her forms. They were only images in her mind. Memories of what she could do. She bit her lip in frustration. It wasn't fair. Her brother didn't get her powers. Of that she was sure. But he had succeeded in making her normal.
Doesn't matter. You're a Woad. You've spent your whole life learning to survive in the forest.
She stepped out into the cold night. It was still dark out, so she must have slept for at least a day. Although, she didn't feel nearly rested enough. Anxiety caused her heart to pound faster inside of her, but she ignored her nerves. She ignored her brain screaming at her that it was a bad idea to walk out into the woods, alone at night. Ignore the very clear fact that she was far too weak to do what she stupidly wanted to do.
Her bare feet immediately stepped into a cold puddle, causing her to stumble.
"Mistress-" the old woman started to say as she placed her hands on Myrina's shoulders.
"I need to go," Myrina said, brushing the old woman off her. Stupid, yes, but she could make it back home. Nola would be able to fix her up. Besides, she probably wasn't even safe to be around. Her brother was assuredly looking for her.
Despite her determination, her body was still weak. The wounds were raw and tender. She took another step and then collapsed onto her knees. Her right hand shot out and landed into the cold water. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. You're stronger than this! You've suffered worse.
"What are you doing?"
Tristan's voice startled her. She quickly looked up. He pulled on his horse's reins, stopping near her. He'd come back?
He easily jumped off his horse.
"I'll take care of your beast," the old woman said, walking past Myrina to grab onto the horse's reins. "Take her inside."
Myrina wanted to protest, but all she could manage was a grunt and whimper. Tristan slide one arm around her back and the other under her knees and easily picked her up. His rough, cold, wet, leather armor dug into her skin. But still, she found herself leaning into him as her good arm wrapped around his neck to better support her weight.
She took in a deep breath. He smelled nice. Earthy and of rain. Smelled nice?
The moment they stepped into the warm cottage air she felt her body tremble as it tried to regain the warmth she'd foolishly lost by stepping outside. He started to head toward the bed, only to apparently change his mind. He set her down on a stool by the table.
She didn't say anything. Her eyes just watched him as he stood up and walked to a corner of the home. He rummaged through the shelves, grabbing several jars as well as some cloth.
"I told you you were safe until morning," he said gruffly, clearly annoyed. He set the items down on the table in front of her a little bit harder than he needed to.
She didn't answer. She couldn't. Her heart pounded in her chest from fear. Fear of what? She wasn't entirely sure.
His movements were sharp, showing his annoyance and possible anger. Sitting down in front of her, he grabbed her right hand and she immediately tensed. Despite his rough movements, the hold he had on her hand was gentle.
He closed his eyes for a moment then slowly opened them to look at her.
"I'm not going to hurt you," he said.
She gulped but nodded her head to show she understood. He gently unwrapped the wet, muddy bandage that was around her hand. His mouth twitched and she hissed. The cut was deep and nasty. But someone had stitched her skin together to make it easier for her hand to heal. It was going to leave a scar. Even Nola, with her special gift, wouldn't be able to stop it from scarring.
Holding her hand over his, he reached over with his free hand and grabbed some balm from one of the jars. He paused for a moment and met her eyes.
"This is going to sting," he said.
She nodded her head. It wasn't the first time she'd felt the sting of a good healing balm. Old memory did little to help her keep from jerking from the initial sting, though. She hissed and gasped, automatically tugging her arm back in an attempt to get away. He tightened his hold on her wrist, but it didn't hurt. Her fingers automatically curled in to protect her palm.
He raised his gaze, giving her a questioning look. The blood rushed to her cheeks.
"Sorry," she mumbled. It took her a moment before her brain allowed her to move her fingers back. Tristan rubbed the balm along her wound before he grabbed a clean cloth to wrap her hand in. He was gentle. She wasn't sure why that surprised her. Perhaps because he seemed angry and his movements were rough.
He grabbed some more balm and leaned in. Her eyes locked onto his. Hazel. He reached out then hesitated. She saw his throat move as he swallowed. One blink and then the emotionless knight was back. His face unreadable. He was still gentle though. His fingers brushed along the cut on her cheek. She winced again and hiss.
He pulled his hand back and then set it on his lap. His eyes focused on hers again.
"You're safe here," he repeated. He turned his body so that his side was to her. Clearly, that was all he was going to say.
She looked away. She hated the fact that she believed him. He was her enemy. She was supposed to kill him. Probably would one day face him again and try to kill him. And yet, there they were. He had the advantage. He still had his weapons. She had nothing but a flimsy nightgown on. Her gift just a memory. Yet, she was safe. He'd seen her turn from a hawk into a woman. He knew she was undoubtedly a threat. She was unnatural. But he wasn't going to try to kill her. Try to protect his precious Rome.
"I can't take you back home," he said as he turned. His hazel eyes locked onto her brown ones again.
"I never asked you to take me home," she replied, giving him a startled look. Why did he think she was going to ask him that? Have him take her home? To her camp? So he'd know where she and her people lived? Did he think she was stupid?
It's not that. It's because you're alone. You have no powers. No real clothes. No transportation. And you're in the home of a stranger.
"I can make my way home without you," she stated.
He didn't look convinced. She opened her mouth to argue, but the front door swung open, interrupting her potential words. The old woman walked in.
"It's looking to be a chilly day," she said as she took off her cloak. "It is a wee bit early for breakfast, but I think we all need some nice warm stew in our bellies."
Myrina's mouth watered and her stomach automatically growled, making her cheek flush with color.
"Ah, I see you helped yourself to my healing supplies, Tristan," the old woman said.
"Thank you, Mistress Elaine," he replied as he stood up. He took the items and returned them back where he'd gotten them.
Myrina sat up straighter. Pain shot up from her side, making her wince, but she pushed past that. There didn't seem to be any part of her that wasn't in some sort of agony.
The old woman set three bowls down at the table. Myrina's mouth watered as she smelled the delicious food. She grabbed the spoon, but then waited. Her eyes darted up to look at the old woman. What if there was something wrong with the dish? Maybe, despite what Tristan said, she was still in danger. She was after all seated at a table, eating food with the enemy.
No, she's a stranger. He's the enemy. But he said you are safe.
"Myrina," she said, breaking the silence and addressing the old woman.
The old woman raised her eyebrows as she straightened.
"That's my name," Myrina said.
The old woman smiled. "Elaine. And I take it you are familiar with Tristan?"
"We've met," Myrina said with a nod of her head. She focused on her bowl of food though. She couldn't look at him. For whatever reason, her heart started pounding rapidly in her chest. She felt the heat rise to her cheeks again. Was she blushing?
"How are you feeling, dear?" Elaine asked.
"Weary but I'll survive," she answered. Weary was an understatement, to say the least. And they all knew it. But she couldn't admit to them that she was weak and in pain.
Myrina carefully raised her gaze to look around again. Her eyes fell on Tristan who gave her no notice as he ate his stew. His shoulders sagged slightly and his face was drawn. She frowned. He suddenly looked exhausted. Almost as if he hadn't slept much.
"You are welcome to stay with me until you have gathered more strength," Elaine said.
Myrina frowned as she looked up at the old woman. The question of "why" stuck in her throat, not that it mattered. Elaine read her puzzlement correctly.
"I will not send a young thing like you out into the dangerous forest with only a thin nightgown as cover. You're weak, dear. You need to rest and gather your strength."
Myrina averted her eyes and focused on the stew. Elaine wasn't wrong. Myrina did need rest. She did need to gather her strength. But, she also needed to get home. Needed to protect her family. Now there were two threats. The Romans and her brother.
Her brother.
Myrina frowned. They hadn't asked. Neither of them. They hadn't asked who attacked her. Or why. Or where. Was it that they didn't expect her to answer? Or did they assume it was a Roman. Yes, that made sense. And she'd stick to that story if the question was asked. A Roman attacked her and she got away. It was a good lie. A believable one.
She gulped and returned her attention to her food. The meaty stew warmed her belly and to her relief gave her some energy. Enough energy to make it back to the village? Not as a human. But, maybe enough energy to shift. Maybe that was what was happening. She was just weak and tired. Perhaps a few more hours of sleep, a bit more food, and then she'd have the strength to change again.
"Thank you," Myrina said. "For your kindness. And, thank you again, Tristan," she added. Her brown eyes focused on his hazel ones.
His eyebrows raised in surprise, but he nodded his head. "You're welcome, Myrina," he said.
Butterflies unexpectedly filled her stomach at the sound of his voice. Still the enemy. An enemy she had twice placed a knife to his throat. And twice failed to kill him. Was that why he didn't kill her? Some sense of a life owed, perhaps? He didn't know, did he? That he saved her when she was a child.
His knife.
"Oh." She jumped a little and looked around. "Did I have-"
Tristan let out a sigh and moved. She heard a snap, and then he brought his dagger out from its sheath. He set it on the table, placing the handle in her direction.
"Your knife," she said, finishing her sentence. He'd read her mind?
"Your knife," he replied. "You won it."
She opened her mouth to protest, but he turned his body, clearly rejecting his dagger. She hesitated, but then reached out and wrapped her fingers around the handle. A Sarmatian knight giving his Woad enemy a well-made weapon.
Her heart pounded in her chest. Enemies. She felt a smile cross her lips. Then she laughed, shaking her head.
"Look at us. Enemies being civil and eating together. What would your commander sa-" A sharp pain shot up through her sternum, making her choke.
"Myrina?" Tristan asked as he quickly stood up.
What?
She dropped onto the ground and gasped for air. Her lungs constricted, her bones ached, her skin burned, and her muscles spasmed. Her body was starting to change. She didn't ask for this.
"Myrina, what's wrong?" Tristan asked. His hand touched her shoulder. She cried out as she fought the change. She was in control of her body! It had always been her decision. And yet, the magic that coursed through her didn't listen as it forced her body to reshape itself.
She had to get out of there. Finding the energy, she scurried to her feet, eyes focusing on the front door. Words were shouted and a hand grabbed at her. Somehow she shook him off. His words, or was it their words, made no sense. She couldn't focus her energy on that. She needed to get outside. She needed to stop the change.
She flung the door open and stepped out into the muddy path again. Although it was difficult to tell, the sky was grey from the early morning drizzle, she could feel the sun peeking through.
A sharp pain shot up from her feet, causing her to collapse into the puddle of water again. It soaked into her skin but didn't calm the fire that blazed inside of her, the heat coursing through her veins.
"No, no, no," she muttered, wrapping her arms around herself. She closed her eyes and focused on her human form.
It had always been her decision. Always been her choice. She could see her hawk form clearly in her mind. She could feel her body try to take on that shape. Her skin burned as the feathers tried to form.
It was no use. She was only delaying the inevitable and it was costing her. Changing had always come with its share of pain and discomfort. She was literally shaping her body differently. But, she'd never fought against it. Never tried to retain one form while another was insisting itself on her.
She felt as if she were burning up inside while at the same time being torn apart. It was difficult to breathe. Not just difficult. Almost impossible.
It's going to break you.
She froze. That voice. Father?
A feeling settled on her. She couldn't fight this. She shouldn't fight it. She needed to let the change happen, even though she didn't want to. She was fighting a magic that was stronger than her own.
Taking in a deep breath, she slowly let it out. Her body relaxed. The change was swift and yet painful. The next thing she knew, she was on the ground. The nightgown that had been loaned to her was over her head, trapping her.
She cried out as she struggled to get free. But, the water from the puddle only made the gown heavier. And her wings and talons only tangled her up more.
Hands wrapped around her and squeezed, forcing her powerful talons down so that she wouldn't hurt him. She let out a shriek of protest as he picked her up.
The gown dropped and pooled around her. Tristan stared back at her. She froze. This was it, wasn't it? Maybe he couldn't kill her as a human because she was a woman. But she was an animal now. She'd changed for a second time in front of him. Maybe he spared her because he couldn't believe his eyes at first.
He didn't say anything as he carefully released her from the heavy wet gown. He still held onto her firmly, mindful of her sharp talons. Almost as if he thought she was a wild animal. And maybe he did believe she didn't retain any human thinking. That was a good thing.
She let out a little shriek and started to struggle again, leaning into a frightened animal character.
"Easy," he said in his soothing voice. "I'm not going to hurt you."
She stopped struggling, but still opened her mouth to take in deep breaths. He had yet to lie to her.
He walked over to a post and set her down.
She didn't hesitate. The moment his hands were off her she took off. Her heart pounded in her chest as she rose up into the clouds and away from him. She was free. And now that she was a bird, she could get home quickly. She could warn her siblings. And hopefully, Merlin would be able to help her figure out how to fight back against the magic that now forced her between forms.
Tristan stared in the direction that the hawk had gone. Myrina had gone. He didn't blame her for taking the first opportunity that she could to fly away. Did she even know it was him who held her and got her out of that gown?
"Are you sure you don't want to rest some more before heading home?" Elaine asked as she placed her hand on Tristan's shoulder. She acted so casual. As if it was normal for a hawk to turn into a woman and then a hawk again in front of their eyes.
He shook his head. "Arthur's expecting me in two days," he replied. "I cannot keep him waiting." Although, he couldn't help but feel tempted by her offer. He did need a little bit more rest.
"Well, there is something I wish for you to give him," Elaine said as she walked back into her cottage.
Tristan didn't immediately follow. His eyes went back up to the sky. But if Myrina was around, he couldn't see her.
He let out a sigh. Why would she stick around? He trudged back into the cottage. The warmth inside and tempting bed tugged and beaconed him to stay just a few more hours. Catch up on a few more hours of sleep. But he couldn't. He needed to get away from there. Away from the situation. Away from her.
"You didn't have to do it," Elaine said as he gathered his belongings.
He raised his eyebrows at her.
"Make sure no one was coming," she said. "A bird can fly very far."
"Perhaps. But her injuries were severe. I couldn't risk it, Mistress Elaine. I would never be able to live with myself if we were caught by surprise by an enemy," he replied.
He hadn't been able to sleep much. He'd tried. Tried to sleep next to her, but his eyes kept looking at her bandaged hand. One of the worst wounds she'd received. It had been reflected on her wing and he had little doubt that it was the cause as to why she fell from the sky. Her other injuries didn't help. Someone had done that to her. Did that person know she could turn into a hawk? Probably not. A Roman no doubt. A man, he could imagine. She seemed to have a habit of wandering the forest alone. She was strong, she knew how to fight, but she was still a woman. They had fought and he had overpowered her. Someone else could do the same to her.
Tristan stifled a yawn. He hadn't been able to sleep. Not with the knowledge that someone was probably out there searching for her. He had spent the rest of the night scouting around. It was what he did best, after all. He'd traveled some distance in the direction she'd come from. But he'd seen no one and no indication that anyone was nearby or had been searching the area.
Elaine was probably right. Myrina probably flew until she couldn't fly anymore. Luck or the gods caused her to fall near him. Luck or the gods kept bringing the two of them together. He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that.
He let out a sigh. No, he knew how he felt about it. He didn't like it. She was the enemy. Arthur's enemy. His enemy. As long as he was in service to Rome and to Arthur it was going to stay that way. And when he was free? He was going to go back home.
And yet, instead of choosing to return to the Wall early and leaving Elaine with the injured Woad woman, he'd returned from his little scouting trip. He knew she wasn't a danger to Elaine. He had also scouted enough distance to know that whoever was probably searching for her was not nearby.
Tristan couldn't help but clench his fists in frustration.
By the gods, he was glad he'd returned when he did. The silly woman tried to recklessly run off into the woods wearing nothing but a thin flimsy nightgown. She could have killed herself from exposure.
"Here," Elaine said, interrupting his thoughts. She handed him a small package. "I found this necklace among some of my old things. It belonged to his mother. And let my grandson know that next time he should visit me personally." She gave him a smile. She knew that it was impossible for Arthur to visit her. At least, for now. But, she still gave Tristan that message to take to Arthur every time Tristan visited her.
Elaine handed him a flask and a small satchel. "Jerky, bread, freshwater, and a few extra items you may need for your short trip back to the Wall."
"Thank you, Elaine," he said with a slight bow of his head.
He didn't hesitate. It was time to leave. He easily mounted his horse and clicked his tongue while pressing his heels onto the horse's side.
"Gods protect you, Tristan," Elaine called out.
He snorted. The gods were teasing him. Dropping the woman of his recent dreams onto his lap multiple times, only to pull her away. There were multiple reasons why they wouldn't… they couldn't be together. It would have to be a fantasy he'd live out in his head. But it could never become reality.
A/N: Hey all. I must confess. I'm going to be a little slow on the updates. I was trying to update 3 stories consistently back when I was updating more. It worked out for a short while, but then life and… writing 3 chapters that ranged around the 3k mark takes a lot of time. So, I chose to focus on one story. And, as you can see, it wasn't this one. It was another story I had started in late 2021. You would think finishing one long fic will allow time to finish the others I've got going on, but my brain demands I work on another long fic. I can't promise consistent updates, but I have not given up on writing this story. I refuse! This story has always been in my heart to complete. And I'm thoroughly enjoying how it's turning out. It just might take me a bit longer than I wanted. If you're interested in seeing what I've been up to nowadays, you can find me on AO3 username Demona_Andariel. My stories have changed somewhat from what I used to write. A lot more smut and darker. I hope you continue to enjoy. And I'm crossing my fingers and hoping I get a lot more updates out this year. There is much I need to get through for this story. And I hate leaving it hanging for such a long period of time.
So, no, my reviewers and readers. I have not abandoned this story. There just may be long wait times between certain chapters.