Hello, and welcome back!

Apologies, again, for the long wait between updates. It definitely wasn't my intention, but time has a way of just flying right past me nowadays. Thank you to Fairy87, Loverofcreepythings, H3LLF1R3IIOS, Shouhei69, dog88, katkar, and Ellesbellssmells for the favorites and follows! And of course, thank to everyone who drops by to give this story a chance! I appreciate it!

Unfortunately, there's no Tristan in this chapter. There will, however, be some more of his point of view in the next chapter! I'm trying to be better about showing equal love and attention to my stories right now, so I can't promise when the next update will be, but I'll try to be quicker this time!

Hope y'all enjoy the chapter!

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Breck was exhilarated.

When she had first departed from Hadrian's Wall, she had wondered if it might feel strange to no longer be there, to leave behind the little life that she had made for herself. There had even been a part of her that wondered if her rash decision to leave was, perhaps, the wrong one.

But the more time passed, and the more distance that stretched between her and the Wall, there was no feeling of strangeness, nor regret.

As much as she liked being at the Wall, that way of life was still very different from the one she had been living since leaving Ireland. It was a life of order and obligations and socialization, things she had grown distant to while hunting down Cerdic. But this. This was what she was used to. A life on the move, with no one to answer to and nothing but herself and her horse to worry about. It felt as though she had been locked in a cage and had finally been let loose. Lugh must have felt the same way, because as they traveled across the rolling lands, he galloped so fast that the sharp wind left her hair whipping about like a wild flame and made her eyes water. But Breck could only smile and enjoy the ride.

There was no question about whether or not leaving Hadrian's Wall had been the right decision. There were no Romans here. There was no job to attend to. No friends to occupy her time. No men to trouble herself over. Gone was her fretting and uncertainty over Tristan and the things he may – or may not – feel for her. Vanished were her feelings of guilt over having rejected Gawain. She no longer felt that frustration and confusion that had constantly hung over her since meeting the two men. Now, it was just her, Lugh, the open road ahead, and an almost overwhelming sense of freedom. As they rushed along the green lands, it was the first time that she had felt likeherselfin several, long weeks.

Breck leaned down further onto Lugh's back to urge him even faster. The rush of their ride went straight to her bones, making adrenaline pound through her veins. This was right. This was what she had needed. And though she knew fully well that there could be danger around any tree or any bush, the knowledge of that only fueled her excitement. The Saxon in herwanteda fight. Wanted to put all of her new training to use, wanted to feel the thrill of a skirmish again,wantedto watch her enemies die by her blade, the same blade that had once belonged to her father.

The time would likely come, Breck knew, thinking back to all of the men's stories about how quick Woads were prone to attacking. She just had to be patient.

By the time the sun began to tuck itself away for the night, she and Lugh had put Hadrian's Wall well behind them. In all his excitement to be running on open lands again, Lugh had run for much longer than he normally would have. He was clearly exhausted by the time they came upon a stream winding its way through the woods they had been traveling through. She patted his neck as she dismounted and he immediately went to the stream to drink his fill. While her horse quenched his thirst, Breck slowly turned in a circle, her eyes surveying every inch of their surroundings.

Thus far, she had seen nothing other than birds and the occasional woodland creature. There had been no sign of any other people, not even a Woad. Yet, she knew that lands north of the Wall were teeming with the native peoples. Just because she had not seen anyone yet, that did not mean they weren't there.

Breck decided against making camp next to the stream. If she and Lugh had found the water source, it was very likely that something else might too – like a predator of the night, or maybe those blue-tinged warriors her friends had so many stories of. She quickly filled her water skin, then grabbed Lugh's reins and led him further into the wood, where they would be able to sleep under more cover.

They found a big enough, flat enough space amongst the trees to make camp in, where Breck gave Lugh something to eat, then eased down onto the ground to have a little food herself.

As they ate, Breck continued to eye the trees around them. The forest was still. Oddly still. Breck heard the occasional caw of a bird or rustling of leaves from small creatures, but other than that, it was almost deathly silent. Having never been one to put much trust in her surroundings when she was out on the road, it was hard to ignore that nagging feeling in her gut that said this place might not be the best one to stop. That perhaps there was a reason this part of the wood was so still, and that that reason might end up being a problem for herself.

But even as she began to contemplate pushing just a little further, she looked to Lugh as he laid down in the leaves next to her and gave out a snort of contentment, his eyes drooping shut and his body relaxing. Not only was Lugh far too tired to move, but she herself was feeling more than a little exhausted after the excitement of the day and the restlessness of the night before it. Trying to go anywhere right now would likely be too difficult for either of them, and seeing as Lugh was her greatest ally and resource, she did not want to risk overworking him so early into the journey.

With that thought in mind, she decided to stay put. She would just have to be quiet, and vigilant.

Breck did not remove her saddle from Lugh's back – with how great a chance it stood that she might have to make a quick escape, she wanted to keep him ready to ride at all times. She did, however, retrieve a blanket that she had packed and settled in next to Lugh for warmth, since starting a fire would be far too conspicuous. Breck snuggled in close to Lugh, her sword resting on the ground next to her, then wrapped her cloak and blanket around her tightly, settling in for the night.

Lugh fell asleep quickly, the steady rhythm of his breath lulling her into a state of semi-relaxation as the sun finally disappeared and night fell over the world. There was a large enough break in the trees overhead, allowing the stars and to shine unobstructed. She watched those twinkling stars, her hand closing around the medallion around her neck, her thumb absentmindedly tracing the lines that made up the symbol of her mother's clan.

Now that her mind was no longer buzzing with excitement, it did not take long for her thoughts to turn to Hadrian's Wall, and the people that she had left behind there. She imagined Arthur, pouring over papers in his council room, his curls wild from running his hands through it so much. She thought of Vanora, who had likely spent all day chasing her children and was now at the tavern, working herself to the bone as usual. She thought of Jols and Devran closing up the stables for the night after a long day of work. And she imagined the men congregating at their favorite table for food and drink, playing their favorite dagger throwing game and getting drunk as always.

At least, these were the things all those people did on normal nights. Tonight, however, might be different.

Breck frowned to herself, wondering how everyone had handled the news of abrupt departure. She expected some of her friends were probably quite angry with her. She had, after all, left in the middle of the night, without warning and without even plucking up the bravery to tell anyone about it. But Breck also expected that some of them were probably very worried about her, and the thought of that made her immediately feel a strong sense of guilt. If only she had a way to reassure everyone that she was alright, and that she had simply needed to get away to set herself right again.

Breck sighed. There was nothing to be done about it now that she was gone. She could only hope her friends – Arthur especially – were not having too hard of a time, and that they had honored her request not to come after her. The absolute last thing she wanted was for any of them to try to find her and end up putting themselves in a dangerous situation.

As the faces of her friends continued to float through her mind, one of them stood out more than all the rest. The same one that was always in her mind these days.

Tristan. Even just thinking about him made her heart beat a tick faster. Breck wondered if maybe he was thinking about her, too, if maybe he was one of the one's worrying for her. There was a chance that he might be. Then again, given his behavior when last they had seen one another, she thought it just as likely that he could not care at all that she was gone. That he might even be relieved.

Breck frowned and pushed the thoughts away immediately.

This was not what she was supposed to be doing. This journey was not meant to be spent continuing to think and fret about Tristan every waking moment. It was about finding herself again – finding the real Breck.

So, resolutely, she forced the scout from her mind, refusing to let herself think of him. She instead settled further against Lugh and reached for her sword, keeping her hand on the hilt as she scanned the forest again, determined to stay awake for as long as possible.

OOO

SNAP!

Breck's eyes popped open as the sound of a breaking twig yanked her from the slumber that she did not even remember slipping into.

Her sword was already in hand as she sat up, her eyes turning to the sky overhead. The moon was visible now, and high enough to tell her that she had likely been asleep for at least a few hours. She looked back to the trees surrounding her, her eyes still trying to adjust to the darkness as she slowly climbed to her feet. Lugh was already awake, either having been alerted by the same sound or by her response to it. He quickly got back up onto his hooves, standing to his full height faster than she expected and making a lot of noise in the process.

Breck shushed him quietly, placing a hand on his neck to encourage him to settle down. Lugh snorted quietly in response, his restless hooves still stirring up the leaves and the twigs littering the forest floor.

Breck did not move for a long few minutes. The sound could have been innocent, made by a woodland creature just moving about. But it also could have been made by a predator…or even by another person. It was very possible that Woads could be nearby, though from what she understood, they were usually careful about doing anything that would alert potential enemies to their presence. Regardless, whether it was an animal or a person, Breck no longer felt safe in her current location.

She hoisted herself onto Lugh's back and then clicked her tongue to send him into a trot, guiding him through the trees. Her eyes stayed sharp and alert and she kept her sword in hand, grasping the hilt tightly. The feeling of being watched hit her, and she tensed in response. Lugh must have felt her apprehension, because he whinnied and began to move at a quicker pace.

"Easy, boy," Breck said in Gaelic, trying to soothe him. "Easy."

Lugh settled down, his pace easing some.

They continued on through the dark forest, Breck keeping her head on a swivel the entire time. She did not hear any sounds, but the feeling of being watched never left her. They had just trotted over a small stream when Breck saw movement out of the corner of her eye, but when she whipped her head around to see what was there, all she saw was trees and bushes. Eyes narrowed with distrust, Breck dug her heels into Lugh's flanks to make him move faster. She did not know if her watcher was a Woad or a beast, but she readied herself nonetheless, her shoulders tense and her sword held at the ready, prepared to fight back if something decided to attack.

No sooner had she thought that when an arrow whizzed past her ear, making Breck jerk her head to the side with a sound of surprise. Lugh whinnied loudly with alarm and stood on his back legs in a moment of protest, making Breck tighten her grip on his reins to avoid falling off.

When he landed on his front hooves again, Breck's eyes scanned the area for the source of the arrow. She finally zeroed in on figures running amongst the trees to her right.

Woads.

"Forward!" Breck commanded Lugh in Gaelic.

He took off as two more arrows went flying past, making her duck low to avoid them. She urged Lugh ahead faster, wanting to put a bit more distance between her and the Woads so that she could have a few precious moments to form a plan of attack. As they came upon a small clearing, Breck pulled sharply on his reins to make him slow and jumped off of his back, smacking his flank to send him off again before running to take cover in the trees once more.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her breath hard and fast with anticipation. This was what she had been waiting for, what she had been hoping for. The opportunity to put her fighting skills to the test again. Her fight against Gerland had been nothing short of an embarrassment, and though she had done better against Tristan in their spar, she still wanted to prove to herself that she knew what she was doing.

Breck ducked behind a tree, using the cover of darkness as her ally. She sheathed her sword so that she could take her bow in hand, nocking an arrow instead. She took a breath, said a quick prayer, then turned and aimed it in the direction she had spotted the Woads, using the tree for cover.

As soon as the first Woad came into view, Breck released the arrow. It sailed through the trees and found its mark in the man's chest. He fell instantly, but the others hardly even faltered at his death. They kept coming toward her, spreading out further to make themselves harder targets. Breck nocked another arrow, shifting around to the other side of the trunk she was using as a shield, scanning the trees until she spotted the next man. Thwip. Her next arrow landed in his gut before he could take cover, and he too fell to the ground.

Another arrow whizzed past her shoulder, making her quickly duck back behind the safety of the tree. Breck waited only a heartbeat, nocked another arrow, and then whipped back around, weapon turning in the direction the arrow had come from. The Woad woman who had shot at her was readying another arrow, but not fast enough. She fell, weapons clattering to the ground, once Breck's arrow struck her just below the clavicle.

Two simultaneous battle cries made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. She glanced left at the woman leaping over a tall tree root, then right at the man shoving his way through a thick brush, both heading straight for her. In the seconds she had before they reached her, Breck tossed her bow aside and unsheathed her sword again. She gripped the hilt tightly, the injury on her hand all but forgotten, adrenaline pounding through her veins. Breck took a breath, her attention focusing on the faster of the two, then, with a loud battle cry of her own, she ran to meet the Woad woman.

Their blades met with a loud clang when the woman swung and Breck blocked the blow. Breck pushed her off with a strength that seemed to surprise her, the Woad stumbling back several steps. When she recovered and attacked again, swinging her sword high above her head, Breck dodged out of the way. The woman and her blade sailed clean past her, the forward momentum hard to stop as her sword met nothing but air.

Breck started to swing for the woman's neck in the precious few moments that her guard was down, but the arrival of the second Woad stopped her. The man came at her like a bull, making Breck quickly go on the defensive. She blocked two hard strikes that rattled the bones in her arms, dodged out of the way of a wild swing, then surged back at him with an upward slice of her blade, making him quickly jump back to avoid getting gutted. Breck jabbed and swung, but he was able to fend off the strikes, their blades meeting loudly.

The crunch of leaves was her only warning that the other Woad was coming back. Breck heard the noise and barely managed to duck out of the way as the woman's sword whistled over her head. The woman swung again, Breck deflecting it quickly, but the distraction of the woman was all the man needed to get in a hit.

Pain flared in her side, making Breck hiss. The man had gotten her with his blade while she was focused on the woman, and though the pain was significant, there was no time to assess the damage. The Woad man and Woad woman were now both in front of her, and neither seemed inclined to take turns. There was nowhere to go but backward as they each began to swing their blades at her, and for a few frenzied moments, she could only pray to keep up with the relentless attack, her focus shifting back and forth between the two as she repeatedly blocked blow after blow, doing her best to ignore the pain in her side as she did so.

Her arm started to tire, but she pushed through with gritted teeth, knowing that if she didn't, this fight would end in her demise. She swung left, stopped short the wide swing of the woman, then swung back toward the right, just managing to stop the man's sword from slicing through her neck. The woman charged her once more, and Breck grunted as she first blocked the blow aimed at her chest, then shoved the woman backward to try to get some breathing room. Of course, there was hardly any time to breathe, let alone think, as the man attacked a split second later, making Breck scramble to ward him off.

She finally got her break when the woman swung her blade so wildly that even the Woad man had to get out of the way. His momentary surprise was all the opportunity she needed. Without hesitation, Breck attacked, aiming a hit at his neck. The man recovered just quickly enough to block the blow, but he was not fast enough to avoid her knee coming up into his gut. The breath whooshed out of him, stunning him long enough for her to swipe her blade across the meaty part of his leg. He cried out and fell to one knee, blood spurting out of the deep wound.

Breck ended his cry of agony by slicing his head clean from his body.

The man's head rolled around on the ground between her and the Woad woman, the both of them looking at it before turning their attention back to each other. Chest heaving with adrenaline and exertion, Breck lifted her now bloodied blade, her grip tightening as she took on a defensive stance. Her eyes narrowed at the woman, who shifted on her feet, suddenly looking nervous now that she no longer had comrades around her. The way she bounced on her feet and the way her eyes shifted made Breck think she was contemplating making a run for it.

"Do not run now," she growled in Gaelic. "Fight me."

The language seemed to momentarily catch her off guard, but then the Woad finally plucked up her courage again and attacked with a loud shriek. Breck twirled away from her blade, the woman going straight past her. With the woman's back to her, Breck swiped at the back of her knee, drawing blood and making the woman cry out as she, too, dropped to the ground.

The woman tried to get back to her feet, limping badly and breathing hard, but Breck sent her back to the dirt with a hard kick. The Woad landed hard on her side, groaning with pain, her hand still clutching her wounded leg. Breck approached swiftly, not wanting to give her a chance as she lifted her blade above her head and prepared to send the woman back to her maker.

But then…she paused. Because the Woad looked absolutely terrified as she lifted a hand, her eyes practically begging Breck to have mercy. It was not the silent plead that stayed her blade, but rather the Woad herself. As the cloud of bloodlust hazing her mind eased, and as the moonlight hit the woman's face just right, she realized this was no woman at all. It had been hard to tell during the fight, what with the blue paint covering her and the heat of the battle distracting her, but now it was plain as day.

This Woad was just a girl, probably no older than fifteen if Breck had to guess.

Breck hesitated a moment longer, looking into her frightened eyes as the girl continued to silently beg for mercy. Breck had not had the chance to think about it during the fight, but now it seemed so obvious by the wild, almost clumsy way in which the girl had fought, as well as her hesitation and her fear now, that she was inexperienced. A novice, whom, for all Breck knew, was no warrior at all and had been forced into it against her will.

Breck did not know what her story was, but she did know that the thought of killing this young girl now didn't sit right with her. To do so would be cutting her life short, giving her a death that she clearly did not want, and that immediately begged the question – how would killing this Woad now make her any better than the man she hunted?

Some might say it was within her right to, after the way they had attacked her, and she knew without a doubt that Cerdic would have already run her through with a blade had he been the one to face her. But Breck slowly lowered her weapon. This had happened before, this internal struggle over whether it was truly necessary to take a life in situations like these. In the past, she had always decided that it was safer to just immediately eliminate any and every threat.

But in this moment, all she saw was a young, terrified girl who desperately did not want to die, and suddenly Breck no longer had it in her to do it.

Sighing heavily, Breck took a few steps back to put space between them. The girl looked immediately confused, her brows pinching together. When she made no move to leave, Breck waved her off.

"Go on. Return to your people," she said in the common tongue. The girl, however, hesitated to move, as if she thought it was some sort of trick. Breck sighed impatiently. "I said go."

The girl slowly started to get up, wincing as she did so and watching Breck warily. When Breck merely sheathed her sword and waved her off again, the Woad finally ran off as fast as her injured leg would allow, limping the entire way until she vanished in the trees.

As the forest went quiet again, Breck closed her eyes and took a steadying breath. Her heart was pounding against her ribs, and she could feel the warmth of blood on her clothes and skin. Yet, a sense of calmness had settled over her. It had been a long time since she had fought like this. Not a spar, not a training session, but an actual fight. Simply put, it had felt good. Not just because she had won, but because it was apparent, now more than ever, that all of her training was paying off.

One thing, however, didn't feel very good at all.

As Breck went to retrieve her bow and leaned over to scoop it up, she hissed at the stinging pain in her side. Breck looked down to the wound, where she discovered a sizeable tear in the fabric of her tunic a few inches above her hip bone. Pressing a hand to the area, she winced and then lifted it to see blood all over her palm and fingers. It wasn't a fatal cut by any means, she knew that straight away, but it was something that would certainly need to be addressed.

It could not be done where she currently was, though. If she had learned one thing about Woads from the men, it was that wherever you found some, there would likely be more nearby. On the chance that there were more Woads waiting to ambush strangers in their territory, Breck decided it better to leave now while she still had the chance.

She made quick work of retrieving all of her arrows and claimed an axe from one of the dead Woads. Then, knowing he wouldn't have gone far without her, Breck whistled for Lugh to return so they could clear out before anymore Woads appeared.

OOO

Breck and Lugh did not stop until they had finally cleared the thick forest, coming upon vast, open lands of rolling hills and pastures as far as her eyes could see. She breathed a sigh of relief, hoping that she would not be seeing much of the Woads from this point on. Then she eased her way off of Lugh to lead him over to a small pond that the moon overhead illuminated not far from the forest.

"You did well, love," Breck complimented the horse softly, scratching behind his ears.

He snorted at her in response, then began to graze around the pond. Breck kept a hand on him, her eyes trained on the tree line as she waited for any signs that they might have been followed. Even if they were out of the forest now, she was not foolish enough to believe that they were completely clear of danger just yet. If the Woads were still nearby, she doubted they would hesitate to attack again.

But the trees were quiet and still, and though it was hard to tell in the darkness, there was no sign of the vicious blue people. With one last sweep of the area, she finally sank down to her knees next to the pond, grabbing the canteen at her hip to quench her thirst.

Now that the adrenaline had fully left her body, the aches and the pains were impossible to ignore. The cut on her hand from her spar with Tristan throbbed, every muscle in her body ached, and the gash on her side stung with every movement she made. Breck set her canteen down and slowly lifted her now bloodied tunic, cringing as she had to twist to be able to see the damage. Her side was a bloody mess, but after washing the area with water from the stream, she saw that the cut itself was not as bad as she had thought. It was long, at least five or six inches, but not so deep that she felt the need to stitch it closed.

Breck clambered back to her feet and went to her saddle bags, where she retrieved her healing kit. She cleaned the wound a little better, then made quick work of wrapping it to keep it protected. If it was still bothersome by the time she reached Melcon's people, she would have it looked at by a healer there. For now, however, this would suffice.

She inspected her hand next, pulling a face at the amount of blood soaking through the now dirty bandage Dagonet had wrapped it with back at the Wall. Breck unwrapped it carefully, cringing at the feel of the cloth peeling itself away from her abused skin. The cut was bleeding freely again, and the skin was angry and red. Breck sighed with displeasure before cleaning and wrapping that as well.

With her wounds tended to, she splashed water on her face to wash off any blood clinging to her skin, then stood and patted Lugh on the neck.

"I know you are tired, and I am as well, but let us leave this place," Breck said to Lugh. "I have no desire to confront anymore Woads today."

Lugh lifted his head to look at her lazily, still munching on some grass, before he suddenly straightened up with alertness, his massive head turning toward the forest behind them.

Breck frowned and looked that way, then immediately reached for the bow still hanging from her back. Before she could even get it in her hand, an arrow planted itself in the ground right at her feet, making her freeze. Breck looked at the arrow, then lifted her gaze back to the trees, where over two dozen Woads had stepped into view, each with an arrow nocked and pointed directly at her.

For a few moments, nobody so much as moved a muscle. The Woads merely stared at her in stony, unsettling silence, while Breck stood stiff as a board, unwilling to do anything that might prompt them to launch all those arrows straight into her.

What were they doing? Why were they just standing there?

Finally, a skinny Woad with long hair and a long, scraggly beard stepped out of the trees. His skin was painted blue, just like the others, he had a large walking stick, and he wore a long robe that billowed behind him with the wind. He was peering at her with interest, as though she were some foreign species he'd never seen before. Breck eyed him in return, unsure as to whom the man was, but fairly confident he must have been important, given the fact that several of the Woads trailed after him as he came closer.

The man came to a halt well out of reaching distance, his eyes looking her over with curiosity. "Who are you with the bravery to pass through our forest?"

Breck frowned as she eyed him untrustingly. "I am but a traveler," she answered. "I did not come to seek trouble, though your people ensured that trouble found me," she said, eyeing the Woads still training their arrows on her.

"We do not take kindly to strangers passing through our lands," the man said steadily. "Romans especially."

"I am no Roman," Breck said with a shake of her head.

The man looked her over again. "From where do you hail? I was informed that you spoke in the tongue of the Celts."

Breck frowned curiously, her eyes doing a sweep of the Woads again. Finally, her gaze landed on a familiar face. A woman – a girl – positioned off to the left. It was the same girl that Breck had shown mercy to. The same girl who had allegedly immediately run off to inform other Woads about her.

Breck looked at the girl a moment longer, then turned her eyes back to the man. "My mother was Celt," she answered. "I lived in Ireland for a time. As of late, however, it has been Hadrian's Wall that I call home."

The man lifted a brow. "Are you acquainted with the commander there? Artorius?"

Breck hesitated. To tell him the truth felt like it might be a mistake, but something told her that lying would be an even bigger one. She decided to be honest. "Aye, I am," she responded, lifting her chin. "Arthur Castus has long been a friend of mine."

The news caused an immediate reaction amongst the Woads. They hissed and spit at the mention of Arthur, pulling their bowstrings tighter and looking like they very much wanted to kill her just for knowing him. Breck tensed but held her ground, her eyes narrowing as she tried to figure out how she would escape if they decided to release those arrows. With a sinking feeling, she knew that there wouldn't be an escape. Even if by some miracle she avoided being turned into a pincushion, she certainly wouldn't get far.

The only way she walked away from this still breathing was if the Woads allowed her to.

The Woads quieted down when the skinny man held his hand up to silence them. The Woads fell silent immediately, though the guard that stood behind him didn't lower their weapons even an inch. "He has sent you then?"

"No," she answered with a shake of her head. "I left the Wall without his knowledge to see to business elsewhere."

"What business?" the man questioned.

It wasn't like her to discuss her personal business with strangers, but some of the Woads were beginning to look very restless, and she had a feeling that they would not let her leave unless she told them what they wanted to know. "I seek to council with a friend to the north, in the Kingdom of Alban. I am trying to obtain information about an enemy army."

"The Romans?" the man asked curiously.

Breck shook her head. "No. I speak of an army far more fearsome than the Romans. This army is across the sea. Vast and terrible, and utterly ruthless."

The man seemed to understand whom she was speaking of in an instant, his lips pressing together into a grim line. "The Saxons."

Breck nodded once in confirmation.

"Why do you hunt them?" he questioned.

There was information she was willing to share if it meant she survived this encounter, but delving into her personal history with these people was out of the question. "That is a personal matter, which you need not know of."

The man nodded slowly, then shifted on his feet. "If it is Saxons you seek, you may not have to search very far," he told her cryptically.

Breck frowned. "What do you mean?"

"There have been whispers across this land of a great and terrible army coming," he told her. "An army from across the sea," he added meaningfully.

Breck's heart skipped a beat. "The Saxons are coming to Britain?"

The man lifted a shoulder. "I cannot say for certain. I can only pass along the rumors we ourselves have heard."

Breck looked away from him, her mind reeling with this new information. When last she had tracked the Saxons, there had been no indication that they were on the move for another invasion, nor that they had any plans to cross the sea. But that had been months ago now, and Cerdic had always been difficult to predict. Perhaps something had prompted the madman to leave the shores to the east and come this way. Perhaps these rumors were true, and the Saxons were on their way to Britain.

It was certainly not out of the realm of possibility. But to think that she and Cerdic had both decided to come to Britain at the same time sent a chill down her spine. All this time she had been trying to get to him, and now there was a chance he was coming straight to her.

"I wish to reach an agreement with you, young Celt," the man said, drawing her attention back to him.

"A Woad? In league with someone who is not of Britain?" Breck countered with a quirked eyebrow. She had heard much about the Woads from the men and knew that Woads were sneaky and not to be trusted, but he had piqued her interest.

"An arrangement in which we will both mutually benefit from," he clarified. "My people only travel so far away from our lands, so there is no guarantee that these rumors we have heard are accurate. You, however, are traveling far to the north, where surely you will learn a great deal more than we could."

"What exactly are you asking of me?" Breck questioned.

"It is a simple request. Whatever information you learn on your travels, you relay to me," he told her. "That way I can better prepare my people for whatever enemy is coming our way."

"And how do I benefit from this arrangement?" Breck asked with a lifted brow.

"You will be allowed to keep your life," the man answered simply. "We will let you leave without incident, and after you have fulfilled your end of the bargain, you may return to Hadrian's Wall. Alive and unharmed."

It was about as good of a deal as she could expect from a Woad, she supposed. Still, she had one more question. "Why me?" she asked with a shake of her head. "Why place your trust in a stranger?"

The man gave her a steady look. "By sending you, I do not risk the lives of any of my people," he said, which she supposed was fair. "I am also entrusting you because it is clear by how quickly and efficiently you killed my scouts that you are a formidable fighter, which means you will likely survive this endeavor and be able to return with information. Furthermore…" He paused and glanced back at the girl. "You showed mercy."

Breck glanced at the girl again, who was staring back at her steadily.

"You could have easily killed her, but you chose not to. You would not have made such a choice if you were without honor." He took a breath and lifted his chin. "So that is why you have been chosen, Celt. Now do you accept this deal?"

All in all, it was an offer that she would have been a fool to refuse. Trading information with the Woads so that she could make it back to Arthur and her friends without incident? That was simple enough. Granted, she had heard from the men, over and over again, that Woads were sneaky and not to be trusted, which meant that, for all she knew, this man was lying through his teeth and planned to have her killed anyway. But even so, what choice did she have? If she refused, they would probably kill her right then and there. Even if there was a chance they would turn on her in the end, she had to accept the deal.

"I pass along whatever information I learn on the Saxons, and you will allow me to return to Hadrian's Wall unscathed?" she questioned.

"Yes," the man confirmed.

"And you swear to abide by this deal?"

"I give you my word," he assured her. "The guard has seen your face. You will not be attacked, so long as you stay true to your end of the bargain."

Breck thought it over for one more second, then nodded. "Aye, then. I agree to these terms. I shall inform you of the Saxon movement in return for my safe passage back to Hadrian's Wall," she promised.

The man nodded, then gave a signal that had the Woad guard finally lowering their weapons. Breck felt the tension ease from her shoulders immediately. "What do you call yourself?" the man asked.

"I am Breck," she answered. "And to whom am I speaking to?"

"I am Merlin."

Breck's eyes widened with surprise. Merlin was the leader of the Woads – she had heard his name several times when talking to the men about their fights and mishaps with the strange blue people. She knew there was some kind of history between Arthur and the man in front of her, though Arthur had never been willing to go into detail about it and Breck had never dared to push the subject. Breck suddenly wondered what her friends would say whenever they learned that she had successfully bartered with Merlin – assuming, of course, Merlin didn't go back on his word and have her slaughtered when she came back.

"You have heard of me," Merlin commented.

Breck smirked and nodded. "Indeed, I have."

"And is the light that I have been painted in a good one, or bad?" he questioned, though something in his eyes told her that he already knew.

"I would rather not answer that," Breck said diplomatically.

Even so, her response gave him all the answer he seemed to need. He smirked slightly, then inclined his head to her. "Safe travels, young Celt," Merlin said. "We shall meet again soon."

Then Merlin and the Woads left, practically melting into the trees from which they had appeared, leaving her standing by the stream with only one, lone arrow at her feet to prove they had been there in the first place. Breck shook her head once they were gone, still a little baffled by the whole encounter, then glanced over at Lugh. He was also eyeing the forest, as if he too couldn't believe what had just happened.

Breck patted his nose. "I am just as surprised as you are, love," she said.

Breck looked at the forest once more, and though she could not see the Woads anymore, something told her that they were still watching. She leaned down to retrieve the arrow they had shot, stuck it into the quiver on her back, then finally mounted Lugh again and took hold of the reins. Then she turned Lugh in the opposite direction and continued on, leaving the forest – and the Woads – behind.

OOO

The road north was uneventful after the encounter with Merlin and the Woads, something which Breck found herself to actually be grateful for.

Within four days, she reached the Antonine Wall. This wall, much like Hadrian's Wall, had been built and inhabited by the Romans in an attempt to keep the native peoples from infiltrating Roman-controlled lands, only the people it protected against in this case were called Picts and they lived in the northernmost area of the island. But, for reasons she wasn't entirely sure of, the Antonine Wall had been abandoned, and Rome had concentrated their garrisons at Hadrian's Wall instead.

She had seen this wall before some years ago, but it was still an eerie sight now. The wall itself was weathered and crumbling, and as she passed through a gate with the large doors practically falling off the rusted hinges, she found the ghostly, abandoned fort on the other side to be just as unsettling as she remembered. She slowly made her way through the abandoned town, where decades of neglect had resulted in structures falling into disrepair and the foliage getting so overgrown that the earth had nearly swallowed it whole again. She had to wonder who had once lived there, and where they might be now.

Finally, she left the former fort behind and continued north for two more days, before eventually coming upon a road that would take her east. From there, the small coastal village that was her destination would only take a few more days to reach, assuming she was able to keep up the pace she had been traveling at.

Melcon's village was not a well known place, being so isolated from the rest of the country that people typically only found it there by one of two ways – either they knew someone who lived there, or, more likely, they found it by accident.

That was how Breck and her father had first found it when they had arrived on the island after fleeing from Cerdic. Purely by chance. They had landed close to the village when they had come ashore and given the people there quite a shock when they had, quite literally, stumbled across the village when trying to navigate their way inland. It had not been their plan initially to stay, but they had both been so weary and worn down, and the discreet town had seemed the perfect place to take refuge. Thankfully, they had been granted permission to stay by the town leader, Gede, whom had taken pity on them. Her father had ended up forming a friendship with the man, despite the fact that they had only stayed in the seaside village for a short while. The time they had spent there had been restorative for them both, and the town had left a good impression.

When Breck had begun her own travels, she had found herself drawn back to the village whenever she needed a quiet place to stay. The village had been taken over by Melcon, Gede's nephew, who had remembered her from her previous stay and welcomed her back without hesitation. Soon enough, the two of them had formed an alliance of their own. Melcon was not a friend to her the way Arthur or the men were, but he had always treated her fairly and always helped when he could. If nothing else, he was a good ally to have on her side.

Around mid-afternoon on what she hoped would be one of her last days of travel, Breck guided Lugh off of the road and over to a nearby lake so they could take a break. She sighed as she dismounted, taking a moment to stretch her arms high above her head, some of the bones in her body cracking back into place. After living a slightly more sedentary lifestyle at Hadrian's Wall, a near full week of travel by horseback was certainly taking a toll on her body. She felt achy all over, none of which was helped by the wound she'd sustained on her side. It had not gotten worse, nor infected, but it was certainly uncomfortable and had made travel a little more unpleasant. She vowed that as soon as she arrived at Melcon's village, she was going to have a bath, have an ale, and then see if their local healer could do anything to ease the discomfort.

Lugh snorted at her, probably thanking her for the break, and trotted over to lap up the water of the lake. In turn, she dug into the saddle bags to grab a bit of food for the both of them, offering him a green apple before indulging in one herself.

The fruit immediately made her think of Tristan, who favored this kind of apple and often stole them from the horses without shame. For a moment, she smiled to herself as she remembered playfully chastising him for it when he'd been loitering in the barn while she worked one morning not so long ago, wondering if he had been stealing more apples while she had been away.

But just as quickly, she pushed his image out of her mind. She was not meant to be thinking of him. She was meant to be focusing on her mission.

Breck forced Tristan from her thoughts and instead meandered her way back to the road to inspect the markings on a few signs that had been put into the ground to help guide people through Pict country. She recognized the signs and knew she was drawing closer to the road that would eventually take her to Melcon's village. It would not be too much longer now.

"Not much further now, love," she called to Lugh encouragingly.

Lugh just blinked at her in response and dipped his head down to wash down his apple with more water.

She started to turn to rejoin Lugh, but the sound of approaching horses and the creak of wagon wheels caught her attention. Breck stood straighter and shielded her eyes against the sun, her gaze trained on the road ahead, which curved around in a bend and disappeared amongst a thatch of trees. It took only a few moments for a large caravan to come into view, led by a handful of men riding atop their horses and lugging wagons that carried crates and bags that she presumed were full of supplies. Breck watched them approach, then whistled for Lugh, hoisting herself atop his back once more and then directing him onto the road so that she could meet with the caravan.

"Good afternoon," she called as she approached, lifting a hand in greeting so that they would know she was friendly.

"Good afternoon," one of the men called back, though she noticed that his eyes were surveying all of her weaponry with mild suspicion. She also noticed the way his hand came to rest on the hilt of the sword at his hip as he directed his horse off to the side and stopped just before her. "Who might you be?"

"I am no foe," she reassured. "I am but a traveler, just like you."

The man relaxed, but only just. There was still tension in his shoulders, as well as alertness in his gaze as he did a quick sweep of the area, as is checking to make sure there was no trouble waiting nearby. The rest of the people in his caravan slowly filed past them, every eye turning toward her with either curiosity, suspicion, or fear. Breck eyed the people as they went by, noting that the large group consisted mainly of old men, women, and young children, all of whom looked exhausted and fearful. They also appeared to have brought with them the whole of their livestock and numerous bags of grains and fruits, signaling to her that they had no intention of returning to whatever place they had come from.

"You look as though you are relocating your entire village," she commented, turning her eyes back to the man. "And it looks as though your people carry the weight of the world on their shoulders. What has happened?"

"Have you not heard?" he asked with a quirk of his brow. "The Saxons mean to invade the island. They will claim every bit of this land, starting from the northernmost counties and pillaging their way south." He frowned and looked to his people. "We flee now to preserve our lives, though some did stay to fight and try to protect our lands. With how terrible the army is, however, I suspect we shall never see those men again."

Breck's heart lurched at his words. Thus far, she had tried not to put too much faith in what Merlin had told her. While it was always possible that Cerdic could bring his army to Britain – to any place, really – it had still only been a rumor. With how unpredictable Cerdic could be, they very well could have gone anywhere in the world. She had learned long ago not to always trust a rumor when it pertained to the Saxon army.

"What makes you so certain the Saxons are coming?" she asked intently. "This is not the first time I have heard rumors of an invasion, nor would this be the first time those rumors proved to be wrong."

"This is no rumor," the man said roughly. "We have seen them. Their ships were spotted in the sea and scouting parties had already made landfall by the time we fled. I suspect the entire army will have landed by now, if not very soon," he revealed.

Breck felt like her lungs ceased to work for a moment.

This was the information confirmed. No more guesses, no more rumors. The Saxon army was coming to Britain. After all this time, after all the years spent trying to get to Cerdic, she would finally have her chance.

The knowledge of that left her with an odd feeling in her stomach, one that could have either been giddy excitement, nervous anticipation, or just flat out nausea.

One of the other men that had been riding at the front of the caravan appeared in the next moment, his brows furrowed together as he looked from her to the man she was speaking with. "Come. We must make haste if we wish to reach our destination by nightfall," said the man's companion.

"Where do you flee to?" Breck asked with interest.

"South for now, then eventually across the sea, to Ireland," answered the man she had been speaking to originally. "I would suggest you do the same, for if the journey you are on takes you north, then know that only death shall await you there."

Breck nodded solemnly. "I thank you for the information. And I will pray to God that you and your people find peace and safety."

The man inclined his head gratefully, then galloped back toward the front of the caravan. She then looked at the villagers that continued to walk past her, unable to help feeling relieved that they had been smart enough to leave before the Saxons could add them to the long list of innocent lives they had wrongfully taken. It especially comforted her to see the faces of the children that Cerdic wouldnotdestroy, and set alight the flame within her again to avenge those thathadsuffered his wrath.

Once the caravan had cleared the road, Breck found herself faced with a new choice. She had the information she had come seeking now. She knew exactly where Cerdic was, and the smart thing to do now would be to return to Hadrian's Wall and warn Arthur. If she pushed Lugh even harder, she could be back at the Wall – back with Arthur and her friends – in a matter of days.

The urge to turn Lugh around and head back south was almost too strong to ignore. The only reason she hesitated was because of Melcon. Given his own connections, it was likely he already knew about the Saxons, but on the chance that he didn't, he and his village needed to be warned so that they could start making preparations – either to fight, or, hopefully, to flee. And for as strong as Lugh was, and as badly as she suddenly wished to go back to the Wall, she knew it would be a mistake. Lugh needed rest, and they desperately needed to restock on supplies before they could even think about making the long journey south again.

The decision was easy to come to. Breck turned her eyes ahead, her shoulders squared with determination, and continued on.

OOO

By the time Breck reached the pass that would take her to Melcon's village the next day evening, she had decided already that she would not stay for long. Thanks to the man on the road, she already had achieved what she had set out to do. Cerdic would be on the island, and soon. The moment she'd been waiting for all these years was nearly upon her, so close she could practically taste the sweetness of revenge. The new plan now was to warn Melcon, give herself and Lugh a few days to rest, and then rush back to the Wall as quickly as possible to tell Arthur and prepare to meet Cerdic.

Arthur. Breck had found the task of not thinking about Tristan to be a little easier if she simply did not think about anything in regards to Hadrian's Wall. That meant not allowing herself to dwell on her best friend, either, whom she missed terribly but also feared seeing again. He would be furious in a way she had never before seen when she returned, of that she was almost entirely certain. And she was in no way, shape, or form, looking to being on the receiving end of whatever wrath awaited her.

That, however, was a problem for another day.

"You will go no further," a voice suddenly called out.

Breck was immediately brought back to the present, her spine tensing as she pulled on Lugh's reins to make him stop.

Her eyes searched the rocks and foliage around her, trying to determine where the owner of the voice had hidden himself. She received her answer when, one by one, four men emerged from various hiding places on either side of the road. The men were all burly and large, wearing light armor and, she couldn't help but notice, wielding very sharp weapons.

When last she had come to see Melcon, she had merely ridden straight through this pass and on to his village without any incidents at all. Now, however, it appeared things had changed in the years since then.

"Who are you? And what business brings you here?" the largest of the men asked in a deep, booming brogue. He was older, with numerous scars on his face and neck. She thought he looked vaguely familiar, as if she had seen him around when she had been there last.

"I am Breck. I have long been an ally to Melcon," Breck answered, holding her hands up to show that she came in peace. "And I come bearing urgent news."

"Urgent news regarding what?" he countered.

"The Saxon army."

The mention of the behemoth of an army made the men immediately stand straighter and share looks with one another. The one in charge stared her down for a moment longer, before turning and muttering something to the one closest to him. Without a word, the man turned and dashed down the path through the pass.

"Until Melcon confirms that he knows you, you will wait here," he instructed.

Breck merely nodded in acceptance.

Just as had been the case when she had arrived at Hadrian's Wall for the first time, Breck climbed down from Lugh's saddle and fed him snacks as she patiently waited for the guard's return. The men around her did not speak to her, did not even speak to each other, but all three of them kept their eyes trained either on her, or the road behind her, as if watching to make sure that she had not brought any danger along with her. Sensing it probably would not take much to send these men over the edge, Breck kept quiet and stuck close to Lugh, trying to look as unthreatening as possible and making sure not to put her hands anywhere near her weapons.

Many tense minutes later, the guard finally returned. He was atop a horse now, and he nodded as he looked to the man in charge.

"She may pass."

The man looked back to her, then indicated for her to continue on. Breck nodded gratefully and immediately got back up into her saddle, bidding the men farewell as she left.

Once Breck was through the pass, it was a short trip to the small village. Already she could see the sea out in the distance, the setting sun turning the waves shades of oranges and purples. She could smell the salt in the air and hear the cawing of gulls, and though it was so vastly different from Hadrian's Wall, it still felt good to know that she had finally reached her destination. For now, she was safe.

It was just like arriving at Hadrian's Wall again. As soon as she reached the center of the village and slid off Lugh's back, the people all around her eyed her suspiciously, unsure who she was and why she was there. Breck searched the crowd for the one face she knew she would recognize, all the while keeping a protective hand on Lugh. When she spotted Melcon making his way through the mass of loitering people, the tension in her shoulders eased. The man was about fifteen years older than her, with broad shoulders, a thick scruffy beard, and long brown hair now streaked with a few strands of grey. He stood taller than almost everyone else, and as he approached, it seemed he had earned himself a few new scars since the last time she'd seen him.

Melcon made his way through the crowd, then smirked upon seeing her, coming forward with his hand extended. "Breck," he greeted.

"Melcon," she responded, the two of them clasping each other's forearms for a moment. "It has been a long time."

"Aye, it has," he agreed.

After he motioned for her to follow him, Breck grabbed Lugh's reins and fell into step next to him as he led her through the village. It hadn't changed much since she'd left, with its quaint homes and tiny town center. The small village was a big change from the busy, bustling streets of Hadrian's Wall, though there was one thing that was the same – the people there stared at her just as much as the people at Hadrian's Wall had when she had first arrived.

Once they had found a more private place to talk, he stood before her and eyed her blood-stained clothes. "It seems your journey here was not uneventful," he commented with an amused quirk of his eyebrow. "Does that blood belong to you, or to someone else?"

"A bit of both, I am afraid," Breck said with a shrug. "In fact, I may need to pay your healer a visit."

"How serious is it?" Melcon inquired, looking only mildly concerned.

"Nothing life-threatening, but bothersome enough to have it looked over," Breck assured.

Melcon nodded. "I will have him see you soon, then."

"My thanks," Breck said, inclining her head. "I could not help but notice the guards you now have posted at the pass," she commented with a raised brow.

"One can never be too cautious these days," he returned cryptically. Then he gave her a curious look. "What brings you here?" he asked, crossing his arms. "It must be important, if you came directly and did not send correspondence first."

"I attempted to send a correspondence," she said grimly. "Unfortunately, my messenger did not survive the journey. Now, I am here, and I come bearing news about Cerdic."

Hearing her say the name Cerdic made Melcon shift on his feet, his lips pressing into a tight line. "A name we hear far too much for comfort these days," he said ominously. "Fear of him has infected the people of these lands."

"With good reason," Breck told him seriously. "The Saxons are coming."

Melcon let out a quiet sigh, though he did not look very surprised by the revelation. "I had been warned this may happen. Now it is confirmed." He uncrossed his arms and placed his hands on his hips. "When will they land?"

"There is a chance they already have."

Melcon nodded at those words. "Very well," he said. He stared off to the side for a moment, his brows pinched together as he became lost in thought. Then he blinked and looked back to her. "I thank you, for coming to warn me," he said, inclining his head to her.

"It was the least I could do, after all you have done to help me," Breck told him.

Melcon smiled slightly, then gave her a curious look. "When did you last eat?"

Breck quirked a brow at the subject change. "I have just informed you the Saxons are invading, and you wish to know about my last meal?" she questioned, her tone slightly incredulous.

Melcon shrugged. "I hardly believe the Saxons will come knocking at our door tonight," he told her. "Your journey from Hadrian's Wall was probably long and tiresome. You should eat and rest."

Breck couldn't deny that she yearned for a hot, home cooked meal, and just the mere thought of resting somewhere other than the hard ground sounded so good, it nearly made Breck want to sing. "I could do with something to eat," she confessed with a shrug. "And a bed, for that matter."

Melcon nodded. "You will stay with my family while you are here. We have plenty of food and at least one bed we can spare."

"Only if it is not an imposition," Breck interjected.

"It will not be," he assured her. "I should think my wife will enjoy the company, actually. And I have little doubt that the children will be eager to hear of all your adventures."

Breck smiled. "I will be happy to tell them all the tales."

Melcon smiled and clapped her on the shoulder. "Come, I will show you to my home so that you can get settled. While you fill your belly, I shall fetch the healer to tend to your injuries." His expression went serious again as he nodded to her. "Tomorrow, we will discuss the Saxons in greater detail."

Breck merely nodded in agreement. Then they continued on to Melcon's home, and Breck was all too eager for the hot meal and warm bed that awaited her there.

See you at the next chapter!