A big ol' thank you to vermilion aura again – if it weren't for you, this story wouldn't have any reviews! I really appreciate you taking the time review and I look forward to reading your next one!

CHAPTER THREE

Breck woke the next morning feeling as though she had been trampled by a horse.

She opened her eyes slowly, then hissed and immediately slammed them shut when the morning light nearly burned them out of their sockets. There were birds outside her window, tweeting a merry tune that she might have enjoyed any other morning, but in that moment, it only made her head throb all the harder. If she'd had it in her, she would have grabbed her bow and shot the blasted creatures, just to get some peace and quiet. As it was, all she could find the strength to do was clamp her pillow over her head and beg God to have mercy on her. She had drank far too much the night before, more than she ever had in her entire life, and now she understood why people looked so miserable after indulging themselves in the tavern.

Breck had half a mind to stay in bed until she felt better – which, at this rate, would probably take all day – but after a few minutes of lying there feeling miserable about herself, the fog in her brain cleared enough for her to remember that today was supposed to be her first day of work in the knights' stables. Jols would be expecting her soon, and the last thing she wanted was to make a bad impression by turning up late, or not turning up at all. Nor did she want to embarrass Arthur, seeing as he was the one who had gotten her the job in the first place.

It was through sheer willpower that Breck finally dragged herself out of bed. She immediately shimmied out of the tight dress that she'd slept in, breathing a sigh of relief when it was off and carelessly throwing the garment to the side. She was very happy to see that her usual clothing had been returned to her, now freshly laundered and folded neatly on the kitchen table. They hadn't been there the night before, she was almost certain of it, which meant someone must have come into her room while she'd been sleeping off the alcohol. Probably the courtesy of one of Arthur's servants, if she had to guess.

After she was dressed she eyed her weapons, but ultimately decided against taking anything more than her dagger with her. She doubted she would be doing any fighting in the near future, so there was really no need for her sword or her bow. They'd just end up getting in the way while she worked. Breck splashed water on her face and made use of her chamber pot, then finally stepped out into the morning sunlight.

With a grimace, she brought a hand up to shield her eyes from the offending brightness, then glanced toward Galahad's door. She had half a mind to go check on him, just to make sure he had not drowned in his own vomit during the night, but even from where she stood she could hear his thunderous snoring, which proved he was at least still alive. She decided it better to just leave him to his sleep.

Breck headed back toward the tavern first, so she could have a bit of breakfast before meeting with Jols. When she arrived, there was already a number of patrons present, though the noise level in the tavern was considerably less than what it had been the night before. Several people looked to be in as much pain as she was, and everyone seemed more focused on eating breakfast and trying to recover rather than making conversation.

Breck made her way to the bar, her eyebrows inching upward when she saw that Vanora was still working there. Vanora spotted her quickly, a friendly smile gracing her face at the sight of her.

"Good morning!" she greeted chipperly.

Breck winced a little, then eased onto one of the stools at the bar. "It is indeed morning, though I am unconvinced it is a good one," she commented, which made Vanora smirk. "I am surprised to find you here," she added. "Are you the only one employed here?"

"Oh, no," Vanora said with a shake of her head. "I merely requested extra work for extra coin," she explained. She tilted her head, giving Breck a critical once over. "How are you feeling, then?" she asked knowingly.

Breck groaned and covered her face with her hand as her skull throbbed. "I feel as though someone has beaten me over the head with a club," she admitted in a miserable tone.

"No surprise there," Vanora said with a quirked brow. "It is no easy feat trying to keep up with the men." When Breck just groaned again, the older woman clicked her tongue sympathetically. "Poor girl, you look in as bad a state as Bors did before I left him."

To learn that Bors was suffering as much as she was made her feel just a little bit better. He had been the one encouraging her to drink so much in the first place – if she had to be in pain, it was only fair that he be in pain, too. "Have you anything to bring an end to this agony?" Breck asked hopefully, peering at Vanora through her fingers.

Vanora held up a finger, signaling her to wait a moment, then went to ladle some stew into a small bowl. After fetching a bit of bread and cheese as well, Vanora placed the food down on the bar in front of Breck. Breck dropped her hand from her face, her nose scrunching up as the smell of the stew hit her nose. For as odd as it smelled, it looked even worse, causing Breck to eye the stew with wariness as she pushed the lumpy mess around with her spoon.

Vanora pushed the bowl closer. "Eat. You will feel right again," she insisted.

Breck scooped up a large chunk of…something…then turned a skeptical look on Vanora. "Do I want to know what this consists of?"

"I should think not," Vanora said without missing a beat.

Breck sucked in a breath, decided to trust Vanora, and then dug in. It was thick and rather bitter, with a strange kick of spiciness that hit her late and made her eyes water. Breck pulled a face, but forced herself to swallow the bite. "Oh, God," she said, immediately reaching for her bread and stuffing a bite into her mouth to try to counteract the lingering, strange taste of the stew. "I mean no offense, but this is atrocious," she said around the food in her mouth.

Vanora laughed. "It is," she readily agreed, looking wholly unoffended. "But it is either eat this and feel right again, or continue to feel like death."

Breck swallowed her bread down, then forced herself to scoop up another spoonful of stew. "The price I pay for trying to outdrink the men."

She managed to muscle her way through the rest of the stew, then finished off her cheese and bread. Though it had been hard to get down, once she had finished eating, she did have to admit that she felt much better. At least she felt like she could function again.

"Better?" Vanora asked knowingly.

Breck nodded and smiled, gulping down the water Vanora poured into a cup for her. "Much, thank you."

Vanora gave her a kind smile and then grabbed Breck's dirty dishes, placing them in a pile to be washed later. "So," the woman said, turning back to Breck with a curious look. "What sort of impression have the men made on you?"

Breck thought back to the night before and how much she had enjoyed the company of the Sarmatian Knights. She hadn't expected herself to warm up to them the way she had, but there was something about them that had made her drop her guard, brought out a friendliness in her that she didn't normally show. And she didn't think it had been because of all the alcohol she had drunk, either.

"They seem like good men. Funny, and friendly too, which I admit was rather surprising," she told Vanora. "Perhaps a bit too friendly as far as Lancelot is concerned," she added when she remembered the way he had leered at her.

"Lancelot is an incessant flirt," Vanora said with a roll of her eyes, "but he means no harm by it. The man simply cannot help himself."

Breck merely shrugged. "I have dealt with far worse," she said matter-of-factly. "I can handle him, as well as put him in his place if need be."

Vanora grinned. "You have thick skin. That is good. You will need it, being friends with that lot," she said.

Breck's brows rose. "Friends?"

Vanora gave her a meaningful look. "The men like you. I can tell already," she said with a nod. "I expect you shall have a hard time ridding yourself of them now," she added with a smile.

To be honest, Breck didn't really think that sounded like a bad thing. For many years now, the thought of having friends had seemed like nothing more than a liability, a weakness, something an enemy could use against her. Friends were a luxury that she simply could not afford. So Breck had kept to herself, had kept up a guard between her and other people to prevent herself from getting too close to anyone, thinking it easier and far less complicated to just be on her own.

But as she thought back to the night before, to how kind the men had been to her, how welcoming they had been, how much they had made her laugh with their drunken antics, there was no denying that she could feel herself warming to them already. It had felt good to connect with people again, it had felt normal. That wall that she had built around herself, the one that had begun to crack and crumble after being reunited with Arthur, felt like it had chipped away just a little bit more after her fun evening with the men.

"Should I be worried?" Breck joked lightly, a smirk tugging at her lips.

"Oh, most assuredly," Vanora confirmed. "For as friendly as they are, they are a thousand times more rowdy. No doubt they will rope you into all sorts of mischief."

Breck laughed, then shrugged a shoulder. "I can handle rowdy," she reassured the woman. After all, she had grown up around Saxons and had spent all of her adult life living from town to town, where she had met every sort of man one could imagine. A group of loud, drunken, Sarmatian warriors did not frighten her.

Breck glanced up toward the sun overhead, then dropped a few coins onto the table and pushed away from the bar. "Forgive me, but I cannot linger any longer," she said regretfully. "Jols is expecting me in the knights' stables."

"Of course, of course," Vanora said, waving her off. "Go. We shall see each other later, I am sure."

Breck nodded, said goodbye to the woman, and then headed off for the stables.

The streets had only gotten busier as she made her way through town, the people of Hadrian's Wall already going about carrying out their daily tasks. The stew might have helped her feel better, but her headache had not completely gone yet and the general racket of the town still made her wince a little. Breck paused on the street to allow a group of children to go running past, the lot of them whacking at each other with long sticks, their excited yells and shrieks sounding twice as loud.

It was as she stood there watching the kids run away that she was hit with a very distinct feeling – a feeling of being watched.

Her shoulders immediately tensed, her eyes taking a quick moment to survey the people around her for any potential threats, purely out of force of habit. But she found that several people were looking her way, all of them with curiosity in their eyes. Breck's shoulders relaxed again, and her small moment of paranoia faded. She was a newcomer at Hadrian's Wall, and she had spent the previous night in the company of Arthur and the Sarmatian Knights, for all the town to see. It was no surprise that people might be curious about who she was.

"Good morning," a voice suddenly said.

Breck turned and saw Dagonet standing there, a large sack of something thrown over his broad shoulder and a kind smile on his face. She had to crane her neck to make eye contact with him because he was so much taller than her, but she still smiled warmly regardless.

"Good morning, Dagonet," she said back.

"Are you lost?" he inquired.

Breck shook her head. "No. I was merely…distracted," she told him, glancing briefly toward a few of the people still watching her.

Dagonet followed her gaze, understanding passing across his face. "Ah, yes. A new face in Hadrian's Wall will surely garner attention," he said with a slow nod. "Unsettling as it is, I suspect the staring shall cease soon enough."

Breck hoped he was right. "What business are you seeing to this morning?" she asked to change the subject.

"A delivery to the Roman barracks," he said. "And yourself?"

"I begin my work with Jols in the stables today."

"I see." He then nodded his head in the direction of said stables. "Our tasks take us in the same direction. Shall we continue on together?"

Breck immediately nodded. "Yes, of course."

Dagonet flashed a brief smile, and then they set off side by side. They walked in silence at first, navigating their way through the busy streets. It did not escape Breck's notice the way that the crowd of townsfolk parted to make a path for the large Sarmatian, practically jumping out of the way to make room for the man. If Dagonet noticed, he didn't show any sign of it. It left Breck wondering if this was something that happened often.

Eventually, Dagonet looked her over with an evaluating eye, the sort of look that could only belong to a seasoned healer. "You look well, especially so considering Bors's determination to get as much ale in your belly as possible," he commented, looking impressed. "You hardly seem affected by the night's festivities."

Breck snorted and gave him a look. "Unfortunately, that is far from the truth," she admitted. "It required a great deal of effort to leave my bed this morning. If not for Vanora's mysterious stew, it is very likely I would be dead on the street at this moment."

Dagonet chuckled and nodded. "Ah, yes – her infamous remedy," he lamented. "Vile stuff, but it has saved many from the aftereffects of a night of drinking."

"Do you know what is in it?" she asked curiously.

Dagonet shook his head. "I was told it is better not to know, so I do not ask," he said. He then gave her another questioning look. "And the men?" he continued. "Did they behave themselves after I left?"

Breck remembered the raucous laughter and the crude jokes and the curse words that had slipped past drunken lips, always followed by hasty apologies as soon as they remembered she was in their company. That would have been more than enough to offend most civilized folk. As it was, however, Breck hadn't considered herself civilized for quite some time, and she had only felt amused by it all.

"Aye, they were kind and welcoming," she confirmed. "I suppose being a friend to Arthur Castus does give me a certain advantage, though. He is your commander, therefore you have to like me," Breck pointed out with a smirk.

It had been a joke on her part, but Dagonet seemed to take her words to heart, judging by the way his brows furrowed together seriously. "We do not have to like anyone," he stated firmly. "Perhaps we merely recognize a good, genuine person when we are presented with one. Perhaps we like you because you seem worth liking."

Breck stared up at him in surprise, completely taken aback by his words. They had been exceedingly kind, kinder than she would have expected considering how little they knew one another. She could not think of anything to say, nor did she really even get the chance, because as they turned a corner she found that they had reached the stables. Dagonet, offering a gentle smile, led her straight to the door and opened it for her.

"The stables, my lady," he said. "I wish you luck on your first day and will be eager to hear about it when we meet next," he added, inclining his head to her.

"Thank you," Breck responded, stunned even further by the fact that he was even interested in something as mundane as hearing about her first day working in the stables.

Dagonet smiled, nodded to her, and then continued on his own way, leaving Breck to stare at his large back as he disappeared.

Breck stood there for a moment, thinking about all that Dagonet had said to her. Though she had been confident that she'd made a good impression on Arthur's knights, Dagonet's kind words were still surprising. For so long now she had been accustomed to being on her own, to being friendless. In the past, she and her father had been shunned nearly everywhere they went because of their Saxon blood – people thought them barbarians, thought them dangerous, and treated them like they were some sort of terrible plague. Years later, when Breck took to the road, she learned that she had to be tough if she wanted to survive, and that toughness certainly hadn't gained her any admirers, least of all any friends.

But at Hadrian's Wall, Breck felt like she could let her guard down, like she didn't have to be that tough, cut-throat woman she had been these past few years. Sure, the men didn't really know her yet, but the fact that they seemed so willing to befriend her, that they already seemed to accept her with no questions asked, left her with a funny, warm feeling in her chest.

With all that had happened in her life, Breck had worried that she'd lost herself somewhere along the way. But now, suddenly, she had renewed hope that maybe she hadn't.

Breck smiled to herself, then finally walked into the stables. She soon spotted Jols tending to some tools on the far side.

"Good morning, Jols," she said in greeting to catch his attention.

Jols turned around at the sound of her voice, wiping his hands clean on a dirty looking rag. "Breck! Good morning!" he responded with a friendly smile.

The knights' stables were much bigger than it appeared from the outside. At least a dozen horse stalls lined either side of the stable, while straight ahead were a few rows of benches for sitting. Every tool one could imagine hung from the walls, a group of saddles hung on a saddle rack – she counted eight, one of which belonged to herself – and sacks of both grains and apples for the horses were piled up in the corner.

She had not ventured inside much when she had been a child, purely because she had been too intimidated by the knights serving under Lord Uther to dare go anywhere near their horses for fear of invoking their wrath. Breck glanced around now, taking in the sight of the impressive stables, until she realized that something was missing.

All of the stalls were empty.

"Where are the horses?" she asked in confusion.

"Just through there," Jols said, pointing to an open gate off to the side. "The stables connect to a field just outside so that the horses may have room to run and roam. And it provides uninterrupted time for cleaning."

"Ah, I see," Breck said, nodding her understanding.

"Have you worked in stables before?" Jols asked as he came to stand before her.

"Some, yes," Breck confirmed.

"Then you are already off to a good start," Jols said. "I shall need help maintaining the horses and keeping the stalls in good condition," he began to explain. "We also need to keep them properly fed and exercised. The men are very dependent on their horses in battle and on missions, so they must stay in top shape." Breck nodded in understanding. "There are plenty of tools at your disposal, and you may use anything you need to carry out your duties. Just see to it they are properly cleaned and stored when you have finished for the day," he concluded. "You will be paid at the end of every week, and you shall receive two coins for your efforts. Does this all sound fair?"

Breck nodded. "Yes, it does."

"Good. Oh, and Devran shall usually be on hand if you need extra assistance," Jols added as an afterthought, nodding toward something behind her.

Breck glanced over her shoulder and spied the young, skinny boy that had taken Lugh upon first arriving. She hadn't even noticed he was there because he had been working in one of the stalls, but he had poked his head out from around the door to peer at her with interest. When he realized she was looking at him, he blushed and quickly ducked back into the stall without a word.

"He is a bit shy," Jols said in merriment. "But he shall be more sociable once he knows you better."

Breck smiled and then looked to the gate that led to the field. She had not seen Lugh since the previous afternoon and she desperately wanted to be reunited with him, having grown so used to having him as a constant presence that being apart from him felt very strange.

"May I see my horse before I start my work?" she asked hopefully.

Jols nodded, and she needed no further invitation. With a quick word of thanks, she made her way to the gate and stepped out into the field, excited to finally see Lugh. As Jols had said, the stretch of green land outside of the stables was fenced in and just large enough for the small group of horses to graze without intruding on each other too much, as well as to run freely for exercise. She held a hand up to shield her eyes from the sun and smiled when she spotted Lugh running alongside one of the other horses.

"Those two have really taken to one another," Jols commented as he stepped outside and came to stand next to her. "They have been inseparable since Lugh came to the stables yesterday."

Breck eyed the horse that Lugh had befriended. It was a fine creature – strong, agile, and fast. The mostly white coat was decorated with a smattering of grey specks, making it appear to have freckles, and she quite liked the unique coloring. The horse chased after Lugh playfully before turning and making a quick run in the other direction, successfully coaxing her horse into chasing it in return. Breck smiled at the sight, loving the fact that her horse was also making new friends at their new home.

"Is the horse a he or she?" Breck asked Jols.

"She," he answered. "Azia is her name."

"And whom does she belong to?"

"Tristan."

Breck frowned at the name, because it was not one she had heard before. "Tristan?" she echoed with furrowed brows. "Who is he?"

"He is another one of Arthur's Knights. He is the scout of the lot. He was not present in the tavern last night," Jols explained. "He is…" He trailed off and made a bit of a face, obviously trying to decide how best to describe this Tristan fellow. "Well, he is of a different sort," Jols finally said. "Very quiet, very perceptive, very…intimidating. He is a good friend to Arthur and the knights, but not anyone else. People are too afraid of him to befriend him, if I am to speak truthfully. He is not much like the other knights, not at all."

"I see, " Breck said, nodding slowly.

She looked back to Lugh and Azia. The two horses had decided to take a break from their playing so they could drink some water from a small trough in the middle of the field. Since he hadn't noticed her yet, she whistled to catch Lugh's attention. The horse's large head immediately jerked up, and she grinned as he promptly came galloping toward her. When he reached her, he pressed his face into her chest, as if he was just as relieved to see her as she was to see him. Breck laughed happily and felt her heart melt at the steed's affectionate gesture.

"Hello, handsome friend," she whispered to him in Gaelic. "I have missed you." Breck glanced up when she saw Azia slowly trotting over to investigate, curious to see what had drawn her new friend's attention. Breck smiled and kissed Lugh's nose. "Though it appears you have not been lonely," she added knowingly.

She glanced at Jols and saw that he was eying her curiously, clearly unfamiliar with the foreign language she was speaking. He didn't question her on it, though, and instead riffled around in the bag attached to his hip to produce two apples.

Breck turned her attention back to the horses and watched as Azia cautiously approached. It was obvious that the horse wasn't sure if she should trust Breck or not, the mare regarding her with a large, critical eye. Breck moved away from Lugh and held her hand out toward Azia, allowing her to sniff at her hand. She did so slowly, eyes trained on Breck the entire time. Finally, after a few seconds, the horse seemed to decide that Breck was no foe. She nudged her hand with her wet nose in greeting, before turning to trot off. Breck watched the horse go, smiling to herself a bit.

"My word," Jols said, sounding a little stunned. When she looked at him, he was watching Azia go with slightly wider eyes. "Azia does not usually interact with strangers," he explained when he saw the questioning look on her face. "She does not seem afraid of you."

"Perhaps she is more willing because she knows I am Lugh's companion…or perhaps I just have a way with horses," Breck said with a shrug, before taking one of the apples from his hand and turning to give it to Lugh, who gobbled it up happily. "What say you, love?" she cooed to the horse.

Lugh just chomped loudly in response.

Jols came over to pat Lugh on the neck. "He is a very good, very smart horse. You trained him well," he complimented. "The other horses admire him, I can tell."

"There was not much training to be done," Breck admitted, petting the horse's nose lovingly. "He has been an impressive horse since the moment I first met him."

"Where did you find him?" Jols asked curiously.

"Actually, he found me," Breck corrected him, a small smile pulling at her lips as she thought back to the day that Lugh had saved her life.

OOO

Breck sat huddled next to a small fire in the middle of the woods, surrounded by snow and shivering despite the layers she had piled on to try to keep warm. It was nearly nighttime, and as the sun sunk further into the horizon, the air around her only felt colder and colder. It was so frigidly cold that she felt it deep in her bones, making her shiver and her teeth chatter loud enough to rival a woodpecker. She was hungry, too. There was nothing to hunt in this damned forest – no deer, or rabbits, or even rodents. The cold was already making her uncomfortable enough. The pang of hunger in her belly only served to make it worse.

The weather had been fine when she'd started making her way through these woods at the start of the week – cold, of course, but tolerable. A terrible winter storm had hit, however, making it near impossible to continue on, and with no shelter around, she was forced to bear the brunt of the elements.

A strong wind blew through the trees, practically smacking Breck in the face and making her curse and shrink in on herself. The wind was nearly strong enough to extinguish her fire completely. Breck warily watched the flames flicker, knowing she would be done for if it went out. And that simply could not happen – not just because she did not want to die in some forest in a country she could not even recall the name of, but because if she died now, then it would have all been for nothing.

When she had first set out to hunt down Cerdic, she had foolishly thought it might be easy. She had planned to move from town to town, seeking information about the Saxon army until she could pin them down, then go after Cerdic when he least expected it. But Breck should have known it would not be that easy. It took time, traveling from place to place, and it required coin – for food, for supplies, for medicine. And she had not accounted for unforeseen obstacles, like the horse she had had dying unexpectedly two years ago, and the long illness she had been plagued with at the end of the previous year that had left her bedridden for months.

By now, it had been a very long time indeed since she had last been anywhere near the Saxon army. She had hoped the information that had led her into these woods would prove useful, would finally get her back on the right track, but that was not looking to be the case now. For as the wind blew again, making her fire come precariously close to going out, she was beginning to feel hopeless, beginning to feel defeated, beginning to feel everything she had worked for start to slip through her fingers.

She was going to die in this damned forest, she was almost certain of it now. She would faint from exhaustion and from hunger and then freeze to death in this icy hell. And she would be all alone. Nobody would ever know, and the only person who might even care was thousands of miles away, completely unreachable. Cerdic and his men would persevere and countless more people in this world would be subjected to the same horrors she'd been forced to endure at his cruel hand. And there would be nothing that she could do to stop him.

Breck turned her eyes to the sky and tried to hold in the tears that threatened to seep from her eyes. "Father," she croaked out. "Guide me, give me strength. I beg you. Help me!"

She stared at the sky, barely visible through the tops of the trees and the snow being stirred up with the wind, and then looked down at her fire again as the wind howled once more.

This time, the fire did go out.

"No," she said. "No, no, no!"

Breck grabbed the flints she always kept with her and immediately began trying to bring the fire back to life, but her hands and body were shaking so bad she could barely hold the rocks in her freezing fingers. She smacked the flints together, trying to create a spark, but it wasn't working. She hit them harder in frustration and desperation, cursing loudly when nothing happened.

Suddenly she saw a flash of something from the corner of her eye, making her freeze and immediately swing her gaze in that direction.

Was she just imagining things, or was something in this forest with her?

Breck intently scanned the trees, looking for anymore signs of movement. Had it been a wild animal? A Saxon scouting party? Or perhaps someone from a rogue, wild tribe that she had never heard of? Or, in her state of hunger and exhaustion, was she just seeing things? It was hard to imagine anything being out in the storm, but…she supposed it wasn't impossible.

As Breck continued to study her surroundings, she was suddenly overcome with the sensation of being watched. Of being hunted. She gulped and slowly reached for her sword, withdrawing it from its sheath, her breath beginning to come out hard and fast, appearing in small clouds that puffed out from her mouth and nose.

Before she knew what was happening, a snarl ripped through the air and something slammed into her back, effectively knocking her down to the ground, her sword falling from her hand. Breck let out a cry of pain as strong, sharp teeth clamped down onto her shoulder and dug into the flesh underneath her clothing. It was a wolf that had her, growls ripping from its throat as its teeth tore into her body.

With as much effort as she could muster, she struggled against the wolf and threw an elbow into its throat. It took two more hits, the last one hitting the wolf directly in the eye, until it yipped and released her. The wolf backed off just long enough for Breck to roll onto her back, grab the dagger from her boot, and hold it blade up as the wolf lunged again.

A loud whine of pain sounded in the air. The wolf had landed on her dagger, which was now buried deep into its belly. As warm blood began to soak her hands and clothes, Breck stabbed it once more, pulling another loud yelp from the animal, before she threw the now dead wolf off her.

Breck rolled onto her back, breathing hard and heavy. She glanced over at the wolf that had attacked her, almost feeling bad for having been the one to end its life, for the thing looked to be as skinny and starving as she was. Breck pushed away her feelings of guilt, though, telling herself that if she hadn't killed it, then it most definitely would have killed her.

She felt a flare of hope as she continued to eye the animal. She could use the meat for food and trade the pelt for money at the next town she came to. But even as her stomach growled at the idea of a good meal, as the adrenaline from the attack wore off, she found she could barely lift a finger. Instead, feeling rather warm from the blood of the dead animal, she stayed where she was, laying in the cold snow, her shoulder throbbing with pain.

So gone was her coherency that she had no idea how long she stayed lying next to the dead wolf for. Too weak to do anything else, she'd been thinking back to fond memories of her family. To days spent running around Hadrian's Wall with Arthur Castus, the only friend she'd ever really had. To her time with Father Padraig, who had given her shelter and guidance in the aftermath of her father's death. She had heard that when one was on the brink of death, you saw your whole life play before your eyes in perfect clarity. Breck had always wondered if that were true, and now, as she laid there and felt her body weaken more and more with every passing minute, she knew it was.

Suddenly she felt a nudge against her face, which made her slowly drag her eyes open.

The storm was over. The howling wind was gone. And she was no longer alone.

Had she gone mad? Was she hallucinating? Before her stood a sandy brown steed that seemed have come from absolutely nowhere. The horse was nudging her face with an impatience that she did not quite understand. How had the horse found her? Why was it here in the forest? How was it surviving the harsh winter of these lands, and why was it not with its owner?

The horse nudged at her roughly two more times, before bowing low to the ground, his front legs tucked underneath him. Breck knew what the horse wanted and felt a flicker of hope inside her begin to burn a bit brighter. With much effort, she managed to lock her fingers into its long mane and used him as leverage to roll herself toward him. With her last bit of energy, she swung her leg over him, clamped her arms around his neck, and then held on for dear life as he stood with her now lying across his back.

Then the world around her went dark.

OOO

She had awoken in some small, unknown village sporting a nasty bite mark on her shoulder and with no recollection of the journey there, but she had been alive and it had been because Lugh had found and saved her. There had been no question when it came to whether she would keep him or not – they had obviously been meant to find one another. From that day forth, Lugh was hers, and when she had healed from the wolf attack, they had set off on their journey together as companions.

Breck told the story to Jols, but left out certain details. Probably everyone at Hadrian's Wall had known she and her father were Saxons when they had lived there, so it was likely Jols already knew of her lineage. On the chance he had forgotten, she did not tell him about the fact that she had been hunting Saxons or the reason for it. She wasn't ready to tell anyone about any of that just yet – as far as she was concerned, the less people who knew of her complicated past, the better.

"He saved my life," Breck said in conclusion, patting the horse affectionately before telling him to go for a run. The horse whinnied, nudged her shoulder, then turned to run back to Azia's side. "I would have died without him."

"Then it seems God was smiling down on you when he sent Lugh to your rescue," Jols said with a smile.

She smiled at that, watching as Lugh and Azia once again began chasing each other around the field. "Yes, it seems he was."

OOO

Jols was eventually called away to a meeting with Arthur, leaving Breck and Devran to tend to the horses alone. By the time they had cleaned the stables, groomed the horses, and made sure everything and every animal was in order, it was nearing sunset. Her body ached from the work she had not partaken in for many months, but it was a welcome soreness. It made her feel as though she had accomplished something.

Devran mostly kept to himself, and upon finishing their duties for the day, scurried out of the door before she could really say anything to him. Breck shook her head in bemusement, but decided he'd come around eventually.

After checking in on Lugh one last time, Breck left him to his rest for the night. He had certainly earned it after all the travelling they had done. She stepped out of the stables, sucking in a deep breath and closing her eyes as she breathed in air that did not smell like horses or manure. The sun was sinking into the horizon, painting the sky brilliant shades of orange and pink, and Breck opened her eyes to admire the coloring before glancing around as she tried to decide where she wanted to go. It would be nice to clean up a little, get the stench of horse and sweat off, but the rumbling in her belly swiftly reminded her just how long it had been since she had last eaten. Perhaps she would go to the tavern first, eat some food, then go back to her quarters to wash and rest.

But then a thought occurred to her, a place she had not seen in a very long time coming to her mind. Breck immediately started off down the road, not heading toward her quarters or the tavern, but walking a path that still felt familiar, despite how long it had been since she had walked it. She went past the market, past the blacksmith's forge and past the one and only church in Hadrian's Wall. Breck turned onto a road that led toward the outskirts of town, where the clustering of buildings gave way to open fields of crops and houses with more space between them.

There were more houses than there had been previously, but she still found the one she had been looking for very easily. As Breck stopped before it, however, she felt a deep frown pull at her lips.

The house that she and her father had lived in all those years ago did not look how she remembered it.

The house from her memory had been small, but comfortable, with pretty yellow flowers that grew in the front garden and a roof that had been easy to climb onto so that she could look at the moon and the stars at nighttime. She used to practice shooting arrows around the back, where her father had set up barrel lids and old clothes stuffed with hay for her to use for targets. She used to hang laundry to dry in the sun on the side of the house, next to where they had kept a store of firewood when the cold months had set in. She used to sit by the hearth with her father, laughing as she told him about the mischief she and Arthur had gotten into. They used to cook in the kitchen together, eat at their tiny dining table, used to listen to her father's bedtime stories as she lay in her small, lumpy bed in the one bedroom Kenrick had all but demanded she take.

Now, the house was nothing more than charred ruins, having clearly burned down at some point in time. The roof had caved in, the walls had all but completely crumbled away, the windows were broken, and the front door could not even be classified as a door anymore, since it was now nothing but a few scorched planks of wood barely hanging on by rusty hinges.

Breck stepped off the path and got closer to the house so she could peer inside. Where she had once ate and slept and lived, now it was nothing but rubble inside, accompanied with smatterings of green all over as foliage grew back and mother earth worked to reclaim the space once more.

It made her feel inexplicably sad to see the condition of the house now. Though it had not been anything spectacular to begin with, it had been theirs, and Breck and her father had put much effort into making the house a home. She had to wonder what had happened, how the home had ended up in this state.

Quite out of nowhere, Breck was hit with the very distinct feeling of being watched. In the heart of town, where it was busy and loud and congested with townsfolk, it was a feeling she could have easily ignored. But in a place like this, where it was a little more isolated and there was not as many people, Breck immediately went on alert.

Breck looked to the right first, further down the path that led to even more houses that had not been built when she had lived at Hadrian's Wall. There were a handful of children playing in the yard a few houses away, none of whom were paying Breck any mind, and a few men working in one of the nearby fields. They seemed too busy to even notice she was there. Breck's eyes turned to the left now, eyeing the direction from which she had just come. She scanned the other houses, all of which were quiet and dark, save for a rogue chicken or snoozing cat here or there.

She was just about to chalk the feeling up to her being far too paranoid after being on the road for so long when her eyes finally landed on a man down the road, standing just off the path near one of the other houses. He was tall and had dark messy hair, and she thought she saw something dark smudged on either of his cheeks, though he was too far away for her to tell what it might have been. But the man was alone, and his gaze was focused solely on her.

"Breck?" a voice suddenly asked in surprise.

Breck blinked and turned, caught off guard by the sudden appearance of Vanora. The woman held a young baby in her arms, and though there was a hint of confusion in her eyes, the look on her face was a friendly one. "Vanora. Hello again," Breck greeted, offering up a friendly smile.

"I am surprised to see you. What brings you all the way out here?" Vanora asked.

It would have been easy to tell Vanora that it was where she used to live, but for some reason, it felt too personal to Breck. She thought it might make Vanora ask questions, questions that Breck might not necessarily want to answer considering how little they knew one another.

"I went for a walk and…this is where my feet brought me to," Breck told her vaguely. "And you?"

"Bors and I live just there," Vanora said, turning to point toward the house where the kids were playing, which made Breck make a sound of understanding. Vanora glanced at Breck's old house, then frowned slightly. "You should really come away from there. Tis not safe," she advised. "I have to warn my brood away from this house all the time, they are so eager to explore the remains."

"What happened here?" Breck had to ask.

"There was a fire in one of the fields several years ago," Vanora said, nodding toward where some crops were growing. "The fire spread to some of these houses, including this one. The others that burned were torn down and rebuilt, but not this one, oddly enough," the woman explained, giving the house a curious look, as though it were a riddle she was trying to figure out. "Even though it was burnt beyond repair, even though it had been abandoned for years, Arthur commanded that it be left as is. Why he came to that decision is beyond me," she commented with a shrug.

A funny feeling entered her chest at those words, making Breck smile a bit to herself. She had a feeling she knew exactly why Arthur had not had it torn down. "Perhaps he had his reasons," she offered as she stepped away from the door and went to join Vanora on the path.

Her eyes turned back the way she had come upon first arriving, back toward where she had spotted that man, but she did not see anybody now.

A little cooing sound from the baby in Vanora's arms made Breck focus her attention that way again. She stepped closer to get a look at the baby, who looked shockingly like Bors, only much cuter and much quieter. "Is the baby a boy or a girl?" Breck asked.

"A boy. Eleven is his name," she answered. At Breck's frown of uncertainty, Vanora laughed. "Yes, we gave him a number. Tis hard naming eleven children, after all."

Breck nearly balked. "You have eleven children?" she asked, incredulity creeping into her tone despite herself.

"Yes, we do," Vanora answered. "And the whole lot of them take after Bors, which means they are as loud and rambunctious as they come. But we do love them very much," she said with a fond smile. She shifted the baby in her arms, then raised her brows at Breck. "Where shall you be venturing to next, then?" Vanora asked to change the subject.

Breck decided that the hunger in her belly could no longer be ignored. "I had planned to go to the tavern for supper," she answered.

Vanora's smile instantly brightened. "That is where I am going, as well. Shall we walk together?"

Breck saw no reason not to, so she nodded, and with that the two women continued on toward the tavern together. Vanora instantly began chattering away, telling Breck all about her children and the trouble they apparently caused all about town, and while Breck was happy to listen, she still found herself becoming momentarily distracted when they neared the house that she had seen that man standing next to.

She looked all around as she and Vanora passed by, but there was no sign of a dark-haired stranger anywhere, nor anyone else.

Breck frowned with uncertainty, but forced herself not to think about it for the time being and chatted with Vanora all the way back to the tavern. Upon arriving, they soon discovered that the Sarmatian Knights were already there…all except for the mysterious Tristan, anyway. The men invited her to dine and drink with them, and Breck happily joined them, quickly finding herself roped into more stories and more laughter, though this time she did not let Bors coerce her into drinking so much.

But even the distraction of the men wasn't quite enough to make her fully forget the man she had seen, nor that uneasy feeling that lingered in her gut as she wondered whether someone had been following her, or if she had just imagined it.

See you – and Tristan! – next Friday!