Table of Contents

- PART 1

- PART 2

- PART 3

- PART 4

- PART 5

- PART 6

- PART 7

- PART 8

- PART 9

- PART 10

- PART 11

- PART 12

- PART 13

STORM

BY

KIM PRITEKEL

Ebook by

PDAFiction.com

Note: Some parts of this story might be a little disturbing or just plain icky.

Note II: This story is kind of a Conqueror story, however, it’s characters aren’t Xena and Gabrielle.  So, I guess you can say it’s a bit of an uber Conqueror story.  Either way, I hope you enjoy it.

Sex: You know me better than to even ask that by now.

Violence: There is definitely gonna be violence in this story, and quite a bit of it, some fairly graphic.

If you’d like to tell me what a wonderful writer I am oar that I royally suck, feel free at:

XenaNut@hotmail.com

This story is dedicated to the wonderful people of the Xenaverse.

Without you, I would not have been able to weather my own storm.

STORM

PART 1

Europe, 1349

"REALIZING WHAT A DEADLY disaster had come to them, the people quickly drove the Italians from their city. But the disease remained, and soon death was everywhere. Fathers abandoned their sick sons. Lawyers refused to come and make out wills for the dying. Friars and nuns were left to care for the sick, and monasteries and convents were soon deserted, as they were stricken, too. Bodies were left in empty houses, and there was no one to give them a Christian burial."

The woods were smoky and dark, entirely too quiet.  Not even birds seemed to live in the numerous trees of old, who’s tops reached to the Heavens, branches spread before God in prayer.  Perhaps they were praying for the safe keeping of His people.  Perhaps they were raised in fists, damning a god who’d punish the land with such merciless fury.

A lone figure moved through the maze, a pale hand clasping the ends of the brown cloak together, trying to keep the chill of the air, and unknown enemy, at bay.  Unseen green eyes watched ever vigilant from beneath the large hood, keeping the feminine face in shadow.  It wasn’t wise for a woman to travel alone, with no horse.  Cara’s small dagger was gripped in her unseen hand, fingers sweating as they flexed against the simple handle of polished wood.  The cool metal of the hilt brushed against her skin.

Hearing footfalls in the fallen leaves around her, the girl tucked herself flat against the trunk of massive oak, pushing the hood slightly back to listen to the day around her.  Many footfalls, heavy, made by boots.  That would mean knights or nobles.  They were often worse than any highwaymen.

Scanning her surroundings, Cara saw that she had little chance of hiding; only trees, no caves, or rock overhangings.  Sucking in her lower lip, squeezing the handle into her palm, she waited.

“I see a body, my Lord,” John shouted, his voice echoing throughout the woods.  Grimacing, he put the cloth to his mouth and nose.  A disgrace.  From the distance of three horse lengths, the gender couldn’t be determined, the skin mostly black and eaten.  The eyes were open, but only one stared out, the other having been a small forest creature’s dinner.

“Well, stay far from it, man!” Lord Avery, Third Duke of Cornwall, shouted back.  “We steer around these woods.  Forward!”

Cara’s heart began to beat again, the noise of a small army heading away from her, their booted footfalls, and clanging armor becoming distant, soon only an echo.

“Thank you, my Lord,” she whispered, eyes flickering Heavenward.  Not waiting a beat more, she pushed off the tree, making her way through the trees that she knew so well, the weight of her pouch bumping against her hip as she darted from tree to tree.  She, too, had seen the body the soldier spoke of, and knew these woods were cursed.

She must hurry.

“Bugger,” Merryn growled, tossing the rotten piece of fruit aside.  Let the vultures add it to their enormous feast.  Crouching as she made her way through the carnage, she stopped, kneeling beside the body of a child, blue eyes staring up at her, silently begging for help that never came.  “Don’t look at me, lad,” she hissed, throwing a piece of cloth over the child’s face.

It had stopped bothering her long ago, now it just annoyed her.  The girl never liked to be looked at or noticed by the living, let alone the dead.  Even so, the dead offered so much more than the living.  Noting the child’s hand still clutched around something, she pried his fingers open, wincing at the sound of breaking bones.  Damn the stiff ones.

Though it was a grotesque work, the treasure inside was worth it.  Bright blue eyes opened in wonder at the gold that glimmered in the seemingly endless gray sky.  Three gold coins, kept shiny by the child’s sweaty palm, that is, before the body dried out.

Plucking the precious metal pieces from the clammy, gray palm, she quickly wiped one on her cloak before bringing it to waiting teeth.  Satisfied by the small mark made, Merryn pocketed the money, then moved on.

“Get out!  Flee, you savage!”

Merryn looked up to see an old, grizzled monk picking his way through the layers of dead, an angry fist raised in her direction.

“Go back to your monastery, Father.  There’s nothing here for you,” she said, tucking a dagger into her belt.

“How dare you steal from the dead!” he bellowed, grunting as one of his turnshoes was sucked into a badly decomposing body.  Unable to hide his look of disgust, the priest lifted his foot, balancing on his other foot and walking stick as he leaned down to grab his shoe from the mess.

Merryn couldn’t help but chuckle, all the while shoving the few valuables she found into her cloak.

The priest finally reached the cloaked girl, panting heavily after his journey through what had once been the street, but had been turned into a make-shift lane for the dead.

“Go back Father, before the blackness gets you, too.” Merryn didn’t even spare a glance at the old, rotund man.  She continued picking through the bodies, shaking out the rags that had once been clothing, seeing what would fall out.  Most were dead in the tiny village, so Merryn had the pick of the litter.

“And you, young boy, thief!”  He hobbled over to the cloaked figure, grabbing her by the arm and swung her around.  Merryn stopped, glaring as her hood fell away, exposing a tanned, dirty, and decidedly female face.  “God have mercy, a girl!”  His dirty brown eyes took in the torn, dirt-encrusted tunic, belted at the waist with several daggers tucked within, a baldric across her chest with a sword dangling from it.  His mouth fell open in shocked disgust as he took in the breeches and booted feet.

The old man’s eyes flickered up, his tongue about to admonish when he stopped, choking on the words.  He was looking down the blade of the very sword he’d just spotted, at the end, a very unamused young woman.

“Leave it be, Father, or I’ll send you ta yours.”

“You shall burn in hell, child,” the priest said quietly, yet with great earnestness.  Merryn grinned, nodding as she put her hood back in place.

“So I’m told.  If it t’weren’t me, would be some other lad.  Leave me be.”  She lowered her sword, smoothly easing it into place.

“Damned Gaelic,” he muttered, knowing there wasn’t anything he could do.  He was no match for the girl and her blade, so instead he turned and blessed the dead, freeing their souls to rest in Heaven.  Turning, he was stunned to see the girl was gone.  Nervously he tucked his hands into his robes, and moved on.

Cara sighed with relief when she saw the split stump she knew so well.  Just a hundred paces beyond would be the entrance to her village.  She began to run now, no longer having to worry about being seen alone wandering through the woods.

Hood flying off her head, allowing long, golden hair to flow behind her, the young woman, just fifteen summers old, ran on.

“No,” she breathed, hand coming to her hand as she stopped short.  Her green eyes widened in stunned shock and dismay.  She wasn’t sure which face to linger on longest, many no longer identifiable.  Taking slow, careful steps, the girl made her way through the sea of bodies, waving off masses of flies and awful stench.

She was too late.

“Mother!”  Panic setting in, Cara ran as best she could, whimpering as a fear greater than any she’d known before, gripped her heart.  She saw the shack she shared with her mother and younger sister, Grace.  The plank door was open, windows dark.

Slowing, Cara watched, trying to distinguish any movement at all.  She knew what she’d find, in her gut, and she didn’t want to get there to see it.

“Oh, mum,” she cried, rushing to the prone figure on the dirt floor, skirts riding up the swollen, blackened skin of her mother’s legs.  Falling to her knees, the girl gently turned the larger woman over, a quick, shrill cry escaping her throat when she looked upon the face of the only parent she’d ever known.

Cara could feel the lunch of berries and bread she’d had earlier threatening to rise once again, but swallowed it down.  Raising a trembling hand, Cara brushed dark blonde strands away from the nearly unrecognizable face- eyes open and bulging, a silent scream frozen on the swollen face.  Numerous sores littered Mary’s face, the puss that had leaked out in life, dried and smeared in death.

“Oh, mum.  I failed you.  Forgive me,” the girl cried, hugging the stiff body to her, rocking gently.

“My child,” said a soft voice.  Cara looked up, her grief so profound, she was almost unable to make out the image of the priest standing in the doorway of the shack.

“I was too late, Father.  Too late.”  New tears began, the young blonde burying her face in her mother’s dress, almost choking on the smell of death that clung to it.

“No, dear Cara.  The Lord had plans for Mary and Grace.  Do not blame yourself,” he walked into the hovel, walking stick making soft clicking sounds on the dirt floor.

Wanting badly to believe the priest’s words, Cara released her mother, laying her gently back onto the floor.  She wiped her eyes, to no avail as new tears quickly fell.  Shoulders slumped in defeat, Cara untied the thick rope from around her waist, removing it and the bag that hung from it.

“I brought the medicine as quickly as I could.”  She laughed ruefully, the irony not lost on either her or the priest.

“Keep it for yourself, child.”  Father Steffen grunted as he lowered himself to his knees, pulling the girl he’d known all her life, into his warm, fatherly embrace.  “You must go far from here, Cara.  Those who lived have gone.  You must go, too.”

“Do you think I’ll go to hell, Father?  For killing my mother and sister?”

Father Steffen looked down into the most green eyes he’d ever known, made to look like twin pieces of jade from the tears shed.  He smiled down at the child who was growing into a lovely woman.  Shaking his head, he brushed a few strands of blonde hair from her dirt-smudged face.

“No, child.  You have been blessed with life, surviving the blackness that walks the land.  Death come to us, stalking our every move.”  He grabbed the bag, filled with hard won herbs and roots, including rose petals, that would be mashed into a tablet to relieve the pain and suffering of those who caught the plague. “Go now.  You have beaten death, don’t stop here.  Heal those you find, and bring them peace with your lovely smile.”  Steffen smiled at the very smile he spoke of, shining on him.

Cara nodded, giving the priest one last hug before picking herself up, taking the bag the Father handed to her, before grunting as he, too got to his feet.

“Go, child.  Survive this darkness with the light God has given you.”  Father Steffen watched the girl leave, following with his eyes until she was out of sight.  He had always known that someday that girl would be so much more than the peasant filth she was born into.

The fire was burning bright, warming a cold, lonely night.  Merryn wrapped her cloak around her shoulders a bit tighter, then rotated the rabbit carcass that hung above the fire.

The night was quiet, very quiet.  So many had died.  Merryn tried to not think about it, knowing that it would do her no good.  Death was part of life, just like breathing was.

She’d been wandering for so long now, it seemed.  Long before the sickness had scorched the land.  Looking down at her pack, she drug it over to settle between her booted feet, pulling it open to peer inside.  All the goods she’d found over the past couple days glittered in the firelight.  She’d be able to do some good trading for much of it, using the rest for herself.  Weapons, clothing, and the blankets that made up her bedding.

Pulled out of her reverie, Merryn realized her dinner was beginning to burn.  Crawling over to the fire, she poked at the meat with a dagger, stopping mid-stab.  Blue eyes scanned the inky forest around her, ears perking up for what she thought she heard.

Slowly rising to her feet, she turned in a small circle, trying to figure out where the noise was coming from, and what exactly it was.  Footsteps, hurried, not being very careful or stealthy.

Then she heard a scream.

Snatching her sword from the baldric, then ran headlong into the dense foliage.  Up ahead she heard the whimpers of what sounded like a young girl, and the muffled words of a man, and lots of thrashing.

As she burst into a clear, Merryn saw the glint of steel against the moonlight, bringing her attention to two dark figures, which became clear as she got closer.  A young girl was pressed against a tree, a man holding her there with his body, a blade held to the girl’s throat as he loosened the ties of his breeches.  The girl was breathing hard, her chest heaving against the rough material of his shirt.

“Please!  Help me!” she begged, spying Merryn, who had finally reached them.  The brunette grabbed the man by the back of his long, unkempt hair.  He howled in pain as he was tossed onto the forest floor, dead leaves the only thing to pad his fall.  With what Merryn knew would be a brief respite, she grabbed the girl, yanking her away from the tree by the front of her dress, then pushing her behind her larger body.

“You just made a big mistake, girl,” the man growled, getting to his feet.  Again the glint of steel as he brought his dagger up, eyeing Merryn’s sword, which she held in a slightly trembling hand.

“Run away and you will only lose your pride,” Merryn said, sounding far more confident than she actually felt.  The man laughed, whipping his head back slightly to toss the dark, greasy locks out of his eyes.

“I’ll slit you from gullet to that pretty mouth of yours, wench.  I say you walk away and leave me to my business and maybe I’ll let you live.”  He shifted his weight from foot to foot, waiting and watching to see what the girl would do.  Maybe he could have fun with the both of them.

“Try it and tell your tale to Satan, himself.”  Merryn could feel the girl behind her, holding on to her cloak with claw-like fingers, fear making the girl’s breathing fast and erratic.

“You’ve got a big mouth on you, lass.  There are far better things for it than this rubbish.”  With that, he attacked, using brute strength against the smaller girl.

Merryn hadn’t been prepared for the attack, and was knocked to the ground, the girl backing out of the way, and screaming in frightened surprise.  Within in moments the man was on top of the brunette, trying to press his advantage of surprise and size.

The brunette’s head hit the forest floor with a resounding thud that echoed through her brain as he grabbed a handful of her long hair, using it as leverage to pound her head into the ground.  She swore she saw birds flying around her head, the second pounding making her teeth clang together, nipping her tongue in the process.  The warm, salty taste of blood filled her mouth.  She knew she had to do something and quick, before he got the upper hand and knocked her out.  If that happened, neither one of the girls would be safe.

With a mighty grunt and heave, Merryn pushed, using her feet against the ground, the muscles in her thighs standing in stark relief as she used them to change their positions.  Now sitting astride the man, she used the pummel of her sword, slamming it into his jaw.  A resounding crack filled the night, followed closely by a cry of pain.  Blood leaked out of the man’s mouth, oozing black in the moonlight.

“Nasty wench!” he shouted, bringing a fist up, connecting solidly with Merryn’s own jaw, throwing her head to the side.  A hot flash of pain filled the right side of her mouth, something very hard getting lost in the ripples of her tongue.  Spitting her tooth to the ground, she bared her remaining teeth, using every ounce of strength she had, pummeling the fool silly.  His head whipped this way and that, crashing again and again with the hard ground below him.

“Stop!  You’ll kill him,” a soft voice said from just behind and above Merryn.  The darker girl glanced briefly behind her to see the girl, huddled in her cloak, face the picture of worry and fear.

“If I don’t, he’ll kill us,” Merryn said, turning back to the man below her, his eyes half-hooded as realty swirled in his head, the world closing in around him until finally his head stopped moving, blackness enfolding him.

”Is he,” the girl with the blonde hair couldn’t bring herself to say it.  She’d seen so much death lately.

“No.  He’s unconscious.”  Merryn pulled herself up to her feet, her head pounding, jaw badly hurting and bleeding.

“You’re hurt,” the blonde said, hurrying over to her, looking up into Merryn’s face with the kindest, gentlest eyes.  The brunette pulled her face away from exploring hands.

“I’m fine.”  Turning back to the man, she knew she’d have to do something with him.  She could leave him be, but when he awoke, he’d be wanting to find the wench who’d done this to him.  She couldn’t very well kill him just like so.  “Go to my campsite, grab the rope inside the pack.  Go!” she shouted when the girl hadn’t moved.  Running off into the darkness, Merryn turned back to the man.  Maybe she could run him through while the girl was gone?  “Bloody hell,” she growled, knowing she couldn’t do that.

“Here’s the rope.”

Merryn took it from the shaking hands of the girl.

“Now get out of here,” she growled, turning to the man who was starting to come around.  “I said go!” she yelled over her shoulder, heaving a mighty kick at the man’s head.  He grunted, then was out like a snuffed torch.

The girl gasped, covering her mouth with her hands, eyes huge as she looked at a panting Merryn.

“I told you to go,” the taller girl growled as she knelt, using the rope to tie the man’s hands and feet.  The girl said something, but it went unheard as the man’s head fell to the side as she moved him.  Leaning in a bit, she hissed, jumping to her feet.  Behind his ear, and down the side of his neck was the tell-tale marks of the sickness.  “Bugger me.”

Without another word, she grabbed the man’s dagger, which he’s dropped, planting it firmly in the soil next to the man’s unconscious body.  He could cut himself free.  If he had the strength.

Ignoring the questions from the blonde, Merryn headed back to her campsite, where she began to pack up.

“What are you doing?  What’s happened?” the blonde asked, not sure what to do, where to go.

“You’ve brought death to my campsite,” Merryn said, pointing an accusing finger at the blonde.

“What?  I don’t understand-“

“The lad has got the sickness,” she snarled, roughly gathering up her pack, the rope not bound, the whole thing toppling over.  “He’ll be dead by morning, most likely,” she muttered absently, tossing a few things back into the pack that had fallen to the ground.

“What’s this,” lightning quick the blonde was kneeling at her side, daggers in her eyes as she reached into the pack, her hand glittering in the firelight when she brought it out.  “Stealing from a child, are you?”

Merryn looked at two of the three gold pieces she’d taken off the boy.  “He was dead!  Hardly needs ‘em anymore.”  She reached to snatch them away from the irritating little blonde, but the girl was too quick, jumping to her feet.

“I gave these to that boy,” Cara whispered, looking at the shiny gold resting in her palm.  “He’s dead, you say?”

“Quite,” Merryn smirked, the smile fading quickly when she saw the look of death aimed her way.  Clearing her throat, she stood.  “Give ‘em here.”  Holding out her hand, she stared into narrowed green eyes, made golden by the firelight.

“Not a chance.”  Cara closed her fingers around the coins, holding her fist close to her chest.  “Where’s the third?”

“There were only two,” Merryn lied, figuring she could at least get good use out of the last piece.  It was obvious the blonde didn’t believe a word she said, but she didn’t care.  You had to survive any way you could.

“Thief,” Cara muttered, slipping the gold pieces into the pouch tethered to her waist.  The girls stared each other down, a battle of the wills rumbling through their eyes.

As Merryn stared into those deep, soulful eyes, she was stunned by the way they seemed to be looking into her very soul.  She began to squirm, worried about what the blonde saw there.

Clearing her throat again, the taller girl turned away, pretending that breaking up camp was far more important than some silly game.  Once everything was bundled and hidden under her cloak, weapons in place, she began to kick dirt onto the fire.  She kept her eyes off her unwanted guest, but knew the girl still stood nearby.  Out of the corner of her eye she saw a hand swipe out and grab the badly burnt rabbit from the fire.

“We’ll need this for the road,” Cara said softly, wrapping the meat into cloth.

“I don’t think so, lass,” Merryn said, walking over to the girl, reaching out to snatch the food, which was promptly moved out of reach.  The brunette sighed. “Don’t play with me, girl.  I’m in no mood.”

“My name is Cara, not girl.  You owe me.”

“I owe you nothing!  Fine.  Keep the bloody meat.  ‘Tis burnt anyhow.”  Like a child, Merryn stomped over the dying embers, heading out into the dark forest.  Cara quickly followed after, mindful that her skirts didn’t drag through the red pit.

“You stole from me,” she explained, having to hurry to keep up.

“You lie,” Merryn tossed back over her shoulder.

“I gave those coins to David, and you stole them from him.”  It took everything Cara had to keep her voice steady, and not shed the emotion she felt in her throat.  She knew she had to stay strong, especially around this girl.  She wasn’t entirely sure she was that successful.

“No time for tears now, girl.  The boy was dead, and he certainly wouldn’t need them to get into Heaven’s gates, now would he?”

Cara sniffled, trying to swallow the growing sadness that welled up inside her.  “You still shouldn’t have taken them.  It’s disrespectful.”  Cara yelped in surprise as she nearly ran headlong into the taller girl, who’d turned on her.

“Respect don’t keep you alive, lass.  Remember that.”  Standing toe to toe, they looked into each others eyes, one looking for a weakness of any kind, the other looking to see how she could exploit the other in the quickest way and get rid of her.  Finally Merryn broke the silence. “If you’re gonna follow me around like a dog, keep your trap shut.  These woods are not a safe place, if you hadn’t noticed.”

Cara nodded her consent, though grudgingly so.  They traveled in near silence for what seemed like days, but what was actually a few hours.  The blonde was starting to wobble on her feet.

“Wait,” she said, slowing to lean against a tree.  “I need to stop.”

Merryn turned, looking back to see the girl leaning against a tree, hand on the trunk, head bowed.

“Sick, are ya?” she asked warily, keeping her distance.  Merryn was fine with the dead ones, but had trouble watching the live ones die.

”No.  Just tired.”

Merryn sighed, looking up at the sky, trying to determine what time it was.  It was very late, and as much as she didn’t want to admit it, the brunette was exhausted herself.

Without a word, she headed deeper into the wood, trying to find a good place to camp for the night.

“I’ll gather some wood,” Cara offered, heading back out, though keeping her hand near the dagger at her side.  She had been wandering over the day, trying to find life somewhere, anywhere.  She had found wanderers  like herself, everyone afraid to stay with their homes.  The dead were piling up faster, the stench of burning and rotting flesh making Cara nauseous just about anywhere she went.

The man in the woods had taken her by surprise, grabbing her from behind and slamming her against that tree.  The blonde shivered at the thought of what would have happened had her dark companion not shown up.

“What is your name?” she asked, making her way back into the circle of their cap.  The other girl looked up at her, where she’d been laying her bedding on a cleared spot.

“What does it matter?”

“Because I don’t want to call you hey you, and I want to know to who to give my gratitude.”

The brunette sighed, taking the armload of wood from the blonde. “Merryn.”

“Merryn,” the blonde tasted the name, deciding she liked it.  “Well, thank you for what you did, Merryn.  I owe my life to you.”

“You owe me nothing.  And don’t thank me, Cara, because this time tomorrow, you will be on your own.”

Cara was silent as she readjusted a few sticks, helping them to catch.  The fire began to illuminate their surroundings, trees tall, sending shadows over everything the flames didn’t lick.

“It would be safer for us to travel together, Merryn,” she said, her voice soft.  She spared a glance at the other girl who stood by the fire, feet planted wide apart, arms crossed over her chest.

“I don’t need you with me, lass.  If t’weren’t fer you, I’d be sound asleep by now.”  Merryn’s eyes were cold as she stood there, unmoving, both body and soul.  Without a word, Cara nodded, dropping her eyes as she untied the pouch around her waist.

“’Tis your choice, Merryn.  Let me have a look at your mouth.”

“’Tis fine-“

“Sit.”

Merryn landed on a log with an oomph, the blonde standing above her.  Glaring up at the girl, she stayed put.  Cara knelt before the stubborn girl, raising gentle, warm fingers to examining the damage, and what would be needed.

The brunette watched, fascinated, as the girl pulled a small bowl, carved from the trunk of a tree, sprinkling various herbs into its depths.  Setting the bowl aside, the girl tore off a sprig of something the darker girl had never seen before.  The blonde put the weed into her mouth, chewing for a few moments before spitting the newly-made mush into the bowl.

“Have you any water?” Cara asked, eyes raising to look at the confused blue of her temporary companion.  She smiled softly when the girl nodded dumbly.  Merryn reached over to her small pile of belongings, handing the blonde a small animal bladder.

A bit of water poured into her mixture, Cara pulled out a small, thick stick from her pouch, and began to mix it all together, making a strong-smelling paste.

“You look a bit young to be an apothecary,” Merryn said quietly, eyes never leaving Cara’s movements.  The blonde smiled.

“Because I am not.”

“Your da, then?”

Cara shook her head, meeting the other girl’s gaze. “Since I was a small child I’ve understood what would help those who were sick.” She shrugged. “Father Steffen used to say I was a chosen one.”  She smiled shyly. “I don’t believe that, but t’might have saved my life.  A man in my village was struck with the black sickness, so I left to gather what would help him.  I was gone but a few days, and at my return,” her voice broke.

Merryn cleared her throat softly, guilt consuming her.  “How did you know those gold pieces belonged to the boy?”

Cara quickly swiped at her eyes.  Now was no time to mourn.  She finished mixing, scooting closer to the brunette.

“Because I gave them to him.  A soldier had passed through our village.  He had been hurt in battle, his leg growing dark with sickness.  I helped him,” Cara said a slight smile of pride spreading across her lips as she cleaned Merryn’s bloody mouth.  “I’m sorry.  I’m being as gentle as I can,” she whispered when the other girl winced.

Merryn did her best to not react as gentle fingers cleaned her.  She focused on the young blonde’s face as the girl continued her story.  She was a beautiful thing.  She wondered what wondrous colors would jump from the girl’s expressive eyes come the light of sun.

“So grateful was he that he gave me the three gold pieces.”  She glanced up briefly to meet Merryn’s eyes. “I knew they belonged to the boy because we’re so near my village, and pieces of gold like that aren’t lying around just anywhere.”

Again, the brunette felt a stab of guilt, and looked away.  A gentle touch on her chin told her not to move.  She kept her patience as the paste was applied to her face with the stick, tapping it down lightly with a fingertip.

Merryn was stunned as the pain began to recede.  Her jaw was sore, indeed, but the cuts and bruises seemed to shrink under the blonde’s care.  As if reading the girl’s mind, Cara spoke.

“I’ve made you a bit extra so you can take it along with you.”  She sat back on her heels, looking at her handy work.  “Within a day or so your wounds will be healed.”

“What is in this?” Merryn asked, taking the bowl from the blonde, holding it up to her nose before quickly jerking back.  The smell was not unpleasant, but potent.  Cara smiled.

“’Tis secret.”

“Oh?”  Merryn raised a brow, letting the blonde take the bowl from her hand.  Cara nodded.

“’Tis.”  She scraped the remnants of the paste onto a cloth, wrapping it before handing it to the brunette, who was adjusting her jaw.

“Like magic,” she murmured.  She could have sworn the lad had broken her jaw.

“Don’t breathe that too loud, Merryn, or you’ll get me hunted.”

Merryn smirked, then stood, walking over to her sleeping rags.  Without another word, she made herself comfortable, and fell asleep.

Cara watched her go, a sense of sadness washing over her.  Yet alone she’d be again.  Sitting by the fire, the girl brought her knees up, wrapping her arms around them and staring up into the Heavens.

Her whole life she’d been surrounded by those who loved her, and those she loved.  Her father had died many, many years ago, but her mother and Grace ….  Cara felt tears chilling her skin as they fell silently.  She wished she’d been able to give her  mother a proper burial.  At least she’d been able to say goodbye, which is more than she could say about her sister, Grace.  A mere child, the girl had been the light of Cara’s life.

Forehead resting against her knees, she really began to sob, unable to keep it in any longer.  She was devastated and filled with a profound sadness.  What now?  Where would she go?  What would she do?

Startled, Cara looked up as her fingers found the rough material of the cloak that had been wrapped around her shoulders.  She brought the warmth closer around her.  She tried to curb her emotion, not figuring Merryn for the crying type, but just couldn’t get it to stop.  Glancing up over her shoulder, Cara saw Merryn heading back to her bedding.  As the taller girl sat down upon the pile of rags, she met the blonde’s gaze for a short moment.  A soft, brief smile, and the brunette laid back down, cocooning herself in the rags.

Cara sighed, grateful for the kind gesture from the older girl, she decided to try and get some sleep.  She curled up within the cloak, bigger than her own, allowing for her to create a bubble of warmth around her, her own cloak serving nicely as a pillow.

A deep breath was taken, then another and another before a green eye opened.  The sideways world showed a fire crackling, and a small, iron pot was laid out on a few flat rocks in the flame.

The world righted itself as Cara sat up, running a hand through her hair.  A deep rumbling in her stomach reminded her that she hadn’t eaten since sun high the day before.  Movement behind her caught her attention, and she watched as Merryn tugged on leather twine between her teeth, repairing one of her bracers, which were simple brown leather.  No decorations or ornamentation.

“Stir that, will ya, lass?” Merryn asked, eyes never meeting Cara’s as the brunette set the bracer aside, grabbing one of her boots.

Without comment, Cara made her way to the pot, using the wooden spoon that rested on a rock outside the fire ring.  Leaning over the wonderful-smelling stew, she was mindful of her sleeve and the licking flames as she stirred the concoction, roots and wild potatoes bobbing in the mix, along with chunks of cut up meat.  Bringing the spoon to her lips, she blew over the broth, made of mostly water, and the few juices left over from the rabbit the night before.

“It’s just about ready,” she said, setting the spoon back to its rock.  Standing, she stretched her arms high over her head, balancing on her toes for a moment to stretch out her calves and arches.  A day full of walking can be torturous on the body.

Merryn did not reply, instead tugged on her boot, which Cara could tell was slightly too large for her.  Boots were rare, and Cara’s curiosity got the best of her.

“Where did you steal those?”  She neatly folded Merryn’s cloak, which had been put over her shoulders the night before.  Blue eyes twinkled up at her.

“Who knows.  Let’s say that there’s a soldier out there with cold feet.”

Cara grinned, shaking her head as she gently set the heavy garment atop the brunette’s belongings.  Seeing the cloth filled with the remains of her herbal mixture, the blonde walked over to Merryn.  Squatting in front of her, she raised a hand.

“Let me have a look at your mouth,” she said quietly.

Merryn held still, allowing the smaller girl to do what she needed to.  She focused on the girl’s face, seeing the skin, surprisingly smooth considering the hard life the girl had already endured.  Slightly arched brows, dark blonde, drew slightly as the girl’s concentration deepened.  Merryn looked at the girl’s eyes, such an unusual color.  They were green, but it wasn’t the color that caught the brunette.  There was a depth to them, a wisdom far beyond the girl’s maybe sixteen years.

Those eyes glanced up to meet her own for a moment, Cara smiling encouragement before she returned to her task.

“You’ve healed well, Merryn.  One more day and you should be fine.  Perhaps a bit of a bruise, but nothing more.”

The brunette nodded her acknowledgement at the news, sitting as still as she could as Cara applied a second layer of the paste.

“How long have you been alone?” Cara asked, surprising her companion with the softly spoken question.

“Many years, lass,” she said just as softly, watching as the blonde brought a rag up, gently wiping away a smudge of the paste she’d accidentally gotten onto the brunette’s cheek.

Cara sat back on her heels, looking up a the girl who sat upon a large rock. “Don’t you ever get lonely?”

Merryn shrugged, suddenly feeling shy.  “Sometimes.  ‘Tis the way of things, and I move forward.”

“Where are your parents?”

“I know not.  I was left on the steps of the nuns, and I ran from that place.”

“I’m sorry,” Cara whispered.  She was amazed at the pain she could see in those incredibly bright, blue eyes, which shone even brighter from the dirty face they looked out of.

“Do not.  ‘Tisn’t worth pity, Cara.  I’m alive, and no longer anyone’s whipping boy.  Nor will I be again.”

Cara nodded her understanding.

“How have you managed to avoid the black sickness, lass?” Merryn asked, putting voice to a question that had plagued her since the day before.

“Father Steffen said it was because I was blessed, but I think it’s more because I found that cleanliness is next to Godliness.”  She smiled sweetly, standing.

“What does that mean?”  Merryn also stood, walking over to the fire, using her sword to hook into the iron loop on the pan, tugging it from the fire.

“The sickness seems to live in the dirt, the mire and dung.  Since I was a small child, I wash nearly every day-“

“Every day!  Are you out of your mind, lass?” Merryn cried, stopping mid-scoop when she heard the outrageous boast.  “Man nor beast needs that.  How have you got any skin left?” her eyes wandered over the girl’s face and arms, brows raised in shock.  Cara laughed.

“You won’t lose your skin, Merryn.  It’s better for you, and from the looks and smell of you, a trip to a river would be a good idea.”

“Not on your life.”

“Tell me again why I didn’t let that bugger be down away with you last night?” Merryn growled, eyeing her blonde companion, who was clearing the water out of her eyes.  Cara grinned.

“Because deep down you want someone to travel with you, and the moment you laid eyes on me, you knew I could be your very own troubadour.”

“That must be it,” Merryn rolled her eyes before dunking herself under the cool surface of the water, rinsing off the last of the herbs Cara said would clean her hair.  Running her hands down the rope of wet strands, she squeezed some of the extra water out of them.  She had to admit, though it would never be to Cara, that she felt much better, and liked the feel of a clean body.

Cara grinned, ignoring the sarcasm in her new friend’s voice.  She swam a few laps to stretch her arms and legs before deciding she was cold enough.  Walking out onto the rocky shore, she quickly grabbed her clothing.

“Wait, lass,” Merryn said, wading to the shore.  “Ya may night die from the black sickness, but ye’ll catch yer death with the cold, wet garments.”

Cara watched as the darker girl quickly got a fire started, right there on the shore, seemingly unconcerned with her nakedness.  The blonde looked away, wanting to give her friend some privacy.

“Come here, lass.  Warm yourself.”  Merryn laid herself down on her cloak, hands tucked behind her head.  It was a beautiful day, the sun shining down to warm their skin.  For the first time in she couldn’t remember how long, the brunette was enjoying herself.  She glanced across the dancing flames at the blonde, who lay in almost the exact same position.

“So where are we headed?” Cara said, eyes twinkling.  Merryn smirked.

“We, lass?” she asked, brow raised.  Cara smiled sweetly, but said nothing.  Merryn, shook her head, incredulous at the young blonde.  She was filled with guilt once again, as her thoughts turned to where she was off to, next.  Yes, she should take the blonde with her, and yes, they had fun in the lake.  Perhaps this washing thing isn’t so bad, but would Cara drive her crazy as time went on?  Merryn was a loner, always had been, always would be.  “I’ll take ya to the next town, maybe London if you’re lucky.  But at that, lass, we part ways.”

Cara looked at her friend, heart dropping, but she nodded in agreement.  She would have to be grateful for what she could get.

“Are you a character in the bible?”

“Nope,” Merryn said absently, looking around as they made their way through the forest.  The snow had fallen heavy and brutal, their breaths and words immediately crystallized in the air.  She worried they wouldn’t be able to find any dry wood for a fire.

“Dead or alive?” Cara asked, brows furrowed as her mind brought up image after image of possible candidates for their game.

“Dead.”

“Dead.  Alright,” the blonde stopped for a moment, head cocked to the side.  Merryn had heard it, too.  “What is that?”

Ignoring the question she had no answer for, the brunette headed off toward the left, hearing the sound get louder.  Soon she was running, cloak fanning out behind her, boots crunching across the snow.

Cara stayed where she was, then jumped to action when her name was echoed through the wood.  Out of breath, and grateful for the warmth that spread through her body from the exertion, the blonde burst through the trees into a clearing, stopping short.  Merryn slammed her blade into the frozen ground with a grunt.  “Give me your rope,” Merryn shouted, seeing the blonde over her shoulder.

Cara gasped at the site before her.  The noise she’d heard was a horse that had fallen through the ice of the river.

“Now, girl!” Merryn said, desperation in her voice as she threw her cloak to the ground, stripping herself of all her weapons.  Acting purely on auto-pilot, Cara untied the rope with trembling fingers, eyes never leaving the site of that beautiful mare, thrashing in the ice, desperately trying to keep her head above water.

Merryn took the rope thrown to her, quickly tying one end to the cross-guard of her sword, the other around her ankle.

“Hold on to my sword, lass,” she said quietly over her shoulder as she edged toward the ice.  Cara hurried over to the blade, falling to her knees and wrapping her cold-reddened hands around the grip.  She flexed her fingers before lacing them, making a stronger hold.  Her heart was beating fast as she watched the taller girl make slow, but sure progress across the ice, her boots sliding, Merryn’s arms out for balance.

Cara listened as Merryn murmured claming words and sounds to the terrified horse.  The blonde let out a cry as a sharp crack wrent the air.  Merryn stopped in her tracks, eyes huge as she tried to find the source of the crack.  The mare was making it worse, her cries of terror and distress almost deafening.

Realizing that the horse would tire soon, and it would be too late, Merryn continued, sliding faster across the ice until she reached the animal.

Cara’s hands flew to her mouth as Merryn fell into the water with the animal.  Remembering what she was to do, she quickly wrapped them around the grip again, her heart stopped cold in her chest.

Merryn’s breath was stolen from her lungs as she was immersed into the frigid water.  Going under, she quickly made her way back to the surface, reaching down to untie the rope from her ankle.  She had to be very mindful of the frightened animal’s movements, as the horse could easily kill her in its frantic state.  She jumped onto the mare’s body, a death grip on her neck.

Cara watched as Merryn fought to get the rope tied around the animal’s neck.

“Tug on the rope, Cara!” Merryn cried, her lips barely able to get the words out, so frozen they were.

Jumping into action, the blonde wrapped her hands around the rope, using her body weight to pull.  Eyes squeezing shut, teeth bared and an echoing cry erupting from her throat, the mare began to move.

Another crack, then another, and another.  Cara’s eyes opened in time to see a spider web rush across the ice, the horse following as the ice parted.

“Pull, lass!  Pull!” Merryn cried, half desperation, and half laughter at the incredulity of the horse breaking her own way out of the river.  Her laughter was cut short when the horse reared up, her back body throwing the brunette, who was sent crashing through the ice, her body disappearing under the surface.

“Merryn!”  Leaving the sword, the blonde ran toward the ice, wincing and whimpering as the mare jerked forward, running toward her as the horse broke through the last of the ice.  Getting out of the galloping animal’s way, wading her way into the water.  “Merryn!”

Seeing movement, Cara sent a thanks to the Heavens, and hurried forward, gasping as the water rose until she was having to swim.

“Merryn,” she gasped, seeing the darkness of long hair.  Hurrying over to it, she grabbed at her friend, startled, but immensely happy when Merryn gasped loudly, taking in a long breath.  Cara grabbed the taller girl, tugging quickly, knowing she had to get Merryn out of the frigid water as soon as possible.  “I’ve got you,” she panted, kicking her way toward the shore in the open waters created by the mare.  “I’ve got you.”

Finally able to touch the bottom of the river, Cara drug the coughing, shivering girl toward the shore.  “’Tis okay, Merryn,” she encouraged, helping the girl to the ground.  Looking around, she saw a long, deep trail in the snow and realized it was from Merryn’s sword, where the mare had pulled the blade out of the ground, dragging it behind her in her haste to escape her terrifying confinement.

“I’ll be right back,” she said, gently squeezing Merryn’s shoulder.

Hearing a heavy breathing and snorting, the blonde scurried through the trees, ignoring her shivering as she stepped carefully around the trees, not wanting to spook the animal.  When she finally found her, she saw the horse lying on her side, ribs heaving with every hot breath that managed to melt a small trench in the snow at her head.  The rope was still around the mare’s neck, so as carefully as she could, a big brown eye watching her, Cara untied the other end from around the sword, which lay not far behind the horse, tying the end to a tree.

“I’ll be back, girl,” she murmured, kneeling at the animal’s head, gently running a hand over the horse’s nose.

Running back to Merryn, who lay where she’d be left, huddled in upon her own body, which was shivering violently.  Ignoring her own chills, Cara made quick work of digging into Merryn’s belongings, tugging on the blankets the brunette slept on.

“Here, Merryn.  Sit up,” she said, her voice soft and soothing.  The brunette did as bid, her lips almost as blue as her eyes.  The blonde tried to untie the laces of Merryn’s shirt as quickly as her trembling fingers would allow.  Once the shirt was removed, she wrapped the blanket around Merryn’s shoulders, her skin like ice.

“I’ll make a fire,” she whispered, rubbing her hands frantically up and down the brunette’s arms, trying desperately to put some warmth back into her companion’s body.  Merryn nodded, saying nothing.

Crying out in frustration, Cara was desperate to get a fire stared, and not a smoke stack with the wet wood.  Finally, God above, she got it started.

“Thank you, Lord,” she whispered, hurrying over to her friend. “Come, Merryn.  Let us warm you.”  With a groan, the brunette got to very shaky legs, walking the short distance to the fire.

“You need to warm yourself, as well, lass,” Merryn said, her tired eyes resting on the shivering blonde.

“Soon,” Cara said, hurrying back through the woods to the mare.  The horse was on her feet, too exhausted and cold to fight the girl.  Cara untied the rope, leading the weary animal back to camp, tying her to a tree near the fire.  The mare immediately went about nosing the snow out of the way, finding natural grass at the base of the tree.

Finally out of energy, the cold taking over, Cara collapsed next to Merryn, quickly untying her cloak, which was heavy and still water-logged.

Silence prevailed as both girls absorbed the warmth that finally managed to permeate the layer of ice on their skin, feeling coming back to Merryn’s body.  She turned to the blonde, who stared into the flames.

“You saved me, lass,” she whispered.  When green eyes met hers, she smiled. “You saved my life.”

“Guess we’re even,” Cara smiled back.

“Guess so.”

“I’m alright, lass,” Merryn said, though the last word was interrupted by another violent coughing fit.  Cara rubbing small circles across the darker girl’s back, brows knitted in worry.  It had been two days since rescuing the horse from the icy waters, and Merryn’s health was faltering quickly.

“No, Merryn, you’re not.  You’ve gotten worse.”

“No,” the brunette waved off her words of concern, determined to continue on.  She’d been sick before, and could beat this time, too.  She didn’t need to be pampered like she was a child.  “I’m fine.”

Cara said nothing more to the stubborn girl, instead keeping an eye on her as she led the mare, yet to be named, through the trees.  They headed down the path they had been following since starting out that morning, heading toward London.

Finally, Merryn agreed to stop for the night, her pace slowing more and more as the day passed.  Cara tried to get the brunette to eat the soup made of a few random roots they’d been lucky enough to find over the day.  They really needed to get to London soon, so Merryn could get out of the cold.

“Please eat, Merryn,” Cara pleaded, bringing their one bowl to the brunette.  The steam from the food warms the brunette’s face, the smell making her nauseous.  Turning away, she brought a hand up, the other tucked against her stomach.

“I can’t, lass,” she groaned, the bile rising in her throat.  Sighing, Cara looked down at the food, uncertain what to do.  The girl hadn’t eaten more than a few spoonfuls of food in two days.  She knew Merryn was weak, and unable to travel for long lengths of time.

“Please, Merryn?” she tried again. “For me?  Just a couple bites?”   The blonde raised green eyes to meet the sunken blue of her companion.  The brunette nodded, accepting the bowl.

Not long after, Cara helped Merryn to bed.  That is, as much as the proud girl would allow.

“Stop your fussing,” Cara gently admonished, her patience being tried.  She grabbed the heel of one boot, giving a mighty tug and grunt, keeping her balance so she wouldn’t fly back into the fire once the boot came loose.  Setting it aside, she pulled off the second one, noticing the sole was beginning to wear.  “We need to get this repaired when we get to London,” she said absently, setting the boot aside and grabbing Merryn’s cloak.

“A bit breezy,” the brunette whispered, her voice hoarse, just before she was wracked with another coughing fit.

“Shhh,” she cooed, moving up to the girl’s head.  Cara looked down with concerned eyes, bringing a hand up to gently brush dark hair away from a sweaty brow.  The blonde thought for a moment, then began to sing, her voice soft on the cold night air.  She wouldn’t be London’s next minstrel, but her voice wasn’t unpleasant, either.  It helped to calm and lull Merryn into an uneasy sleep.

Exhausted herself, but knowing what must be done, Cara grabbed her pack, sifting through until she found what she sought.  Pinching a few of the dried leaves between her fingers, she moved back over to the sleeping brunette, gently parting Merryn’s lips with her finger before placing the leaves on her tongue.  The brunette’s brows drew for a moment, her lips briefly tucking inside her mouth as the dried leaves tingled against the soft flesh of her gums and tongue.  Finally with a soft sigh of contentment, Merryn was still, her breathing even.

“Sleep well, my friend,” Cara whispered, placing a gentle kiss on Merryn’s clammy forehead, sweeping mahogany locks away from her face, usually so beautiful, but now pale and sickly.

Merryn’s mind wandered, through the trees, under the surface of the river, ice bumping into her face, giving her the shivers, only to have the fear of flame licking up her body, causing a great sweat that turned into a small glacier, which she stumbled over.  Blue eyes widened in terror as the deep brown mare turned into a raging beast, dragon of olde, fire flaring from its dilated nostrils, hitting the brunette with a wave of heat, making her cry out as it singed her mind.

A voice.  A sweet, lovely voice …  “Merryn?  Come back to me, Merryn,”  echoing, bouncing around between the brunette’s ears, like a ball of string she once had.  The string unwinds, tugging at a liter, the dragon pulling, tugging her by the string.  “Merryn?  Are you hungry?”

Food.  What food comes back to life to snap at you?  Crazy lass, give her food that bites at your throat, stings the inside of your mouth, making your tongue tingle like so much ale.

Cold.  So cold.  So very cold.

Softness.  Do the clouds fall from the skies?  Lie upon the land like so much dew.  Warmth, softness along her body, and in her mind.  The wool keeping her ears apart had grown soggy, capturing her thoughts into tiny little caves where spiders crawled in and out of them.

Warmth.

Blue eyes slowly fluttered open, blinking several times before becoming focused.  Quickly Merryn squeezed them shut, her head pounding, temples pulsing.

“Shh, it’s alright, Merryn.  I know it hurts,” a soft, warm voice said to her right.  Turning her face in that direction, Merryn kept her eyes closed as she felt coolness spread across her forehead, and a small, calloused hand take her own.  “The pain will pass, I promise.”

“Where am I?” the brunette whispered, her voice as scratchy as her throat after such little use.

“The nuns at St. Michael’s were kind enough to allow us respite,” Cara explained softly.

“H-” Merryn cleared her throat, trying again.  “How long have we been here?”  She attempted to open her eyes again, squinting in the dim light of a single candle that rest in its holder upon the small table next to Cara’s chair.

“Three days,” the blonde said, head cocked slightly as it was tilted down as she looked at her patient.

“Why does my head hurt so badly?”  Merryn blinked again, grateful to feel the ebb of pain beginning to ease.

“’Tis the comler root I gave you.  T’will break your fever, as it seems to have done.”

“To what horror,” the brunette groaned.  She saw a small smile briefly tint Cara’s lips.

“I’m sorry, Merryn, but a pounding head is more welcome than a raging fever of a week in age.”  Cara removed the damp cloth, the coolness sucked right out by the wicked heat of the brunette’s skin.  She dunked it in the wooden bowl, filled with cool water that the sister’s had provided her with.  Wringing out the cloth, she reapplied it, gently wiping away the few beads of sweat that remained.  Merryn closed her eyes once more at the cooling sensation, which helped to ease her headache.  “Other than a hurting head, how do you feel?”

Merryn paused before she answered that question, taking stock of her body and all it’s moving parts.

“I’ll live, lass,” she whispered, pleased at the soft chuckle that received.

PART 2

MERRYN COULDN'T HELP but get the shivers as she walked the halls of the giant cathedral. Where others saw beautiful windows made of colorful glass, depicting the saints in all their saintly duties, she heard cruel words and saw a fist flying through the air, nearly smacking a young girl off her stool as she tried to please the sisters with her washing skills.

Her eyes scanned the windows, which bled red, blue and yellow on the floor of the sanctuary. She looked up to see Christ looking down at her, his eyes half-hooded as he blessed his faithful, only to be nailed to a cross the next pane over.

As onlookers marveled at the finely carved wood, and beautifully sculpted saints, Merryn saw a confused child, forever wondering what she'd done so wrong to deserve the wrath of the nuns who swore to protect her.

A worthless letch like your mother!

The words still echoed in her mind, like her boot steps echoed upon the fine marble of the cathedral floor. The smooth beauty had been pilfered from the ancient statues and palaces in Rome, scavenged and sold for a pretty price.

Moving further into the sanctuary, Merryn studied the rows of highly polished pews, which were dotted by bowed heads and the soft sobbing of a woman near the front.

As blue eyes scanned the parishioners, she saw a familiar blonde head, bobbing slightly as its owner rocked. Walking down the center aisle of the sanctuary, she quietly scooted into the pew next to Cara. The girl's eyes were closed, her hands clasped together, lips moving in silent conversation, but with whom?

She waited patiently for the blonde to finish, and her eyes to open. The girl seemed startled to find Merryn sitting next to her.

"Who were you speaking to, lass?” the brunette asked quietly, eyes twinkling. Cara looked away, embarrassment coloring her young face.

"No one.”

"You lie. T'weren't it the job of the Father to be doin' your talking for ya?" Merryn asked, nodding her head toward the priest at the front of the sanctuary. Cara followed her indication, then looked down at her hands, which fidgeted in her lap.

"I can't tell the priest what I need to tell God,” the blonde softly explained. Dark brows drew.

"And why not?"

"They'd call me a witch and do away with me,” the blonde answered, fear coloring her eyes. Merryn studied Cara for a moment, knowing the truth of those words. She nodded agreement. After considering what she'd been told, she looked to her friend again.

"What do you tell him?” she asked, her voice soft. Cara studied her for a moment, trying to make out the sincerity of the question. Seeing nothing but honest curiosity, and feeling that she could trust her friend with what she was about to say, the blonde looked around, making sure no one was nearby.

"I hear a voice in my head, Merryn,” she whispered. The brunette's first impulse was to laugh, but when she saw the earnesty in those deep, green eyes, her mirth died in her throat.

"What do they say?"

"It tells me what I must do, to help someone. It's almost as if,” Cara thought for a moment, trying to get the right words, "as if a picture of the root or herb, or combination thereof floats before my eyes, and then I know what I must do. It guides me, Merryn,” she said, her voice growing even softer. "It guides my hand. Am I crazy?"

Merryn looked at the young woman for a moment, contemplating this question for long minutes. Finally she smiled, shaking her head. "No, lass. Seems you're blessed.”

Cara's eyes dropped, her gratitude palpable. She'd never been able to tell anyone of her gift. Not even her mother or Father Steffen knew the full scope. Shining green eyes finally met twinkling blue.

"Thank you.”

"Nonsense, 'tis I who should thank you.” Merryn grew serious for a moment, holding Cara with a piercing gaze. "Ye saved my life yet again, lass. How did you get me here?"

"Brogan pulled a liter I built for you.”

"Brogan? My native tongue,” she whispered, then smiled with a nod. "She is a sturdy one, t'isn't she?"

Cara beamed, pleased her friend understood. "Aye.”

Merryn looked around the sanctuary again, noting a few of the sick being brought through the doors.

"Can we leave this place?"

"Do you feel strong enough, Merryn? We can stay-"

"We should go,” the brunette said, standing. "The black sickness spreads to this place. Can feel death crawling around here,” blue eyes scanned the sanctuary, almost as if Merryn were looking for death herself.

"God be with you, child,” Sister Agatha of Renault whispered, hugging the blonde close. Pulling away gently, she looked into the soft green eyes. "You're certain you can't stay awhile? The ill could use such a friendly face and kind word.” She smiled, her plump face seeping from her habit. Cara smiled in return.

"I'm sorry, Sister, but I must go.”

"I understand.” Turning to Merryn, the nun took the somewhat resistant girl into a gentle embrace. "I'm sorry we weren't able to outfit you properly, child,” she said, eyeing the brunette's masculine clothing. "'Twas good your brother had clothing for you to wear.”

Merryn said nothing, briefly glancing at her friend, then smiling with a curt nod. "I was lucky.”

As the two left, Merryn glanced over at Cara, a question in her eyes that she need not speak.

"They wanted to bring you before the magistrate for dressing like that,” the blonde explained. "I told them your house went up in flames, and you grabbed what you could.”

"Good thinking, lass.” Merryn chuckled softly. "This world is no place for a woman.” A short burst of savage coughing followed her words, causing the brunette to pause for a moment, hand resting on a wagon they were passing. Cara was immediately at her side.

"All you alright, Merryn?" She rubbed the girl's back, under her cloak. Finally the brunette nodded.

"Fine, lass. Just pushin' the rest out.” Taking Brogan's reins from the blonde, Merryn whipped herself up onto the mare's back. Looking down at the smaller girl, she held her hand down to her. "Come up, lass. 'M too tired to be walkin.”

Cara took the taller girl's heavily calloused hand, feeling herself being nearly yanked off her feet. She hugged the massive animal's body between her thighs as she tried to get settled on her back.

"Settled, then?" Merryn asked, glancing over her shoulder. From the weak nod she got, she clicked her tongue, and nudged the horse into motion.

They rode on in silence, Cara's arms wrapped around the waist of the girl sitting before her. It had been frightening for the blonde, watching her friend become so ill and weak. Merryn had more pride than any king's soldier the girl had ever seen. Merryn had fought hard for the freedom she prized above all else, and for her to become slave to sickness, well. Cara knew the brunette had not been in her right mind to allow Cara to care for her so completely. She never would have allowed Cara to rock her to sleep, the brunette's fevered head in the blonde's lap, a soothing lullaby frosting the air.

Though Cara was not afraid to be alone, and in fact oft craved isolation, she had always had her mother and sister around her. She had always taken for granted that no matter what, at the end of the day, they'd be there for her to go home to. Her mother and Grace loved her unconditionally, as she loved them, and she never worried of judgment or doubt in her abilities. Fact was, more than once Mary had tried to talk her daughter into taking her healing abilities outside their small village. The girl refused, shy and unwilling to leave her people.

Now she felt so far away. Her village, her people, her family, felt like a lifetime ago. Cara knew herself to be a different person now than she was then. Yes, she had Merryn, but one thing the strong brunette had taught her was to rely on herself, never on anyone else. The help of others was like smoke- it looked thick, smelled strong, and felt against the skin. But the slightest shift in wind, and it would float away.

Cara turned her head, resting her cheek against Merryn's back, needing to feel that wisp of smoke for just a moment. She felt a winter-chilled hand brush against her own, which made her smile. Just the briefest of contact, that she had no doubt Merryn hadn't even realized she'd made.

Nothing more had been said about parting ways, and Cara didn't figure there would be. She figured if nothing else, she'd managed to prove to Merryn that she could serve some purpose, even if it was a killer shot with a sling shot, and able to save the brunette's life from time to time.

"Cara?" Merryn said later that night, both laying on their separate bedrolls. The blonde, lying on her back, turned to meet blue eyes made gray from the fire. Merryn lay on her side, facing the smaller girl, hands tucked under her chin. Their blankets and cloaks covered both girls nearly completely, only their faces visible. "Tell me about your mother and your sister.”

Cara turned to look into the Heavens again, swallowing hard, then nodding. She began her tale, voice soft and hushed.

"My mother, Mary, was a kind, loving woman. She could be tough as nails, need be.” She smiled at random memories parading through her head. "But all in all she was tender. Oh, she loved Grace and I,” she whispered the words with vehemence. "T'would do anything for us. And she did.”

"What did she look like?" Merryn whispered, her eyes scanning her friend's profile, seeing the way the firelight danced along the bones in the girl's brow, outlining the shape, shadowing her eyes. The straight nose, a golden tip in flames. She watched as Cara's mouth moved, lips forming the words, tongue peeking out from time to time in the formation of a sound, or to absently lick dry lips, or rid them of random spittle.

"Her hair was darker than mine, though not nearly as dark as yours,” Cara glanced at her friend, seeing she had her full attention. She smiled at that, quickly returning to her story, and her gaze of the stars. "Her eyes were so sad. Always sad and tired. A hard life she had. Had the chance to marry a Duke, you know.” She shook her head with a sigh. "Flat refused because Grace and I were not to be part of her new life. She could have gotten out of the squalor, out of the dirt and the cold and the sickness,” her voice trailed off, lost in thought and memory. Oh, how she'd fought with her mother, trying to convince her that the young girl could take care of Grace.

"A brave soul, lass. I now see where you get it.” Merryn smiled softly at the surprised look she received. Cara's eyes fell, suddenly shy and embarrassed.

"And then there was Grace.” It almost hurt more to talk about her small sister, than it had her mother. "What troubles she caused our mother,” the sadness was replaced with a smile that lit up Cara's face brighter than the firelight. "Oh, what a villain she was. Her hair, so blonde, so thick. We once sold her hair for a gold piece. It was cut and used to stuff a mattress,” Cara laughed quietly at the memory. "Less than a season and it was long again.”

"Healthy child.”

"She was.” Cara nodded in agreement. Sighing, she turned to her side, grunting softly as she got herself settled, mirroring Merryn's position. "I didn't get to say goodbye to Grace,” she continued. "She was not with our mother.” Sighing, she looked at Merryn. "I miss them.”

"I know you do, lass. I know you do.” To both their surprise, the brunette reached out her hand, gently wiping away a single tear that had just managed to escape one of the beautiful green eyes. Cara smiled at the tender gesture, Merryn smiling in turn. The hand remained placed gently against the blonde's face, Cara's eyes closing as she absorbed the touch. The lack of affection almost bothered her the most.

When Sister Agatha had hugged the girl, Cara had wanted to cry. She needed to be hugged, and found it more and more difficult to not attack Merryn, insisting on a daily hug.

Green eyes opened as the touch slowly drifted away.

"Ride, lass! Ride!" Merryn cried, her long legs pumping as fast and hard as they could, her cloak flying out behind her, along with her hair.

Clicking her tongue, Cara got Brogan moving, her own hair flying away from her face as she ducked under branch after branch, heart pounding like mad.

The brunette reached their small cave within moments of Cara getting the mare tied to a tree just outside the lip. She was gathering wood from the pile gathered the night before when she heard the heavy footfalls, and Merryn's wild, erratic breathing.

"You're going to get us killed, Merryn,” she said, partially scolding the darker girl, partly laughing at her.

"Rubbish,” the brunette panted, tossing her goods to the stone floor, then bending over at the waist, hands resting on her thighs to catch her breath. "He was a fast bugger, though,” she conceded, taking the water skin Cara passed to her.

"Indeed, his belly like a bowl of animal lard to boot,” the blonde teased, garnering a glare as Merryn tied the skin shut.

"Stuff it, or I'll take those back to him,” she admonished, pointing to the boots. Eyes opening wide, Cara hurried over to the stolen goods, fingers touching the fine, rich leather of the boots, of which she'd never owned a pair.

"Thank you, Merryn,” she squealed, rushing over to the taller girl, crushing her in an enthusiastic hug. Though Merryn did her best to look annoyed, she couldn't help but be pleased by the blonde's reaction.

Cara lugged the heavy boots with her to a rock near the cold fire ring, forgetting all about the lack of warmth for the moment. She tugged off her own turnshoes, which were badly worn and in need of repair or destruction. She'd dismantle them and find a new purpose for the leather. Tugging the boots on, her eyes closed in pleasure at the instant warmth.

Merryn chuckled at the pleasurable sigh that echoed in their stone hideaway. Kneeling next to the fire ring, within moments new flames colored her features orange. She smirked as the small blonde clomped around the cave, nearly falling to her face in the oversized, unfamiliar footwear.

"Don't fall and smash yur face in, lass. 'M afraid ye'd have to stay smashed. I don't have the healin' touch you do.”

Cara glared at her friend, making her way over to the pouch of goodies that had been dropped with the boots. Digging through them, she was pleased to see Merryn had managed to get everything she asked for- suet, flour, and nuts. The raisins and spices she already had.

Ordering Merryn to fill the pot with water, she turned to her own pack. Bringing out a small, thick piece of cloth, as well as the rest of the ingredients needed for their Christmas meal.

"How long, how long, how long?" Merryn excitedly asked from behind the blonde, chin almost resting upon Cara's shoulder. The blonde grinned, shrugging the taller girl away.

"Have the virtue of patience,” she said, hearing the brunette smirk from further away.

"One I do not possess, lass.”

"I hadn't noticed,” Cara gave her friend a mischievous grin. Stuffing the cloth full of the ingredients, the blonde pulled the cloth up into a bag-type container, tying off the neck tightly with a length of rope. The water in the pot was just beginning to warm, so she gingerly sank the bundle into the depths.

"I got us something to go with supper,” Merryn said with a grin. She opened her cloak, unhooking a wine skin from her baldric. Green eyes lit up, only having a sip of wine but a few times in her short life. She made her way over to her friend, trying not to trip over the unfamiliar footwear. It felt so strange having something fit so snugly against her calves, and the lack of the constant breeze that found its way over the tops of her feet, only covered by the heaviest stockings she could find, with the turnshoes.

Merryn was amused at the girl's antics, looking over her shoulder, down at the new, full leather boots. Cara watched as the firelight gleamed off the brown leather heels.

"Let me have a breeze of that,” the blonde said, finally reaching the darker girl, having enough of her boots for the time being.

Merryn handed the blonde the wine skin, after taking her own long, satisfying draw. The brunette sighed in contentment, relaxing with a smile and hooded eyes as she watched her friend sip cautiously, face screwing up as the girl tasted the bitter drink.

"Wuh,” Cara shivered as the drink singed down her throat, boiling into her stomach. She handed the skin back to her friend, sitting next to her.

"'Tis good stuff,” Merryn sighed, capping the skin. It was their only one, and it was not for wasting. Cara looked at her friend like she had just grown into a dragon.

"Good?"

"'Tis.” The brunette nodded, glancing over at her friend as she rested her head back against the cave wall. Cara matched her position. She smiled at the taller girl.

"Thank you for the boots, Merryn.”

"Merry Christmas,” the brunette said in lieu of a response.

"You don't celebrate Christmas,” the blonde said softly.

"But you do, lass,” Merryn said equally as soft.

Not knowing what to say, so pleased was she, Cara continued to stare at her friend. She searched Merryn's eyes, such a rich blue, bright and inviting, filled with the fire of her heritage. Her gaze moved around the brunette's face, seeing the high cheekbones, a strand of hair, so dark, starkly contrasting with those eyes. She reached over, running her fingers across the smooth forehead, smoothing that strand away.

"How are you feeling?" she whispered, noting that Merryn hadn't had one of her coughing fits in days.

"Fine as wine,” the brunette smiled, the blonde smiled in turn.

"I have a poet in my midst,”

"Far from it, lass. More like a wanderer with no place to wander to.” Merryn smiled, though it was sad. Her eyes fluttered closed when she felt those fingertips drift along her arched brow, gently sliding down along her temple to her cheek.

Cara watched as the long lashes trembled a bit just before they lifted as Merryn's eyes opened.

"There is such strength in you, Merryn,” Cara whispered, her fingers running along one of those cheekbones, following down to the proud jaw line. "You can do anything,”

"No-"

"Shh,” resting a finger to Merryn's lips. "'Tis true. I have faith in you. A strong leader, you are.” Cara smiled sweetly. "I know I'd follow you anywhere.”

"And I'd take you, Cara.” The brunette shook her head. "Won't leave you behind.”

Cara sighed in contentment. How was it that the most profoundly painful time in her life was quickly morphing into the most wondrous? With that, the sound of boiling water stole bother their attention.

The blonde crawled over to the fire, using a dagger to poke at the bundle, gentle enough to not rip the material of the makeshift bag.

"Almost ready.”

"'Tis good news. 'M just about ready to feast on those new, shiny boots o yers.” Merryn smirked, tapping the boots in question with her blade. Cara glared at the taller girl over her shoulder, making the brunette laugh outright.

"Christmas dinner is served,” Cara said, lifting the bag from the water, carefully lying it on the stone floor. She cut the steaming rope, using the dagger to slowly peel the material away from the prize inside. "Lovely, lovely,” she whispered, seeing what lie beneath.

Merryn watched as the blonde laid the food on a flat stone, slicing it with her dagger. She cut into the hard, fatty meat that had once encased the kidney of a sheep, the goodies inside spilling out.

Cara licked her fingers, the sweet sugar- nut mixture covering their tips. Humming in pleasure, she placed a large piece in their one bowl, handing it to Merryn. By the raised brow, Cara placed a hand to her hip.

"Tell me you've had plum pudding before?" she asked, incredulous. Merryn shook her head, leaning in to sniff. "Well, then you are in for a treat,” she assured, joining her friend by the wall again, her own portion balancing on a cloth.

"Lucky for you I'm hungry enough to eat enythin'.”

"Lovely,” Cara said dryly, eyes closing in utter pleasure as the first bite was taken. She chewed slowly, savoring each and every taste sensation that exploded in her mouth. Merryn sniffed one last time, then took the hunk of a piece, ripping at it with her teeth, cheeks rounded with the mouthful. A sip of wine helped it to go down even better.

"Not bad, lass,” she finally admitted, tearing another hunk off.

"Thank you. I must agree.”

Cara stopped, head tilting slightly as she listened, trying to tune out the sound of the cold water around her.

"These, Mum?” a child's voice asked. A little boy, sounded like.

"No, child. Fall over dead, ye will.”

"Like da and Samuel,” the child reasoned, resigned sadness in his voice.

"They're askin' fer trouble, being so loud,” Merryn grumbled from the shores of the tiny stream. She capped their water skin, tossing it to the shore before beginning to fill the second.

"True, that.” Teeth chattering, the blonde made her way from the icy waters, wringing her long, stiff hair out, gasping as the half frozen water that was released ran down her back and butt. Merryn smirked.

"Crazy as a loon, you are.”

"Yes, but cccclean,” Cara glared, quickly drying herself with a few rags, and stepping into her dress. She sighed in pleasure as the dry material surrounded her chilled flesh, her heavy cloak topping off the contented sigh. She almost outright moaned as she slipped her boots on.

"I'll not get it in this life,” the brunette muttered, still thinking the blonde was crazy for bathing every time they came upon water, Cara always making sure it wasn't tainted with what she called 'the squirts'. Strange lass.

The pair heard more of the mother and son's conversation further in the forest. They spoke of everyday things, and of the village they'd left, the black sickness. It was coming back with a vengeance from the reprieve of the winter, as spring came upon them.

Cara thought about this often, and thought the correlation was most interesting. It was almost as though the source of the black sickness either died, or was halted during the cold months. She had thrilled that the horrible death had finally left the land in peace. But upon walking through the last village they had, the odor of the rotting dead had met their noses before the daily noise of the village had.

"Perhaps we should invite them to midday meal,” Cara mused, gathering the wet rags and stuffing them in her pack, where she brought out her comb.

"Bad idea, lass,” Merryn said absently, lugging both water skins to hang over her shoulders as they started away from the water, Cara carefully combing out her tangled locks, which had partially frozen together.

"But why? You heard them- they have little.”

"As do we, Cara.” Merryn looked the girl deep in the eye as they headed back toward the cave that had been home for the past three months. "And our supplies grow ever thin, lass,” she added when she saw the troubled look in those green eyes.

"But-"

"Shh,” the brunette hissed, eyes opening wide as her body became stock still. She held a hand up to ward off anything else the blonde might have to say. Were she a wolf, her ears would be perked.

"What 'tis it?" Cara whispered, trying to listen for anything out of sorts.

"Bloody hell,” Merryn muttered, grabbing Cara by the arm. "Let's go, lass, and make quick of it.” The brunette began to move through the trees, making little to no sound, save for the swishing of the water in the skins upon her back. Cara followed, learning the trick of the stealthy, often the one to get their supplies nowadays.

The blonde gasped as she now heard what had garnered Merryn's attention so thoroughly. Far off in the trees, though gaining, was the sound of the clanking of chain mail, and heavy boots, lots of heavy boots, and swords banging against grieve-covered legs.

Merryn prayed the regiment had no dogs with them, or they'd be done for.

"You there!" a man's voice boomed, scaring many a winter bird from their perch in the trees.

Cara's heart froze in her throat. She felt Merryn's grip on her arm again, then breath on her ear.

"Run, lass, like you've not run before,”

"But-"

"Don't argue with me, Cara!"

Taking off at a dead run, two water skins fell to the forest floor. Cara ducked between and around trees, arms and legs pumping as fast as they would go, the chilled air running through her still partially frozen hair, making her teeth chatter even as the rest of her body burned.

Snagging the blonde's hand, Merryn turned their direction, sneaking through a thick patch of growth, better to cover any prints left in the new soil of spring.

The mouth of the cave gaped with a welcoming maw, both throwing themselves inside, panting as wide eyes peeked out from darkened shadows.

Far off in the woods two screams rose, one begging for the life of her child, the other crying for his mother.

"We must help them,” Cara whimpered, lunging toward the day beyond the cave.

"No!" Merryn caught her, holding her tight, turning her own back to the light of day, protecting the little one.

"Let me pass, Merryn. They'll die-"

"And so will we!" Merryn hissed, shaking the small blonde by the shoulders until she had her eyes. "You can do naught.”

"They'll kill them,” Cara whispered, her eyes filling with tears as shrill screams filled her head. She buried her face into Merryn's chest, clutching the taller girl for all she was worth.

"I know, lass. We are no match fer them,” the brunette whispered, one hand on the back of the blonde's head, the other pressing against the girl's back. They remained that way until all had returned to normal, life in the forest exploring its day.

Sniffling softly, Cara stepped away from Merryn, her green eyes bright from the tears. She used the end of her cloak to wipe her face. She was quiet as she gave her back to the brunette, taking a few steps away before turning angry eyes on her friend.

"You just let them die!" she accused. Merryn was taken aback, staring for a moment at the blonde, unsure what to say. It took not long for her anger to build.

"Do not put their fate in my hands, Cara!" she shot back. "If ye want to yell, lass, that's your bid. But yell at them!" she pointed to the day behind her, eyes on fire as she glared at the blonde.

Cara said nothing, just stared at her, blood boiling, mainly out of guilt, which she knew she was taking out on Merryn, but couldn't take it back. Instead she turned away, heading toward the fire ring. She was still deeply chilled, and needed to warm.

Growling softly to herself, Merryn turned, storming out of the cave.

"Where are you going?" Cara asked, hurrying after the brunette.

"We need supplies, lass,” Merryn hissed, leaning in close to the blonde's face. "I'm going to see if those bastards left enythin'. 'Tis that alright with you?"

"No, it's not.” Cara didn't flinch as the brunette's eyes narrowed, her body stiffening. "If you go and pillage from their bodies, Merryn, it makes you no better than they.”

"We-"

"It's called having a heart, Merryn,” Cara explained, her voice softening with the passion behind her words. "Only that separates us from King Edward and his thieving, raping soldiers.” She took the brunette's hand, placing it over Cara's own heart. "This,” she said passionately, squeezing the larger hand. "It's what makes us strong and not an animal. Not like them.” She looked deeply into Merryn's eyes. "Please don't become like them.”

Merryn found herself lost in Cara's eyes, the passion of her words, and the feel of the blonde's breast beneath her hand.

As Cara looked into the brunette's eyes, she saw something wash through them, a softening, her face relaxing, then becoming pensive again. The blonde was very aware of the heat emanating through the thin material of her dress, warming her entire upper chest, her breast on fire. She realized that her heart was pounding almost painfully in her chest. She was able to feel it all the way into her temples.

Taking a small step back, Cara was able to breathe again, Merryn's hand falling back to her side. Neither said anything, both confused by the swarm of heat and unrecognizable feelings.

"I'm going to get more wood,” Merryn said quietly, quickly leaving before Cara could stop her. Cara, for her part, was in a daze. She looked down at her chest, seeing that the nipple of her left breast stood at stark relief against her dress. It was almost painfully erect, sensation shooting between her legs as she covered her own breast.

"What on earth?" she breathed, confusion abounding.

Merryn walked for a long time, mindful of her surroundings in case the soldiers weren't gone. She needed time alone, space to breathe and think.

Stuffing her hands inside her cloak, she wandered back toward the stream, where she'd dropped the water skins.

"Blasted,” she muttered, seeing they were gone. Kicking at a few stones that lay about, she raised her head to the Heavens, feeling the sun's warmth upon her face. She strolled along, smiling as she glanced at the nearby stream, seeing Cara freezing all over again, as she stood at the deepest point, the water coming no further than the girl's armpits.

"Crazy, lass. Ye truly are,” she whispered, moving on. She knew there was a village not far, and she and Cara were running very low.

Whistling softly to herself, she tucked her hands inside her cloak. It wasn't long before she stumbled upon the violence of minutes before.

Slowing her pace, Merryn brought her hands out, lightly resting them on the trunk of a tree.

"Lord have mercy,” she whispered, looking on at the carnage. The child, no more than six summers old, lay on his side, curled up, eyes closed. For him it had been quick, the red fire of a blade trailing through his middle. The blood was already freezing as it seeped from his young body.

The woman didn't fare so well.

"Oh, lass,” she whispered, slowly folding to her knees, one ear tuned to all that was around her. The mother was not much older than Merryn, herself. Her skirts were torn and bloodied, the young mother's sex exposed. Her throat had been slit with the sharp point of a sword, her face forever frozen in horror and pain. It was obvious that in life the girl had not been healthy, her frame painfully thin.

Merryn had seen such scenes before, but suddenly the face of Cara flashed before her eyes. What if it were the blonde lying here in a pool of her own fear and misfortune? A rage filled the brunette that should couldn't explain or contain. Never had she felt anything but luck at finding the bodies before anyone else, before. Now, any thoughts she'd had before of pilfering from the mother and her sun were gone. She began to feel the bitter taste of vengeance on her tongue.

Swallowing it down, Merryn gathered all the belongings of the two, no doubt the soldiers finding the simple blade and empty leather pouch, not good enough to bother with. One whiff of the bag told the brunette that it had once held food for the pair. They were trying to find a meal when attacked and senselessly murdered.

"Bastards,” she muttered, pulling out one of her own daggers, using it to dig a small hole in the still winter-hard ground. She placed the meager belongings in the hole and quickly pushed dirt over the top, patting it down.

No one else was going to steal from these two, either.

Turning back to the bodies, Merryn pulled the woman's skirts as into place as the tattered shreds would allow. Placing the woman's son in her arms, she bowed her head, closing her eyes, and murmured a small prayer.

"May Arawn take vengeance for you,” she finished, opening her eyes and standing. Brushing her knees off, Merryn tugged her cloak around her shoulders and headed toward the nearby village.

Cara raised the torch, looking closely at the etchings and paintings. Bringing up a hand, she traced the faded lines of what looked to be an animal of some sort- big and brown, horns.

"What on earth,” she murmured absently, eyes squinting in the dim, golden hue of the fire, bouncing off the stone walls, head slightly tilted to the side.

"Drawin' purty pictures, are ya, lass?"

Cara yelped at the voice in her ear, whirling around to nearly smack her friend with the torch.

"Don't do that, Merryn!" the blonde exclaimed, hand to her rapidly beating heart. Merryn smirked, raising an arm to ward off a flying hand.

"'M sorry, Cara,” Merryn laughed, heading back over to their fire, setting her bundle down. The blonde took several deep breaths to get her heart under control, then followed her friend, curious of what goodies she'd brought with her.

Merryn sat next to the fire, bringing her hands to the warmth, sighing softly as she began to unthaw.

"Summer be swift,” she said quietly.

"'Tis a cold night,” Cara agreed, sitting across the fire from the brunette. Her eyes glance at the large stitch bag, filled with unknown prizes. She shook her head slightly, a soft smile on her lips. Merryn hadn't had that bag when she'd left earlier in the day.

Merryn met a raised golden brow across the fire. "What?" Green eyes strayed to the bag, then met her own again. The brunette chuckled, nudging the bag toward the blonde with a shove of her boot.

Quickly, and giddy like a child on Christmas morning, Cara grabbed the bag, tearing through the thin rope that held the mouth together. Figuring the bag would come in handy as they traveled, she began to bring the insides to the surface: bag of lard; vegetables of just about every type; bread; a wooden bowl.

"What's this?" she asked, bringing out something long and slender, wrapped in cloth. She glanced over the fire at a grinning Merryn. Unwrapping the thing, she finds a small, simple wooden flute inside.

"I figre you whistle enough, lass, perhaps ye c'n make music.”

"Thank you!" Cara threw herself at the older girl, wrapping her arms around her neck, flute clutched tightly in her fingers.

"No worries, Cara,” Merryn whispered, thrilled that the spontaneous gift made her friend so happy.

Pulling back, Cara sat back on her heels, turning the flute over in her hands.

"Well, come on, lass. Play!" Merryn encouraged, relaxing against the wall of the cave.

"I've not played one before,” the blonde said shyly, glancing up at the other girl.

"Practice while I make supper.”

Cara took her prize into a corner, turning it this way and that in her hands, inhaling the rich wood that made the small instrument.

Merryn watched surreptitiously watching the girl take careful, quiet and tentative toots on the flute. Green eyes would quickly glance up to see if she was being watched. Thinking she was basically alone in her little world of music, she continued on, fingers pressing over various holes, trying to see what notes would come out.

Smiling to herself, the brunette filled their pan with water, then chopped up some of the vegetables, meat, adding a small chunk of lard for flavoring. Soon enough the stew was cooking, so Merryn sat back to enjoy what she had brought for her own amusement.

Pulling out the last of her daggers, she took hold of the thick piece of branch she'd cut from a tree just outside the cave. Turning the wood round and round in her hands, she chewed on her lip as she tried to best decide where to begin. Finally she began to peel the bark from the branch.

"Merryn?" Cara asked, sometime later. She sat on her bedding, looking into the dying fire.

"Yes, lass?" the brunette answered, brows knit as she studied the thus far shapeless wood creation.

"Were they both killed?"

Blue eyes looked up, seeing only her friend's back, back arched forward as the girl wrapped her arms around her drawn legs.

"Yes, Cara. They were.” Returning to her whittling, she missed the small sigh of resignation from her friend.

Green eyes snapped open, a scream of fear locked into her throat. She tried to struggle against the hand that was clasped over her mouth.

"Quiet!" Merryn hissed, close to the girl's ear. "Wake up, lass. We must go. Now!" With that, the brunette disappeared into the darkness that swamped the cave, the fire long ago burnt out.

Her sleeping mind coming into focus, Cara heard the sound of yelling me and barking dogs echoing out in the night.

"Oh, Lord,” she whimpered, quickly gathering her bedding, shoving it into her pack.

"Grab only what you can, Cara. We must go!"

The blonde nodded unseen by her friend. She heard the scraping of a blade being drug across the stone floor before it was fastened to Merryn's baldric. Cara's eyes felt like they'd pop out of her head, so wide they were as she tried in vain to see through the darkness, thick as molasses.

She yelped as a hand grabbed her arm, another hand returning to her mouth. She could feel the hot breath of her friend against the side of her face.

"I need ye to listen to me, lass, and listen fast,” Cara nodded at the whispered words. "The soldiers are climbin' through these woods, lookin' for enythin' alive.”

Cara felt her mouth being released, and her face cupped between two warm palms. Though she could see nothing, she felt those intense blue eyes on her.

"Let us go,” the blonde whispered. She felt Merryn's warm breath on her face.

"Whatever happens, Cara,” Merryn said, her voice soft, yet so filled with an earnest declaration. "if we get separated, I'll find ye. I swear it to yer God, I'll find ye,”

Cara nodded, swallowing the tears of fear and love that swelled in her heart. Her eyes closed as instinct told them to. She was not surprised when she felt the softest touch against her lips, feather light and brief, but it touched her to the core of her heart.

"Now run.”

PART 3

MERRYN FELT THE cold night air on her face, the hood of her cloak long ago flying off her head. She looked around the tree she leaned against, the sliver above emitting no light onto the darkness. She closed her eyes for a moment, letting sense of hearing take over what her eyes couldn't do.

The soldiers were near the cave, Brogan whinnying at the unfamiliar guests. She hated leaving the mare, but there was no other choice. Trying to ride her through the trees in next to blackness would have been suicide. Leading her would have slowed them down, and taken the element of stealth away from them.

Opening her eyes, she glanced to where she thought Cara was, though she didn't dare put voice to her whereabouts. It sounded as though Cara's breathing, as heavy as her own, was a tree over.

Listening to the night again, she heard some of the soldiers talking, their voices clear in the still night.

"Not long ago. They gotta be here somewhere."

"Search these woods. The King will be happy to have ‘em healthy."

"Yes, sir."

"Take the horse, too."

With those orders, the clamor of armor as the men spread out.

Merryn pushed off the tree, reaching for where she thought Cara was, relieved when she felt the rough cloak of her friend. A light squeeze to let the blonde know she was on the move again and Merryn was off.

Trying desperately to remember where things were when the sun was high, the brunette headed in the direction she thought was the next village, where she'd been but two days ago. She felt her lungs begin to burn as she broke out into a clearing, legs pumping as fast as humanly possible.

"Bloody hell!" she gasped as she heard the vicious sound of the royal hounds, hot on her trail.

"Merryn!" Cara cried out, her voice far behind that of the faster brunette. Merryn glanced behind her, only able to see a darker figure against the dark background of night.

"Cara! Come on!"

"I can't make it," the blonde gasped, her voice desperate as she heard the dogs getting closer, followed by the soldiers, their armor clanging almost deafening.

"Ye have to, lass!"

"No! Run on, Merryn! Leave me!"

"No-"

"Go!" the vehemence in the blonde's voice struck the brunette, filled with so much uncertainty.

"Cara!!" she cried when she heard the blonde scream, cut off by the savage barking of a swarm of hounds. Her own voice echoed in her ears, time seeming to slow to a crawl for but a brief moment of complete desperate fear.

"Get the other one!" one of the soldiers yelled, followed by more clanging armor.

Blinded by her tears, Merryn ran on, her heart shredding with guilt and fear of her friend's fate. All she could do was press on, just as Cara told her to do. She'd expect the same of the blonde. She could do Cara no good dead.

Merryn could barely make out the glitter of water, almost upon the stream before she realized. Pushing on, she splashed through its depths, wading until she had to swim. The dogs ran to the edge of the water, barking like mad, the soldiers following soon behind. Maybe those little bastards would lose her scent, and there was no way the soldiers could follow in their armor- they'd drown within minutes.

Barely registering the call to return to the camp, Merryn ran on, her soaked clothes clinging to her, water-logged cloak slowing her down. She felt like she must weight twenty stone.

Out of breath, the brunette fell to her knees, grunting in pain as her hands skidded against the harsh, rock-infested soil.

Hair plastered to her head with sweat, she reached up to push it out of her eyes. Looking around her, she saw the teasing flicker of lantern light.

"Made it," she gasped, slowly getting to her feet with a groan, every step sloshing from her late night swim. She followed the distant flicker, needing to find some place to rest for the night. First light she'd start her hunt.

Frozen flesh stinging against the blow, the brunette brought her fist up again, pounding.

"What you want?" a deep, gruff voice boomed from the other side of the plank door. It was yanked open, a dim triangle of light falling through the doorway. Caterpillar brows drew at the site of the shivering girl on his doorstep.

"Please sir," Merryn begged. "Might I stay a night? T'won't be a bit of trouble, be gone by first light."

The old man stared at the girl, wondering what sort of trouble such rabble had gotten into. Looking out into the night beyond his most unwanted guest, then roughly pulled the girl in by her cloak.

"Lord above, yet wet!" he grumbled, brows drawing further to nearly cover his gray eyes. Merryn nodded.

"Chased, I was," she slid down the rickety wall, landing on the dirt floor with a thud.

"I want no trouble-"

"A highwaymen, he was. Out for lass' blood," she said quietly, knowing it would do no good to let the old peasant know she was being chased by the King's men.

"Well, stay there if you want, girl, but I've not got food for yer mouth!" he boomed, waggling a sausage finger at her. The brunette nodded, exhaustion beginning to take over.

"Aye."

The old man stomped over to the tiny log table, thick, wooden needle to a torn garment, his work lit by the lantern she'd seen flickering through the single window.

Merryn watched him, eyes hooded as exhaustion and grief began to sink in heavily, almost making her feel like she could drown in either.

Tearing her gaze away, the brunette took in the sparse quarters of the man's shack. To the right was a small cot fashioned of planks covered by layers of rat-eaten rags. Next to the table was a small stack of wood for the fire ring, which was to the left. Above it were a few cup boards, lined with wooden bowls and two mugs.

Merryn figured a wife must have recently died, as seconds were still around. Once the man had stopped grieving, he'd likely sell or trade the excess.

Her gaze raised to the thatched ceiling, a hole bored in it to allow the smoke to drift through and out of the small confines.

Fingers curling into a fist, Merryn swore she heard the cries of hounds echoing into the night. Blue eyes squeezed tightly shut, forcing her tears to stay behind the closed lids. She wouldn't allow herself the release of crying. She should be hanged for letting Cara be caught by those bastards. She had to forcibly shut her mind off or it would conjure up the myriad of things that could be happening to the blonde at that moment.

I'll find ye, lass. I swear it.

"Break camp! We head out in one hour!" cried a booming voice. Blue eyes watched, owner lying flat bellied on the bluff above. The rising sun bounced off the armor of the men within said camp, bustling about, empting pitchers and bladders, others barking orders.

Merryn scanned the tents, looking desperately for any sign of Cara. She didn't have to wait long. She spied a man walking toward one of the tents, hand resting on the pummel of his sheathed blade. Disappearing between the flaps, within moments a cry wrent the air.

"Get up, wench," the man inside snarled, followed by another cry.

"Cara," Merryn breathed, fists clenched in the dirt. "Ye'll pay, ye bastard." Slowly backpedaling, soon she was running back toward the village she'd snuck out of that morning. It was best not to be seen were any questions asked.

Hiding among the tees and small leans-tos and shacks, Merryn kept an open eye out for what she was looking for. Blue eyes widening, she breathed a sigh of relief.

There, in the middle of a small pasture, grazed a massive black horse, happily munching on grass.

Merryn's fingers dug lightly into the tree she stood behind, looking in every direction. The village was beginning to come alive, hushed voices and the hacking of the sick. She needed to make her move, but be careful of it. This crime would be punishable by stoning.

Running like the wind, launching herself over a waist-high make-shift fence, Merryn found herself in the pasture with the horse, who raised its head to study it's visitor.

The brunette took another look around, then turned back to the horse, hands raised to calm the animal, who was beginning to lightly stomp her back hooves.

"Calm, girl," Merryn said softly, taking a step toward the horse. "t'won't be hurtin' ye, promise." She looked around her again, knowing she had to make this hasty. Taking several steps toward the horse, she grimaced as the mare reared up, whinnying as the brunette rested a hand on her flank. "Bugger me."

Whipping herself up over the mare's back, Merryn grabbed the horse's brown and white mane, kicking hard into her flanks.

"Ha! Ha!"

"Hey!" someone yelled, running after the flying mare, having to jump out of the way or risk being trampled.

Merryn rode hard, having to put much distance between herself and the village, yet stay on the trail of the soldiers.

Not surprisingly the soldiers' camp had been completely struck, leaving behind dying embers and trash. Landing in the mud with a grunt, Merryn's eyes immediately began to scan the area, looking for anything, clues.

Brows draw in absolute concentration, she walked over to the closest fire ring. Kneeling down, the brunette breathed in deeply, taking in the acrid smell of ashes, not long ago abandoned. Slowly passing her hand over the area where the fire had once been, she guessed the men had left a half hour ago.

Rising to her feet, she looked all around her, seeing where the ground had been torn to shreds from the galloping hooves of a hundred horses.

"I'm comin' fer ye, lass."

London was bustling with activity and life, yet the tell-tale stench of death and sickness hung heavily in the air and in the hearts of the Londoners. The sky was gray, filled with winter yet to let go, and smoke from individual fires and funeral pyres, releasing the souls of the dead and burning their rotten flesh.

Merryn led her horse down the streets, careful to keep her face and female body covered by her cloak. She felt anger burn deep inside each time she saw a soldier walking the streets, or leaning against the stonework of a cathedral, uncaring eyes watching those that passed. With each passing soldier, that deep anger rose closer to the surface until it felt like a river of lave ran just beneath the surface of the brunette's skin.

The vengeance that boiled her blood also kept her calm. She knew that she'd never stay alive long enough to find Cara if she didn't keep her cool.

From the looks she was getting from those she passed, Merryn figured she must look like Death herself- black cloak hiding her face, only black boots visible as she led her huge, black horse through their streets. The mysterious figure in black certainly raised a few brows.

The day was getting long in shadows, and Merryn knew there she'd have to find a place to bunk down and think. Seeing a couple of rowdy villagers in front of a rickety, two-story building, the brunette headed there.

"Yer a bloody liar, Tom!" one man cried out, shoving the other.

"And yer a dead man," Tom flared, pulling out a dagger.

Merryn hurried behind the man who was about to be stabbed, not wanting any of their trouble. Soon enough she'd have her own to deal with.

The tavern was dingy and dirty, only a few scattered lanterns and the fire in the wall pit illuminated the plank walls. A few tables lined the outer walls, three dotting the center.

Merryn made her way to the plank bar that lined the left wall, clay jugs behind filled with harshly bitter wine and room temperature water.

"What currency ye take here?" she asked, her voice low, ambiguous.

"What kind ye got?" the keep asked, thick arms spread out across the splintered surface of the bar.

Tugging on the string of her pouch, blue eyes peeked inside as dirt encrusted fingers dug through the treasures within. Merryn's heart stopped when she saw the third gold piece she'd taken off the boy named David.

Gently laying the coin aside, she found a small flask of pepper. Very valuable to a cook. Sighing heavily, she pulled the flask out, pulling the stopper. The barkeep took it and ran it under his bulbous nose. Nodding in agreement, he put the stopper back in and tucked the flask into a pocket of his apron.

"What can I get for ye, boy?"

"Wine and a room for two nights."

"Aye." The large man turned his back to the brunette, filling a wooden mug with the odorous wine, a bit of the dark liquid sloshing over the rim as it was set down, along with a long, narrow key. "Last at top of the stairs. Ye got a horse, boy?" he asked. At Merryn's nod and description, the barkeep told a young boy to take care of t for her, turning to another customer.

"Ye got a," Merryn looked around, clearing her throat. "bath?"

The barkeep stopped pouring a mug of wine, looking at the dark figure at the end of his bar. His heavy beard nearly hid his grin. "Bath, lad?"

"Never mind that," she rolled her eyes, drug her mug off the plank, and headed toward her room. About to take a step on the first step, she was stopped by the soft voice of a man leaning against the wall next to the staircase.

"There's a lake out back," the cloaked figured said, indicating the direction with his thumb. Merryn nodded acknowledgment at the information, then quickly made her way up the stairs.

The room was tiny, just large enough to fit a small, plank bed and a tall, square table with a chamber pot on it, and then a handy window above the table to throw it out of.

"Well," she muttered, turning in a slow circle. "Here we are, then. "Here we are." Reaching up, she unfastened her cloak, tossing the heavy garment across the narrow bed. About to pour some water from the clay chamber pot into the receiving tray beneath, she paused, hand on the thick, heavy handle.

The knock sounded again.

Hand immediately moving to the grip of her sword, she walked over to the door.

"Who goes there?" she called out, trying to peek through the cracks in the plank door.

"'Tis a maid, sir," a quiet woman's voice said.

Merryn raised the wooden bar that served as a lock, pulling the door open with it. There in the hall stood a young woman, her dirty brown hair half covering her face. She held a bucket filled with water in each hand. She took a stunned step backward, eyes widening as she looked into Merryn's face.

"Oh," the barmaid said, mouth moving but nothing coming out.

"What ye want, lass? I haven't got all night." Merryn was feeling irritated, her patience at an all time low.

"'M sorry, miss. Angus asked me to bring these up fer ya, miss." She glanced down at the buckets she carried.

"Angus?"

"Aye, miss. He wants to speak with ye."

Merryn studied the young girl for a moment, trying to size her up. There seemed to be no malicious intent in her brown eyes, so she nodded.

"He's downstairs, miss. By the stairs." With that, the young girl raised the buckets in question, Merryn nodding as she stepped aside, allowing her to pass. She took that time to don her cloak, bringing the hood up to cover her face. The women left together.

Merryn felt ill at ease, her eyes constantly darting back and forth, surveying her surroundings.

Just as the barmaid said, Angus still leaned against the wall, one booted foot on the table top. When he heard the footfalls upon the wooden steps, Angus turned dark eyes to the pair.

The barmaid gave him a small nod and curtsey, then scurried off to do her duties. Merryn pulled out the chair across from the man, black Irish, with his black hair and eyes, his pale skin a stark contrast.

Blue eyes looked out from underneath the hood, boring into the equally intense dark.

"We have sumethin' common, besides the fire in our blood," he said at length, his words thick, rich in the strength of the Celts. Merryn said nothing. "Ye'r not here by accident, lad." This was a statement.

"We need ta get one thing straight," Merryn said, her voice soft. She pulled the hood back just enough to show her face. To his credit, Angus showed no surprise. "Merryn," she said.

Angus finally nodded, though there seemed to be a slight gleam of admiration in his dark eyes. "Answer me now,"

"'M here on business."

"As I thought. As am I, lass." Angus' foot hit the floor with a heavy thud. He leaned forward, bracer-clad arm coming to rest on the table as a large hand wrapped around his mug of wine. He looked deeply into Merryn's eyes, almost making the girl nervous. It seemed he was looking into her very soul, reading her mind.

Finally tired of fidgeting under the scrutiny, Merryn leaned forward in her own chair, bringing but a few inches between their faces. "If ye plan to stare at me, make it worth my while, lad."

Angus grinned, then a soft chuckle began deep in his throat, slowly billowing its way out of his mouth. He nodded with obvious approval.

"I have business with the king," he said simply. At the look in the brunette's eyes, Angus nodded, standing. He nodded with his head for Merryn to follow.

Merryn looked around, seeing the three others in the stable. Including the serving wench.

"All of us have lost ‘cause of the evil that is King Edward the third," Angus explained, his arm sweeping over the small group, his eyes on the newcomer. "His soldiers be gatherin' folk. The black sickness has killed so meny," he paused, head lowering for a moment. Clearing his throat, Angus brought a hand up, fingers absently stroking his black goatee. "Servants are leavin' their post, takin' up their own land, the land of the dead. Fer the first time, they be havin' their own place on this land."

"He's gatherin' slaves, then?" Merryn asked, her world beginning to come into focus.

"They'll be his bloody servants now." The brunette's eyes were drawn to a clean faced young man standing in the corner. An axe rested across his lap, fingers flexing on the handle, fingernails near black from unwashing. "Or dead."

"They killed me sister and nephew!" the third man said, pushing to his feet from his seat on a bale of hay. His fiery red hair hung in his eyes, which blazed green fire.

"They took my friend," Merryn added quietly, her own fury building inside.

"We're tryin' to gather numbers, lass," Angus said, moving to stand between Merryn and the others, blocking her view so she only saw him. His dark eyes shone total determination. "We've got ta fight back. Raise some men," he smiled apologetically at the brunette. "and women. Are ye with us, lass?"

Merryn looked at the four sets of eyes that were locked on her.

"Are ye with us?" Angus asked again. Merryn met his eyes, and finally nodded. "Good." Angus smile his approval. "We'll make plans from here, mount an army-"

"That'll take time," Merryn said, shaking her head. "I must get her out now."

"Lass, it's far too dangerous-"

"Then I'll go it alone!" she growled. Something inside her implored the girl to act now, to not wait. With quiet determination, she whirled on the small group, cloak floating in her wake. Hand on the door to the stable, she halted, a heavy hand on her shoulder.

"Wait, lass," a soft, but deep voice said. "I know how you feel. My wife is behind those walls," Angus explained. "But if we don't think this through, ‘t'we'll all die, surely."

Merryn turned slowly, eyes blue fire. "Then I die."

It was a battle of the wills, blue clashing with black. There was no chance that Merryn would back down. She knew as she knew her own name that she must act fast. As Angus looked into her beautiful blue eyes, he saw that truth. Nodding, he broke the gaze, bowing to the girl's stronger will.

"We will help ye, lass."

Merryn looked at the others, all nodding. "Thank you, then."

Angus sighed, arms crossing over his chest. "I still think ‘tis too soon." He studied the girl for a moment. "Ye shuld wait, lass. There not a thing I can say to change yer mind, then?"

Merryn shook her head, will strong and sure.

"Jest as I thought," Angus grinned. "Stubborn Irish." With a wink, her put an arm around the girl's shoulder, pulled her back into the group. Merryn took a seat on a barrel.

Reaching inside his tunic, he pulled out some rolled parchment. Kneeling to the hay-strewn dirt at his feet, he wiped a clean spot, using four rocks to hold the corners of his parchment. The group gathered around him as he explained.

"We have spies in the castle," he began, tapping the page.

Merryn studied the sketched lines that was MiddlehamCastle. She listened as Angus explained that the castle had an unusually long keep, of over one hundred feet long, which dominated the structure.

"'Tis divided by a cross wall, length-ways," he ran the tip of a dirk along the wall he spoke of. "This curtain wall here, around the keep, ‘t'will make it a bit harder to get past."

"We can't get over that," Merryn said, brows drawn. Angus nodded.

"I agree. And we can't just walk in. So," he moved his dirk tip, making a circular motion on a spot to the south west of the castle. "William's Hill," he said, making eye contact with everyone that knelt around the map. "'Tis said tunnels run from this place to the belly of Middleham."

"We must move by dark," Merryn said, glancing up at Angus. "Go early, before the sun awakens."

"Hold our position till day," Angus grinned. Merryn grinned back, nodding.

"Aye. At dark, bring too much attention ta the lot of us." The brunette met the looks sent her way.

"By the light ‘o day, we cin slip through, be enyone." Angus nodded.

"Aye, that." Merryn glanced over at the bale of hay the redheaded young man had been sitting on. There lay a lute. "Ye play that, lad?" she asked, nodding toward it. The boy glanced back to see what she spoke of, then grinned proudly with a nod. Merryn grinned, mischief in her eyes. "Take it with ye. Travelin' minstrel, ye are."

"All be here two hours before sunup." Angus stood, rolling his parchment.

"Merryn. Merryn, awaken."

Blue eyes fluttered open, a gasp escaping as Merryn laid eyes on Cara, kneeling by her bed. The blonde smiled, reaching out a hand to rest against the older girl's cheek

"Cara?" Merryn raised herself to her elbows. "What are you doing here? I'm so sorry I lost you-"

"Shh," the blonde whispered, two fingers covering the brunette's lips. "That matters not." The brunette could only stare at her friend, her mind fuzzy, not able to reconcile the situation, yet not wanting to think too hard for fear Cara would disappear. The hand that rested upon Merryn's cheek moved slowly down to cup her jaw. Green eyes looked into blue with utter faith and trust. "Save me."

Merryn's breath caught as she watched Cara's eyes close, her beautiful face, tinted blue in the moonlight, coming closer, closer. Merryn's own eyes slid shut.

"Save me, Merryn. Save me ...’"

"Merryn?" followed by more pounding.

Merryn sat up, her heart racing. Desperately she looked around the room, still swarmed by moonlight-tinged night. Cara was nowhere to be found. The brunette almost cried at the pang of disappointment that stung through her like the cut of a blade.

The door opened, Angus standing upon the other side.

"Ye carry a blade, lass," he said, nodding toward the very blade that Merryn held in her hand. "Do ye know how ta use it?"

Indignant, the brunette raised her chin. "Yes."

"Do ye now?" a midnight brow raised. Merryn's eyes fell. "Come, Merryn. Let us practice."

The world wasn't sure if it were late night or early morning, the sun to rise within hours. Merryn followed the dark man out of the tavern, their stealth turning them to ghosts in the night. She was led far from the tavern, into the woods, away from prying, curious eyes and ears.

Angus stopped, pulling his blade with a satisfying hiss. "Show me, lass."

Nodding, swallowing her nerves, Merryn pulled her own blade. She'd never had to fight anyone more than a farmer with a pitchfork. Most of the folk she dealt with were already dead.

Swallowing again, she spread her feet wide, fingers flexing on the grip of her blade. Angus raised his blade, wide blue eyes following the attack, meeting it with an echoing clang.

"Good lass," Angus encouraged, light on his feet, making her work for his compliments. Merryn grunted with every parry, every thrust, every block. The black Irishman nearly had her, Merryn baring her teeth, back to her opponent, sword held up over her head to block what could be a debilitating blow to the shoulders. She pushed him away, then rolled out of Angus' reach, popping to her feet.

"Ye will kill me yet," she panted. Angus grinned, sticking his blade into the forest floor at his feet.

"Or try ‘n save yer life," he chuckled. "Ye'r a natural with a blade, lass. Most impressive." He plucked his sword from the earth. "Come, Merryn. We must get food." Slapping her arm around the girl's shoulder, they headed back to the tavern.

The group gathered in the stable once more, though this time there were two other women.

"This is Mary and Fanny," Angus explained, indicating the two blondes. "They've both run from their duties at MiddlehamCastle, ‘n have agreed te help." Dark eyes met every set of eyes gathered. "We go in, we get out." Again, he met every eye, then turned to Mary and Fanny. "Where are the captives bein' kept?"

"The tower, my lord," the one named Fanny said quietly, her head bowed.

Angus turned his eyes to Merryn. For long moments they shared a look, each building their own courage.

"Let it begin."

The small group rode hard and fast, though rode in pairs, far from their fellow riders. They were set to meet at William's Hill. It wouldn't do for suspicion to stop their mission before it began.

Merryn rode with Fanny, both strong riders, lost in her own thoughts. She couldn't help be filled with fear and doubt. Angus had shown her just how very little she knew of being a fighter. She could protect herself from highwaymen and thieves, no doubt. But what of a trained, professional soldier, protecting his king?

And what of the dream the night before? Cara's eyes so filled with love and trust. It was as if the girl had absolutely no doubt that the brunette would swoop in and ‘ "Save me" ‘

Oh, Cara. Don't have more faith in me then I have skill, lass.

When it had first happened, pure rage had driven Merryn on, almost making her foolish enough to attack the soldiers' camp that same night. She would have been ripped to pieces, no doubt. By the gods above she'd kept her head in reason and on her shoulders.

Now, as she glanced over at her companion, riding as hard as she, a certain sense of pride filled her body, and smile wrapped across her lips. Since the moment they met, it had been Merryn's duty, at first grudgingly, to protect the small blonde. Then as time had passed, the brunette took her job seriously, and with great joy.

This was no different.

Now it wasn't just about keeping Cara safe from the cold, or getting her away from some wayward drunkard. Now it was about saving the girl's life and virtue.

"Ya!" she cried, spurring the dark horse she rode onward, speeding through the valleys at breakneck speed, her companion keeping her paces.

"Caaaa! Caaaa!"

Merryn looked around, trying to find the source of such sound.

"Caaaa! Caaaa!"

"Come, Merryn!" Fanny yelled across the distance between their horses. The brunette followed the blonde woman into the trees, where Fanny's pinto was stopped in a thicket. Merryn pulled her horse up beside her.

"What's this?" she asked, dismounting.

"Angus' signal fer trouble, miss," Fanny said, her voice a whisper. They listened, Merryn's heart beating in her ears. It wasn't long when a small regiment of soldiers rode past. Blue eyes watched them pass. Their cuirass' gleamed in the falling moonlight.

"They travel in twos, miss," Fanny whispered, clutching Merryn's sleeve. The brunette nodded, both hunkering closer to the tree. Within a few moments a second set traveled past.

"Let us go," Merryn whispered, keeping an eye on the soldiers until they were out of sight.

Mounting their steeds, the woman rode on.

The early morning air was crisp, seized the lungs and made them burn. But oh how it made Merryn feel alive! She inhaled deeply, eyes closing for a moment as her resolve clinched with her focus. Her blue eyes nearly glowed in the early dawn, the earth painted blue.

The group were but shadows in deeper shadows, making their way around William's Hill. Fanny and Mary led the way, pure silence reigning as the women used hand gestures to show the other five where the hidden entrance was.

Angus drew his sword, using it as a pick as he began to dig through the thick wall of rock, Merryn quickly joining him. Soon, all the members working at the entrance, a small space was revealed. It would be a tight fit for the larger of the group, but all would be able to pass.

"I go no further," Fanny said, backing away, head shaking. "I'm sorry, my lord."

"'Tis alright, lass. Thank you."

The woman nodded, looking to her friend. Mary said nothing, but turned her face away from the retreating woman. Fanny then grabbed up her skirts, quickly heading for her mount.

"I'm sorry, my lord," Mary said, a bit of disgust edging her voice. "We she wanted to help-"

"I'd rather she back out now then get herself killed, lass," Angus whispered.

"Angus," the redhead, whom Merryn had found was named Aaron. "there's a door."

Merryn said nothing as she pushed between the two men, heading inside the cave beyond the barrier they'd dug through. She took the torch that George, the third man, had struck inside the earthen cave.

Brows drawn, Merryn fell to her knees at the arched wooden door, firelight reflecting dully against the iron ribbing. The lock was large and secure, rust making the metal orange and dull.

"Hold this, lad," she told George, who stood beside her. Hands free, Merryn reached into the pouch hanging at her waist, fingers working as her eyes as she felt for the two small, thin pieces of iron.

"Blimey," she heard George whisper in excitement.

"Hold the light here," she said, ignoring his whistle of approval. The light showing her work clear and bright, the brunette quickly slid the thin metal into the large key hole. She leaned in, seeing as far into the lock as she could, fingers gingerly moving the picks around, subtle in their exploration until she felt a catch, then a loud, scraping click.

Holding the picks with one hand, she grabbed the lock in the other, the mechanism filling her entire palm, tugging gently until it gave way, slipping from of its holdings. Standing, Merryn removed her picks, and tossed the lock aside, waving the others, who'd gathered behind her, onward.

Merryn couldn't help but feel a bit or pride as she heard whisperings behind her, surprise and elation. It was short lived as she focused on the mission. She turned when she was tapped on the shoulder. Angus was behind her, handing her a torch, which she happily took. The dark man moved up to walk beside her. He said nothing as his own torch light.

The cave had turned into the tunnels beyond the door. They were narrow, the width of two men to walk somewhat comfortably side by side, each outside shoulder nearly brushing the earthen walls, which eventually turned into a tunnel lined with stones, the floor dirt.

Mice and any other manner off tiny beast scurried to get out of the way as the torch light melted the darkness. Around the bend the group was surprised to find a line of bones, some with remnants of tattered clothing still clinging to them. One set lay on the ground, the grinning skull half buried. Others were pinned to the walls of the tunnel either by shackled wrists and chained necks, or by nails driven through the wrists.

All eyes scoured the bones, a quiet so thick, so rich, so complete, filled the space. Those poor, lost souls served to remind the group of what could still happen to them.

Torchlight brought to light another door. Once again Merryn fell to her knees, working the ancient, rusted lock. It took several moments, but the lock gave with a scratchy moan. Tossing it aside, the brunette stood, turning to face her new friends.

"Beyond this not a peep," she warned, instinct telling her they were now entering more living parts of the castle.

"Feel as though ‘ve stepped into a nightmare," Aaron whispered. The group around him only glanced at his words, none wanting to admit that they probably had.

With a little persuasion, the door creaked open, all but one torch doused. Merryn listened, the darkness near complete on the other side. The air was foul, the tinges of raw sewage floating upon its breeze.

Closing the door, she turned to the five expectant faces before her.

"'T'will be headin' to the bowels ‘o Middleham," she explained. "Foul stench. Be wary."

Turning to the door once more, she pushed through a second time. Angus hurried to take the lead, understood between he and Merryn that he was better and more experienced with a blade, were they to be surprised.

The silent hiss of steel being pulled from its sheath was the only sound, the slight glint in the one light of the torch, which Mary held, sandwiched between Angus, Merryn and Aaron. George and the serving wench, Anna, brought up the rear.

Angus gave the signal to douse the flames as they stopped, the faintest echo of voices filtering through the tunnel. Down the tunnel, maybe two hundred paces, the barest hint of light could be seen interrupting the near completeness of the tunnel's darkness. Angus began to move again, followed by the other five.

Merryn tightened her grip on her sword, her heart beginning to race, sweat dotting her brow. Tucking in her bottom lip, she quickly laved its dryness with her tongue. Soon the echoes turned into discernable words.

"O'er here, boy, and be quick about it."

Angus put a finger to his lips, his outline able to be seen by those behind him. They could now see that at the end of the tunnel was an iron grate with large squares of space.

As they got closer to the grate, the tunnel walls narrowed, a man's shoulders touched either side, and the floor sloped down, the ceiling falling until the group found themselves on their knees.

Angus carefully made his way to the grate, torchlight illuminating the room beyond.

The room was a large, stone square. Inside were the workings of an elaborate pipe system, all being fed by enormous cauldrons of water, brought to a boil by stoked fires.

"What ‘tis this place?" Merryn whispered in Mary's ear.

"'Tis the boilers, miss," the woman whispered back. "Gives the king's baths heat."

Sure they were alone in their little corner, Angus carefully removed the grate, all wincing as sharp whine wrent the air as stubborn metal was forced to budge. Holding her breath, Merryn waited for the worst. When nothing was forthcoming, she released her held breath.

Stepping into the unbearably hot room, Angus held his blade at the ready, eyes pouring over the large room, trying to find the source of the earlier heard voices. Once everyone was out, Merryn realized Mary still crouched in the grate opening.

"North tower, my lord," she whispered to Angus, pulling the grate back into place. The girl was soon consumed by the deep shadows of the tunnel around her.

Merryn raised her own blade, eyes searching every shadow that danced from the flames. There was no one to be found in the room, the group moving out toward the much cooler hallway, that beckoned.

It seemed the castle was made up of an endless maze of halls and small anti-chambers that spilled into glorious halls with stone walls and vaulted ceilings. The rooms were dark, lit by sporadic torches, candelabras, and a few massive fireplaces that measured the length of some of the great halls.

Shadows danced everywhere, often catching Merryn's eye, making her jump. She'd feel a calming hand on her shoulder, then meet dark, understanding eyes. Thus far they'd run into no soldiers, and it had everyone on edge; the waiting was the worst part.

Merryn's eyes widened as she mentally calculated what she could get for just one tapestry that lined the great walls. She smirked, thinking Cara probably wouldn't mind too much if she stole from this bastard.

Easing their way up a long, stone set of stairs that wrapped around a huge torch-ladden column, Merryn found herself at the top, met by two surprised soldiers.

Merryn's heart stopped, then as the two men set eyes on her blade, instinct took her. Dark brows drew and white teeth bared.

The guards, dressed in cuirboulli leather breast plates and simple hose, were taken off guard as Merryn struck. Raising her arm, she raised the blade high above her head, bringing it down to crash the pommel into the skull of the closest guard to her. The man grunted, folding quickly as the bones of his forehead crumpled. His body slipped down the stairs behind Merryn, the girl getting out of the way so she wasn't bowled over.

Surprise passing quickly, the second guard drew his own blade, releasing a battle cry as he attacked. It took all of Merryn strength to take his blow against her own sword. Gritting her teeth, she pushed him off, lunging after. She could hear the harried footfalls of her companions coming up behind her in the stairwell.

Within moments two more guards found their way to the melee. Within moments Merryn was at the center of the deafening clank of steel against steel, cries of pain and death, and the almost overwhelming stench of fresh blood.

Anna stood to the side, smacking falling soldiers in the head with a heavy tree branch, making sure they stayed out.

"Anna!" Merryn cried, turning to the girl. Blue eyes met her own, then widened as the serving wench realize something was being tossed her way. She caught the large ring of iron keys, then nodded in understanding.

Merryn cried out as she was hit from behind, knocked to one knee. Quickly turning at the waist, she saw a soldier behind her, blade raised to make the final blow. Suddenly the man's eyes bulged, and Merryn looked down to see a stream of red blood racing down his body, the tip of a blade barely sticking out of the leather of his armor.

Scrambling out of the way, Merryn watched as the soldier's body was kicked off Angus' blade, the man falling dead where Merryn had knelt moments before. Breathing heavy with exertion and fear of what could have been, the brunette looked up at her savior.

"Thank you," she breathed. Angus nodded, then turned as footsteps were heard running toward them. Wincing slightly as she got to her feet, bringing a hand up to her head, Merryn's fingers came away covered in blood. She knew she'd have some headache come morning. But at least she was alive.

"Merryn!"

The brunette looked up in time to see a blur run at her. She was nearly knocked to the floor at the force in which Cara threw herself into her arms.

"Cara," she breathed, dropping her blade as she wrapped her arms around the little, sobbing blonde. "I've got ye, lass. I've got ye," she whispered, eyes squeezing shut as she crushed the smaller body to her. She held the girl in place with one hand behind the girl's head.

"I knew you'd come," Cara cried, her words barely understandable.

"Shhh, I'm here now."

"Merryn!" Angus hissed. The brunette looked over the blonde's head. "Get her out, lass. We'll follow behind."

Nodding, Merryn gently pushed Cara away so she could look in her face. The brunette's heart broke at the sight. The color of Cara's right eyes jumped out from the blackened skin around it. Dried blood was caked to her mouth, and in her hair.

Knowing there was nothing she could do about it at the moment, Merryn swallowed her grief down. Taking the blonde by the hand, Merryn picked up her sword, and they were off.

"Move fast, lass," Merryn exclaimed, Cara nodding as she followed closely behind. The quickly made their way down the stairs, Merryn's eyes wide, looking every which way, blood-covered blade at the ready. Her instincts were piqued as she felt the heat from Cara's body behind her, making this escape the most important thing in the world.

Heading down a hallway, which Merryn knew would led to the great hall, she heard stopped them, a stilling hand to Cara's arm. Listening, she heard the unmistakable thud of boots pounding stone. She turned, pushing Cara away from the torch they stood near, slinking away into the shadows of a deep, stone entryway. Placing her body in front of Cara's, Merryn hid her blade behind her leg so no chance of a gleam would be seen.

Merryn tried to hold her breath as the soldiers ran by, obviously heading toward the stairs to the north tower.

"Let's go," she hissed, once they'd passed. Flying through the halls, hiding several more times before hitting the boil room.

"Bugger," Merryn hissed, pushing Cara against the wall as she raised her blade to meet the attack. The man was strong, and determined. When his strike didn't land its mark, he swung at her head, hitting her square in the ear with his gauntlet.

Merryn staggered backward, her world ringing and slowing to a crawl. She looked up, eyes filled with surprise and pain. The eyes of her attacker met her own, brown filled with the rage of protecting the Crown. He ran over to her, pulling a dagger out of his belt, the blade narrowing into a nasty ‘v'.

From somewhere behind her, Merryn heard a voice, seemingly warbled from the mouth of a drunkard. Like the land from clearing fog, she realized the voice was Cara's, and she was screaming the brunette's name.

Blinking rapidly, bringing her world back into focus, Merryn felt a force take her over, something seeming to push her out of the way, moving her beating heart out of death's grip, the soldier lunged, missing his mark so completely that he nearly stumbled into the wall behind Cara.

Head still ringing, Merryn brought out her blade, blindly trying to find her foe. She didn't have to search for long. With the roar of the tiger of myth, the soldier ran toward the girl, knight's dagger raised over his head, blade gleaming with the firelight under the cauldrons.

Merryn moved toward him, eyes mere slits with narrowed intent. The crunch was astounding, the slickness of steel splitting flesh, slipping through all that made a man stand and breathe. The gasp as his air was stolen from him, and the look of tortured pain and sorrow in his eyes, so wide with regret. The soldier fell into Merryn, his hand grasping her shoulder as his danger clanged to the stone floor.

Merryn watched in a sort of dazed wonder as his mouth opened, a gurgle of blood sprouting to leak down his chin. Slowly, oh so slowly, he slid down her body, his eyes never leaving hers, until he collapsed to the floor.

Numb and astonished, Merryn tugged at her blade, the dead soldier's body wriggling with the motion. Finally she had to press a booted foot to his shoulder, then pulled, the blade coming free with a sickening slurp, the man's blood and fluids sliding down the blade's fullered center.

Merryn looked up to see Cara pressed against the wall, her face ashen, making the bruises littering her fine skin stand out all the more. Feeling her resolve double, the brunette reached for Cara's hand, taking it gently in hers as she led her to the grate, which Mary had already pushed open.

Without a word, Merryn tugged she and Cara through into the tunnels, a nod of thanks to the blonde, who scraped the grade back into place until the others would pass.

Merryn grabbed a torch that Mary had lit for her and stuck into a sconce on the wall, the light guiding their way back through the black tunnels. The only thing louder than their frantic steps was the sound of Merryn's own heart in her ears. She felt no pain, her emotions numb. She had but one focus, and that was to get Cara out alive.

Cara's screams startled the brunette, stopping to see what had frightened the girl. Seeing the remains of the long dead prisoners, Merryn tugged the girl forward. One last look, a trembling hand raising to her mouth, Cara moved on, her torn, dirty skirts causing insects and rodents of every nature to scurry and squeal into crevices in the tunnel walls and floors.

Merryn kicked the final door open, tugging Cara through as she saw the light of day at the other end. Heart and breathing heavy, she dropped the torch in the dirt passage, regaining her sword in case they ran into visitors on the way out.

Gulping in lungfulls of the fresh, morning air, Merryn's eyes were everywhere at once, taking in the dark forest, where her horse awaited them.

The castle had yet to come alive and realize where Merryn and her companions had entered.

"We are clear, but must hurry," the brunette panted, tugging Cara behind her as she bolted from the entrance of William's Hill, until they were sheltered by the thick crops of trees. Once there, Merryn stopped, dropping her sword and pulling Cara to her.

"I dreamed you'd come for me," Cara whispered, eyes tightly closed as she inhaled all that was Merryn- sweat, leather, dirt mixed with rain, and all that made Merryn. Her fingers dug into the brunette's shoulders, terrified that she'd be ripped away again.

"'M so sorry, Cara," Merryn whispered, her face buried in golden hair. "I'll not leave you again. I swear it. Never!" Her promise was so passionate as to almost frighten the blonde, if she hadn't been so relieved by it.

Cara nodded, the terror of the past days released in a long, shaky sigh.

PART 4

MERRYN KICKED THE great black beast into a fierce gallop. Cara sat before her, a protective arm wrapped tightly around the blonde's waist. Cara leaned back into her, head resting against the brunette's cloaked shoulder.

As they rode on, leaving the tiny village of Middleham far behind, Merryn looked out over the land, a numbness beginning to fill her head, spreading into her eyes. Her vision was becoming fuzzy, her mind playing evil spells on her reasoning.

Head wobbling, Merryn blinked several times, trying to clear the clouds from her eyes and to still her head. The numbness was on the move again, spreading down into her neck, darkness closing in around her world.

Cara was jostled from her restless slumber. Eyes opening, she looked around, noting that the horse beneath her was slowing, beginning to wander off course.

"Merryn!" she cried when the brunette's arm fell away from the blonde's waist, and with a loud thud, Merryn fell to the dirt at the horse's feet.

Wincing, Merryn squeezed her eyes shut, deciding that letting the world in was a bad idea.

"Anu, help me," she muttered with a soft moan.

"Shhh," a soft voice murmured. Merryn sighed when she felt gentle fingers on her face. Keeping her eyes closed, she listened to the soft voice as Cara hummed to help soothe her pain. "I know it hurts," the blonde said after a moment. "T'will pass. I think yer noggin' took a few too many blows today."

"I'd have te agree, lass." Merryn smiled at the soft chuckle she heard.

"This will soothe the ache," Cara said, her touch as gentle as her voice as she laid a cool, foul smelling rag to Merryn's head. "I know it smells bad. Trust in me."

Merryn nodded, groaning as that had hurt as well. A cold, soothing touch seemed to seep into the brunette's skin, covering the ache until she could just barely feel it. Her heart no longer beat within her temples or her throat.

After a moment, blue eyes fluttered open. The sun shone through the leaves above the tree she lay under. Cara sat by her side, her fingers gently caressing the side of Merryn's face.

"Look into my eyes, Merryn," Cara softly requested. The brunette turned her head ever so slightly, watching as concerned green eyes peered closely into them. "The swelling's gone down," Cara whispered, as if to herself.

"Need ta look after ye, Cara," Merryn murmured, seeing the bruises and dried blood that still painted the blonde's face. Cara shook her head.

"No. You need to rest."

Merryn didn't argue, knowing she'd not win this battle. Instead she allowed her eyes to travel around Cara's face, taking in the soft features, slightly curled corners of the blonde's mouth. Those eyes, so deep. Sometimes Merryn felt she could see entirely new worlds in those eyes.

"What?" Cara asked, taking the cloth from Merryn's head and dunking it in a small bowl. She wrung out the excess, then replaced the rag on the brunette's head once more. Merryn shook her head slightly at the question, unable to tell the blonde just how worried she'd been. Cara smiled, seeming to understand. "Who were your friends?"

"Angus, Anna, George, Mary and Aaron."

"Oh? Ye've been busy." Cara smiled, a brow slightly raised. Merryn smiled.

"A bit of luck, really. They helped me," the brunette quietly explained. She reached her hand up, brows knitting as she gently touched the incredible bruise around Cara's eye. "Does it hurt, lass?" she whispered. Cara nodded, then green eyes dropped.

"T'were so many, Merryn," she said, her voice so quiet that the brunette almost missed it. "I was shackled to the wall in that God forsaken room," she swallowed hard. "It was dark and smelled of death. So many had died. Thought I was dying when that girl came runnin' in, an angel come to take me to Heaven."

"Hey." Forgetting about her aching head, Merryn pushed herself up to a sitting position, pulling Cara to her. The blonde clung to her as she wept, smaller body trembling. Merryn rested her cheek against the girl's blonde head, stroking her back.

After some minutes, Cara pulled back, bright eyes looking into Merryn's. "Why did this happen? For what purpose?"

Merryn sighed, running her thumb under the girl's undamaged eye to wipe away her tears. "The king's own selfish reasons," she said softly. "People 'r runnin', finding their own lands from those who've died," she explained, bringing her other hand up to brush Cara's hair from her face. "Edward is capturin' the healthy to replace his servants."

"That is all? He is capturing and murdering to have someone to serve him!" Merryn nodded at the blonde's angry question. The blonde was stunned, no idea how to respond to such selfishness, such a vile lack of caring for those Edward ruled.

"Angus wants to build an army, lass," Merryn placed her hand on the side of Cara's face, gently caressing the skin there with her thumb, mindful of the girl's bruises. "He wants storm the daft bastard down."

"And he should,"

"Be that as it may," Merryn groaned as she stood, closing her eyes and resting her hand on the trunk of the tree as a wave of nausea washed through her. Taking several deep breaths, she steadied herself. "I know what 't'will make ye feel better, lass." She grinned, wiggling her brows.

Green eyes slipped closed as the cool water washed over her skin. Cara winced slightly as its coolness stung against the bruises and cuts on her skin. All too happily she dunked her head beneath the surface of the water, slicking her hair back from her face. Wiping the water out of her eyes, Cara looked at her friend, who joined her in the lake.

"Come here, lass," Merryn said softly, reaching a hand out to her friend. The blonde quickly took it, slowly making her way across the rocky bottom to her friend. Merryn held up the pouch of herbs Cara had mixed for them, that would cleanse the hair and skin, and make it smell like the rose petals that was in the mix.

Grinning, Cara eagerly turned around, giving her back to the taller girl.

"Kneel down a bit," Merryn instructed softly. She rinsed the girl's hair, knowing she'd have to be mindful of the knots made from dried blood, as well as the wounds that caused the blood in the first place. She felt around Cara's scalp, fingers brushing against sensitive areas that made the blonde gasp or outright hiss. "Sorry, lass," she whispered.

Deciding none of the wounds needed to be tended to, she scooped some of the paste into her hand, rubbing the grainy mixture between her palms before rubbing it into the long, blonde locks.

Cara's eyes closed as her neck relaxed, trusting Merryn's hands on her. She sighed as strong fingers worked the mixture in, massaging and tugging on the hair gently, but just to the point of pleasure, before pain. She loved for Merryn to wash her hair, the way the stoic girl was so gentle with her always amazed and amused.

Merryn massaged the girl's scalp, somewhere along the way the hygienic caress moving her fingers to the back of her neck, feeling the soft skin there, the corded veins and tendons as her fingers moved slowly around toward Cara's throat. She watched with curious amazement as her fingers trailed up the side of Cara's neck, feeling the proud jaw line there, before moving up to feel a soft earlobe.

Cara was surprised at first, feeling Merryn's fingers wandering over her skin, finding herself leaning back into the taller girl, Merryn's naked breasts against her back. The blonde felt her breathing change slightly, though if it were from nerves, that surprised her. She'd never been nervous around Merryn before. She had nothing to be nervous about. But still, as she felt warm breath brushing against her left ear, she felt a strange wave of heat flow through her, almost like nausea, but not unpleasant.

Closing her eyes, she decided to rest fully against Merryn, relax and enjoy being with her again, being touched by her.

Merryn watched as her fingers traced a delicate line behind Cara's ears, smiling slightly when she felt a little shiver pass through the girl. Her fingers trailed down her neck once more, finding their way across the smooth, creamy skin of well defined shoulders. Her fingertips ran lazily down over the rounded shoulders to glide along Cara's arms, meeting her hands beneath the water's surface. Cara's fingers interlaced with her own, bringing their joined hands above the water's surface. She folded her arms across her own breasts, taking Merryn's hands and arms with her, until the taller girl had her wrapped up in a tight embrace.

Merryn's eyes slipped closed as she felt their bodies press together, her lips grazing across Cara's temple. She had no idea what was happening, but her body felt- how could she describe it- alive. Her skin felt as though it were an entity all its own, tiny fingers reaching out to feel and grasp.

For the first time, she was aware of every single curve of her own body, as well as that of Cara's. She felt the swells of Cara's breasts against the tender skin of the insides of her wrists, and they tingled. She did not understand, but could not move away. She craved the contact with this girl who had grown to become the center of her world, even if Merryn refused to say it aloud.

How could it be that over the past couple of days, since Cara had been taken, Merryn had felt hollow and utterly alone? And now, standing in the lake, holding the blonde so close, she felt complete and whole?

Cara shivered as the early evening breeze blew across her skin, and she felt her body shiver again as the cool water rippled around her.

Merryn could feel the goosebumps rise on the blonde's skin, and knew she had to get her out of there soon. One final squeeze, she released the girl, softly telling her to bend down so the brunette could rinse her hair. When she finished, Cara turned to face her, smiling softly at her before returning the favor. They each washed their own bodies, hurrying as the air continued to get colder.

Wordlessly, Cara helped her friend, still somewhat unsteady on her feet, to the shore, where they fought over who would gather the wood, each wanting the other to rest.

"Please, Merryn? For now, for me, please rest," Cara pleaded. She grinned when the taller girl finally nodded with a sigh.

Cara was grateful for the bread and dried meat that Merryn had packed from the tavern she'd stayed at. Neither were in any shape to hunt or fish.

It was a quiet evening, nothing needing to be said. After Cara got a healthy fire burning, she walked over to Merryn, who leaned up against the trunk of a tree. They shared the food, then Cara scooted to sit beside the dark girl, shoulder to shoulder, heads leaning together as they stared into the flames.

"How is yer head?" Cara asked quietly

"Still feels a wee bit fuzzy," Merryn answered after a moment of mental inventory. The blonde nodded.

"And probably will for a few days. Quite a bump you got."

"Aye." Merryn sighed, her eyes beginning to droop further and further. "'M so tired."

"As am I."

Deep, even breathing hitching, Merryn sighed, letting the darkness take her deeper into its embrace.

There it was again.

Reality crashing down around her, the brunette's eyes snapped open, immediately grabbing for her sword as thoughts of soldiers finding them danced in her head. It was still very dark, the fire long ago burning to embers. The night was quiet, nothing out of the ordinary.

Glancing to her right, Merryn saw the figure of Cara, lying not more than an arms-length away. The girl lay on her side, facing away from the taller girl. The blonde's body curled in on itself as blue eyes watched, a small whimper coming from Cara's throat.

"No," the blonde begged quietly, still in the clutches of sleep. Her body jerked, and she rolled to her back. Merryn was able to make out the tortured look on her friend's beautiful face, and her heart broke. "Please, no,"

Once Merryn saw the tears beginning to slip from closed lids, she could take no more. Scooting over to her friend, she gently grasped Cara's shoulder.

"Lass," she said softly, "'tis a dream. Wake up, Cara."

"No!" Green eyes opened, terror widening them for a moment before Cara realized who sat before her with a worried brow. "Merryn?"

"Aye, lass. 'Tis me." The brunette reached out, brushing blonde strands from a pale, shaken face. "Yer safe now, Cara."

"I'm sorry I woke you-"

"Shhh." Merryn moved to lie on her back, pulling the blonde to her. "'Tis alright."

Cara happily scooted over to her friend, resting her head upon the brunette's shoulder, curling her body as close as she possibly could, her heart still racing. The images and terrors of the past couple days were still so fresh in her mind. Immediately she felt better as Merryn tightened her grip, her arms closing around Cara, making the blonde feel as though the world could just slip away.

Merryn's soft voice washed over her again.

"Would ye like ta talk about it?" Merryn felt Cara shake her head slightly, so she let it go. She knew what demons had been chasing her friend through her nightmares, and only wished there was something, anything, she could do to take it all away. So she just held her close, trying in the only way she knew how to let the girl know she had somewhere safe to go. Not only that, but guilt was eating the brunette from the inside out. She felt completely responsible for what had happened to the blonde, for her getting caught. Never, ever should she have left the blonde for the wolves to devour.

"Merryn?"

The brunette glanced over to see that Cara had raised herself to her elbow, looking down at her. She saw the concern in green eyes, made a deep gray in the near darkness. Merryn closed her eyes as she felt soft fingertips on her face. It was only then, when she felt the tickle of a tear rolling into her ear that she realized she was crying.

"Why do you cry?" Cara whispered, bringing her fingers to blue eyes, suddenly squeezed shut. Merryn, stubborn, shook her head, which made the blonde smile. "Tell me. Please?"

Finally sighing, getting her emotions under control, the brunette looked up at the concerned blonde. "I never should've left ye," she answered softly. "I should've gone back fer ye, somethin'."

"Shh," Cara cooed, covering Merryn's lips with two of her fingers. "'Twas a bad thing, Merryn. There was nothing you could have done." She shook her head. "Not one thing."

"I could've tried," Merryn insisted, her voice stronger, yet still filled with so much regret.

Cara sighed softly, knowing there'd be no way to convince the bull headed woman of anything else. She smiled softly. "Well, I'm here now, aren't I?"

Merryn nodded. "Guess so."

"Come," Cara laid herself down, snuggling against the strong shoulder beneath her head. "sleep now."

The sun was bright, its warmth beaming onto the upraised face of Merryn. Standing by the lake, she reached up and unclasped her cloak, letting the garment fall to the shore at her feet. Her bare arms opened wide, absorbing the much needed warmth to melt the ice around her heart.

She kept seeing his eyes. Brown, a ring of gold lining the irises. She could see his face so close to hers, the tiny hairs of his recently shaved face could be seen. The way a small group of his eyelashes were clumped together. She could see the sweat oozing from his pores from both the heat of the boil room, as well as his fear.

Blue eyes closed as she remembered the feeling of warm, stickiness that covered her hand, the way that it dried into the cracks of her skin, dried into brown specks on her sword's cross guard, and staining the blade. She drew her blade, holding it across her hands, brows drawn as she looked at it.

Suddenly a shiver ran down her spine, and with a growl, teeth bared, she splashed into the water until it reached the top of her ankles. Kneeling down, she frantically began to wash the blade, using her fingernails to scrub the dried blood off the metal. A cry of frustration escaped as the blood didn't wash away fast enough. She could still see it, vibrant and red.

"Come on," she hissed, the cold water splashing into her face, her bangs hanging limply in her eyes as she desperately tried to cleanse herself. "Get off, ye daft bastard!" Merryn didn't even feel her own blood join that of the soldier's as the blade sliced into the palm of her hand.

"Merryn! Merryn, stop!" Cara grabbed at the frantic brunette.

"Leave me be!" Merryn roared, pushing the girl from her before turning back to her blade, scrubbing with her fingernails. "Got to get if off,"

"Merryn," Cara whispered, slowly taking a step closer to her friend. "Merryn, there's not a thing there." She looked into the panicked blue eyes of her friend, red and swollen. Cara reached a hand out, tentatively cupping her face. "Not a thing there."

Merryn, breathing hard, looked down at her sword, still clutched in a devil's grip in her hand. The blade was clean, reflecting the overhead sun. Hissing, she felt the sting in her palm.

Embarrassed and unsteady, she got to her feet, shrugging off Cara's touch.

"Go find yer herbs, lass," she said quietly, knowing the blonde needed to replenish her medicines. Much of that had been left behind in the cave, the rest taken by the soldiers.

Cara stared at the older girl for a moment, not sure what to think. She had been startled awake when she'd heard the thrashing in the lake, worried that Merryn were being attacked. She worried the girl had been hit on the head harder than first thought.

Gathering her wits about her, she walked out of the water, lifting her skirts and wrung out the water. She glanced at her friend, once she'd hit the shores. Merryn still stood in the water, head hanging. Cara knew there was nothing she could do to calm the girl's conscience. What was done was done, and though it had been horrible to watch, Cara knew what those soldiers were capable of, and felt no loss for his death.

As she scanned the nearby woods for the roots she needed, her mind flashed back to the terror of the past couple days.

The night they'd been forced from the cave, Cara had run with Merryn, done her best to keep up. She had tried so hard, but was not to be. The soldier's hounds had caught up to her so quickly, their hot breath snapping against her legs until one of them had finally lunged at her, knocking her to the ground.

"Cara!!"

She had heard her friend scream, but there was nothing the blonde could do. Kicking the hounds aside before they chased after Merryn, Cara saw four heavily armed men standing above her, a sword at her gullet.

"Don't you move, lassy," one of them hissed. Cara had tried to swallow back the tears that threatened, but it didn't work so well. She was terrified for Merryn as she was forced to her feat, looking over her shoulder in the direction of the dogs barking in the distance. Shoved from behind, she was forced back through the woods, then mounted on a horse, her hands tied to the saddle.

A young soldier mounted his own steed, and he and two others led her off into the night.

The soldier's camp was filled with tents and knights yelling at squires, who ran around desperately trying to please their masters. The poor boys squired until they were twenty-one, then were knighted, if they were lucky.

"Get in there, filth!" the young soldier growled, shoving Cara into a tent. The interior was nearly black, save for a small lamp at the center, near the main wooden pole that held the structure up.

Cara gasped when she realized that the tent was filled with young women, all tied to each other. Dirty, exhausted faces looked up at the girl, who trembled as she looked from side to side as she was pushed deeper into the tent. A large hand on her shoulder shoved to the ground.

A small cry of surprise left her throat when those same hands tugged roughly at her clothing, stripping her of her cloak and the pouch around her waste.

"Be nice, wench, and I'll let ye keep those nice boots ye got," foul breath muttered into her ear. Green eyes opened wide as she felt that same large hand cover her breast. Squeezing her eyes shut, Cara prayed that the soldier would go away and leave her be. "Ye feel nice, little one, ye do," he said, his grip rough and painful.

"Rutger!" a voice growled from the mouth of the tent. "Leave her be. You know what the king said."

Cara held her breath, terror filling her. The soldier sighed heavily, almost making her choke on his breath. "We're not done, ye an' me," he whispered, then was gone.

Two young boys came in and tied Cara where she lay. Strong, prickly rope laced her hands together, and connected her to the sturdy log pole at the center of the tent.

Cara tried desperately to blink the tears away, but they refused to leave her. Perhaps her only company this night. She blinked rapidly, trying to take in her surroundings better, and the faces of those who filled the tent. It was hard to take a decent breath, the smell of unwashed bodies assaulting her nose. These were simple village girls, uneducated and frightened.

Cara's biggest fear, other than what the soldiers might have planned, was if someone in the tent were infected with the black sickness. There would be no escape.

Cara leaned her head against the tree, a hand wiping gently at the moisture on her face. She could never tell Merryn what happened to her, as she knew the brunette already was beating at herself for what she saw as her fault.

Cara would pray for the gift of forgiveness. And may God help them get through this, and give her the wisdom to heal Merryn's wounds.

Merryn wandered through the woods, sword bouncing lightly against her hip. She glanced down at her hand, wrapped with a thin piece of cloth ripped from her tunic. A small patch of blood could be seen soaking through the material, but she didn't care. The sting kept her mind sharp, focus clear

Images of the last few days flashed before her eyes, her mind filling in the blanks of smell, sounds, the taste of victory as she led Cara out of the tunnels. Merryn had been filled with such pride, a feeling of doing a great thing, the greatest she'd ever done. It had been the first time in her life that she'd put someone else's life before her own.

She found a stump to sit upon, resting her elbows on her thighs.

It would have been so easy to let it go, to just keep on her endless travels, leaving Cara to whatever fate might be hers. It certainly wasn't up to Merryn to decide that. Yet she had. Or perhaps it was Cara's fate to survive, to become something far greater than her captors. Could this be true?

Merryn thought of her young friend. Why did she keep her around? Why did she care? Something about the little blonde. It was unattainable, untouchable, yet so very potent and profound. Her eyes. Within those eyes was the soul of a wise woman, someone capable of great things. No simple villager was she.

"Greater than all," Merryn whispered, startled, as she had no idea where the words had come from. She was confused, and frightened. She had taken a man's life, all for the rescue of one little blonde.

Merryn glanced to the east, seeing the clouds begin to roll in, sky gray and pregnant with shattering bolts of lightning. She slowly stood from her stoop, mouth open as she watched the unnaturally fast storm approach, seeming to stop overhead.

Gasping, Merryn took a step back, feeling the chill of a raindrop splattered against her forehead, followed by another then another.

Merryn turned, intent on hurrying to find shelter in the downpour when she felt something stop her, a force. She had the feeling it was the same force that had pushed her out of the way when the soldier had come after her with his dagger.

Squinting against the onslaught, she stared up into the angry skies. It was almost as if time stood still, the day waiting, holding its breath.

"What?!" she yelled to the Heavens. "What do ye want from me?"

Merryn's eyes closed, a series of images flashing through her mind, quick yet powerful:

"Hold on, lass. Just hold on," Merryn whispered, cradling Cara's head in her arms, the blonde's eyes closed, face pale …

… moonlight illuminated the night, Merryn hiding behind a tree. Her intended targets just moving shadows …

… underneath her eyes, the flames close by. Merryn cupped Cara's face, green eyes sliding closed, leaning into the larger hand. "Merryn, yes," she whispers, her sweet voice echoing inside the brunette's head …

… bashed again into the stone wall. "Tell me," Merryn hisses, pulling the man up to look at her by his hair. "Tell me where he hides, or die now, lad." Merryn brought his face up closer to …

… her body, being drug from the battlefield by her arm. The soldier grunts loudly, desperate to get her to safety. "Hold on, Donal. Almost there." Merryn is drug to safety, behind …

… those eyes. She knows those eyes. "I know you," she whispers.

Merryn staggered back, the rain seeming to bring her from her own mind. Her heart beat wildly within her chest, almost making her feel weak and faint.

"I don't understand," gasping, she looked up into the sky once more. "I don't understand! I'm jest a drifter!" Her cry echoed through the rain, seeming to reverberate off each individual drop. Falling to her knees, her head fell. "What do ye want from me?" Looking at her hands, she jumped to her feet, stunned to see her hands were covered in blood. The rain bounced uselessly off the life that she held within her hands. "No," she whispered, tears filling her eyes, head shaking slowly back and forth. "No."

With a cry to the Heavens above, she pulled her sword from its holding, swinging around, the blade flying through the air. Merryn watched, breathless, as the blade flipped head over end several times, arching back to the land, slicing into the earth with a loud hiss, the blade vibrating back and forth from the impact.

As she watched, the blood on her hands began to run, rain beating specks of clear flesh into the crimson stain. Merryn felt cold, bitterly cold. Glancing at her blade once more, she saw the steel gleaming as the clouds began to clear, the sun slipping through to bounce off its life-giving light off the steel.

Slowly, Merryn made her way over to it, shaky on her feet. With a trembling hand, she reached down, carefully gripping the leather-wrapped grip, flexing her fingers around it. The sun's warmth filled her hand, rising up her arm and into her body as she pulled the blade from the ground.

With a gasp, blue eyes opened, wide, taking in everything around her. Her head was pounding, and her hand stung in pulse with her racing blood.

Birds sang nearby, the shade from the tree she sat under shielding her from the warmth of the day.

"Losin' my bloody mind," she muttered, slowly getting to her feet. She felt shaky and unsteady, bracing her hand against the thick trunk of the tree.

Taking a deep breath, Merryn pushed off and headed back to camp.

In the distance, thunder rolled.

Merryn sat on the banks, back against a tree. Her sword's pummel rested on the ground between her legs, blade resting against her chest and shoulder. She watched, amused, as Cara frolicked in the stream.

"What'r ye tryin' at, lass?"

The blonde glanced at her over her shoulder before turning back to the water. She held her skirts up above the water, looking into the shallow depths.

"Lookin' for a good rock," Cara said, bending to grab at a colorful one that caught her eye.

"What for?"

"Crushin' herbs." Cara brought the rock to the surface, bringing it up to her eyes to examine it. Grinning, she tossed it into the air, quickly snatching it in her fist. She walked over to Merryn, plopping down next to the moody brunette. It had been nearly a full month since their adventure at Middleham, and ever since Merryn had been so hard to reach.

Cara turned to her friend, blue eyes already on her. She noticed yet again the wrinkle of concentration that seemed to have formed between Merryn's beautiful eyes almost over night. The girl seemed to have aged, her face changing from that of a young girl to that of wisdom and responsibility.

Cara's words died on her lips. Instead, she raised her hand, thumb running along the crease between Merryn's eyes, smoothing her brow.

"What weight of the world you carry, my friend," she whispered, her own brows drawn in concern. Merryn said nothing, her head leaning into Cara's touch as the blonde's hand slid to cup her cheek. "Please let me not be a burden to ya."

Merryn smiled, soft and filled with affection. "Yer no burden, lass. None t'all."

"But I am." Cara caressed the soft skin of Merryn's cheek, turning her hand so the back of her fingers traced her jaw, Merryn closed her eyes, sighing softly at the comforting touch. She could not tell her friend just how right she was. Merryn knew not why, but knew she carried a great responsibility, a destiny yet fulfilled. She could do it, she could. With Cara by her side, she could do it.

The dreams were getting worse, closer together and more vivid with their warnings and prophetic images.

Stubbornly, Merryn shook her head. She reached up with her own hand, tucking it into Cara's.

"My dearest friend," Cara whispered, moving to her knees to keep her balance. She leaned into Merryn, watching her eyes, so compelled to be as close as possible. "My Merryn." Two sets of eyes closed as Cara brushed her lips against Merryn's. It was such a beautiful touch. She leaned back, watching as the brunette's eyes slowly fluttered open. Merryn smiled, the biggest smile Cara had seen in days.

"I know not, lass!" Merryn growled, glaring at the blonde who walked by her side. Cara looked at her friend, brows shooting up.

"Some one poked with a rock, were you?" Cara tried to not laugh at Merryn's foul mood, knowing it would only make it worse. The dark girl had woken up like this yesterday, and again today. By the slight grimace of pain on her face, and as often as they'd needed to stop so she could visit the bushes, Cara had a feeling she knew exactly what the problem was.

"Rest, now, Merryn," she said softly, resting her hand on the brunette's shoulder. She was slightly hurt as Merryn pulled away from her touch. She swallowed it down, knowing it would do them no good to be such, and it was beyond Merryn's control.

"Nay. We must-"

"Rest." Cara's voice was firm, her eyes leaving no room for argument. Merryn sighed heavily, and nodded in acceptance.

Cara turned to the heavily wooded area around them. She chewed on her lip as she tried to decide which direction to go. Brushing her hand over various plants and bushes, avoiding others, sharp green eyes scanned the vegetation.

"Were I monk's pepper, where would I be?" she muttered, kneeling as she saw a small bush growing next to a tree. The plant had the familiar violet flowers, but lacked the reddish-black berries she sought. "Bugger." Scanning further around her, she looked for another bush. A wide grin spread quickly across her lips when she found it.

Pushing her cloak over her shoulder, Cara hurried to a small clearing. A clump of the bushes grew together, berries aplenty.

"Thank ye, Lord," she whispered, quickly picking the small berries, making a pocket with her upturned tunic. Hurrying back to where she heard the black horse whinnying softly.

"Can we go, then?" Merryn asked, glancing at the blonde from where she was seated under a tree. Cara nodded with a smile.

"Aye."

Cara glanced at the brunette from time to time, amused as she saw Merryn's scowl deepen. Her bloated irritation was no secret.

As they continued on, Cara fashioned a bit of a drying rack across the back of her cloak, the berries strung through with a piece of thin rope. She knew there was no way that she was going to get Merryn to stop for the day to dry the berries out on rocks. So, when the brunette was like this, she had to get creative.

Merryn tried to smooth out her forehead, raising her brows, but as soon as she lowered her brows, the skin of her forehead wrinkled up again. She was so tense. Of course the pulsing clinch of her insides didn't make things any better.

Glancing over at her friend, Merryn glared, seeing the happy, go-lucky smile on the blonde's face. Mumbling to herself, Merryn quickened her pace, wanting nothing to do with the happy girl. She felt miserable, and by damn so should the rest of the world.

Cara felt Merryn's intense gaze on her, but didn't dare meet those blue eyes. She kept an eye on her out of the corner of her eye, giving the darker girl her space, but making sure she was okay at the same time. She couldn't keep the smirk from her lips when Merryn tripped over a root in the path, nearly falling to her face. Merryn grumbled curses to the Heavens as she moved on.

"Feeling better?" Cara asked, resting against a felled log. She chewed contentedly on the meat she'd dried at their last campsite. Merryn sat across the fire from her, the scowl still in place. The brunette shrugged, noncommittal.

Cara popped up from her place by the fire, crawling to her cloak. She tested the texture of the berries which had been drying all day.

"Aye," she whispered. "should work." Gathering what she needed, so grabbed the water bladder and a wooden mug, then crawled around the fire to Merryn. Pouring some water into the mug, she crushed the berries between her fingers, sprinkling the large dust into the water. Glancing up, she saw Merryn watched her every move, though the blue eyes stubbornly looked away when the brunette saw she'd been spotted.

"What craziness 'r ye makin' now?" she mumbled.

"Somthin' to make ye feel better." Cara swirled the water and berry dust around, then held it out for Merryn. "Drink."

Merryn looked at the blonde as though she'd lost her mind. Cara hardened her eyes.

"Drink, Merryn."

Merryn growled, but took the mug. One last petulant look and she drank the peppery mixture in one gulp. Her entire face scrunched up, her tongue sticking out. Cara chuckled quietly, taking the cup from her friend before she threw it into the fire.

"Ye poison me!"

"I did no such thing." She took hold of Merryn's cloak, tugging. "Come here," she said softly, pulling the older girl's head into her lap. Grudgingly the brunette went. But as soon as she laid down, Merryn turned to her side, her arm wrapping around the thigh she rested her head on. Blue eyes closed as she felt fingers running through her hair, carefully unknotting wind-blown strands. "Yer pain will be soon gone," Cara reassured the brunette.

Merryn could still taste the slightly bitter, peppery taste on her tongue, but had no idea what Cara had used. She did know that soon she'd have to go find some privacy and take a clean scrap of clothing with her. But not yet.

Cara stared down at the long, thick tresses that her fingers swam through, the firelight making the locks shine. Though Merryn's hair was dark, the flames brought out the red and gold highlights. She could see Merryn's profile, the strong features and proud jaw. Blue eyes were barely open as the brunette studied the tattered material of Cara's dress.

"Ye need new clothes, lass," Merryn said quietly, poking her finger through a hole. Cara smiled, nodding.

"Aye. Ye going to steal some fer me?" Cara grinned, teasing in her voice.

Merryn said nothing, only snuggling closer into the blonde's lap. The brunette stared into the flames for a moment before her brow wrinkled.

"Cara? Why'r ye not married?"

The blonde chuckled softly. "I was. I think."

Merryn's brow drew further. She turned so she could look up at her friend. "Aye'r nay, lass. No thinkin' 'bout it."

"Well," Cara sighed, looking down at her friend, wiping at a small smudge on the girl's cheek. "Will had claimed me as such, to be his wife."

"Claimed ye, did he?" Merryn asked, dark brow raising. Cara blushed deeply, hiding her face.

"Not like that. What do ye take me for? Do not answer that," she hissed at Merryn's further raised brow. "Will was a fool," the blonde continued, chuckling lightly as she played with a bit of the dark hair in her lap. "I had no desire to marry him, but mum felt otherwise. Thought it'd be a good match, she did. The day I was to move into his home, Will got himself killed while hunting."

"Killed on his weddin' day?" Merryn asked, incredulous. She saw Cara's grinning nod. "Daft bugger." Again Cara nodded.

"That he was. Without a heart, I am not. I did not wish Will killed, but I did not want to marry him. I had my head turned to the blacksmith's son."

"Did'ja now?"

Cara nodded. "Aye. I wanted a family." She slowly ran her fingers the entire length of Merryn's thick, beautiful hair, rubbing the ends between her fingers before making another pass. The brunette closed her eyes and sighed in pleasure. She so loved her hair played with. Eyes still closed she spoke.

"Ye still can, lass."

"Nay."

Blue eyes opened, taking in the stubborn set of Cara's jaw. "Nay?"

"Nay. I can't imagine ye'd be willin' to settle down in some village somewhere, livin' next to my husband and me." She knew there was no way she could leave Merryn behind. The brunette had become part of her over the months. She'd be lost without her.

Merryn chuckled slightly at the mental image, and fought down the ugly head of sudden jealousy. She shook her head.

"Nay t'is. Ye don't need me, lass. Yer fine on yer own."

"What 'bout you, Merryn?" Cara asked, her voice soft.

"A master? Me?" Merryn looked up at the blonde like she's lost her mind. Cara laughed, the sound like crystal on the still night air.

"Tis not a master, Merryn. A husband."

"Not a difference there is, lass. I cannot be ruled."

Cara leaned down, hugging Merryn's head to her chest, giving the older girl a soft kiss on top of her head.

Merryn was about to speak, but stopped, nearly knocking Cara over with the ferocity in which she stood. Hand going to the grip of her sword, her eyes scanned the dark night around them.

"What 'tis it?" Cara asked in a whisper, her eyes wide, trying to find what her friend must have heard or seen.

Merryn said nothing, just tried to comb through all that she saw, trying find something out of place that would account for what she'd heard. Head snapping to her left, she heard it again. Footsteps, definitely footsteps.

It didn't take long for the noise maker to enter the ring of firelight. Merryn drew her blade, eyeing the dirty, scraggly man. He looked just as surprised as the two women did.

His surprise passed quickly, and he raised his hands in abdication. Merryn kept her eyes on him, seeing his eyes were sharp, taking in everything around him. She noticed his palms were covered with small scars, much like her own. Such is the fate of flesh digging into unseen pockets. Many things poked and cut. She knew a kindred spirit when she met one.

"What of ye, old man?" she asked, her voice low and filled with warning. He gave her a near toothless smile, raising his hands higher.

"I mean ye no harm, lassy," he said, his voice whispery between his rotten and missing teeth. "Have ye no water ta spare?" his beady eyes looked from the point of Merryn's sword up to her face, then trailed to Cara. Blue eyes didn't miss his looking around, trying to see if anyone else was at this camp.

"Be on yer way, lad." Merryn was surprised by the growl in her voice. She had a bad feeling about this drifter.

"Merryn," Cara said from behind her, voice soft and surprised. "We can share."

The man's watery blue eyes latched onto Cara, an ally. He bowed deep, eyes never leaving the little blonde. "Me thanks, lassy."

Cara handed him the water bladder, then turned hard eyes onto her friend. Merryn avoided the questioning green eyes, instead keeping her own eyes on the stranger.

"Warm yerself." Cara indicated the fire, and the man eagerly lowered himself to the ground, soaking in the warmth. He whistled his thanks once again as he found himself with a bit of meat and dried fruit in his hand.

Merryn grabbed Cara, leading her away from the camp, but positioning herself so she could keep the old man in her sights at all times. She spared a glance to the blonde.

"What'r ye doing, lass?" she hissed. Cara was shocked, her mouth opening slightly.

"Showing kindness. He has nothin'."

"Ye let 'im stay, and neither will we!" She looked into Cara's eyes, wanting the blonde to know just how serious she was. She knew his kind. Cara refused to hear it. She shook her head sadly.

"How can ye be so cruel, Merryn? 'Tis a cool night, and food is scarce in these times. We have it ta spare. He stays, were he ta wish it." With that, Cara turned, headed back to the camp.

"Cara! Cara!" Merryn hissed, but the blonde never turned back. "Bugger ta hell," she muttered, heading back to the camp as well.

Merryn sat moodily against a tree, watching as the drifter and Cara talked quietly. The man was telling the young blonde of the towns he'd been through, and of the burnings. Some towns were so bad off as to pull wagons through the streets, calling for the dead to be brought out, only to be loaded into a wagon and burned.

The brunette leaned her head back, eyes hooded as she took in the sight, trying to keep her sense of doom and jealousy down to a dull murmur. What was with the jealousy? Merryn had never been jealous in her life. But then, she'd never exactly had something or someone in her life to be jealous over. She wasn't entirely sure what she thought of this new revelation.

Shaking the thought out of her head, Merryn pushed herself to her feet, brushing her hands off on her thighs. She muttered a good night, and unrolled her bedroll, ignoring the questioning look Cara sent her way.

The blonde was trying to listen to what Daniel was saying but her mind was on her friend. What was wrong with her? Why was she being so rude and inhospitable? And now she was going to bed, not even waiting for Cara to join her?

"M'lady." Daniel stood, bowing deep at the waist. "I bid ye and yer companion a safe travel."

"Wait." Completely charmed, Cara looked at him, then glanced over at Merryn, who lay with her back to them. Turning back to the traveler, she smiled. "Stay the night, Daniel. Be warm 'n safe."

"Well," he glanced over at Merryn, giving Cara an unsure look.

"Be a guest of mine, sir. Sleep."

The most earnest and beautiful green eyes Daniel had ever seen were looking up at him, beseeching him to accept her gracious nature. He grinned, making sure it was a smile worthy of her trust. With another bow, he accepted.

The night was quiet, leaves lightly swaying in the slight breeze, and the popping of the dying embers. The sweet smell of the oncoming spring mixed with the acrid smell of wood ash wafted to Merryn's nose.

She started, falling heavily into reality. She could feel the slight weight of Cara's arm across her back and the hard ground beneath her breasts. Not even her bedding could keep the chill out from the cold soil beneath her.

Raising her head slightly, Merryn looked around. She saw something, movement, on the other side of the dying fire. There it was again.

Easing out from under Cara, Merryn kept it as slow and steady as she could before she got to her feet and lunged at the dirty bastard who was now rifling through Cara's pouch. Merryn saw the glint of the steel from her own blade lying on the ground next to him.

Without a sound, the two tumbled to the ground, Merryn on top of the drifter, who's eyes only registered his shock for a moment before they turned hard; the eyes of a survivor. Merryn knew it well, and knew how dangerous this man really was. He had nothing and nothing to lose, save for what he was about to steal from them.

The brunette felt a rage overtake her, boiling from the pit of her belly until it finally fired out of her fingers. She wrapped her hands around his scrawny neck, squeezing.

"Ye think ye c'n take from me, ye daft bastard," she hissed, teeth glinting white in the moonlight. "Know yer kind, I do." She raised his head, only to slam it back into the leaf-strewn ground beneath them.

Cara heard a sharp thud, her eyes flying open. Looking around desperately for Merryn, she saw her straddling Daniel. The brunette's back was to her, but she could see the man's legs flailing frantically, his body bucking, trying to get the girl off him.

As the blonde watched, Merryn's fist came away, only to slam down into his face, a wet crunch following the impact, followed by a hoarse, whispery scream.

Merryn watched in satisfaction as she saw what was left of his teeth disappear into the dark cavern that was his putrid mouth. Inky blood splattered out, dribbling down the side of hic chin.

"Bastard," she hissed again, squeezing harder, using both hands now.

As Daniel began to gasp, his eyes huge and bloodshot, Merryn ceased to see his face. His wide blue eyes turned brown, the stringy mop of brown hair fading into red. He reached for her, the steel of his gauntlet glimmering in the fires beneath the cauldrons.

Behind her, Merryn can hear her name whispered on the wind, floating to her ears before brushing by. She squeezed tighter, feeling the soldier's frantic hand on her triceps, though the grip was weakening significantly.

"Merryn! Stop it! Let go!"

Merryn gasped, as though taking a breath for the first time. The night closed in around her, the rough, hair-covered skin beneath her hands trickling into her conscious mind.

"Yer killing him," was sobbed quietly next to her.

Merryn's hands released their purchase as though they'd been burned. She looked down at the drifter. His eyes were closed, his face twisted in pain and fear, chest heaving.

She climbed off him, looking around, feeling lost and confused. She heard Cara crawl over to the man, talking to him quietly. She also heard the blonde searching through her pouch until she found the medicines she needed to help with the pain of his destroyed mouth.

Looking down at her hands, Merryn felt her blood go cold, her fingers still tingling as they got circulation back into them, so great had been her hold on him. She grunted as her body fell to the ground, her knees meeting the chilled soil. She couldn't take her eyes off her hands, stunned that she nearly took a man's life with them, just her own touch.

"What evil has me?" she whispered, stunned and feeling shame spread through her like wildfire. She'd lost control. Only the sound of Cara's voice had saved the drifter's life.

Glancing over at her friend who tended to his wounds, she could not meet the watery blue eyes that met her own. Standing, she headed into the darkness.

PART 5

CARA STAYED ON her knees, looking at the spot where Daniel had just been. His frantic footprints were still visible in the soil.

"She is a demon!" Daniel gasped as he got to his feet, mouth covered by a foul-tasting paste, it's grainy texture making his skin itch.

"Nay, Daniel. She got angry-"

"Demon!" he wheezed, turning and fleeing.

Cara took several deep breaths, looking out in the direction where Merryn had run. Her heart was still beating almost painfully in her chest. Putting her hand over it, she slowly got to her feet, surprised to see she was trembling.

The blonde felt undecided, and scared. Looking around the campsite, she saw what was left of the fire, the disrupted bedding, and the scattered remnants of their belongings.

Cara walked over to her own pack, who's contents lay on the ground, both from her hand and Daniel's. Kneeling, she began to put her assortment of herbs and medicines back into the pouch. Her comb had been flung an arms-length away. She quickly grabbed it, tucking it back inside. Cara was about to synch the pouch closed when something occurred to her. Wrenching the bag open once more, she quickly searched through it, pushing things aside while taking others out.

The pouch hit the dirt, Cara's hands covering her face. Her body began to tremble further, though not fear this time. The last link to home had been taken from her, by a man she had tried to help.

Getting to her feet once more, the blonde wiped her eyes with a sniffle, then grabbed one of Merryn's daggers, and the older girl's sword. Wrapping her hand around the wood grip, she tucked the dagger into her dress. The sword was heavy in her hands, but gave her a bit of security as she headed into the dark foliage.

Merryn could feel the rough bark against her cheek. She reached down, pushing with her hand as she readjusted her body in the fork of the massive branches that supported her weight. The night around her was cool, the sky filled with twinkling lights, winking at her.

"Merryn?" a distant voice called out. Merryn glanced in that direction, knowing it was Cara. The girl was to the west. The brunette stayed quiet. She wasn't entirely sure she wished to be found. "Merryn!"

Merryn sighed, hearing the beginnings of panic in the blonde's voice, which was coming closer.

"O'er here, lass." The rummage of foliage could be heard until blonde hair glowed in the moonlight. Merryn looked down at the confused girl. Cara had heard her friend's voice, but it was as though the voice belonged to a ghost. She could see the girl nowhere. "Up."

Cara's head snapped at the voice, barely able to make out a dark figure nestled in the large tree before her.

"What are you doin' up there?"

Merryn didn't answer, but instead quickly climbed down. Her talent and ability to make herself disappear after a life of stealing, had been shaped from a very young age.

Cara stepped back as the brunette's boots hit the ground. She hadn't even realized she'd done it until she saw Merryn's eyes fall. The blonde thought about this for a moment, stunned to realize that yes, she was slightly frightened by the taller girl, who was obviously capable of much.

"Won't hurt ye, Cara." Merryn's voice was soft, almost a shameful whisper. She could not meet the green eyes of her friend.

Cara took several deep breathes, then put a smile on her face, trying to reassure Merryn as much as herself. She stepped forward again, coming to stand just in front of her friend.

Merryn felt her heart break, seeing the way her friend trembled. Cara had never been frightened of her before, and yet here it was. She wanted to climb back up into that tree and never come down again.

Cara took that last step toward Merryn, tucking her head just below the brunette's chin, her arms snaking around her waist.

Merryn's eyes squeezed shut in a bitter/sweet contentment. She could still feel Cara trembling against her. She knew it was the girl's brave soul and unending trust and faith in people that kept her against the brunette.

She wrapped her arms around the smaller body, holding her close. Resting her cheek against the soft blonde hair, that smelled of rose petals and the spice of herbs.

"He took my coins," Cara said, her voice soft and filled with hurt.

Merryn's eyes squeezed shut, the quenched anger beginning to boil once more. She swallowed heavily to keep it at bay. Cara needed a friend, not an out of control heathen.

"'M sorry, lass."

"I should have listened ta ye." Cara snuggled in closer, the tears stinging behind her closed lids.

"Shhh," Merryn soothed, kissing the top of the girl's head. "'M sorry, Cara."

Merryn didn't feel comfortable at their campsite, afraid the drifter may come back, or out of vengeance, may have alerted the local magistrate. Even still, it wasn't safe to travel at night. She told Cara none of her fears, wishing for her friend to find peace in sleep. What the blonde did not know was that Merryn's eyes never closed that night. She kept vigilant guard.

Merryn looked down at the prize she'd taken from her own bag, holding it in her hand. Glancing up, she saw Cara holding her skirts as she walked through the shallow waters of the natural rain pond at the center of the wood. Looking back to her palm, Merryn gathered spit in her mouth, then let it dribble to the metal. Cleaning it with the edge of her cloak, the brunette held the coin up to the light, marveling at how it shone.

"Cara?" she stepped over to the girl. The blonde looked at her over her shoulder. "Come'ere, lass."

Cara raised her skirts further as she made her way out of the cool waters, kicking the excess off her feet as she stepped on a flat rock, so as not to get her feet dirty.

"We need to find a lake or river, Merryn. We have bathed not in many days."

Merryn grinned, rolling her eyes. "Hold out yer hand, Cara."

Brows drawn, Cara cocked her head to the side in question. She could see from Merryn's face that the dark girl did not jest. She lifted her arm, holding her hand out with an open palm. The heft of a single gold coin was dropped onto it.

Cara looked down at the gold piece, immediate recognition filling her heart. She looked up into smiling blue eyes, fear and wander filling her own.

"Daniel-"

"Took yers, lass. This," she folded the blonde's fingers over the remaining physical memory of her village and family. "'tis the last ‘o the three, Cara."

Cara was stunned, her eyes widening. "Ye'v had it all this time?" At Merryn's nod, Cara felt immediate anger and betrayal fill her, but it was just as quickly replaced by relieved gratitude. If Merryn had given her all the gold pieces that first night, she would have none left now.

Merryn smiled as the small blonde threw herself into her arms.

"Thank ye, Merryn. Thank ye, so much," Cara whispered into the brunette's ear. Merryn nodded against her. After a moment and a quick kiss to Cara's temple, Merryn pulled back.

"Come, lass. We best be movin'." She looked up into the early afternoon sky. "Storm brewin' out the east." She pulled back from the girl, and headed back to their gear, which lay at the foot of the tree she'd been sitting under.

Merryn looked around, keeping low so as not to crack her head on the sharp rock daggers above. She felt around the floor, only feeling cool, dusty stone.

"Hand me that torch, lass," she called down to Cara, who looked up at her, leaning out of the cave opening, placed high in the rock wall. The blonde quickly handed her friend the torch she held, looking around the darkening day once the comforting light was gone. She kept a tight hold on the horse's rope.

Merryn waved the light around, making sure they hadn't stumbled upon an animal's den. There were a few bones scattered at the back of the pocket, but it was obvious they'd been there for many a year. The cave hadn't been used in some time.

Mounting the torch in a crag in the wall, she turned back to the mouth, whispering for Cara to lift their equipment to her. Shoving it further back into the pocket, Merryn turned back to the mouth, anchoring herself as best she could.

"Give me yer hand, Cara,"

Cara took one last look behind her, the darkening forest all around, then raised her hands to the taller girl, already securing the horse to a nearby tree.

"Climb as I pull ye," Merryn grunted, pulling with all her body weight. She could hear a few rocks being displaced as the blonde desperately pushed her booted feet against the wall of the rock face. "I've got'cha," Merryn grunted, moving further back into the space as Cara broached the mouth.

Glad to be in the chilled confines of the small cave, Cara slid down the inside wall, sighing as her bum rested against the floor.

"I do not like this climbing," she panted, hearing the soft chuckle of her friend.

"'Tis better than bein' down there this night, lass." Merryn gathered the wood they'd brought up with them, creating a fire ring of rock before piling kindling for the burn.

Off in the not-so-far distance, thunder rumbled through the lightning brilliant skies.

"'T belly ‘o the beast is hungry tonight," Merryn said absently, tossing a few more sticks onto the fledgling fire, which she'd lit with their torch.

Cara set about camp duties, bringing out the skinned rabbit, caught earlier, as well as their pot and cooking utensils. Merryn set about finding a way to block the small entrance to their pocket, as she could feel this was a bad storm coming. They needed protection from it.

It wasn't long before they were settled. Merryn's cloak bowed from the incoming wind. The brunette crawled across the floor, bit of hot rabbit in her mouth, setting a few more rocks on the garment to keep it in place. Moving back to the fire, sucking in air to cool the morsel of meat. Finally she had to pinch it between her fingertips and pull it out into the air. Cara laughed.

"Silly girl."

Merryn glared before blowing on it, and tossing it back in, chewing happily.

"'Tis good, lass. A witch with spices. Ye are."

Cara shook her head, blowing on her own bit of meat. "Nay. No magic, Merryn. I am just good." She grinned and wiggled dark blonde brows.

Cara chewed happily, glad to be under shelter and safe. Then her thoughts began to turn dark, drifting among all the questions she had. Glancing up, she watched Merryn from across the fire, the older girl drinking water from the bladder. Blue eyes locked on her from over the drinking bag. Slowly lowering it, Merryn swallowed and wiped her mouth.

"What?"

Cara chewed thoughtfully, trying to think of the best way to phrase her question. Finally she decided on honesty.

"Why did ye try to kill Daniel?"

Merryn wasn't surprised by the question, but had in fact been expecting it. With a sigh, she handed the water bladder over to the blonde, who took it with a grateful smile. Blue eyes studied the fire for a moment as her mind raced back to the events of two nights ago.

"When he came to the camp, knew he was trouble. I saw meself in ‘im." Her voice softened, ashamed to tell Cara the next part, seeing Cara's confusion. "I did the same, lass. Lyin', thievin'." She threw a bit of gristle into the fire, angry with herself. "When I saw ‘im goin' through yer pouch, tryin' to steal my blade, I became lost in my own anger and shame." Her head dropped, but she held up her hand to halt Cara's crawl around the fire. "I lost control, Cara." I saw that bloody soldier. I wanted ta kill ‘im all over again.

"Nay, Merryn," Cara said, brushing the stalling hand aside. "Yer strong. Ye grow stronger with the passage of each day." She looked deep into troubled blue eyes. "Embrace it, Merryn. Learn ta use it."

They both turned as the wind and rain outside picked up. The lightning was almost continuous, thunder deafening. Cara trembled at the fierce sound. She had always hated thunder and lightning at night.

"Come, lass." Merryn took the bowl from the blonde, stacking it inside hers, and setting it against the wall. Enough talk for tonight. She crawled over to the bedrolls, patting the spot next to her.

Cara scurried over to the brunette, anxious to lie down, and hopefully fall asleep so she couldn't hear the storm anymore.

The blonde curled up next to Merryn, sighing in contentment as she felt the warmth of the taller girl begin to wrap itself around her like a blanket.

Merryn wrapped her arm around the blonde, pulling her close. She felt Cara take her normal position- face buried in her neck with half of the girl's upper body on top of hers, their right and left breast pressed together.

The past weeks Merryn had begun to realize that the feel of the girl's body against her own caused a warmth to pass through her, resting in her stomach and between her legs. Her skin would become particularly sensitive, especially where their breasts touched. And when she received a small kiss from the blonde? Merryn rolled her eyes in pleasure at the thought.

Spending the first part of her childhood in the Church, Merryn had been taught that carnal pleasure was wrong and a sin. She had taken these teachings to heart, though natural curiosity is going to take its course. She'd never experienced it first hand, but had seen it, in the wild and in the various taverns and couples in dark alleys. She'd seen it all.

Merryn knew that what Cara made her feel were feelings of a carnal nature, and since the brunette no longer believed in a the God of her youth, she had also thrown out the doctrine damning the practice. But even so, what was right? Yes, coupling between a man and a woman was necessary to birth children. But was there more to it than that? If that was all it was used for, why could Merryn bring herself pleasure of a carnal nature? The heat that coursed through her body when her own fingers explored was the same sensation that Cara caused. Should she feel guilty? Was it wrong?

Cara raised her head, resting her cheek in her palm. Looking down at Merryn, she could tell the brunette was deep in thought.

"Give ye two pence for yer thoughts," she said with a smile. Blue eyes looked at her.

"Ye don't have two pence, lass." Merryn chuckled at the look that received. She shook her head, knowing there was no way she could tell the blonde what she'd been thinking about. "Nothin'."

It was obvious Cara didn't believe her, but she said nothing, just stared down at the older girl. She studied the blue irises in Merryn's eyes.

"Ye have the most beautiful eyes," she said absently, brushing a few wild strands of dark hair from Merryn's face. "Like the sky of a summer solstice."

"Aye. And ye the grass below."

Cara smiled at that, feeling herself being drawn to the darker girl. She felt almost as comfortable with Merryn as she had her own family. But in a different way. Merryn was so strong and beautiful. It was like the blonde couldn't get enough of her beauty, wanting to touch it, commit it to memory.

Tracing a finger along the bridge of Merryn's nose, like she had done so many times before, Cara leaned down a bit, brushing her lips across the girl's cheek. Merryn closed her eyes at the soft contact, her stomach doing a flip flop. She had to fight the shiver that threatened to rush through her body.

A bolt of lightning lanced through the night sky, flashing the cave for a moment before another crash of thunder ripped the night apart.

"Shh," Merryn cooed, turning her head so their lips were a fingernails width apart. She looked into Cara's frightened eyes. "'Tis alright, lass."

"I know I act foolish."

"Nay," Merryn whispered, shaking her head slightly. She felt Cara lean forward again, hesitating a small moment before bringing their lips together.

Cara's body was trembling, though only partially from the storm. She had lain next to Merryn for months' worth of nights, but never had they kissed while in their bedrolls. It didn't feel wrong to her, it just felt … intimate. She felt a vulnerability that she wasn't sure what to do with, nor if she really wanted it to go away.

Merryn sighed as she felt a gentle pressing against her lips instead of the usual brushing. She pressed her mouth against Cara's, her body becoming acutely aware of where the blonde touched her. Cara brought one of her hands to Merryn's face, caressing the brunette's cheek, thumb rubbing over the soft skin.

Cara kept her eyes closed, allowing her sense of touch to do the seeing for her. She could feel the softness of Merryn's skin, the fine bone structure beneath it. She could feel the heat of Merryn's body underneath the left side of her own, where it rested upon the brunette.

Cara's eyes flew open when she felt herself being pulled fully on top of Merryn. She looked down into twinkling blue eyes, unsure of what to do with the warmth that began to suffuse her.

Merryn wrapped her arms around the small blonde, desperately wanting to feel the girl's weight on her own. She looked up into that beautiful, trusting face, the girl's golden hair falling to act as a curtain around them. Reaching up, the brunette tucked one side of the girl's hair behind her back, where it fell around the other side of her face. In the light of the fire, not two arms lengths away, Cara's hair truly did look like spun gold.

Cara watched the way the light danced in Merryn's eyes, which were fixed so intensely on her. She couldn't help but marvel at how beautiful the brunette was. She looked like a goddess from ancient times. Closing her eyes, she brought their lips together once more, feeling the softness. Her body seemed to sink into Merryn's, feeling all of the brunette's soft places against her own.

Merryn ran her hands down the girl's back, feeling the strong plane and dip of her lower back, then slid them to Cara's sides on the return trip. It amazed her to feel the differences in their bodies, how much smaller Cara was than herself. Even so, she could feel the power locked within that small body.

Cara felt as though she'd been struck by one of the bolts of lightning raging outside, Merryn's hands leaving a crackle along their wake. She was buzzing, her body tingling everywhere the brunette touched her.

Merryn moved her lips, opening them just enough to bring Cara's lower lip in between her own. She heard a slight gasp from the blonde at that, but Cara quickly caught on.

Suddenly the kiss had taken a turn from innocent exploration to sensual expression.

Cara and Merryn sighed into the kiss, one of Merryn's hands returning to the girl's hair, cupping the back of Cara's head to bring her even closer.

Outside the storm picked up a notch, the rain and wind threatening to blow the cloak out of the cave opening, almost simultaneous lightning and thunder rocked the night.

Cara nearly jumped off Merryn's body at the intense noise and sudden light. Merryn scurried over to the cave mouth, securing the makeshift door, shivering at the cold that she could feel just on the other side. As she crawled back over to the bedrolls, her heart swelled at the sight of Cara curled up, leaning against the cave wall. The poor girl was terrified.

Tending to the fire quickly, Merryn hurried back to the blonde, wrapping her in protective arms.

"Try'n get some sleep, lass," she whispered in the girl's ear. "Let yer dreams take ye from the storm."

Soon, both managed to fall asleep.

"Looks as though yer god has quite the temper," Merryn commented, looking at all the destruction around them. The storm from the night before had pulled trees up by their roots, branches and leaves in heaps where they'd been blown by the fierce winds, then pelted into mulch by the harsh deluge.

"Bloody right," Cara murmured, climbing over a felled tree. She was amazed to see how very different the forest looked as opposed to how it had been last night. She couldn't imagine what it must have been like to be out in it. Their horse, for instance. She'd gotten so frightened, she'd bolted, leaving but a bit of her tethering still tied to the tree next to the cave wall.

The sound of the ocean could be heard, not too far off to the north, the waves crashing against the cliff face. That sound competed with boots being suctioned into the mud. Random curses were muttered as either Merryn had to get herself unstuck, or had to help Cara.

"Wait, Merryn," the blonde growled, leaning a hand against the trunk of a tree. Her boots were becoming so caked with mud that they were getting too heavy to lift another foot. She looked at the sole of the boot, grimacing as she used her fingers, leaving four narrow trails through the goo. "Merryn, give me a dagger."

The brunette pulled one out of her baldric, balancing on one of her own feet as she tried to do the same thing. She tossed the dagger into the mud at Cara's feet. Quickly the weapon had sunk to half the handle. Merryn grinned mischievously at the glare she got in return.

Muttering to herself, Cara tried to balance against the tree as she leaned over to pick up the dagger, the cold mud instantly chilling her fingers as she grabbed the handle, pulling the dagger out with a loud slurp.

"Bugger," Merryn muttered, nearly dropping her own dagger as she grabbed onto a tree with both hands. She looked down, trying to figure out what made her lose her balance. Glancing over at Cara, she saw that it hadn't just been her. Wide green eyes looked back at her briefly before moving over the ground at their feet.

Feeling steady, Merryn released her hold on the tree, carefully running her fingers down the blade of her dagger, sliding the mud down. The brown, gooey mess fell to the ground with a plop. She tucked the dagger back into her belt.

Feeling her irritation grow, Cara returned to her boot. She had gotten the majority of the mud removed from the sole of her right boot. Putting her foot own, she lifted her other one, grunting slightly at the task. The mud was thick, the soil heavy in clay.

With a yelp, and a loud roar from nature, Cara found herself lying on her back, mud oozing into every crevice. She lay still, trying to figure out how she ended up looking into the blue skies above.

Getting her breath back, she tried to find some purchase to push herself up with. Suddenly she was back in the mud, and moving.

Merryn shook mud-coated strands of her hair from her face, eyes huge as she tried to figure out what had happened. She realized that she was nowhere near the tree she'd been standing next to. She also realized that her leg was beginning to beat to the pumping of her heart, a shot of pain with every thump. Glancing down the length of her body, she saw that her leg had been caught up in a small outcropping of rocks that surged above the surface of the mud. Luckily the mud that encased the leg was so cold, it was keeping things numb. She had a bad feeling about her injury.

Clearing her mind of this, she looked around, expecting to see frightened green eyes. None.

"Cara?" Only silence answered. Even the echo of the forest was sucked up in the thick mud, which had shifted mightily in the slide. With a small cry, Merryn managed to get herself free from the rocks, white hot, shooting pain throwing her back into the mud as she tried to bend her injured leg. Panting heavily as she tried to clear the blackness from the edges of her vision, Merryn tried a new tactic. With a heave, she managed to unbury her sword. Sitting up she thrust it into the mud, trying to bury it far enough down to get some stability. Taking several deep breaths, she prepared herself for the fresh pain.

Getting to her feet, Merryn tried to figure out what happened, and where Cara was. Her face was a mask of clenched pain as she turned in a slow circle, seeing nothing but a sea of thick mud, pushing against the standing trees in thick waves, forever frozen in perpetual motion.

Figuring out what had thrown her to the ground, Merryn felt the first waves of panic crash against her heart. The mud had been swept down the sloped forest floor, toward the cliffs that dropped to the ocean below.

"No," she breathed, balancing on her sword as she made her way as quick as possible to the edge. "Cara!"

Teeth bared as she tried to ignore the pain of her broken leg, she continued on. She had to be careful, the mud slick and still unstable. Random branches, roots and rock outcroppings littered the area. Blue eyes scanned each for any sign of Cara. She prayed that sign wouldn't be blood.

The forest floor suddenly sloped at a dangerous angle, the crashing waves of the ocean getting louder as the cliff edge came into sight.

Merryn felt her heart stop. She hadn't even realized her legs had given out under her until she felt the sharp pain in her leg, and the full body jarring of the ground making solid contact with her backside. Cold numbness spread through her, making her begin to tremble.

She felt a strange sensation behind her eyes, a sting. Something she hadn't felt in many years. Lowering her head, Merryn let out a shaky breath.

"Ung."

Merryn's head slowly rose, her eyes nearly glowing as the upset threatened to spill. She listened, her entire body tuned to the day around her. Even the birds and animals of the forest hadn't recovered yet from the storm and mud slide.

Grunting. Gasping. The sound of rocks becoming loose, sliding down more rock.

Without thought, Merryn drug herself through the mud, toward the cliff edge. The noises, though still faint, were getting louder.

Reaching the edge, Merryn squeezed her eyes shut, afraid of what she might see. After several deep breaths, she looked over the side. What she saw took her breath away. Far below, huddled on a rock ledge, Cara looked back up at her. The only thing recognizable on the girl was her green eyes. The rest of her was covered with mud, not a clean smudge on her.

"Cara!" Merryn cried, her relief palpable. "Hold on, lass!" she called down. She could see the relieved smile on the girl's face, her teeth blindingly white against her browned skin.

Her mind flipped over the fact that Cara was alive, and then trying to figure out how to get her back up. The ledge the blonde had managed to land on was too far above the sea for the girl to jump, yet too far below the cliff for her to climb. Not to mention the rocks were slimy, covered in slick mud. Quickly untying her rope from around her waist, Merryn peeled it from the thick mud and dirt layers that had glued it to her tunic. Sizing up the length, she was doubtful, but they had to try.

The brunette looked around quickly, trying to find something to tie one end of the rope to, spotting a thick trunk, the rest of the tree broken during the storm the night before. She hissed as the jagged edges of the wood scraped against her skin as she tied it.

"Grab the rope, lass!" she called down, tossing the rope down to the girl. Glancing over the edge, she saw Cara trying to jump for the rope. Merryn cried out when the blonde early fell of the ledge. Her heart pounding, making her leg hurt worse, she looked into the eyes that looked back up at her.

"'Tis not long enough! I cannot reach!" Cara yelled back.

Merryn growled deep in her throat, looking around frantically for an idea to strike her. Like a Phoenix in the ashes, she saw a slim column of rock sprouting up through the mud. Scrambling over to it, she wrapped her hands around it, tugging with all her weight. The column didn't budge.

"Hold on, Cara!" she called down, letting the girl know she was still working on it. Pulling up the rope, the brunette untied it from the tree stump. Looking down at her own body, she wrapped the end of it around her own waist, tugging hard, making sure the knot would hold.

"Condatis, do not take us now," she whispered her prayer, then grabbed hold of the column of stone. Her body dangling down the cliff face, the rope uncoiled from the edge, falling.

Cara gasped, seeing Merryn hurl herself over the edge, dangling. The rope fell over the cliff, swinging gently just next to the blonde. Heart pounding in her ears, she grabbed it, tugging slightly to let the brunette know she had it.

"Climb, lass!" Merryn called, desperation in her voice. "Be quick abou'it!"

Cara heaved herself up, trying to get a good grip on the rope, which was just as muddy as she was. After a few slips, she got a good grip, and began to scale the cliff wall. Merryn could feel the strain in her arms, even as she did the best she could to hug the column close to her chest. The tug on her body, with each rising of Cara's own, was in turn reassuring and frightening. The brunette was terrified she'd lose her grip and they'd both fall to their deaths, yet each tug brought Cara closer to solid ground.

Cara's boot slipped from its perch on a medium sized, jutting rock. Her heart stopped for a moment, breath stolen from her lungs. Squeezing her eyes shut to get her courage back, Cara began to climb again. She was now within reach of Merryn's boot.

Merryn felt a brief touch on her right boot, then sucked a breath in, about to open her mouth in warning about her left leg.

Cara nearly let go of the rope altogether so shocked she was when a shrill scream tore through the air, along with a sharp crack. She managed to get her grip back on the rope, having slid down slightly at the sudden chaos. She had no idea what had happened. She'd grabbed hold of Merryn's left leg, wrapping her arms around it, about to pull herself up as she'd let go of the rope.

Merryn could not breathe, her face white and clammy as pain like she'd never known vibrated through her. It took all she had to keep hold of the stone her arms were wrapped around. She could no longer feel anything in her lower body, save for the pulsing of white pain, threatening to take her consciousness.

Sensing something was very wrong, Cara quickly scrambled back up to Merryn's body, tentatively touching the right leg. The brunette was trembling dangerously, but the leg didn't seem to make it worse.

Merryn could not speak, could not utter a sound, so lost was she in a sea of pain. Somewhere in the back of her head she heard Cara murmuring to her, then the discomfort as her chin skimmed the rock beneath her as the blonde climbed completely up her body, bumping the back of Merryn's head with her boot as she passed.

The earthy smell beneath her nose, stone and mud, brought the brunette somewhat back to a reality she didn't wish to be in right now. Her hold was getting weak.

Cara, on hands and knees as she reached the cliff top, turned to see Merryn, head down, and arms shaking as they held onto a tall column of stone.

"Merryn," she breathed. She could tell the girl was about to let go. She grabbed the brunette by her tunic and cloak, tugging. "Pull yerself up, Merryn," she grunted, heels digging into the mud. "Help me, Merryn!" she cried, hearing the tell tale ripping of fabric.

Merryn blinked rapidly, shaking her head to clear the fogginess from her eyes. She heard Cara's voice, then saw the blonde, pulling with all her might, trying to bring Merryn back from the edge.

Swallowing down her haze of pain, Merryn used her good leg to push herself back to land. Once she felt her hands and knees come into contact with the slick rock of the cliff top, Merryn leaned over, the remains of her breakfast being pushed out by the nausea caused by the intense pain.

Cara hurried over to her friend, still unsure of what had happened. When Merryn finished, she looked over at the blonde, relief flooding her. She grabbed the blonde to her, both falling into the mud as they clung to each other. Cara felt Merryn burry her face in her neck, the brunette's grip on her almost painful. No doubt Cara's hold was just as intense. They were breathing hard, the events of the morning catching up with them.

Merryn pulled away, bringing her finger to Cara's face, sluicing through the mud, leaving a smudge to the girl's skin. She gave a weak smile.

"Are ye alright, lass?" she asked, her voice left weak from the pain. Cara nodded, bringing her head to Merryn's, foreheads together. She cupped the brunette's face, just absorbing the presence of the older girl. She was still in awe that she was alive, convinced that she'd never survive that fall. Then having no idea how she was to get back to the surface.

Finally coming around, she pulled back, looking down the length of Merryn's sprawled body. Immediately she went to work, trying to find out what had happened.

"Yaaaaaa!" Merryn's head hit the mud with a wet squish. Cara quickly took off the boot on Merryn's left leg, then grabbed a dagger from the brunette's belt, slicing the leg of her britches open. The bone had not broken through the skin, but it was deathly pale with the bruising around the break a sickening dark color in contrast.

"I think I set yer bone when I hung onto it," she said, glancing at the brunette. Merryn said nothing, just nodded slightly, trying to keep her breathing under control. "I need a brace." Cara grabbed for the blade that had been tossed near the edge of the cliff during the chaos.

"Nay," Merryn said, her voice quiet and breathy. She put a hand to the girl's. "Not that."

"Then what-" Cara stopped for a moment, closing her eyes. She slowed her own breathing as she concentrated on the vision that began to appear before her mind's eye.

Merryn watched in fascination as Cara, eyes still closed, took one of the daggers, beginning to slice into the material of her own dress, shredding the skirt.

"Forgive me, Merryn," she whispered, and began to tear the pant leg to shreds. Eyes opening, Cara moved to her knees, using her hands to gather great amounts of mud around Merryn's leg, scooping it up to cover it, packing it in tightly. The brunette bared her teeth, but said nothing, taking her pain in shallow breaths.

Cara smoothed her hand over her creation, streamlining it down either side of Merryn's leg. With a gentle command for the brunette to hold still, she wrapped the shreds of cloth from her dress around it. When the mud-packed leg was completely covered and tied tight, though loose enough for proper circulation, Cara looked at her friend.

"This must dry, Merryn," she explained softly. Cara stood, looking around. She noticed that by the edge of the cliff the stone could be seen through the mud. Getting to her knees, she quickly began to push the mud aside, making a dry spot where Merryn could lie down, allowing the mud encasing her leg to warm and harden.

"Come, Merryn," she whispered, grabbing hold the brunette under the arms. "'T'will hurt, but you must not allow your leg to drag the ground."

Merryn nodded, not fully understanding, but trusting in her friend. A cry ripped from her throat as she held the leg aloft, her body being jarred as it was drug toward the cliffs.

Getting her settled as comfortably as possible, Cara set out with a quick kiss to Merryn's cheek, and a whispered "I will return."

Merryn sucked in lungfulls of fresh, clean air. Cara had left her with Merryn's own cloak rolled up under her head, the warm, spring sun shining down on her face, warming her still pain-chilled body. Cara had tried to get her some herbs for pain, but her pouch was filled with mud, all medicines inside ruined.

She could feel an ache in her leg, which now had turned into a dull, yet powerful rhythm, beating with each pump of her heart.

Merryn tried to relax, consciously easing her breathing into a constant, steady rhythm. She was trying to calm her heartbeat, as the slower her heart beat, the less it pounded through her leg. She could feel the mud drying, tightening around her leg, becoming stiff. She was amazed at the way it helped with the pain.

"How are you?" Cara asked, kneeling next to her friend. Merryn looked at her. She hadn't even heard her come back.

"I'll live."

"Indeed." Cara sat, the sun shining down on her legs, the skirt being torn nearly to mid-thigh. She set down the handful of roots and weeds she'd found. Taking a pinch of damlon weed, she tore the stocks in half, tossing the scaly side to the ground, the leafy side going into her mouth. She winced at the bitter taste, but chewed quickly. Taking the tiny ball of mush out of her mouth, she grabbed the hard, scaly part of the weed she'd discarded and wrapped the mush inside. Packing it all into a small, hard wad, she grabbed the water bladder. "Lift yer head."

Merryn did as she was told, opening her mouth so Cara could place the small bit on her tongue. She dutifully drank from the bladder, swallowing it down.

"Should start working soon, Merryn." Cara leaned over, giving the brunette a small kiss on the temple. "There is a swollen stream just over that way," she pointed back toward the west. "I'm going ta wash, then come back to wash you." The blonde stood, smooth muddy strands out of her face. She smiled down at the brunette. "If yer still awake."

Cara hurried back into the forest, a dagger at the ready. She couldn't imagine anyone out in this miserable mud, but anything was possible.

She was just now getting her breath back after what had happened. She had been so frightened, and then when she'd hurt Merryn, she'd felt awful. True, she'd had no idea that the girl was hurt, but still. Although, she would have had to set Merryn's leg anyway. It did get it over with.

Setting all their mud-covered and filled belongings at the side of the small body of water, she took one more look around before removing what was left of her dress. She'd be better to tear it all up for scrap. There was no getting around a new outfit now. This one had become indecent. She'd sure like to get some britches. They seemed far more practical for life on the road.

The water was freezing, most of it rain water from the night before. It stole Cara's breath away. She shivered as she carefully made her way in. She made quick work of dunking her entire body, crying out from the shock. Her skin exploded in goosebumps, her nipples like tiny rocks.

Teeth chattering, she did the best she could to rinse the mud from her skin and hair, as all her cleaning herbs and mixtures had been destroyed in the mud slide. Her hair was sticky, making her grimace involuntarily. Her village had never understood her need for cleanliness, and she knew Merryn thought she was crazy as a loon.

Merryn.

Cara couldn't keep the smile from her face, even if her smile was blue as her lips slowly turned such. She thought of the night before, in the cave. She had always loved Merryn's kisses, but last night...’

Cara's eyes closed, her arms wrapping around her own body. A wave of heat managed to burn hot even through the frigid temperatures of the water she stood waist deep in.

Once Cara had accidentally seen Mark the cooper, and Muriel in his shop. He had her against a table, her skirts up around her waist. The blonde had been so embarrassed, quickly turning away. But the noises they made. There was no way to run from those. Red from head to toe, Cara had wandered into the woods, thinking about what she'd seen and heard. She remembered Mark's big, calloused hands on Muriel's breasts, the farmer's daughter's dress pulled open.

She had never been able to shake those images. When she'd heard stories of how awful it was, and how much it hurt, Cara had brought those images to mind. Muriel hadn't looked as though she were in pain. She had looked as though she were enjoying what Mark was doing to her.

Cara looked down at her own breasts, the nipples still hard and a deep rose color. She brought her hands up, cupping the breasts, which were hard from the cold. Her palms were painful against her cold nipples. Soon the warmth from her hands eased the rigid peaks, making the skin soft and pliant.

Afraid of catching a chill, Cara quickly finished washing the mud from her body, hurrying from the cold depths of the water. The sun of high day felt glorious on her cold skin. She wished for a warm rock to lay upon and dry. Alas, with the mud, was not to be.

Merryn awoke to a crackling fire and a gentle touch. Opening her eyes, she was surprised to see the sun had fallen, leaving the night with all its twinkling lights above. Her eyes moved to the left where she saw just the edge of cloth, and could feel the cool dampness of moisture.

"Ye really shouldn't play'n mud puddles, Merryn," Cara said, her voice soft and soothing near the brunette's head. Merryn smiled.

"Do me best." She looked up at Cara, seeing the twinkle in her eyes. And the color of her skin. "Bathe, did ye?"

"I did. We need more cleansing herbs." Cara wrung out the rag she was using to clean the mud from Merryn's face. She had wanted to wait until the darker girl awoke, but when she slept on, she decided to do it anyway. Bringing the newly rinsed rag to the brunette's neck, she gently wiped away the dirt and grime from the day. "My dress is ruined. We'll have to make our way ta a town soon."

Merryn nodded, sighing in pleasure at Cara's gentle touch.

Cara continued to bathe the girl with her rag and clean water, fingers lightly caressing where she had recently cleaned. Merryn's skin was so soft under her fingers, lightly trailing the backs across the brunette's throat. She smiled as Merryn sighed, her head falling to the side, giving her more skin.

The need was too great to resist. Cara bent her head, placing gentle lips against the side of Merryn's neck. The heat that radiated from it was awesome, nearly burning Cara's lips. She lifted her head but a small way, glancing into the taller girl's face. There was a slight smile curving those full lips.

Lowering her head once more, Cara's eyes closed, brushing her lips over Merryn's ear, then back to her neck. She pressed them to the warm skin once more, a lingering caress.

Merryn sighed, tingles filtering all through her body. She forgot all about the pain in her leg at the wonderful sensations that were awakening within her. As her body began to respond, she reached a hand up, caressing Cara's newly bared leg. The skin of her thigh was soft, yet prickly with tiny blonde hairs. Their months of walking had hardened the blonde's muscles, making her legs shapely and beautiful.

Cara moved her body so she lay along side Merryn. She rested on her elbow, looking down at the brunette who met her gaze.

"How is yer leg?" she asked, running lazy fingers back and forth over Merryn's arm, making the older girl tingle even more. Blue eyes closed as warmth flooded her.

"'D feel better if ye'd kiss me, lass," she breathed, her heart pounding. She didn't see Cara's smile as the blonde moved in.

Though she'd just kissed her the night before, Cara had almost forgotten just how soft Merryn's lips were. She gently moved her body so their breasts were touching, though was mindful of Merryn's lower body, staying clear of her leg, still wrapped in hardened mud and cloth.

Merryn sighed into the blonde's mouth, sensation exploding as she felt soft breasts laid upon her own. She brought her hands up, burying them in Cara's hair. The strands were stiff and clumped. She knew it must be driving the blonde crazy to be so dirty.

Pushing the thought away, she deepened the kiss, bringing Cara's bottom lip inside her mouth. She wanted to feel it, taste it.

Cara gasped slightly as she felt the warm softness of Merryn's tongue gloss over her lip. She felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder. It felt wonderful, and sent the most surprising sensations through her body that she opened her mouth a bit, feeling Merryn slide her tongue just to the very edge of the inside of Cara's lips.

Cara felt an ache between her legs, a pulsing that was pleasurable yet painful at the same time. She didn't understand it, but knew that Merryn was both the cause and cure. Moving her body a bit, she lay atop the brunette, feeling the cold smoothness of the mud pack on her leg. For a moment she almost pulled away, worried she'd hurt the older girl. Merryn stopped her with a firm hand to her hip, bringing Cara's mouth back to her own.

Merryn was becoming lost in the feel of the blonde's mouth and body on her own. She was slowly, tentatively exploring the inside of Cara's mouth with her tongue, feeling her teeth, the insides of both lips, her tongue.

A shiver was sent through her, landing squarely between her legs as Cara shifted, her leg falling slightly between the brunette's thighs. The slight pressure between her legs made her nearly jump out of her skin. Her mouth opened with a soft gasp, hands flying to the girl's hips. Cara wasn't sure what she'd done, but liked Merryn's reaction. She left Merryn's mouth, the brunette's neck calling to her again. Taking what she'd just learned, she placed gentle kisses along Merryn's jaw, then lightly touched her tongue to the side of her warm neck.

Merryn gasped loud, taking in a mouthful of air at the contact. Her hands pressed into the soft flesh of Cara's hips. Cara's mouth continued, her tongue taking in the taste of Merryn's skin, sweat and the earthiness of left over mud that hadn't been wiped away. Her body began to respond, communicating with Merryn's.

Cara stopped, feeling Merryn's body stiffen. She knew that either the brunette's leg had been bumped, or that she was in pain. Lifting her head, she looked into the beautiful face of the one person that was her world. Merryn's eyes were squeezed shut, her face ashen.

Slowly climbing off Merryn, Cara quickly grabbed another of the medicine bundles she'd made while Merryn had slept on. Grabbing the water bladder, she gently held up the brunette's head.

"Swallow this, my love," she whispered. Merryn did as she was told. She had been rocked to the core as the healing effects had suddenly vanished, making her realize with painful clarity that her leg was, indeed broken. The pain wasn't as intense as it had been before, but she felt chilled and hot at the same time, her skin crawly and clammy.

Cara set the bladder aside when Merryn had swallowed her medicine. She scooted over to the brunette, gently laying Merryn's head in her lap, cradling her and running her fingers through the long, dark strands, until finally Merryn's lids fell heavy, and she fell asleep.

PART 6

"WHAT?" CARA ASKED, starting to feel slightly irritated as she looked up at her friend.

"Healing herbs?" Merryn asked yet again. She reached down to balance herself, her palm placed against the warm, scratchy hair of the ass she sat upon.

"Ye not believe me?" the blonde asked, brows raised. Merryn said nothing, muttering to herself. Cara turned back to the road ahead, relishing the sun, which basked on her face. She had made her way to a small town that morning, using what little they had left to trade for some things they needed. Including a way for Merryn to travel and stay off her leg.

The gentle breeze blew through her new dress, weaving the material around her legs. It felt wonderful! It also felt wonderful to be clean, with her long hair falling down her back in golden waves. She had also been able to restock her medicines, which she then traded for a donkey.

"Did'ja get more 'o this, lass?" Merryn asked, holding up the last little bit of smoked meat she was eating. Cara chuckled, nodding.

"Though no more fer ye today," she said, waggling a warning finger at her friend. The brunette rolled her eyes. She had hated to stay back at camp, feeling useless. Not for the first time, she cursed that bloody mud slide and storm.

Cara walked contentedly next to the lumbering animal, now understanding why the owner had been so willing to part with Simon. The beast was slow, stopping to sniff and taste everything he came upon in the road. She could tell Merryn was getting frustrated, too.

Merryn had gotten good at ignoring the constant ache in her leg, yet still every step the animal took jarred it again. She could only do so much to keep the mud encrusted leg from banging against the donkey's barrel rib cage.

"Are ye not going to answer me, then?" Cara asked, glancing up at her friend again.

"Let me think," Merryn said, chewing on the inside of her cheek. "I want to see my homeland, lass. Go te my people, I would."

"Te Ireland?"

"Aye." Merryn smiled at the thought. She'd dreamt of her homeland, her people and their ways. "And ye, lass?"

Cara looked up at her friend, bringing a hand up to shield her eyes from the sun. She smiled wide. "Ireland sounds beautiful."

Merryn smiled back, but it slowly began to slide from her face. Looking around, a wrinkle of concentration gathered between her eyes.

"Merryn-"

The brunette held up a hand, sniffing the air.

"Arawn," she whispered, tugging on the donkey's reins, trying to lead the stubborn animal to the east.

Cara brought her hand to her nose, trying to block out the sweet stench that was getting stronger the further they went into the woods.

"The sweet smell of death," the blonde whispered, a small cabin coming into view. Merryn nodded.

"Aye, lass. Arawn has been here."

The cabin was dark, a bag lying upon the ground outside its door, dried crops rolled out to dry on the ground. They were half eaten by insects and rats.

Cara helped Merryn dismount the animal, the older girl leaning on her as they made their way toward the closed plank door. The sweet smell of rot was getting stronger, burning their lungs and making Cara's eyes water.

"Stay here, Merryn," she said, helping the brunette to sit on a barrel. Merryn tried to protest, but Cara stopped her with a soft kiss. "Return, I will."

Cara did not want to see what she knew she'd see, but she also knew they had to find a safe place for them while Merryn's leg mended. It would take a great deal of reasoning to get the older girl to agree, but Cara knew it was the best thing to do. Merryn's leg would never heal if the girl was on it, climbing, running, and hunting.

The silence of the dead was an eerie thing to behold. The sound of their lifeless bodies could be deafening. Glancing over her shoulder, she saw Merryn still seated on the barrel, looking as though she'd jump off any moment. Cara held up a hand, silently telling the girl to stay where she sat. She could tell the brunette didn't like it, but she did stay put.

Cara rested her hand on the frame of the door, the other on the door itself, gently pushing on it. When it didn't budge, she pushed harder. With a loud creak, the door swung open, releasing such a pungent odor of death, Cara almost fell to her knees. Literally being thrown a step or two back, Cara held her ground, and her breath, bravely making her way into the darkened cabin.

Sunlight sliced through the cracks and slats in the walls, crisscross beams tracing patterns on the dirt floor. A table could be seen against the far left wall, just the corner lit, dust motes drifting in the shaft of sunlight. Various objects were silhouetted on the table's surface, the shapes looking to be a lantern and jug with rounded handle.

Cara's gaze traveled down a trail of light to see the blackened fingers of a hand, hanging off the edge of a pallet. The thumb had been partially eaten by some sort of rodent. The blonde brought her hand to her mouth as she quickly tore her eyes from it. She saw a wooden plate with rotten fruit lying on the floor, worm holes blackened and shriveled.

Cara nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a touch on her shoulder. Whirling, she saw Merryn leaning against the doorframe, sword acting as a walking stick.

"Dead," Cara said simply, turning to walk out. Merryn nodded, knowing as much. "Black sickness. Again, Merryn nodded.

"Should go, lass." She looked up at the skies. Blasted spring rain.

"Nay." Cara looked at her friend, eyes serious and stubborn. "Ye need to rest, Merryn." She nodded toward the cabin behind her. "Take care of that poor soul, I will, then ye rest."

Merryn studied the girl. Surely she wasn't serious? She shook her head.

"Nay, Cara. 'Tis cursed."

Cara rolled her eyes, walking to the donkey. She grabbed their flint stones from the saddle bag, heading back toward the cabin. Merryn stopped her with a touch to her shoulder. Blue eyes looked deeply into green.

"Nay," she hissed. Cara held her gaze.

"Merryn, we cannot go on with yer leg such as I'tis. 'T'will never heal. We must get ye settled, and I know ye saw that stormin' sky," she said, pointing to the sky. Merryn sighed, shaking her head.

"Nay," she said stubbornly.

"Ye'v no choice. Simon is bein' as stubborn as you. I am not goin' ta be stuck out in the rain cause of yer stubborn arse." With that she took another deep breath, then stepped inside the cabin. Walking over to the table, she used what little light there was to see the lantern. It took a few licks of the flint, but she got her spark, setting the wick aflame.

The blonde kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see what lay to her right, what was left of the previous tenant. Instead, she grabbed a rat-eaten blanket she saw in the corner, throwing it over the body.

"Merryn?" she called, setting the flint stones down. She left the lantern burning as she headed out of the cabin, taking several deep breaths as she walked into the fresh air of the day. She saw the brunette looking at her in question. "We must burn this poor soul."

"Aye."

Night was beginning to fall as Cara laid the last bit of wood atop the wrapped body, still on its sleeping pallet. It had taken some effort to get it out of the cabin, as she had to work alone. Once clearing the narrow door, she tied the pallet to Simon, finally getting the beast to pull the pallet free, the cabin but a small glimmer as dusk fell upon the land.

Cara stood, the pyre before her painting her features golden orange. Head bowed, the blonde raised her hands, Rosary wrapped around her clasped palms. Her lips moved in silent prayer over the lost soul of the one who had died alone. A single tear escaped a closed lid, sliding lazily over her cheek, and off the side of her chin, landing on her left thumb.

Her heart filled with grief and sorrow, Cara sent the soul free, being the one for the soul now, that wasn't there when they needed her the most.

She could see the man, along, in his cabin, the sickness coming on over the span of three days. Alone, scared, and huddled up on the simple bed roll, he laid down on his side, breath coming in short spasms, eyes open wide as he looked to the Heavens. A hand came into Cara's view, reaching for his hand, which hung off the pallet. She realized it was her own hand, taking the trembling hand of the man into her own. He looked at her, a soft smile of thanks on his features, darkened by the black sickness. Lesions dotted his features, skin almost looking bruised and beaten.

She could feel the coolness of his fingers as the life began to bleed from him with each labored breath.

Sleep now. Sleep.

With a final, wheezing breath, his fingers relaxed in Cara's, his head falling back, eyes forever frozen to the skies.

"Cara?" Merryn said, her voice soft. Green eyes opened, filled with tears. With a cry of grief, the blonde turned to the brunette, burying herself in Merryn's arms.

Merryn held the girl as she cried for long moments, stroking her back and hair. Finally the small blonde sniffled out the rest of her pain, then raised her head with a grateful smile. Merryn returned that smile with a small nod.

"'T benzoin 'n amber is burnin', lass."

"Thank ye, Merryn." She turned to the pyre once more, then turned to head back toward the cabin, who's lantern light could be seen through the dark. Merryn walked alongside her friend, using the tall branch she'd found as a walking stick.

To Merryn's consternation, Cara had insisted everything in the cabin be burned along with their owner. All that remained in the near empty cabin was the table and the man's lantern.

Exhausted, both laid out their bedrolls on the dirt floor, and fell fast asleep.

Merryn woke up, looking around, disoriented. The log walls that surrounded her allowed shafts of morning sunshine in, blazing bright streaks across the floor. Cara was nowhere to be seen.

With a grunt of exertion, Merryn got herself to her feet, holding onto the edge of the heavy table while she grabbed her walking stick. She stood there for a moment, getting the energy to walk. The mud that tightly held her leg together was heavy and took much time to maneuver.

"Cara?" she called out, limping out of the cabin. The sun hit her face with welcoming warmth. Shielding her eyes, she looked around the small property. Simon was tethered to a wooden water bin, wild grass piled near him. The donkey drank noisily, glancing up at the brunette before turning back to his breakfast.

"Good morn." Cara stepped out of the woods with a bright smile on her face, and a small cloth pouch in her hand. She walked over to the brunette, laying a gentle kiss to her lips. She raised her pouch. "Mornin' meal." She hurried past the brunette, into the cabin, where she set her bundle down, then reached up, tearing the heavy cloth from the window. The small structure was filled with bright sunshine, making Cara's smile broaden even more.

Merryn made her way back into the cabin, watching the small blonde, who was actually humming! She couldn't help her own smile as she leaned against the frame of the door, walking stick resting inside her bent arm.

Cara grabbed the saddle bag from the floor, taking out wrapped dry strips of meat. Setting them on the table, she set them aside, focusing her attention on the bundle. Quickly opening it, she unwrapped it, the sunlight shining in on shiny, red berries, plump and filled with sweet juices.

Merryn's nose was taking over for her, making her take wobbly steps toward the table. She stopped when green eyes glanced at her over Cara's shoulder.

"Somethin' ye want?" the blonde asked, her voice low and teasing. Merryn blushed, turning away. She heard the soft chuckle of her friend, then a hand on her arm. Cara helped the brunette to set on their bedrolls, promising breakfast with a kiss.

Cara cut the meat up into bite-sized cubes, letting them tumble into a wooden bowl, the berries in a second bowl. Tucking the water bladder, freshly filled, under her arm, she knelt beside the brunette.

"I have brought to you all that is good 'n sweet." Cara gently took Merryn's walking stick, setting it aside. Putting her hands on the brunette's shoulders, she nudged her friend to sit back against the wall, making sure the girl's leg was properly raised and padded.

Merryn watched all of this, loving to watch every move the blonde made. She was fascinated with every movement, every word, every thought Cara made, said or had. She watched the way the girl's hands moved, so graceful and tender. The way her fingers wrapped around the brunette's walking stick, even treating a piece of wild wood with the gentle touch of pure gold.

Cara turned twinkling eyes to her friend, now that she was sure the older girl was comfortable. Grabbing the bowl of meat, she raised it, snatching a small piece between her fingers, and bringing it to Merryn's lips.

"Open," she requested, a gentle command.

Merryn opened her lips, her eyes on those of the blonde as the meat was gently tucked inside her mouth. She could taste just the barest hint of Cara's skin on her tongue as fingers were drawn away, and Merryn began to chew.

Cara felt a slight shiver down her spine at the soft, brief touch of Merryn's tongue against the tip of her finger. She plucked a piece of meat for herself, quickly chewing as she selected another for Merryn. The very tip of Merryn's tongue glistened in the sunlight as the brunette awaited her next bite. Cara smiled at this, then placed a second piece of meat in her mouth.

Merryn watched Cara's eyes as the green eyes watched her mouth and lips, the movement of them as the brunette chewed. She was amused to see those green eyes follow her tongue as it swiped across her bottom lip, catching a bit of spice from the piece of meat.

Cara felt her breath hitch, watching that tongue. Suddenly she badly wanted that tongue. Setting the bowl aside, she raised a hand, cupping Merryn's cheek, bringing the older girl's face up a bit as Cara raised to her knees.

Merryn closed her eyes as she felt the blonde's breath upon her brow. Soft lips touched that brow moments later, followed by kisses to her forehead, and both cheeks. She waited, heart pounding, until finally she felt them on her own.

With a sigh, Cara leaned into Merryn, the hand upon her cheek sliding around to the back of her head, soft hair brushing against her fingers. She tilted her head a bit, allowing Merryn's lips to mold to her own before opening them, allowing the brunette's tongue to enter.

Merryn's physical hunger was quickly overtaken by a hunger of another kind. She brought both her hands up, cupping Cara's head, kissing her deep, with a passion that seemed to spring within her with each glance of the blonde.

Cara felt herself being pulled to the brunette's lap. She rested her knees on either side of Merryn's outer thighs.

"I thinks 't mornin' meal c'n wait, lass," Merryn whispered. "I wish," she looked into the flushed face of the blonde. "I know not what I wish," she said, not sure how to put her body's wants into words. She didn't understand what she needed, only that she needed.

Cara saw something in Merryn's eyes that called to her, her body wanting so badly to respond. Thinking back to Muriel and Mark, the blonde did the only thing she could think of, her instinct speaking for desires she did not understand.

Taking Merryn's hand in amazingly calm, trusting fingers, Cara rested the larger hand on her own breast.

Merryn's breath hitched, a jolt of sensation shooting between her legs, almost making her cry out with its intensity. With her other hand, Merryn cupped Cara's face, green eyes sliding closed, leaning into the larger hand.

"Merryn, yes," she whispered, her sweet voice breathy at the unexpected pleasure of Merryn's touch upon her breast.

Merryn looked at her hand, marveling at the gift she held. She was surprised to feel the flesh beneath her palm respond to her touch, Cara's nipple growing rigid and hard. She had seen those nipples many, many times while they bathed, and could picture the dark color so clearly in her mind.

At Cara's soft whimper, she looked into the blonde's face, seeing her eyes closed, lips slightly parted as her head fell back. Merryn brought her lips to the girl's throat, using her tongue to taste her skin, hearing more of the soft sounds Cara made deep in her throat. She brought her free hand to Cara's other breast, the nipple already hard in anticipation.

Cara felt lost in a sea of sensation, pleasure seeping through her from the points of her breasts to between her legs, which was damp with what she had come to realize was her wanting for Merryn. She needed, she needed so much, such pressure and pulsing.

Merryn's mouth slid down the column of Cara's throat, teeth nipping at the skin she found at the hollow. The blonde moaned, head falling further back. Hands leaving Cara's breasts, Merryn used nimble fingers to gently tug at the laces of her new dress' bodice. She wanted more skin to taste.

Cara felt Merryn's arms wrap around her back, the older girl's hands clutching the back of her shoulders, allowing Cara to lean back into Merryn's embrace. As she did, she felt Merryn's mouth on her upper chest, licking along the bones of her shoulders as one side of the dress slipped from it. The top of her cleavage was exposed, catching the brunette's hungry eyes.

"So lovely, lass," she whispered, her voice reverent.

Cara gasped as a wet tongue teased the top of her right breast. Her eyes opened, and she looked down at Merryn, seeing her eyes closed, her face flushed with passionate discovery. She wished to feel Merryn's body upon her own.

Gently, she pulled away, stopping any protest with two fingers to Merryn's lips. The blonde climbed off her lap, and lay herself back on the blankets. She reached for the brunette, gently tugging on her hand. Merryn carefully got herself turned around, mindful of her leg.

Cara moaned at the feel of Merryn's body pressing into her own. Merryn held herself still, absorbing the feel of Cara beneath her. Finally she raised her head, looking deep into the most beautiful green eyes, seeing the love and want reflected in them.

Cara brought Merryn down to her, bringing their lips together. She had no idea what she needed or wanted Merryn to do, but she needed to ease the pressure that was building between her legs. Her hips were moving of their own accord, Merryn's meeting them with her own.

Merryn brought a hand down to Cara's hip, her fingers sliding between the blonde and the bedding, feeling her backside fill her hand. She pressed against it, bringing the girl's body even closer to her own. Cara gasped, her own hand running down Merryn's back, squeezing the flesh, arching up into the girl.

The ache between Merryn's legs was almost painful, pounding throughout her entire body. She needed to ease that ache. Using her knee, she pushed into Cara's until the blonde's legs opened, allowing Merryn's to slip between. The brunette's head shot up as Cara's thigh made contact between her legs. A wave of sensation shot through her body, and by the way Cara cried out, clinging to her, it had done the same to her.

It took a moment for Cara to get her breath as she pressed herself against the taller girl.

Holding still for a moment, Merryn clung to Cara, holding herself tightly to the girl's thigh, pleasure echoing through her. It wasn't until she felt Cara began to move her hips against her that she took a breath, moving her own hips.

A bud of sensation was planted in Cara's lower belly, and it was quickly beginning to bloom into a flower of pure pleasure, it's petals reaching all throughout her body. She cried out, her arms wrapping tightly around Merryn's body as she convulsed. It wasn't long before she felt the brunette's own body still, a gurgled cry erupting from her throat.

It took Merryn a moment for reality to come back to her in the form of a small cabin with a warm body beneath her own. Raising herself on her hands, she looked down into Cara's flushed face.

"What 'o we done?" she asked, her body still pulsing. Cara smiled, shaking her head.

"I know not. 'Twas beautiful."

"Aye." Merryn lowered herself, taking Cara's lips in a soft kiss. She pressed her forehead to that of the blonde. "'M hungry."

Cara sang softly to herself as she brought more branches to the cabin. Merryn was on the ground, pressing two other branches together to bring the fourth end together. Pressing firmly, she held, ticking fingers off silently in her head. She looked at her handy work, examining the hold and strength of the wood, and the glue that had been made when they boiled the swim bladder from their dinner the previous night.

"It'll work," she muttered to herself, banging the wood against the ground, pleased when the wood did not slip nor falter. She heard the soft, sweet voice of Cara entering into the clearing of the cabin, large branches tucked under her arm. "Bring 'em 'ere, lass."

Cara dropped the branches next to the brunette, squatting beside her. She looked over what had already been done. The frame was sturdy and solid.

"Merryn?" she asked, her voice soft, filled with question.

"Aye?" the brunette said absently, setting the frame aside, and beginning to free the new branches of twigs and off chutes.

"Do ye like it here?"

"Aye."

Cara smiled, falling back to sit on her bum, ankles crossed, and leaning back on her hands. "As do I."

Merryn glanced up, seeing the look of contented happiness on the blonde's face. She rubbed her thumb over the handle of her dagger for a moment, contemplating the girl before her.

"Ye wish ta stay." It was a statement, not a question. Cara met the brunette's eyes, and with a soft smile, nodded.

"Aye, that. 'M happy." Cara studied Merryn's eyes, the brunette's thoughts hidden behind them. "Are ye not?"

As Merryn studied the other girl, almost missing her question, she felt a sense of peace steal over her. A sense of belonging that she had never known. Family.

After a moment, which had started to make Cara squirm a bit, Merryn nodded.

"Aye. That I am."

Cara's smile was blinding. Merryn couldn't help but return it. A quick peck on the lips from the blonde, and the girl was up on her feet once more.

"'M goin' ta burn more benzoin and amber," she announced, then was off, disappearing inside the cabin. Soon Merryn could smell the fragrant crystals wafting out into the late afternoon. They'd burnt some every day over the two weeks they'd been at the cabin to help with the smell. Death almost seemed to never have lived there at all, now.

As night fell, Merryn brought in the newly made bed pallet, laying it against the wall. Cara stood back, watching in amazement at what the brunette had created. Merryn quickly covered the pallet with their layers of bedding.

"'T'will be nice ta be off the floor," Cara said quietly, leaning against the wall to stay out of the way. The cabin was small, and only one person could really be active at once.

Stepping back, Merryn admired her handy work. She'd never been much of a builder, but had done a good job. She knew their sleep tonight would be much better than it had been over the span of the past months. She blushed lightly at the thought of what else would be better.

Turning her face away from Cara's very keen eyes, Merryn finished getting their sleeping area ready, then turned to her friend.

"Ye ready, then?" the blonde asked, pushing over a barrel for Merryn to sit upon. The brunette nodded, sitting. Cara sat on a second barrel, bringing the older girl's left leg up, resting the foot in her own lap. "Yell if I go too deep."

Merryn nodded, handing the blonde the small mallet she'd made to use on the pallet. Cara took it, setting it in her lap. She used what was left of a fingernail to pick the edge of the fabric dressing away from the light brown mud underneath. Finally peeling it all off, she grabbed the mallet again, pressing the point of a particularly dull dagger against the side of the brunette's leg, the metal tip tapping lightly against the hard packed mud.

Merryn watched with curious eyes as Cara tapped an even line down the length of the encasement. Small cracks began to spread through the mud, small chunks falling to the dirt floor at their feet.

"Here we are," Cara whispered, setting aside her tools, and gently tugging at the ends of the mud sleeve. Merryn winced slightly, a sharp pain shooting briefly through her leg before relief at the cool, night air hitting the pale, shriveled skin that had been hidden away for weeks.

One side completely fell free, cracking into several large pieces and dusty chunks. Merryn's eyes closed at how good it felt to be rid of that heavy monstrosity. That relief was quickly taken over as Cara carefully pulled the other half off. When the mud had been wet, it had suctioned to all the tiny black hairs on her leg. The first waxing in history didn't go over too well.

Cara dropped the tools, and grabbed the small vile of Carmelite water from the table. Uncorking the bottle, she poured some of the scented oil into her palm, warming it in between her hands before rubbing it into the tender flesh of Merryn's calf.

She glanced up at the brunette. "How does it feel?" she asked softly. Merryn sighed in contentment.

"'Tis good, lass."

"Can ye walk?" Cara sat back, giving the brunette room to stand. Merryn winced slightly as she lowered her leg from the blonde's lap. Her leg felt like it weren't more than a feather. She gave the blonde an encouraging smile, then slowly raised herself to her feet. She was shaky, having to grab the hand that Cara offered. Once steady, she let go, and stood on her own.

"Hurts a bit," Merryn said, tentatively taking a step, then another, then a third. She reached the far wall, slowly turning and walking back to a smiling Cara.

Spitting out the mouthful of cold water, Merryn glanced up as she heard footsteps. Tucking a couple lovage leaves into her mouth, she began to chew, the spicy taste replacing that of the morning.

There were three steps in all- two feet and a walking stick. Merryn limped slightly as she walked over to the cabin, her sword in view. She could still hear Cara inside the cabin, chopping the meat Merryn had just got back from catching.

He came around the bend in the path, breath coming in bursts from his tired body. Merryn stepped away from the cabin and her blade, spitting out some of the chewed lovage.

"God's blessings to ya, lassy," the good friar gasped as he entered the yard. He stopped, leaning on his stick as he looked around the sun-filled day.

Merryn took a step toward him, never taking her eyes off his stick or intentions. She said nothing.

The man with the thin, graying hair smiled at her, his grizzled face creasing. "'Tis a fine morn, God gave us."

"Aye. What say ye, ol' man?"

"Where be Ben?" The old friar finally reached Merryn, his breath rank and smelling of wine.

"Dead. Taken by 't black sickness, he was." Merryn cocked her slightly, squinting in the early morning sun.

"Mm," the friar nodded. "Thought he may. Odd lad, that one. Lived all 'lone." The friar tucked his tall walking stick into the crook of his arm as he pulled out a copper opium pipe from the folds of his robes. Merryn watched him load the pipe as he chattered on about the previous tenant, and how Ben used to bring the thatched baskets he made to town to sell. Then one day he stopped coming.

"Merryn?" came Cara's soft voice, startling the brunette out of her stupor. Green eyes turned to the good friar, a friendly smile on her face. "Father," she said, bowing her head slightly, voice filled with respect.

"Good morn', me young lass." The friar gaze a toothy grin, raising his pipe in greeting.

"Join us fer morn' meal, Father?"

The friar stayed until the sun had begun to leave the sky. He and Cara had walked through the woods, talking of things Merryn could never understand. They spoke of a spiritual power larger than anything on this land, or bigger than this world.

Merryn heard their voices come in and out between the thickets of trees they passed through. The brunette leaned her head back against the tree she sat against, watching the sky above. The clouds floated by, the sun darting in and out. Merryn sighed, content and happy.

She brought the small pipe up, taking in another lungful, exhaling with slow ease. As she looked out over the yard, the small cabin tucked near a thicket of green growth, she felt at peace. Yes, she could stay here with Cara. They could be happy together. A slow smile spread over her features as she watched the smoke lazily float through the air.

The voices got closer, then Cara and the friar emerged from the trees to Merryn's right. She smiled at the sight of the blonde, who smiled back before turning to the friar.

Merryn watched as the blonde gave the older man a hug. The friar turned to the brunette with a smile.

"Until the morrow, lassy." Wrapping fingers around his walking stick, the good man headed back the way he'd come.

As the friar tapped his way down around the bend, Merryn stood, walking over to Cara, who looked at her with questioning eyes.

She extended the pipe to the small blonde, eyes never leaving the curious green. Cara took it, slowly bringing it to her lips. She inhaled deeply, feeling the smoke invade her body, burning, choking, until she had to cough it out. Merryn smiled, taking the pipe from the coughing blonde.

"Ye alright, lass?" she asked. Cara nodded, reaching for the pipe again. Merryn watched her carefully, assuring she was alright as she inhaled once more.

Cara felt a sense of ease fall over her, like a veil of peace. Her body relaxed, eyes falling closed as she let the day absorb into her very soul. Green eyes slowly opened when she felt soft fingers brushing against her cheek. She saw Merryn looking into her face, taking in every detail, every curve, nuance and shadow.

Cara's eyes closed again, her head falling back. Merryn's fingers followed, running down her throat, then sweeping around, under the heavy blonde hair, until finally her hand cupped the back of Cara's neck.

Merryn leaned in, brushing her cheek against the soft one of Cara, inhaling her scent, mixed with the nutty smell of the opium smoke. Cara shivered, feeling the hot breath on the side of her face and neck. A small whimper escaped when that hot breath turned to a kiss, then to a lick.

"Come inside with me, lass," Merryn breathed into Cara's warm skin. At the nod she felt, the brunette took her by the hand, leading her toward the cabin.

Cara felt as though the world around her had disappeared, leaving only sensation in its wake. She was laid down on the bed pallet, eyes slipping closed as Merryn settled on top of her, the brunette's mouth going to her own. She met her lips with a passion she'd never felt before. She gave into the pressure of Merryn's lips, quickly opening her mouth to draw the brunette in.

Cara's eyes opened, breaking the kiss in surprise when she felt her dress being removed. This had never happened before. She watched Merryn, a determination on the older girl's face. Blue eyes widened at the sight before them.

She ran her hands down the sides of Cara's soft thighs, the gold patch of hair between them glistening in the sunlight streaming in though the window. Her hands slid up, over softly rounded hips, over the goosebump-covered flesh of her stomach and ribs. Merryn's hands glanced the sides of Cara's breasts, making the brunette sigh in pleasure along with the blonde. Keeping control, she then ran her hands up across strong shoulders.

Cara felt as though her skin were on fire, alive and breathing. She sighed, eyes slipping closed again. Never had her bare skin been touched before, except in washing. The feeling was exquisite, amplified by the humming throughout her body.

She gasped, eyes flying open when she felt bare skin touching her own. Looking up into Merryn's eyes, she saw love reflected there.

"Mo Shearc," Merryn whispered, brushing her lips against Cara's, then kissing a trail down her jaw to her neck. The words she'd whispered echoed through her head, words she should have said long ago- My Love.

She sighed as their naked breasts pressed together, making her body shiver against Cara's warmth. Never had she lain naked with the girl before, but she felt the need to be as close as possible. She knew not if it was appropriate or not. It didn't matter.

She wanted to touch every part of Cara's body, and be touched by every part of the blonde. She used her mouth and hands, bringing her love inside.

The cabin was filled with the sounds of soft sighs and whispered words of love, and the sound of skin on skin, the day slipping away.

Cara lay atop Merryn, head resting upon the older girl's heart. She smiled.

"C'n hear yer heart."

Merryn smiled, gently running her fingers through the soft, blonde hair, splayed out across her naked chest. "'N wha'tis it sayin' to ye, lass?"

Cara placed a soft kiss to the skin above the sacred organ. "Says yer my Merryn."

"Aye."

Cara sighed, her eyes heavy from an afternoon spent seeking the pleasures of the body. As she drifted off to sleep, she was still amazed at all that was possible, her body pulsing and alive.

Cara finished rinsing her hair, running her hands down the thick rope of wet hair, squeezing the water out. She felt the warm sun overhead as she made her way out of the stream, her thickly calloused feet barely noticing the scattered rocks as she walked over to her dress, which hung on a low branch.

Using a scrap of material she used for such a purpose, the blonde dried her face, then ran the material over her arms and body. Adjusting her shoulders, she hung the saturated cloth to the branch, grabbing her dress.

A bit winded, she leaned against the tree, resting. She'd woken up the morning before feeling a bit achy, her head pulsing with a dull ache.

After a moment, she finished putting her dress on, lacing up the front, and gathering her things.

"Ye alright, lass?" Merryn asked, glancing over at the blonde. Cara nodded, still leaning against the table, head bowed. The herbs, berries and roots lay before her, untouched. She had been making a new batch of monk's pepper and cleaning paste when a wave of heat had settled over her.

Swiping her hand across her forehead, she was surprised to feel moisture. Looking at her fingers, she could see sweat glistening on her fingertips. She had no idea why she'd be sweating when she was chilled.

Remembering Merryn had asked her a question, she nodded. "Aye."

Merryn's eyes opened, her conscious mind bringing the sounds of heavy breathing and moaning to her ears.

Coming fully awake, she felt Cara struggling with their blankets, legs kicking to free herself from her nocturnal demons.

"Please, no," Cara said, her voice a pleading whisper. "No!" she thrust her hips, neck arching.

"Cara!" Merryn grabbed the girl, her hand coming to settle on cold, clammy flesh.

"No! Please, Lord, save me! Merryn!" Green eyes opened, wide and unfocused.

"Cara, 'm here, lass. Cara!" Merryn cried when the blonde tried to push her away, the girl still trapped in her nightmare. "'Tis me. Merryn."

"Merryn?" Cara asked, her eyes resting on the brunette for a moment, before become unfocused and clouded again.

"Yer burnin' up, lass," Merryn whispered, resting her hand against the girl's forehead, sliding down her cheek to her neck. The skin was hot to the touch.

"Merryn," Cara whispered, falling back to the bed, hair plastered to her face and forehead.

"'M here, lass." Merryn placed a soft kiss to the blonde's forehead, then climbed off the bed pallet. She grabbed a rag, running out to dip it in Simon's water barrel. "Come'ere, Cara." Merryn sat next to the girl, bringing her head to her lap. Dark brows were drawn in concern. Her mind raced, trying to think of what Cara had given her when she'd come down with ill last winter.

She pressed the cool rag to the girl's face, Cara hissing at the chill that ran from her forehead through her body.

"Merryn," she whispered, her voice weak. "'Tis cold." She tried to push away from Merryn's lap, but the brunette held her fast.

"I know, lass. I know. Ye'v got a fever, Cara."

Cara mumbled something unintelligible, her eyes slipping closed She seemed to fall asleep again. Merryn studied her, fingers brushing away long, sweat-slick strands. She leaned down, brushing her lips where the cool rag had just been. She ran the rag all along Cara's face and neck, pushing the blankets down, exposing the tops of the blonde's naked breasts. Cara gasped and shivered as the rag was run along her upper chest.

Even in the moonlight, Merryn could see beads of sweat shimmering as Cara shivered. Gently placing Cara's head back to the cloak rolled beneath it, Merryn slipped from the bedroll once more. Lighting the lantern, she raised it to the shelf she'd built for Cara's medicine's and healing herbs.

Studying each container, each root and flower, she tried to remember, tried to think like Cara.

"Hydromel," she whispered, seeing the small jar of the honey mixture. Removing the stopper, she sniffed. The strong, potent mixture burned the inside of her nose. Glancing back at her friend, who was beginning to murmur in her sleep, body restless.

Merryn felt helpless, not sure what to do, and if the thick potion would even do anything.

"Cara," she whispered, falling to her knees beside the bed pallet. "Lass." Cupping the back of the blonde's head, she gently raised Cara. Green eyes barely opened, looking up at the brunette.

"Merryn," she said, a soft smile gracing her lips, a look of relief on her pale features.

"Take this, lass." Merryn dipped her finger into the mixture, bringing it to Cara's lips. The blonde snaked her tongue out, lapping weakly at the medicine. Her nose wrinkled as the taste made her taste buds explode. "More, lass. Come, Cara."

Cara took some more of the healing mixture in, recognizing it, but unable to find the name for it in her jumbled head. She smacked her lips, trying to get all of it off her tongue. This would have been an adorable gesture if Merryn weren't so worried about the girl.

Climbing back into the bed pallet, Cara snuggled up closer, shivering dangerously. Merryn wrapped her naked body around that of Cara, trying to use her natural body heat to keep the girl warm. This seemed to work until moments later, the blonde was kicking off the blankets.

Merryn awoke before sunrise. Cara was finally sleeping soundly, curled up in a ball. The brunette made sure she was covered, feeling her forehead. The fever seemed to have gone down somewhat, making Merryn sigh in relief. Maybe the hydromel had done the job after all.

Heading out into the early morning, she pulled her cloak closer around herself, glancing at Simon, who snorted at her.

Walking further out into the yard, she looked up into the sky, seeing all the twinkles beginning to disappear. The creatures of the night were still awake and chattering amongst themselves in the woods all around, something scampering by, trying to get away from the much larger animal that had suddenly appeared.

Sighing deeply, Merryn began her morning duties, feeding the donkey, gathering fresh water for the days use. Setting the water bladders and a basket filled with wild roots and potatoes on the table, Merryn looked to her friend. The new rays of sunlight were streaming in, brushing new life upon Cara's flushed face. The girl was still, lying on her back, head resting on its right side.

Merryn walked over to the bedroll, kneeling. Reaching out a hand, she felt the blonde's neck. The skin was hot to the touch. Dark brows furrowed as the brunette swept strands of golden hair aside, turned the color of spring wheat from sweat.

"Mo Shearc," she whispered, leaning carefully forward, brushing Cara's cheek with her lips, resting her forehead against the blonde's. Cara didn't move, her breathing even and calm. Another soft kiss and Merryn stood.

Cara's eyes opened, squeezing shut quickly as the bright light of high day streamed in. She took mental stock of where she was, and what she was doing there. Still in the bedroll, her naked body was covered by a heavy layer of blankets. She could feel slickness between her legs and under her arms. It was making her shiver.

Pushing the blankets aside, the warm air in the cabin began to dry the sweat from her body, making her sigh in relief. The blonde sat up, shaky and woozy, holding on to a log in the wall for balance.

Assured she wouldn't fall over, Cara released the wall, taking several deep breaths. She looked around the small cabin, seeing the stoppered jar of hydromel. Tasting the remnants on her tongue, she swung her legs around, feet hitting the dirt.

Standing on shaky legs, Cara brought one of the blankets up with her, tucking it under her arms and clasping it closed at her chest. Stepping through the open doorway, she felt the sun's rays beat down on her, warming her chilled skin. Simon glanced briefly at her from across the yard, where he was munching on wild grass. Off in the distance she could hear the soft notes of her flute.

Heading in that direction, Cara took it slow, her head feeling like it wasn't attached, feeling hollow and achy.

Merryn sat against a tree by the stream, the water glittering like precious gems. The brunette's head rested against the bark, the flute to her lips. The song she played was soft and sad. One leg bent, the other casually lying on the ground.

Cara watched her for a moment, letting the melancholy music float over her, eyes closing, fingers clutching the blanket tighter as the music sailed to her soul, making her chest swell, and eyes sting.

Merryn pressed and depressed the holes of the small instrument in time to make the notes that told the day of her worry for her friend. Her fear was palpable. She'd hung around the cabin for the majority of the morning, but had to get away, clear her head and think.

While Cara had slept, she had dreamt, and had spoken of those who chased her through her nightmares. Merryn had heard of the torments the blonde had faced while in captivity by Edward's men.

"Please, no, no," Cara whimpered, bringing her hands to her chest, tucking them in the safety of the ball her body made. "'T fire, burns," she gasped, thrashing to her back, neck arching as her face crumbled. "I know naught. I beg of ye! No more."

When Merryn had tried to waken her, the girl had simply gone quiet, falling into a peaceful sleep. It wasn't long before she was dogged yet again by another nocturnal assailant.

Merryn's song came to an end, the flute lowering to her thigh. She stared out into the day, wondering how she could be surrounded by such beauty when her heart was filled with black ugliness.

"Merryn?" Cara's voice was soft, filled with a question.

Merryn's head shot up, surprised that she wasn't alone. It took a moment, but she quickly got to her feet.

"Cara." Relief washed over the brunette in harsh waves, nearly knocking her to her knees. She reached for the blonde, then quickly snatched her hand back. The blonde smiled softly, closing the distance between them. She tucked herself against Merryn, sighing when she felt strong arms wrap around her.

Merryn inhaled the scent of the small body against her, though it was the smell of sweat and a body not washed, it was Cara. She allowed it to fill her, ease her tension and fear.

"Ye'v gotten good on the flute," Cara murmured, eyes closed as she relished the feel of Merryn's warmth against her. She felt Merryn's chuckle against her ear.

"Had a good teacher."

Cara hummed into Merryn's chest, a smile cracking her pale, dry lips.

"Come, lass," Merryn whispered into the blonde's ear. "Let us get ye a bath."

Cara moved slow, the water cascading down her body, like a blade slicing all the way down. Hand grabbing her stomach, she fought the nausea, bringing a hand to her mouth, eyes squeezing shut.

Getting to the shore, she fell to her knees. Her body convulsed as her stomach rebelled, the small bit of dried meat she'd eaten before her bath spilled out to the rocky shore, followed by dry heaves. Weak and panting, Cara fell to the shore, the cool water lapping at her feet.

"Cara?" Merryn ran to the blonde, dropping the dress she'd run back to the cabin to grab. She fell to her knees, mindful of Cara's sickness to her left. "I've got'cha, lass."

Cara clung to Merryn as she was pulled to her feet. Another wave of nausea rushed through her. Pushing the brunette away, she fell to her knees again, another spasm rocking her body. She felt a hand on her back, and her hair being held in a gentle grip.

Weak and dehydrated, Cara pushed herself to her feet, Merryn supporting her.

"We've got te get ye well, Cara," Merryn exclaimed. Her heart was pounding, skin prickly with sweat as fear gripped her.

Cara tried to think of what would help. Her mind was fuzzy, very few thoughts making sense , everything jumbled into a mix of thoughts and images, none staying long enough for her to make sense of them.

"We're almost there, Cara. Almost there," Merryn whispered, feeling Cara leaning on her more and more. By time they reached the cabin, Merryn was almost carrying the blonde. She butted the door open, panting as she got Cara to the bedroll.

Cara began to shiver as her body curled in on itself. She heard Merryn speaking to her, but the words were lost, her mind shutting down, lost in a maze of sound and delirium.

"Ye 'n I, lass," Merryn whispered, pulling the blankets from the girl's body so she could get the heaviest blanket out from under where Cara had collapsed. "We'll fight this." Her eyes opened wide, hands freezing as she lifted the blanket. Tossing the covering aside, she gently turned Cara to her side. "No," she breathed. White pustules and lesions littered Cara's upper back, near her left shoulder.

Merryn sat back on her haunches, stunned and unable to look away. She felt her heart seize in her chest. What was she to do about this? She knew nothing to cure it.

Knowing nothing else to do, Merryn climbed in behind Cara, pulling the blonde close. They'd see their fate through together.

Cara saw lights, so many colorful lights. She looked toward them. She did not feel the ground, her feet far above the land. A smile spread across her face, hands reaching for the beauty before her.

"Mum?"

Merryn's eyes opened, feeling heavy and filled with sand. She tried to figure out what had awoken her.

"Mum, 'tis Cara." Cara's voice was so soft, so filled with awe and longing. Merryn pushed herself up to her elbow. Cara lay on her back, eyes open and unfocused. She reached a hand out, fingers spread. "Mum."

Merryn gathered the blonde, so hot, skin slick with sweat. "Hold on, lass. Just hold on," Merryn whispered, cradling Cara's head in her arms. The blonde's eyes closed, face pale. Her breathing was becoming labored. "Please, Cara. Please," Merryn begged, a tear slipping down her cheek. She felt Cara's body go limp in her arms. "Mo Shearc, please, please don'a leave me. Please." Her words were cut off as a sob escaped her throat, her face buried in Cara's hair. She couldn't breathe, her body shaking as the strength of her sobs grew, finally shaking them both. Raising her face to the Heavens, Merryn squeezed her eyes shut. "No!"

The sun rose, it's brilliant light spreading over the land like a golden plague. Merryn stared straight ahead, unblinking, unfeeling, cold and empty.

The sound of Simon snorting outside made her blink for the first time in many moments, her eyes dry and stinging. Looking down at the bundle in her arms, she brought up a hand, caressing Cara's cheek, cold and clammy. Leaning down, the brunette placed a soft kiss upon the dry lips, lingering for a moment, running her fingers through the cool strands of gold. She had no idea how long she stayed like that, hugging Cara to her, cheek pressed to the top of her head.

Squeezing her eyes shut, Merryn let the girl go. She carefully laid her down in the bedding, tucking her in for her long sleep.

Getting to her feet, she looked around the small cabin. Dressing, she pulled on her boots, leaving Cara's neatly lined up against the wall. She took her pouch from its hook on the wall, loading it with food, some healing herbs and medicines.

Merryn grabbed the small jar of rose water, inhaling its scent, her head bowing. She felt her shoulders begin to shake as new tears came, making her eyes sting all the more. Carefully replacing the stopper in the small bottle, she tucked it into her pouch. Something caught her eye, glittering. Cara's coin lay on the table, next to the blonde's pouch. She took it between trembling fingers, holding it up to her eyes, looking at the detail of their king, King Edward III, and his son, the Dark Prince.

Kissing the small token, she tucked it into her pouch, synching the bag then stringing the rope through it. As she tied the rope around her waist, she glanced at the blonde, so peaceful. So beautiful.

Tearing her eyes away, she quickly tethered her baldric in place, sliding her sword home. For a moment she thought about pulling the blade free, and finding it in her own gullet. The only thing that stopped her was knowing that Cara would never forgive her on the other side.

Merryn feels numb as she takes one last look around, carefully avoiding the bed pallet. Heading out into the warm day, she saw Simon, looking at her, dark eyes expressionless.

Slicing through the tether, Merryn walked past the animal, disappearing into the trees.

PART 7

HER SMILE WAS wide, eyes twinkling. Merryn watched golden hair blowing in the unfelt breeze, her fingers reaching out to touch it.

"Merryn," she whispered. "Merryn." A warm hand on the side of the brunette's cheek. Her eyes closed, leaning into the touch, her cheek twitched with the tickle of a single tear.

"Cara," she breathed, holding the hand to her face with her own hand covering the blonde's. "My Cara."

"Aye. Always. Forever."

Blue eyes flew open, frantically looking around. Merryn jumped to one knee, breathing heavy in frantic desperation. Heart breaking as it raced, she fell to her bum, head hanging.

Raising her face to the moonless sky, she let out a cry, the wild beast wounded. Getting to her feet, she grabbed her blade, walking over to a hapless tree. With a cry of rage, she chipped away, pieces of bark flying, hitting the brunette, a large piece cutting her cheek as it whizzed by. She didn't feel it. She didn't feel but loss.

Haunted by visions of Cara for the last month's worth of nights, she was being slowly driven mad with grief.

Falling to her knees, exhausted and emotionally broken, her hand released the grip of her blade. It clanged uselessly against the tree next to her.

Merryn looked to the skies once more, the skin of her neck chilled as a line of tears trailed down it, tickling her upper chest before her tunic absorbed them. Leaning her head against the tree, she sighed. How was it possible for someone who'd never had anything to feel like she'd lost everything?

Her face slowly crumbled, chin falling to her chest. How did a body have so many tears in it? Doesn't it run out? Oh, how Merryn wished hers would. She had nothing left to give.

Getting to shaky legs, she picked up her sword, examining the blade, looking for chinks and scratches. She ran her fingers down the length, feeling the cold steel against her flesh. Tapping her fingertip against the sharpened tip, she felt the slight sting, then warmth as a small bead of blood trickled around to her fingernail. Bringing her hand closer to her face, she watched the thin red line run slowly down her finger, the head glistening. Blue eyes slowly trailed back to the blade in her other hand.

Absently sucking her wounded finger into her mouth, she kept her eyes on the blade. The coppery taste of her own blood glazed her tongue. Bowing her head and closing her eyes, she offered a small prayer for forgiveness. Strength waning, she took her blade in both hands, closing her eyes as she looked to the Heavens. Bringing her arms up, she touched the point to her tunic-clad stomach. She could feel the slight indent on her flesh as she used a bit more pressure.

Taking a deep breath, she flexed the muscles in her arms, preparing to push.

"Please, no! Timothy!"

Merryn's eyes snapped open, pressure on her blade slightly released. Listening, she heard nothing but the early morning chatter of waking birds. Taking a deep breath, Merryn flexed her fingers around the grip, again readying herself. Holding her breath, she was about to plunge when she heard yelling, then the tell tale sound of a scuffle.

Lowering her sword completely, Merryn tried to see through the pre-dawn blackness. A gurgle, then grunt. The morning was split open by the screech of a terrified woman.

Running blindly, Merryn plowed through the foliage, hissing as branches scraped across her face and arms. She nearly tripped over a body lying on the ground before instinct took her off the ground, jumping over it and into the fray.

Without thought, she grabbed the soldier from behind, grabbing hold of his head and twisting viciously. Without a sound, he fell heavy to the ground. Blue eyes wild, saw two other soldiers, one attacking a woman, the other heading straight for her.

Heart pounding, breathing coming in shallow pants, Merryn bared her teeth, face twisting in violent rage, she met the soldier halfway. Issuing a violent kick to his gut, he fell to his knees, allowing the brunette to attack the man attacking the woman. He heard her coming, having seen his comrade fall.

With a roar, he turned on her, raising his blade. Merryn tried to move out of the way of his blow, but he managed to nick her in the arm. Ignoring the sting, she raised her blade, blocking his follow up blow. She grunted under the strength of his attack. Using all her own strength, she managed to push him off. With a violent shove, Merryn sent the woman flying out of the way.

Merryn snagged the downed soldier's blade, trying to adjust to the weight of the foreign sword. She slashed at the oncoming soldier's face with her left hand while thrusting with her right. He yelped in surprise at the double attack, jumping behind a tree, a slice of bark where his face had been.

Following, Merryn growled as she parried his thrust, using the advantage to slash again with her left hand. The steel hit its mark, the man crying out as a chunk of skin was removed from his shoulder with a zing of blade.

"Pay fer that, ye will," he growled, coming at her with full force. Merryn's eyes grew huge as she tried to follow everything he did. She was being backed up further and further until her back hit a tree, knocking the wind out of her.

She saw him coming at her, mouth open in a scream that she could no longer hear. Time slowed down as her eyes settled on his blade, new born sun glinting off its steel.

"Move, Merryn! Move!"

Cara's voice echoed in her head as her mind stopped, one foot moving before the other, her body rolling around the trunk of the tree. She heard the vibration of the blade connecting and piercing the bark, the soldier grunting at the entire body shock that ran through him. Blue eyes widened as she saw the blade mere inches from her face.

Seeing him stuck to the tree by his blade, Merryn raised her own, high over head, bringing it down to the back of his unprotected neck. She felt the blade grind into the vertebrae, neatly severing his brain stem from his spine. Merryn was jolted as the blade tip tucked into a small divot in the tree bark.

A soft hiss escaped his ruined throat, the soldier's body sagging against the blade. Afraid it would tear his head off, Merryn quickly yanked the blade free, his body falling to the ground with a metallic plop as the mail that covered his chest and legs hit the dirt.

Looking up, Merryn saw the horrified face of the woman who had backed up against a tree, a small boy hidden behind her skirts.

"Wakin' up, he is," she whispered, pointing to the other soldier. Merryn's eyes found him, groaning as he brought a hand to his head. He'd hit a rock on the way down, blood coming back on his palm.

Merryn looked at the woman. "Get outta 'ere," she hissed.

"Can't leave me husband," she said, her voice shaky with unshed tears. It was only then that the brunette saw a man lying not far from the soldier that still lived. He was obviously dead, gut slashed open.

"He's dead."

Merryn walked over to the soldier who was trying to get to his feet. Eyes on fire, she kicked him in the gut a second time, knocking him back to the ground with a brutal cough from him. He looked up at her with questioning, pain-filled eyes.

"Why'er ye here, ye daft bastard?" She hissed. He said nothing, clutching his stomach as he began to roll to his knees. "I said, why?"

The soldier cried out, falling to his back as Merryn's boot made contact with his ribs.

"Get the lad out of here," Merryn said to the woman. The woman, ashen, nodded, grabbing her young son and hurrying into the shadows of the trees.

Merryn turned back to the soldier, falling to one knee. She grabbed him by his mail shirt. His coif fell from his head, revealing the face of a youth, barely a man. He cried out in pain, no doubt his ribs were broken. She didn't care. She doubted his fellow soldiers cared about that when they were torturing their captives.

He looked up at her, fear in his eyes.

"Yer hunt is over," she hissed. He tried to speak, but Merryn silenced him, slamming him in the mouth with her fist. A sick, crunching sound rent the air, then gurgling as the soldier began to choke on his own teeth and blood.

Without another word, she stood, looking down at the soldier who gasped for breath. His eyes were wide as the final panic settled in, his hands reaching blindly for Merryn. She stepped away, watching, jaw set, eyes cold. He choked, trying to suck in air, instead sucking his teeth further down his throat. Mouth open in a silent gasp, the soldier's body began to convulse, desperately trying to draw breath.

Merryn felt her stomach churn at her own actions, and turned away. She walked to the other soldier who lay dead at the foot of the tree. She eyed him, looking at his boots. Mentally sizing them, she squatted next to him, tugging with a grunt. Pulling off her own boots, worn from more than a year's travel, she tossed them aside. Pulling on the soldier's boots, she sighed in contentment at their comfort. Quickly tugging off his ruined coif, her blade tearing through the metal links, she turned him over, looking at the mail he wore. It was heavy, cumbersome.

Deciding to only take the boots and a water bladder filled with wine, Merryn headed back toward her own camp, wiping her blade on the jerkin of one of the dead soldiers as she passed.

Merryn felt numb, her fingers cold, wrapped around the grip of her blade. The sun's rays lit her path, warming her skin, which was pale and splattered with the blood of the soldiers. Just off the side of the path the woman sat against a tree, her son curled up in her lap. She saw the boy's eyes peeking out from under long bangs. His mother eyed her, nervous relief shining in the dark eyes.

Merryn ignored them, grabbing her baldric, slipping it over her head. Belting it into place, she slid her sword home.

Glancing over her shoulder, Merryn saw the woman, carrying her son. They stood by the tree she'd attacked earlier.

"Mightn't we travel with ye, m'lady?" she asked, her voice quiet, laced with fear. She knew not to what t think of this strange girl who dressed like a man and fought. Merryn looked at her for a moment, then turned back to her gear. She flipped her cloak across her shoulders, quickly clipping it in place.

"Why were ye attacked, lass?" she asked, flipping one side of the cloak over her back so she could tie her rope around her waist, tucking her daggers inside.

"I know naught." The woman ducked her head, shielding her eyes from piercing blue. Merryn turned to face her full on.

"Lie not, lass." Her voice was stern, irritated. She wanted to be alone, wallowing in her own self-pity, not dealing with them. It was only the murmurings of Cara's goodness that kept her from leaving them at the roadside.

The woman nodded, looking up at her with heavy eyes. "Me husband and 'lil boy was leavin' London. Death everywhere." The woman shivered at the memory, bodies piled in the streets, the stench thick and heavy. Rats crawling all over the corpses. She shivered again. "Soldiers says the rebels must die."

"Rebels?"

"Aye." The dark haired woman nodded, wisps of hair falling into her eyes.

"Soldiers thought ye were a rebel?"

"Aye."

Merryn studied the woman's eyes, seeing nothing but truth. She could also tell she was barely holding together. The shock would wear off, and hysteria of grief would set in. Merryn knew much about that.

"What rebels'r these?"

The woman shook her head.

"I know naught."

Merryn nodded, turning away, kneeling by the rest of her meager belongings. "Get yer belongins', lass. I leave now."

It had been a long day traveling, Merryn resentful of the duo who sat on the opposite side of the fire. She glanced at them through the flames.

A young mother with a son no more than five years of age. Her husband killed by the soldiers, his body left to rot in the forest with that of his murderers. And for what? To stop possible rebels? And what of these rebels? Rebelling against what? Whom? The king, for certain.

Merryn tossed it out of her mind. It did not concern her, nor did she care for it to. At the moment, she needed to tend to her arm, where the soldier had managed to slice.

She could feel the boy's eyes on her every move as she searched through the medicines she'd taken from the cabin, trying to decide which would work best for her wound.

Grabbing a small pinch of crushed arnica root, she mixed it with a bit of water until a thick soup was made. Letting that sit, she cleaned out the wound, already scabbed over with crusted blood. Merryn winced as she gently scrubbed the dried blood away, revealing an ugly wound.

The brunette looked up, feeling eyes on her. The small boy stood not a full arm's length away, watching, dark eyes wide with fascination.

"C'n I help ye, lad?" she asked, trying to hide her irritation. He said nothing, glancing up into her eyes before his gaze trailed back down to the wound on her arm. Deciding to ignore the boy, Merryn continued to clean the wound, tossing the soiled cloth aside. She grabbed the arnica mixture, hissing as the mixture stung. Holding her teeth together, she rubbed the mixture inside the wound, making sure it was liberally coated.

The boy took in every movement, his lower lip tucking into his mouth before being released. His eyes flickered up to the brunette's face as she began to clean out the scratches made by the tree branches as she'd raced to get to the screaming woman.

Finished cleaning herself up, she noticed a bit of bruised swelling on the boy's forehead.

"Have ye got a name, lad?" Merryn asked, grabbing a clean scrap of material, and the remaining bit of arnica mixture. She held out a hand to the boy, but he stood where he was, staring down at the hand, then bringing a finger to his mouth, chewing nervously. He glanced over his shoulder to his mother, who had moved a bit closer, watching the exchange. The woman nodded. The boy turned back to Merryn, finger still hooked onto his lower teeth, he stepped forward.

Merryn rose up to her knees so she could reach the boy's face.

"Me boy be mute, m'lady."

Merryn glanced at the boy's mother, then turned back to him, where she'd begun to carefully clean dirt from his face, brows knitted at the task.

"What 'tis his name?" she asked, grabbing the arnica.

"Paul, m'lady."

"Ye were brave, Paul," Merryn said, her voice soft as she applied the healing herb. "Protected yer mum, ye did." She smiled, getting a small, weak one from the boy in return. She patted his shoulder, standing. "All better, lad."

The small boy raised a hand to his face, fingers tentatively touching the drying paste, big eyes still latched on the tall brunette.

Turning away from the two, Merryn grabbed her blade. "Sleep, now," she instructed. "More soldiers'll be on 't lookout." With that, she made her way into the forest.

The night was filled with life, the warm summer moon lighting Merryn's way. She watched as a fox chased a small rodent, being led up a tree, across a branch, and finally catching its dinner.

The brunette was mindful that the sounds around her were night creatures, and not night stalkers by way of royal soldiers.

"Bugger," she muttered, looking up into the clear, night sky. Who was she kidding? She was no hero, no rescuer of the downtrodden. Truth be told, Paul and his mother would be better off staying at the next town they came upon.

Finding a large rock, Merryn sat, her blade chipping into the dirt at her feet, hands clasped around the grip. With a sigh, she flipped her hair over a shoulder. A soft smile spread across her lips as she thought of Cara.

She could see her, image what her eyes would look like under the bright moonlight. She could see the blonde looking up into the sky, up at Heaven's bright spots.

"Merryn?"

"Hmm?"

"Do ye ever wonder what else might be out there?" the blonde asked, her voice soft. She lay on her bedroll, hands tucked under her head. She stared up into the night sky, a sliver of a moon winking at them through the trees.

Merryn glanced over at her friend from her perch on a log.

"Not thought much 'bou'it, lass." She returned her attention to her bracer. The leather was wearing thin, the thin, leather laces breaking more and more. Soon there'd be none left on the right bracer.

"I have." Cara's eyes took in the sky in its entirety. "What lies beyond the darkness?" she whispered.

Merryn tossed her bracer to her pile of belongings, shoving off the log and scooting to her bedroll next to Cara's. The blonde smiled faintly as her companion joined her finally. Without a word, she rolled over, resting her head on Merryn's shoulder.

Affection between the two was new, and Merryn sighed, rolling her eyes. It was a part she had to play, never letting Cara know how much she loved the little one to cuddle up to her. Cara reached behind her, grabbing the brunette's arm and placing across the blonde's waist. Merryn smiled, tightening her hold.

"Do ye wonder what's beyond the Heavens? God? Nothin'a'tal. More land?"

Merryn's brows drew as she contemplated what her friend was saying. These were things she'd never thought about before. Sure, she'd looked up into the sky, saw all that glittered, thinking it was beautiful, but never wondering what, if anything, lay beyond.

"Could be angels," she said, her voice as soft as her friend's. "Winkin' their wings at ye." She smiled at Cara's laugh.

"Aye. Golden haloes in the night, they are."

Merryn smiled, snuggling in closer to her friend. Her eyes getting heavy, she yawned.

"Night, lass," Merryn whispered, recognizing Cara's breathing.

The smile was still on Merryn's face as she opened her eyes, though it quickly slid off as she felt the cold rock under her and the fireless night. Her arms were empty, save for the cold, comfortless steel of her blade.

Bringing a hand up, she swiped a single finger under her left eye, rubbing the wetness she found there between her finger and thumb.

Merryn tried not to smile at the big, fat tears that were threatening to dive off those dark lashes.

Paul looked up at his mother, begging in his expressive eyes. His mother, who's named was Tamara, knelt down before her son. Holding him by narrow shoulders, she smiled.

"Best listen to Merryn, me boy." Her words were soft and filled loving understanding. "Ye don't wanna get sick like Nanna, do ye?" The boy shook his head vigorously. "Alright then." Getting to her feet, Tamara turned trusting eyes to the brunette. She took the pouch of strange, gray paste from their rescuer, then hiked her skirts up. Her son's hand in her own, she led the boy into the water.

Merryn did stifle a chuckle as the boy's tears finally fell as he was made to, *gasp* take a bath. His chest was so narrow as his mother removed his small tunic, tossing it to a rock on shore. The mother removed her own skirt, the heavy material flopping atop her son's clothing. Kneeling down in the knee-high water, she began to scrub the lad clean.

Merryn watched as she ran her fingers through her own hair, wondering how she'd ever lived so filthy as most the people of the land did. She smiled at her own stubbornness when Cara had insisted she bathe. She had acted not much better than the boy who silently cried, bottom lip sticking out in silent testament to his unhappiness.

Finishing her own washing, Merryn laid out on a long, flat rock, allowing the sun to shine down upon her glistening skin. She felt good, for the first time in many, many weeks. One eye peeked open at the sound of splashing water. This time she wasn't able to hide her smile as she watched a pouting boy drench his mother with a tantrum.

Tamara gasped at the cool water, her dark hair hanging in her face in dripping ropes.

"Paul! Skin ye, I will!" She grabbed the lad by the arm. Merryn closed her eyes again as the mother punished her child. She had no desire to see the boy whipped.

The air was much fresher as the trio traveled on. A quiet bunch, as Paul made not one sound, and Merryn was the only other person for Tamara to carry a conversation with. The brunette made it clear by walked a few paces ahead, she had no interest in conversation.

She had spoken with the woman earlier in the morning, trying to find out just exactly how long she would be stuck with them. Tamara was headed north, to Scotland. Her family was up that way, and she'd heard the black sickness was not as bad. She wanted her son to have a chance at survival. Merryn had agreed to get them as far as Hexham. They now traveled along the Irish Sea, heading toward Lancaster and further north.

Weary travelers they passed had tales of local magistrate and the King's own men attacking either they, themselves, or other travelers, tales passing from one set of ears to another.

"Be on yer guard, lassy," one such traveler warned Merryn. "Vicious killers, they are! Me own son died!"

"Merryn?" Tamara began, her voice quiet, unsure. Her dark eyes, so much like her son's, never left the dagger in her right hand and the half cleaned fish in her left. Merryn glanced over at the young mother. "Will me make it?" She was barely able to spare a glance at the younger girl before her eyes dropped back to her task.

Merryn looked at her, meeting the fleeting gaze. She sighed quietly. "Hope so, lass."

Merryn and Cara had traveled the woods, living on the edge of civilization, only venturing into towns when they needed supplies.

As she led Tamara and Paul through Lancaster, she kept a careful eye on those around her, the few. The streets were eerily quiet, many homes deathly so. The tell tale stench met their noses immediately, making Merryn's stomach curl. She could feel Tamara stepping a little closer to her as those in the town eyed them, suspicion in their eyes, wondering if the three new souls were bringing them more death.

The filth in the streets was high, rats climbing all over piles of dumped waste, human and animal. Bodies littered alleys between the houses, some falling off carts where they'd been stacked, waiting to be taken by those from the highlands. Groups of rustic men charged high fees to come down, or from the countryside, taking the bodies out to deep pits dug to dump the dead. Their curse buried for all time. Their sin, bringing the wrath of God upon the land, His hand harsh and swift.

Merryn's gaze ran up the length of the road, what sounded like …, she listened, straining to hear, … chanting? Yelling?

"Stay close," she muttered, hand hovering near her blade.

Around the bend, the chanting got louder, followed by a thunderous Thwap! Thwap! Thwap! Soon a large group of men came into focus, wearing only britches, their bare chests covered with splatters, which Merryn quickly realized were specks of blood.

Stunned, taking an unwitting step backward, eyes glued to the crowd heading up the road, toward them. The crowd followed the men, who continued to flagellate themselves, crying out with every stroke of their leather whips, blood and bits of flesh clinging to the ends. The crowd behind them chanted with every lashing, women crying and praying. One woman was walking behind one of the men, a scrap of cloth catching his blood. She brought the cloth up into raised hands, screaming in a foreign tongue before rubbing the blood on her face.

"They've all gone bloody mad," Merryn whispered, stepping further back from the road as the crowd got closer, their voices filling the late morning with cries of pain and joy.

"Nay."

Merryn turned at the voice behind her. A man stood, arms crossed over his tunic-clad chest. The scrap of turban on his head hid dark hair, while his darker beard covered his face. He glanced at the brunette.

"Called the Flagillants, the are." He grinned at her look of confusion, rotten teeth expelling rancid breath. "Mad men from Germany, they are. Thinks they's riddin' themselves of God's curse, they do." He sighed, shaking his head. He raised his hand, wiping the turban from his head as he itched a spot to the left of his part. Long, dirty strands fell into his eyes. Smoothing it all back, he replaced the turban, eyes never leaving the chaos passing.

Merryn's eyes also returned to the spectacle. Once they passed, she grabbed for Tamara and the frightened boy she held in her arms. Turning back to the man, who met her gaze with dark, steady eyes.

"Travelin' through, are ye?" he asked. At Merryn's nod, he indicated the passing crowd with the tip of his head.

"Best bein' mindful. They's stone ye as sure as wish ye mornin' greetin'." At Merryn's look of confusion, he explained. "Lookin' fer ta blame." He gestured toward a pile of rotting bodies. He looked at the small group. "Come, sup with me wife 'n me." He looked between Merryn and Tamara. "What say you?"

Merryn carried their equipment while Tamara carried her son. His big, brown eyes scoured his surrounds, frightened. His finger had never left his mouth.

Led back through dark alleys, small shacks and businesses forming a tunnel of shadow for the four to slip through. Finally they were ushered into a modest home made from a timber frame. The panels were filled with wattle, made by weaving Hazel twigs with the upright panels. The wattle had been daubed with a mixture of clay, straw, cow dung and mutton fat. The surface had been sealed with a mixture of lime plaster and cow hair.

"Evela?" the man called as they entered the two-room structure. A woman with black hair, a stripe of silver running the length, stepped out from the sleeping chamber. Merryn was surprised to see the sign of old age, when the woman was obviously young like she, herself. Shy blue eyes looked up at her before flicking to her husband. "We'v guests."

The girl nodded, rushing out the narrow door to the town beyond. Merryn looked around the home, amazed to see some sort of thatched covering on the floor, protecting the occupants from the dirt below. The house was scantily appointed- plank table with four chairs, plank top for cooking and sewing, small spools of threads and cow gut caught incoming sunlight from the stone-framed window above the work surface. Cup boards lined three walls of the house, stacked with wooden plates and mugs. The corners were stacked with burlap sacks of grain, flour and some spices.

"Me name is Ezra," the man said, tugging Merryn from her inspection of the room. She looked at him, seeing a smile almost hidden behind his thick beard.

"Merryn." She looked to the frightened woman who stood behind her, still clutching her son. "'Tis Tamara, 'n 't lad is Paul."

Ezra nodded at Tamara's shy smile. They were herded to sit, mugs of water placed before them. Merryn drank, grateful for the refreshment, and to be sitting. They'd been walking since sun up.

Evela came back in, hoisting a large, freshly plucked chicken. Immediately Tamara was on her feet, helping the young woman who offered a shy word of gratitude.

Without word, Merryn took Paul from Tamara, who basically dumped the boy in her lap. Surprised, she looked down at him like she'd just been given a rabid dog. Ezra chuckled. He eyed this girl sitting across from him, wondering what a young thing like her was doing wandering through Lancaster, unescorted, and dressed like a lad. And who was the mother and child? He decided to continue their conversation from the street.

"Not safe fer ya here, lassy," he said, drinking from his mug, eyeing the girl over the rim. "Word has it the Pope, hisself, leaves Avignon in terror."

"Clement VI 'tis a rat bastard," Merryn muttered, readjusting the boy on her lap. His eyes were growing heavy, head resting against her chest.

"Aye," Ezra nodded. "Fear grips this land." He leaned in, lowering his voice. With eyes wide and filled with fire, he continued, "They's begun murderin' those they suspect." He pointed to the wall of the house. "Drag 'em out their homes, kickin' 'n screamin', they are."

Merryn stared at him, surprised by his words. "What of the soldier's attacks?" she asked, her voice quiet, head somersaulting over everything she was hearing. If not for the bloody girl and her son, she'd be safe in the woods, or dead by now.

"Bah," Ezra waved her words away, sipping more water. He glanced over at the women who were working efficiently to make supper. "Edward 'tis weak. Lost his daughter to the black sickness, he did." He grinned. "Joan. He's run tail to the countryside, along with all the nobles. Bastards leave us here to die in their stead." He shared a quick glance with his wife, then continued, voice changing, becoming strong and sure. "People 'r fightin' back, Merryn."

The brunette looked at him, seeing the light in his eyes, unsure what he was leading to, but having an idea.

"People 'r takin' back the land, stolen from them by the royalty 'n their Godless line."

"'T rebels," Merryn said, a statement. Ezra sat back, though his surprise was short lived.

"Ye's seen 'm, then?"

Merryn shook her head. "King's men attackin' travelers, killed the lad's father." She flicked her eyes down to a sleeping Paul. Ezra followed her gaze, then met her own. She shook her head. "Want no part 'o this, Ezra."

Merryn grinned, hearing the tinkling laughter just past the small stand of trees. She redoubled her efforts, putting her long legs to use. A scream of surprise, and the blonde went tearing away from her hiding place.

The brunette took a sharp turn to the left, trying to head Cara off before she was able to reach the lake, which was the ending point of their race. There was no way she could allow the blonde to win! She wasn't about to do the cooking for an entire week.

She stopped, listening, holding her breath. The corner of her mouth quirked up when she heard a nervous giggle coming from her right. Peering through the leaves of the bush she hid behind, she tried to pick out gold amongst the green.

"Got'cha, lass," she whispered, her target in her sites as she silently moved around the bush, fingers flexing at her sides. She made her move, quick as the hawk swooping down on its prey.

Cara squealed in surprise as she heard the attack, trying to rush from her hiding place, but instead finding herself tumbling down to the forest floor in a mess of arms and legs. She was laughing so hard that she hardly noticed the rock that jammed into her left hip.

Merryn pinned her down, an evil smile spreading over her lips. She looked down into the face of Cara, flushed from exertion and merriment. Placing a small kiss on the girl's lips, she helped her to her feet, unsteadiness bringing the blonde into her arms.

"Steady, there, lass," she chuckled. Cara glared up at her.

"Ye fall on me like the Devil chasin' yer arse, and ye tell me ta be steady?"

Merryn chuckled again, putting an arm around the slight shoulders of the blonde. "Come, lass. My mouth is waterin' jus' thinkin' of what ye'll make ta sup on."

With a grumble, Cara walked along side her. The overhead sun was pleasant, warm without being hot. They walked on in silence, both absorbing the day and each other. Finally at the lake, Merryn released the girl, and turned to her water bladder, guzzling half of it in one go before tossing it to Cara, who took it with a grateful smile.

A rare treat of duck eaten and the bones buried, the sun began to slide from the sky. Merryn felt eyes on her as she leaned against the foot of a large rock, legs stretched out, crossed at the ankles. She glanced to her friend, who sat in a similar position against the tree across from their small camp. The blonde studied her, head slightly cocked.

"Ye doubt yerself," she said, as though she were reading the brunette's mind. Getting no response, nor needing one, she continued. "Ye c'n do this, Merryn. Ye've the strength of mind and heart." She met the intense blue eyes of her friend, the blonde smiling softly. "Biggest heart of anyone, ye have."

"Nay," Merryn murmured, gaze drifting off toward the dying rays sparkling on the water.

"Aye." Cara crawled over to the brunette, rising to her knees before her friend, hands cupping Merryn's face. She was but a breath away, her eyes looking into Merryn's with poignant intent. "Ye c'n do this, Merryn. Ye must."

Merryn started, eyes popping open. She didn't have time to think of what had awoken her as she looked around the home of Ezra and Evela. Tamara was also roused from her place on the floor, Paul tucked against her. Their eyes met briefly before another crash sent Merryn to her feet.

She looked in horror as the night glowed with fiery intensity, the smell of burning wood and grass filtering in through the window. The yelling voices of a frantic crowd shattered the nights stillness. Loud cries of Demon Jew! rushed into the home.

Merryn's gaze was caught again when she saw movement at the window, then something being thrown it.

"Blasted!" she yelled, realizing it was a torch. The fire took a mere heartbeat before clinging to the grass mat spread across the floor, the flames beginning to lick at the leg of the table.

"We must go!" Ezra yelled above the hysteria outside. He was tugging his tunic over his head as he spoke, his long hair hiding half his face.

Merryn followed as he yelled out instructions to the household, the brunette grabbing what she could, yelling for Tamara to get the boy out of there. Ezra herded them all into the sleeping chambers and down into an open cellar door, Evela already disappearing into its cool darkness.

Another crash, then an immense rush of heat as the walls caught fire, the main room engulfed in flames and victorious cries from the townspeople.

Breathing hard, eyes as wide as the could go to try and see into the earthen tunnel she was being pushed through, Merryn tried to get her bearings. She heard a loud pounding and the grunting of Ezra as he tried to kick through a wooden door that would lead up a set of dirt stairs, and into the night. Finally getting the wood to buckle, then splinter, he pushed his way through, tearing his hands and bare feet open in the process. Shoving his wife through, followed by Tamara and Paul, and then finally Merryn. He hissed in the brunette's ear, "Run for the woods!"

Merryn looked at the other two women, finger held before her mouth. They nodded, Evela's eyes clear and focused, while Tamara looked like she'd fall apart at any moment. Paul was sagging in her arms. She ripped the boy away, gesturing wildly for her to run.

Frozen in fear, Tamara didn't move. Merryn was grateful when Evela grabbed the stunned brunette, tugging her behind her as they disappeared into the dark of night. Merryn glanced over her shoulder once, hearing the tell tale signs of Ezra lodging the door shut before he, too, emerged into the night. Figuring he could fend for himself, she rushed toward the blackness of the trees, Paul bouncing in her arms.

She heard a hissed over here, hurried over to Evela's voice. The two women were held up inside a shallow cave, just barely able to hold their slight bulk. Merryn handed Paul off to his mother, and turned to see if Ezra had made it.

The rush of the crowd's frightened and misplaced vengeance could still be heard, Lancaster on fire making the night aglow.

Merryn was stunned, frightened, and out of breath. She looked to Evela for answers. The small woman looked at her, just as frightened.

"Jews," she whispered. "They blame Jews."

Merryn nodded, looking back toward the town in the distance, made further by cloak of darkness.

Soon a figure materialized out of the night, Evela throwing herself into her husband's arms in relief. "Alright," he breathed, gulping in lungfulls of air, trying to calm himself. "We go." Evela hugged him tighter.

The night was dark, and emotions were high. Behind them was Lancaster, filled with people who were raging with fear and anger at something that was untouchable to them, something they couldn't see, but felt the effects of every day as 300 people were buried before the sun set. In Ezra they'd seen a foreigner, enemy of God, the people who had crucified their savior, Jesus, himself.

It was unfounded and unnecessary, but Ezra and his wife was as good as scapegoat as any. And when Merryn and Tamara had arrived in their town, it was the perfect mix to get them riled with a taste for blood.

Merryn didn't think anyone from the town was following them, but the possibility was still there. They forged on through the night, knowing they could very well run into a worse enemy- soldier's. The four of them took turns carrying Paul, trying to keep the boy quiet.

The brunette felt a hand on her arm. Turning, she saw Ezra's face, not half a hand from hers. He sent her attention to the west with his eyes. Seeing what had garnered the dark man's attention, she turned back to him.

"C'n ye use that, Merryn?" he whispered, tapping the pummel of her blade. She nodded, though felt her stomach turning. Her use thus far had been born of luck, not skill.

Ezra grabbed a fist-sized rock in his left hand, thumb rubbing over the rough surface. He was relieved when he heard his wife pulling Tamara out of danger, keeping her and the boy quiet. He motioned for Merryn to flank right while he took the left. The tall girl nodded, her silent movement impressive, making the dark man wonder what her lot was in life.

Pale moonlight illuminated the night, Merryn hiding behind a tree, her intended targets just moving shadows. With the silent grace and focus of the mythic tiger, she moved toward them- two of them. They crouched as they moved, making no more noise than Merryn. They stopped, whispering, just a slight disturbance of night air, like a breeze. Merryn couldn't hear what was being said, but decided that it would be the right time to strike, while they were discussing.

Catching Ezra's gaze, she indicated her intent with the flick of her head. He nodded.

The two shadows gasped in surprise as both found themselves splayed out on the ground. One looked up, screaming with wide eyes as he saw a heavy rock coming down at his head.

"Wait!"

Ezra stopped, mid-strike, his heart pounding in his neck. The man beneath him was whimpering, trembling at what could have been, and what could still be.

Merryn felt the adrenaline and blood pounding through her as she looked down at the wide-eyed man she straddled. Fingers wrapped painfully tight around the grip of her blade, she tried to control her heartbeat as she looked into his face. She knew that face…

"George?"

PART 8

MERRYN'S EYES CLOSED in pleasure, the ale burning a trail down her throat and warming her stomach. Eyes closed, she sat back against the fire-warmed wall of the cave. She felt the soft touch of Evela's fingers graze her own as the woman took the bladder from her.

Blue eyes slid open as Ezra and Frederick, the man who had been with George, began to talk again.

"'T time is now, lad."

Merryn turned away from the men, tuning out their passionate conversation. With a grunt of exhaustion, she pushed herself to her feet and made her way to the mouth of the cave.

She leaned against cool, stone wall, letting the soft breeze of the late night wash over her. The strong ale running through her body with the fire-warmed inner cave, had warmed her to an uncomfortable level. Needing to cool off and find some solitude, she pushed off the wall, and found a dark corner to sit.

Wishing she had a bladder of ale to herself, she sighed, wallowing in the sounds of night around her. Blindly reaching to the ground, she feels a small assortment of twigs and leaves. Grabbing one of the larger of the twigs, she holds it in her fingers, feeling the shape and size with only her sense of touch. Hands busy, it leaves her mind free to wander.

Now that they'd met up with George and Frederick, she could leave Tamara and Paul in their care, the young mother deciding whether to day with them, or continue on. Merryn had a clear conscience about her actions, knowing they'd be safe. So what lie ahead for her?

Before meeting Cara, she'd been wandering aimlessly, surviving on scrounging from the dead, and pick pocketing the living. She had no direction in mind, just lived by the adventure of each day. Either the local magistrate on her tail, or the need to find solitude or supplies, had guided her movements.

Then there was Cara. The small blonde had given her what she'd never had before, no knew she wanted or needed- a sense of belonging. A family, even if it had only been the two of them. Now she felt lost and lonelier than she could have ever imagined. How could she go back to living a life with only yourself and creatures of the forest to talk to, when she'd had such a wonderful person to share thoughts and dreams with? Someone who made her laugh, even when she didn't want to. She tried so hard to keep her true thoughts away from the blonde, even though somehow Cara saw through the farce, seeming to know within moments what was really going on behind those walled up blue eyes.

Merryn raised a hand, gently wiping at a single tear that had begun to slide from her left eye. No one had made her laugh, or cry, as much as Cara had.

"What makes ye so sad, Merryn?" asked a soft voice, no louder than the softest breeze. Merryn glanced to her right, barely able to see Evela standing near a tree, arms hugging herself. The stripe of white could be seen in the slender moonlight.

Seeing that she hadn't scared the young girl, nor angered her, Evela made her way over to her. Lowering herself gracefully to the ground, she studied the beautiful brunette.

"Who do ye think of?"

Merryn shook her head, wiping her wet fingertip on her tunic. She blinked rapidly, trying to get her emotions to cooperate. She wasn't sure why, but she began to speak.

"Her name was Cara," her voice was soft, eyes focused on the leaves of a tree, the moonlight making them glow.

Evela waited. Where the brunette spoke no more, she cleared her throat softly. "Who was this Cara?"

Merryn glanced over at her, a soft smile curling her lips. "She was my best friend, my family." She sighed, eyes finding the glowing leaves again. "She was my friend."

"'M sorry, Merryn. What happened ta her?"

"Sickness."

Evela nodded, not surprised. They were quiet for awhile, both watching as the moon began to slowly fade from the sky. The darkest part of night was upon them.

"Will ye travel with us?" Evela asked at length. Merryn sighed, shaking her head. "'N why not?"

"I dona belong," she said simply. Evela smiled gently, laying a warm hand on the brunette's arm. When she saw she had the girl's attention, she spoke.

"We all find 'r way, Merryn, 'n cannot do it alone."

Merryn stared into caring, dark eyes. She saw truth in those eye, and acceptance. Evela stood, about to return to the cave. She looked at the brunette, kindness in her dark eyes.

"A family c'n come at any time." With those soft words, she was gone.

Merryn sat in the back of the buckboard, body swaying with the movement of the horses' steps over the rough terrain. Her eye was caught by curious dark. She let her gaze settle fully on Paul. When he saw he had her attention, he smiled, big and bright. The brunette couldn't help herself- she smiled back.

Looking over her right shoulder, she saw the movement of the brown and tan horses' rumps, muscles flexing in their flanks as they did their master's bidding. She sighed, wondering not the first time, what she was doing there.

Paul. That little boy. Say nothing with his mouth he may, but the boy spoke volumes with his eyes. She thought about the night before.

Everyone had found a place to sleep in the warm cave, the fire beginning to burn down. Blue eyes studied them all, everyone exhausted from a long night filled with fear and running. Slowly making her way to her feet, she gathered what few belongings she'd managed to grab from Ezra's house, tucking them to her body as she picked her way over the bodies, toward the mouth of the cave.

Nearly stumbling over Frederick, she caught herself with a hand to the stone, steadying herself. Once she had her footing again, she headed out into the early dawn. There was a chill in the air, and she pulled her cloak around her body, clasping it with nimble fingers. Taking a deep breath, she was about to start out when she felt a tug on her cloak.

Merryn was surprised to see Paul looking up at her. Brows drawing, she knelt down in ftont of him.

"What's 't matter, lad?" she asked, her voice soft. He stared into her eyes, blindly grabbing for her large hand, holding it in both his warm, little ones.

She raised a brow at this, but waited to see what he was going to do. She felt a slight tug, the little boy grunting slightly as he used a good amount of his body weight. Not understanding, Merryn cocked his head to the side. Standing, she mussed his hair, trying to take her hand from his. He refused to let it go.

"I've ta go, Paul," she said, voice a bit more stern. The boy held her hand in one of his now, turning his little body toward the cave, trying his best to tug her with him.

Curious, she followed the boy, Paul nearly stumbling as he no longer had resistance. She caught him by tugging on his hand. Getting his footing, they headed back into the cave. He looked up at her, tucking his lower lip as he yanked down on her hand. She bent down, lightly pushed to her butt by the little guy. About to protest, Merryn's words died in her mouth as Paul crawled into her lap, curling up against her and falling asleep.

Sighing, and resting her hand protectively upon his shoulder, Merryn's head fell back against the stone wall behind her. She glanced to her right, seeing everyone still asleep. Almost everywhere. Evela's eyes were open, a soft smile on her lips.

With a sigh, she relaxed during the rest of the ride.

Cayshire Castle. It stood atop a rocky hill, on its own island, attached to the land by a stone bridge. The winding road leading up to its ruined keep was treacherous, the horses whinnying at the path they were set upon.

Merryn could hear Frederick yelling at the poor beasts, trying to get them to keep their paces. Blue eyes met dark, Ezra shrugging his shoulders as they headed higher.

The buckboard was met by a young boy, perhaps ten years of age, the boy taking the palfrey by the bit, leading them through the arch.

Merryn looked around the large, outdoor space. The walls were crumbling, age and battle the enemy of the stones lying about. She pushed herself up from the recline she'd been in since she'd dozed, the sway of the buckboard as good as any lullaby Cara might offer.

They were led around toward a set of stone steps, the top one split in half. The heavy wooden door was braced with iron. Standing in the doorway was a man, his hair reaching to the middle of his wide back, blonde, and wild. Piercing, suspicious gray eyes watched the wagon come to a stop. His feet were set wide apart, thick, leather lacing wrapped around his calves, up to just under his knee to secure the high top turn shoe. His hand rested on the pommel of a large sword.

"Gerik, we've guests," George called out, hopping down from his seat. The blonde man's eyes did not leave the five strangers.

"Me eyes do not deceive, George," he muttered, bringing his arms up to cross over his chest.

George ignored him, tossing the reigns to the buckboard, then helping Tamara and Evela to the ground. Merryn jumped down, boots landing soundly on the cracked stone. She looked up to see gray eyes on her, roaming up and down her body, distaste pulling up Gerik's lip. She ignored him.

"Come!" George said, waving everyone in, his voice filled with pride. He looked up at Gerik, who had yet to move. George stood his ground, bearded jaw clenched, though his gaze never flickered. Without a sound, the giant of a man finally stepped aside, scrutinizing all who passed before him.

Merryn was uncomfortable as she walked through the short breezeway, the sun shining down on her once more as she stepped out into the main yard. Turning in a small circle, she took in the walls, cracked and filled with hundreds of windows, like eyes looking down at her. Not to her surprise, she saw faces appear in those windows as George called out the arrival of the strangers.

Blue eyes were caught when another door opened, the left side of a pair. The person standing there was lost in the deep shadows within. Merryn knew she was being stared at. She swallowed, trying to keep her anger in check. She hated the feeling of lost control over her own situations.

"Returned, have ye?" was said from the shadows of the open door. She stopped, knowing that voice- deep, a full rumble from the chest. A smile began with the twitch of the corner of her mouth before spreading across her lips. The owner of the voice stepped out of the shadows, the sun shining down on black hair.

"Angus," she said, walking over to him. The Irishman smiled, his mouth visible as the heavy beard of a year ago was gone.

"Dia duit," he said, meeting her half way. She smiled.

"God 'n Mary te ye, as well."

"Who'r yer friends?" he asked, looking past the brunette at the small group, looking around the yard.

"Ezra, his wife, Evela, Tamara, 'n the lad is Paul." She pointed to each person named. Angus nodded, looking back to blue eyes.

"'N yer friend?" He saw the sadness fill the girl's eyes before they fell to the ground. He nodded, needing to hear no more. "Come," he said, voice soft. "Let us feed ye."

Merryn was amazed. Angus was running quite the operation at the crumbling old caste. She and the others were led into the dark, chill confines of great halls, wood and stone ceilings so high, they defied sight. They passed many, most smiling or nodding a welcome, all bustling around to perform a given duty. Inside the castle was a city, self-sufficient and alive.

They were taken up a long, winding staircase that led to a second floor, dark, only lit by the torch their nameless guide held. Golden waves of light illuminated the stone walls as they walked past. Merryn felt a gentle touch and looked down. Paul grinned up at her, both his hands wrapped around her larger one. She smiled, reached down to grab the boy, pulling him up to rest on her hip. He happily draped an arm around her shoulders as he enjoyed the new perspective.

A large, iron-ribbed door was squeaked open, the torch throwing light into the deeply shadowed room.

"Lot 'o us sleep 'ere." She tilted the torch toward the wall, a second torch in a sconce flared to life. Without another word, the heavy-set woman waddled out of the room, leaving the five of them to their own devices. Tamara jumped as the woman called over her shoulder, halfway down the hall. "Suppa 'n an hour!"

Merryn found Evela's amused gaze. Ezra took the torch from the wall, waving it around the large, cold room. Scattered all over the straw-covered stone floor were bedrolls, pallets, blankets and various personal belongings. He walked further into the room, chasing the shadows away, revealing a huge fireplace stretching along one wall, tall enough for a grown man to stand inside it's belly. There was one window, tall and narrow, wooden shutters keeping the night air from seeping through the windowless orifice. Along that stretch, near the window, was the only bare space on the floor.

Merryn removed her cloak, balling it up and tossing it to the floor. She heard the others beginning to disrobe of their supplies as well. Some things the brunette kept on her person, not trusting anyone around her to not rob her blind. She smirked at that thought, considering at one time that's exactly what she would have done to every person in the castle.

A fire roared and smoked from the massive fireplace in the Great Hall. Torches lined the walls, as well as lamps on the long, scarred tabletops. Merryn was surprised to see people lined every table, several dozen all told.

Angus stood with a small group of men, talking and laughing, sipping from a wooden mug of something. His dark eyes caught the brunette's. Turning from his friends, he grinned, walking over to her.

"Welcome!" he boomed, arms spread wide. Walking up to Merryn, he placed a hand on her shoulder.

Merryn smiled at her old acquaintance. She wasn't sure how to feel about such attention, but tried to accept it with grace. She respected the man, after all, if not for him, she would never have had more time with Cara.

"Come," he said, leading her toward the longest of the tables. "May ye and yer friends be guests 'o honor!" He indicted five chairs near the empty one at the end. "Bring out't feast!" he called out, clapping large hands.

The huge room was filled with murmurs as some scattered to grab and serve supper, while others milled around, finding their seats. Merryn gathered Ezra, Evela, Tamara and Paul, showing them to their seats.

They were all amazed at the feeling of family and camaraderie that surrounded them. Much laughter and loud voices. Much teasing, a few tossed morsels of bread pudding.

Merryn was astonished at what she was witnessing, having never experienced anything like it. Other than a couple watchful sets of eyes, everyone enfolded Merryn and her friends with open arms and happy hearts.

Evela watched quietly, as seemed to be her way, taking in everything she saw, a soft smile curling her lips. Her husband, meanwhile, talked and laughed, sharing his own stories to make the crowds roar with laughter. Tamara seemed most comfortable helping the serving party, and Paul made little time finding other children his age to run around the seemingly endless space of the Great Hall.

Merryn was almost double fisting it as she ate her fill. The food was some of the best she'd ever had, and was certainly more bountiful than she ever believed possible. She glanced over at their host, a bemused look on his face.

"Wha?" she asked, brows drawn. Angus rested his chin on his fist.

"Ye starvin', lass?"

"No. 'N dona call me lass!" She pointed the dagger she'd been using to spear her food, at his throat. He chuckled, turning back to his own food.

The food was wonderful, the company entertaining, but Merryn needed some time alone. She left the Great Hall after dipping her hands in the waiting bowls of water, ready to rinse the juices from the meat off her fingertips. Her boot heels made hollow thuds on the stone as she walked down the long, cold, arid corridors. She felt naked without all her equipment hanging from her, only in her tunic, breeches and boots. As she stepped out onto the turret, placing her hands along its cut stone edges. It was cold up there, the ocean bringing in waves of chill with every break of its waves.

Looking out over the island, she could see random bits of light coming from fires burning in windows or through doors, in the castle. The outer apron lined the rocky edge of the island, leaving little to no room for anything else.

Walking to the other side of the tower, away from the ocean, her eyes ran along the stone bridge leading back to land. It was dark, but she remembered the farms and small, but well-kept houses that dotted the landscape.

Glancing up to the sky, she saw the moon had finally decided to grow, and would soon be full in a few nights time.

Merryn sighed, running her hands through thick hair. The weight of the past few days was bearing on her. Coupled with the fact she hadn't had a good nights sleep since the night before Cara, … well, she hadn't slept.

A huge yawn nearly splitting her face in two, the brunette decided it was time to turn in.

"Angus?" Merryn looked around the large room, gray light painted in long rectangles from the windows made a patchwork for her to walk through.

"Aye. Over here, Merryn."

Hearing the dark man's voice in the far corner of the huge, Great Hall, the brunette headed that way, boots making hollow thuds on the stone. She started as the corner of the room was suddenly ablaze with golden firelight. Angus was a simple silhouette before the massive fireplace.

"'T difference fire c'n make," he said quietly, eyes burning orange. Merryn nodded, but said nothing. She had been summoned there, so waited for Angus to tell her why. Having his fill of the fire, the dark man turned to her with a smile. "Merryn, let us talk." He walked further into the room, the shadows growing with each step until he stepped into a patch of light. There he removed a torch from the wall, walking back over to the fireplace to light the tip. He studied the flame for a moment before taking another torch, replacing the lit one in its sconce. He went around this way until about half the room was lit.

Merryn watched him, arms crossing over her chest. She had a slight feeling of unease.

"Ye've been here fer three days," he began, sipping from a wooden mug. Merryn said nothing. He eyed her, sizing her up. Merryn didn't like the scrutiny, but kept her silence. "Have ye enjoyed yer time?"

"Aye," Merryn said slowly, carefully.

"I am glad." He put his mug down, clasping his hands behind his back. "I'd like ye ta stay on, Merryn. Ye have good instincts. Yer strong, good on yer feet-"

"I'm not here ta fight, Angus."

"Wha?" he looked at her, surprised. "'N why not?"

"'M done. Not a fighter. What I had ta fight fer," she looked away, then lowered her eyes. "Well, 'tis gone."

Merryn flinched slightly when she heard the angry footfall that walked over to her. She felt Angus' presence in front of her. Finally, she lifted challenging eyes.

"We went in there, Merryn, 'n we got Cara out." His voice was carefully controlled, though his anger was boiling just under the surface. "She was alive. Frighten'd, a wee worse fer wear, but alive." He was beginning to breathe through his nose now, keeping the calm. "My wife, Teresa, was no so lucky."

Merryn looked at him, stunned. She could see the pain in his eyes, slowly overcoming the anger. The dark man turned away, shoulders slumped as he was overcome with the memory of seeing his beloved wife, beaten and tortured, bloody, lying on the cellar floor. Taking a deep breath, he turned back to the brunette.

"Merryn, my people, our people, deserve ta be free. These bloody tyrants ran to the hills!" his booming voice echoed off the stone walls around them. "They ran, leaving us ta die 'n be ravaged by this, this, madness! Some call it God's wrath, other's 't work 'o witches. Dona matter. 'Tis here, 'n I'm gonna take back what's ours."

"Ta what end, Angus?" Merryn asked, her own anger building. "Ta get yer people slaughtered against trained, hired killers?"

"Hired," he said, holding up a finger. "Hired soldiers dona care, but fer their pence. We fight fer our lives, our freedom. 'N as Teresa looks down from Heaven, I want her ta know she'll be avenged."

"Cara didna die from soldiers, Angus," Merryn said, her voice soft, feeling the other man's pain.

"Nay. She is gone. What have ye got now?" He looked deeply into her eyes, not allowing her gaze to falter. "What have ye got ta go back ta, Merryn?"

"I've got me," the brunette said, her anger returning as Angus pointed out truth she didn't want to face.

"Then why'r ye here, lass?" he asked, eyes wide, voice quiet with accusation. She had no answer.

"Cara-"

"Cara is dead!" he boomed, brows drawing to create dark shadows where his eyes once were. "'N she's lookin' down at ye, and she sees a coward!"

Merryn held her ground, hands closing into painful fists, short, jagged nails biting into the palms of her hands. She didn't want to admit he was right.

Angus ran his hands through his hair, trying to get himself under control. Taking several deep breaths, he gave her a soft smile.

"If ye dona want te fight, you dona want te fight. But, Merryn, stay. Have a family again."

She looked into his dark eyes, seeing the genuine caring in them. After a moment, she nodded. His smile grew. Without another word, Merryn hurried from the Great Hall.

Merryn raised the bow, testing the tension. Satisfied, she shouldered the bow, a quiver filled with well-made arrows already attached to her back.

Stepping out of the armory, Merryn headed for the keep, and then beyond where she'd grab a horse and head out into the woods on the mainland. The sun just moments away from chasing the dreariness of the castle away, the brunette noticed big, brown eyes watching her.

"Wha?" she asked, brows drawn. Paul, looking up at her, began to chew on his lower lip, hands fidgeting with the hem of his tunic. His big eyes trailed from hers to the bow over her shoulder, back to her eyes. Merryn followed his gaze. Smiling, she reached out a hand. With a huge grin, the boy took it, happily joining her.

Merryn brought the horse to a stop, dismounting the beast, then reaching up to life the boy off, his small feet touched the ground with uncertainty. The brunette smiled. She wondered if that had been his first time on a horse.

Taking his small hand in hers, they headed into the dense forest. Stopping, she sat on a rock, pulling the boy to stand before her.

"Alright, lad," she began, pulling an arrow from her quiver. "When I was a small lass, livin' in that church, Father Joseph would take me ta hunt with 'im. Blind as a mouse, was he." She smiled at the memory, which made the boy smile, his eyes still riveted to the arrow. "This, lad, is called an arrow," she began to explain. "This," she said, brushing gray feathers against the boy's nose, making him sneeze, "is the fletching. Goose feathers, these." Next she ran her fingers down the long, wooden shaft. "This, lad, is the stele. 'N this, the arrow. Sharp." She grabbed his small hand, bringing a single finger to push gently against the tip. Paul snatched his hand away, holding it in the other, surprised at the little tingle the point sent through his finger, up his small arm.

Setting the arrow aside, Merryn swung the bow off her shoulder, spreading her knees to place the bow between, one end resting in the rich soil at their feet.

"Tug on this, lad," she nodded toward the string of the bow. The boy grabbed it in his fist, grunting slightly as he tried to pull against the great tension. Merryn chuckled. Getting to her feet, she grabbed her bow, holding a finger to her lips. Paul nodded.

As they headed deeper into the forest, Merryn moved with cat-like stealth and silence, eyes turned to her surroundings, allowing her body to call out to the life around her, feeling the pulse of the rapid heartbeat of her quarry. Suddenly she stopped, falling to her knees. Peeking through the thick foliage, she saw the flicker of a white tail, then the brown body, hidden well by the forest.

"Nock yer arrow, lad," she whispered, doing as she said. Paul watched with large eyes. Bringing the bow up, Merryn closed her right eye, focusing with her left, then letting her arrow fly, the deer crying out in surprise before it collapsed. Paul looked on with huge eyes. He quickly followed the brunette as she hurried over to the felled animal.

"This, lad, is how to butcher."

Europe 1351

Merryn whipped around, left hand already slicing through the air before she'd even completed her turn, her right arm immediately raising to ward off the blow she sensed was coming. Her right leg swung out, making solid contact with the side of her opponents thigh. The blade in her left hand slashed through the neck region, her right coming down to pound the top of the head.

"I'm down! I'm down!" Erik exclaimed, covering his face with his arms. Merryn swung one final time, the blade in her left hand coming within a breath of his nose. He looked up at her with wide, frightened blue eyes.

Grinning, Merryn collected both blades in her left hand, using her right to reach down and help the man to his feet.

"Second blade's a killer, it is," he panted, gaining his breath.

"Aye." She looked at the blade in question, happy with the sword Ezra had created especially for her in his blacksmith's shop. It was much like a Roman Gladius, short, light and deadly sharp. Merryn had always been as good with her left hand as her right, easily multi-tasking between the two. She found fighting was no different. Over the six months she'd been at Cayshire Castle, she'd honed her craft, making each arm as strong as the other, both functioning equally, with equal speed and skill. She came at them like a storm, all steel and intensity. She had become feared and respected, even among those who still refused to see her as nothing more than a woman invading their world.

Since she refused to fight, Angus had asked her to train others to fight. She had natural skill and instinct that many of the growing army lacked. Angus had been lovingly crafting his army, Ezra and the other blacksmiths working feverishly to create enough armor and arms for the men.

The castle had become a fortress to be reckoned with. Merryn had convinced Angus to talk to the men, make them bathe at least three times per week, Merryn working on the women, elderly and lame. If an outbreak of the black sickness erupted, it would be disastrous. They grew all of their own food, made their own supplies and weapons, and had very little contact with the outside world. The thought was in everyone's mind every day, but they lived as though they'd never get sick, continuing on with the plan.

Merryn sheaved her blades in the double baldric, running a hand through sticky, sweaty hair.

"That, lads, 'tis what ye dona want te do." There was a round of chuckles as Erik brushed himself off, a slight limp as he walked back to his place in line. "Watch their feet. Weapons, too." She looked at each and every expectant face, many meeting her gaze with obvious respect and admiration. These men were farmers and peasants. Merryn almost laughed. They knew no better. "Off with ye!" she waved them all off. The large, wooden tubs were already set out in the yard, the men disrobing as they walked over to them.

Walking back toward the keep, she noticed someone standing in the shadows. The sheer size told her everything she needed to know.

"Ye need ta call yer dog off, Angus," she muttered, storming into the Great Hall, which Angus had turned into the gathering place for his army and officers. Angus, going over a map with two other men, stood, surprised by the brunette's outburst. She walked over to him, eyes burning. "If ye do not, I'll do it myself."

"Are ye outta yer mind?" Angus asked, anger burning through his dark eyes. Merryn met his gaze straight on. She pointed a warning finger at him, and left, leaving Angus and the rest to look after her.

Merryn was furious. Gerik had made it well known his thoughts of a woman being anywhere but in the kitchen or chasing after the numerous children. Merryn had heard rumors that he was talking to other soldiers of a like mind. The brunette worried that the giant and his followers would cause discord in the smooth running operation that was Cayshire.

Merryn headed up the circular staircase that led to the living space that she and Ezra had built for the five of them. The large room had been walled off into three separate spaces- one for Evela and Ezra, one for Merryn alone, and one for Tamara and Paul, though Paul stayed with the brunette most the time.

Merryn stripped out of her mail, the metal falling to the stone in a loud clump. She was angry, her breathing uneven. She had worked so hard at the castle, deciding that Angus was right- she had no one and nothing beyond the walls of Cayshire. So she had embraced it, helping to rebuild the crumbling walls. A smile spread across her lips as she remembered the birth of the now two month old Ezekiel.

"Merryn! Merryn, please help me," Jane begged, crouched over, arms crossed over her protruding stomach. The brunette, who had been heading down an adjoining hall, turned, eyes growing wide at the puddle of water at the young woman's feet.

Hurrying over to the blonde, she helped her to the floor, murmuring words of encouragement.

"Hang on, lass. I'll get help-"

"No! It's comin'!" Jane cried, her voice hoarse, fingers claw-like as they dug desperately into Merryn's sleeve.

"Alright." Merryn could feel her heart pounding in her temples. She helped the mother-to-be to a squatting position, her back leaning against the cold stone wall. Merryn reached up, grabbed the torch from its sconce, bringing it down, chasing the shadows away from between Jane's spread knees. Her breath caught, never seeing anything like that before. The baby's head had already crowned, Jane screaming as her flesh ripped. The insides of Jane's thighs were streaked with red. Unsure what to do, she reached in, feeling the hot, slimy flesh of the baby, Jane's chest heaving with every breath and every cry.

"It's comin', lass," Merryn breathed, exhilarated and frightened at the same time. "Push, lass. Push!"

Jane's head fell back against the wall, her blonde hair hanging in sweaty strands. Eyes squeezed shut, mouth opening in one final scream. Merryn screamed along with her as the baby slid out with a liquid gush.

"Ye've gotta son, Jane!" Merryn looked up at the exhausted mother with tear-filled eyes. The baby began to whine, getting used to his lungs in the cold air instead of warm liquid. It didn't take him long to push out his first cry. To Merryn's surprise, a round of applause erupted in the hallway. She looked up over her shoulder, seeing smiling members of the household, some of the women hurrying over to the new mother. Jolene, a midwife, immediately set about checking Jane's health and state of her sex. She turned to some of the men and boys hanging around.

"Well now, stand around like a bunch of oxes," she chastised. Getting the point, the men jumped into action, lifting the poor girl to a comfortable bed.

The baby had been taken from Merryn's arms, but she stood there in the hall, tears still in her eyes and a lightness in her heart. Looking down at her hands, she saw they were covered with the blood and juices of new life. She felt someone was still with her in the hall, and glanced up. Evela was watching her, a smile on her face.

"Ye did good, Merryn," came the soft voice. Merryn grinned.

"Thank ye." The brunette had never been so proud of anything she'd done in her entire life.

"Cara smiles down upon ye, now."

"Ye think?" Merryn asked? She'd told Ezra's wife of her life, though short, with the blonde. It was wonderful to have Cara's memory live inside of another, as well as her. Evela nodded.

"Aye." She walked over to the still stunned brunette. "Come. Let us clean you up."

Merryn rested her head back against the wall, a soft smile curving her lips. The business of Gerik yet again watching and stalking, forgotten. She saw that baby in her arms again, how tiny he was, yet how big his cry.

She felt a special bond with the child, which his mother recognized. Jane tried to give Merryn as much time with Ezekiel as possible. At first, it scared the brunette to death! She had not one clue how to handle a baby, how to hold them, change them. Her smile grew at the memory. The first time she'd tried to clean the lad after changing his soiled cloth. The new one she'd put on him had slid right down his legs, his tiny bladder unable to hold in his need any longer. The next thing Merryn knew, the front of her tunic was being sprayed and marked.

Merryn chuckled lightly at the memory.

"Wish ye could see 'im, lass," she whispered, eyes closing.

Merryn looked down into squinted blue eyes, faint, blonde brows drawn in infinite concentration. She smiled at the little sounds Ezekiel made, tiny fingers wrapped around one of hers. Her eyes scanned his pinched face, taking the tiny nose, nostrils flared as the baby instinctually took in everything around him, smells in the air that would remind him of his mother.

"'Tis a beautiful child, Merryn."

The brunette turned to her right, an instant smile matching that of Cara's. She nodded, turning back to the child in her arms.

"Aye." She looked again at the blonde. "Would ye like ta hold 'im?" Cara's smile at the offer warmed Merryn's entire being.

"Very much so."

"Support his head, lass," Merryn whispered as she handed the tiny body into Cara's tender embrace. The blonde looked down into the child's face, her smile grown soft and wistful.

"Hello, little Ezekiel," she cooed, bringing a hand up to touch the soft skin of the baby's face, lightly tapping his pert nose with a fingertip. Merryn moved behind Cara, resting her chin atop her shoulder, seeing what the blonde was seeing. For a moment, it seemed as if the impossible had happened, and the child in Cara's arms was their child, born of the love Merryn shared with Cara.

"He's got yer eyes, Merryn," Cara said, glancing at the brunette.

"Aye. Yer hair."

Cara smiled, nodding. Merryn leaned into the blonde, inhaling the smell of the golden hair, eyes closing in bliss. She felt Cara lean beck into her. Merryn wrapped her around the blonde's waist, both looking into the child's face.

"Ye must head the family, Merryn," Cara said softly, leaning down to place a light kiss on Ezekiel's forehead. "With yer guidance, the family will grow 'n be grand." Cara stepped away from Merryn, turning to face her. She looked up at her with the softest green eyes, head slightly cocked to the side. Cradling the baby in the crook of one arm, she raised her other. Gently resting her hand on Merryn's cheek, using her thumb to wipe away a single tear. Merryn leaned into the touch, eyes closing for a moment. She knew their time was coming to an end. "Lead yer family, Merryn," whispered. She leaned up, eyes closing as she placed a gentle kiss to the brunette's lips. As she pulled away, she smiled. "Now wake."

Merryn's eyes blinked open, surprised to feel the tickle of her dream tear very much making its way to the corner of her mouth. Sniffling and wiping it away, she sighed.

Suddenly the hair on the back of her neck stood on end. Eyes growing wide, threw herself to the side. Sparks from steel against stone flew, as well as the deafening clang. Rolling to her feet, Merryn immediately grabbed for her blades, both whooshing from their leather homes.

Gerik turned to her, teeth bared as anger coursed through him. He'd thought for sure he had the element of surprise with the slumbering women.

Breathing hard, Merryn's eyes were trained to the huge man, his blonde hair half covering his face. He looked like the wild ones of the Highlands.

Legs spread wide for center balance, Merryn flexed her fingers on the grips of her blades, palms becoming sweaty. Gerik mirrored her stance, one large hand flexing, the other wrapped around the hand-and-a-half grip of his long blade, the tip gleaming menacingly in the sparse sunlight.

Merryn could feel sweat dribbling down her back and between her breasts. Keeping her cool, she brought in air through her nose, exhaling between slightly parted lips.

With the cry of the beast, Gerik lunged, bringing his blade down. Merry met his thrust, using her body strength to push him back, which didn't last for long. With a growl, he came back for another blow, Merryn blocking it with her left blade, bringing her right blade up under his to push it away, Gerik nearly lost his sword altogether. This angered him more, his face red as he began to swing blindly, pushing the brunette further and further across the small room. Fist balling, he lashed out, catching the brunette across the jaw. The light from the window reflected off the blood that flew from her mouth as she bit her tongue. Pain soared throughout Merryn's head, rocking her world. She couldn't get lost in the pain, or she was dead.

Merryn knew she would be trapped soon between the wall and Gerik's massive body. Ducking his blow, she used as much force as she could in her kick, catching him square in the gut. Coughing as he stumbled backward, Gerik looked at her, then raised his blade as Merryn came at him with dizzying speed and ferocity, both blades catching the sunlight to look like slashes of light coming at him, catching him on the arm, the other slicking hic cheek. She kicked at him again, this time catching him between the legs.

Gerik's eyes flew wide open, the pain sprouting through out his body. Even still, he threw himself to the ground, rolling out of the way of the wicked blades of Merryn. Getting to his feet behind the brunette, he raised his blade high overhead, bringing it down toward her shoulder, Merryn bringing both her blades up, catching and dislodging Gerik's blow. The sword flew out of his large hands, leaving him defenseless as Merryn whirled to face him, another kick catching him in the chest, the brunette enraged as she followed his staggering progress, another kick across the jaw, whipping his head to the side. Another kick landed to his knee, bringing him to the ground. Merryn stood over him, nostrils flaring with murderous intent. She looked into his terrified blue eyes, though saw him reaching for a dagger in his boot. Kicking him once more, Gerik gave up on his dagger, but with the rage of near defeat, he lunged at her legs, bringing her to the ground, her blades flying off into the shadows.

Merryn cried out as pain licked up her spine, her head bouncing off the floor, nearly knocking her out. Blinking rapidly, biting her tongue again to make the pain wake her up.

Gerik was on top of her in a heartbeat, his snarling face in hers as one huge fist found its way to her jaw, making her head bounce again. Her vision began to grow dark around the edges, her eyes rolling in their sockets. Bringing her hands up, she began to pound uselessly against his shoulders and sides. Her world was rocked once more as a fist was slammed into her ribs. She knew immediately that the fragile bones were broken.

Bringing her hand up once more, one last desperate attempt to save her own life, she reached for his eyes, fingers turning into claws.

Gerik screamed, trying to get away, pain shooting through his head, down into his neck as his world went black.

Merryn cried out in pain as she moved with him, not letting him go, her fingers firmly latched onto the man's sockets. Blood flowed down his face, and over her hand, Gerik's shrill screams making her blood run cold.

Finally pushing away from him, she watched in horror as the huge man convulsed on the floor in agony, face covered by his hands.

Gasping for breath and clutching her side, Merryn saw his blade, picking it up in her blood-covered hand.

Angus laughed with Lukas and John, two of his most trusted officers in the yard. The army was working on drills, their grunts and clank of steel rent the afternoon air.

Suddenly all noise stopped, the day becoming deathly silent. Wondering what was wrong, Angus turned from his men, stunned at what he saw.

Merryn limped into the yard, half hunched over, her mouth a bloody mess, her tunic covered in it. She looked at everyone present, eyes wild and filled with rage. Wincing as she raised Gerik's blade, she shouted into the still day.

"Any 'o ye wish ta fight me, do it now." With that, she threw the blade to the ground, slowly walking away, barely making it to a doorstep before sliding down to her knees.

Angus ran over to her, falling beside her. "Merryn," he breathed, stunned and worried. He brought her hanging head up, looking into the broken face. "By God, Merryn, who did this?"

"Yer pup was spanked," she whispered, barely hanging on to consciousness. With that, she passed out cold.

Merryn had to cough, need to cough, was about to choke on her cough, but didn't dare. Squeezing her eyes shut, she tried to swallow it down, but began to choke. Finally giving in, she cried out in pain as she coughed, her midsection making its injuries known with a howling scream.

"'Tis alright," Evela cooed, helping the brunette back to the bed, blue eyes squeezed shut in intense pain. Dark brows were furrowed in concern and understanding. Evela brushed dark strands away from the beautiful, angular face, so filled with pain. "Alright, dear Merryn."

Merryn tried to relax, even out her breathing, which was already shallow. The more she breathed, the more it tore at her midsection. Her face was beginning to hurt now, too, the adrenaline gone, leaving only pain. Her skin was stiff and sticky from healing pastes. Evela had already gently washed away the blood and gore from Merryn's face, neck and hands. She was bruised badly, her pupils dilated.

Merryn could hear soft murmurings from another part of the room, someone saying that Gerik was alive, but blinded. She couldn't feel pleasure from this news. It had been unnecessary, and she resented Gerik forcing her hand.

"How is she?" Angus asked, his deep voice hushed.

"Alive," Evela said, her cool touch on Merryn's forehead.

"Shall we call fer 'T Healer, Angus?" someone else asked. There was silence, and Merryn could feel eyes on her. She didn't have the strength to open her eyes or wave off such a crazy notion. Finally Angus spoke for her.

"Nay. Merryn's a fighter."

"Aye," Evela agreed. "She'll be back on her feet shortly." Merryn felt that hand gently caress the side of her head. "Won't ye, Merryn?"

"Aye," the brunette whispered, moving her face as little as possible.

"Out with ye," Evela shooed the gathered crowed, the second wave of such a crowd. Everyone filed out obediently, some giving one last mournful look to one of their own. Soon it was just Evela and Merryn.

Merryn winced as shooting pain ripped through her middle, stealing its breath along the way. After a breathless moment, it passed, leaving her weak and gasping.

"Merryn, take this."

Merryn felt her head being carefully lifted, and something against her lips, which made her wince yet again. She opened her mouth with soft encouragement, tasting the bitter herb.

"Coriander te help ye sleep, Merryn."

Merryn nodded, taking a sip from the mug at her lips. She swallowed the herb, then laid back down, praying for a quick effect. The last thing she remembered before drifting off was the feel of a small body climbing up onto the bed and curling up next to her.

PART 9

HOLDING HER BREATH slightly as she walked, she leaned a bit on the walking stick Ezra had fashioned for her, Merryn headed to the Great Hall. During her fight with Gerik, she’d re-injured the leg that had been broken. The pain had become less and less, but she still didn’t trust the strength of her leg to walk on.

She’d slowly gotten out of bed more and more, the resting driving her near mad. She was restless and fidgety, and about to drive Evela crazy with her whining. To the smaller brunette’s credit, she held her tongue. Even so, she had some of the most expressive eyes Merryn had ever seen. She was acting like a petulant child, and the quiet women let her know it with a single admonishing look.

Paul walked with her, his short steps echoing along side her own, his little fist clasped around and end of her tunic, as was his habit. She glanced down at the boy, who immediately looked up at her. He stood to her waist, and she used her free hand to gently run through his soft, brown hair before turning her focus back to her walking. It was a slow process, but Paul was a patient boy.

Voices could be heard in the Great Hall, men laughing and talking. Excitement was thick, as the plan would be enacted within the month. Merryn was on her way to ask if she could join. The decision had been made the day Gerik attacked her. No man, no one, would ever steer her destiny, nor attempt to, again. She would no longer hide behind her own fears or selfishness, wrapped up in a transparent bundle of piety and apathy.

As she entered, voices slowly hushed, hundreds of men turning to stare at the two silhouettes in the grand archway. Merryn’s proud features slowly came into view as torchlight forced her into dancing shadow and light. The brunette stopped short, looking around in confusion as one by one, the men began to fall to one knee, heads bowing. The sound of mail hitting stone, leather rubbing steel, steel scraping against steel.

Looking across the sea of bowed heads, Merryn found twinkling dark eyes. Angus smiled, then he, too fell to one knee. Finding Paul’s curious eyes looking back up at her, the boy shrugged. Merryn looked over the room again. She walked further in, not a man meeting her eye as she passed. A myriad of emotions were flowing through her as she made her way through the crowd, a path seemingly made for her to follow. She reached Angus, and turned to the army.

“Rise!” she called, wincing slightly at the pain that caused in her ribs. Just as noisily as their descent, the men gained their feet. She turned to Angus, confusion in her eyes. He smiled, giving her a slight bow, eyes never leaving her own. “What’tis this?” she asked, incredulous.

“They honor ‘n respect ye, Merryn,” he explained softly, ruffling Paul’s hair. He leaned in, a smile in his eyes. “They know ye c’n kick their arses now.”

“Madness,” she hissed, though in a secret place that she’d never admit to anyone, she was greatly pleased. She turned to the men, bowing slightly to them, letting them know she respected every man in the room in return. She also felt her chest fill a little more, her spine a little straighter. “I come ta tell ye I wish te join ye, Angus.”

The dark man studied her, looking deeply into her eyes. She could see how he’d aged since she’d first seen him nearly two years ago. Lines around his mouth and between his eyes. His forehead was nearly becoming a roadmap. He nodded his approval.

“I’d love to have ye fight by my side, Merryn,” he said quietly. The brunette nodded. It was set. Looking out over the army once more, her gaze twitched, suddenly nervous.

“As ye were,” she muttered, then grabbed Paul’s hand, hurrying from the room as quickly as her leg and healing body would allow.

The cold, winter night found Merryn in her favorite place of isolation- atop the turret. She leaned against the stone, a mug of hot cider cradled between her palms. Her cloak wrapped tight around her shoulders, the hood barely perched atop her head. A few long strands of dark hair whipped around her face. With a sigh that crystallized just out of her lips, she took a sip of her drink, the steam billowing into the night.

She looked out over the shire of Cayshire down below and on the mainland, many fires dotting the darkness. A small smile curled her lips as she thought of all the people down there, families, and amazingly enough, friends. She could call each by name, knowing little tidbits. Was this what it felt like to be happy? Surely that wasn’t a possibility for her, was it?

Happiness. And without Cara. Merryn thought that was an impossibility. Somehow, and it snuck up on her, light had once again dawned in her life, chasing away the darkness to clear a lit path.

“Who do you think of?”

Merryn glanced over her shoulder, seeing Evela standing just outside the narrow stone doorway, leading back into the tower that would take her down. The young woman with the wisp of white hair, a steadfast friend, silent protector.

Merryn turned back to her gaze, out over the moonlight sea below. She heard the smaller brunette walk over to her, lean against the stones.

“How did ye meet her?”

Merryn smiled. Evela always seemed to know what was on her mind. She reached up, absently taking the coin she’d had a hole drilled through, a leather thong snaking its way through, and around her neck. She rubbed her thumb over the rough gold, a gesture she’d done thousands of times.

“She was be’in attacked by a bandit,” Merryn explained, her voice soft, wistful of that night’s return. Oh, how different she would play it. She would have been kind, willing to lend a helping hand and hold the frightened girl.

“Saved her, did ye?” Evela smiled, seeing her friend nod her dark head, features barely visible under the hood’s cloak of shadows.

“Aye,” Merryn said unnecessarily.

“How long did ye travel together?” Evela moved a bit closer, hoping to share a bit of body heat in the cold night. Merryn’s mood of late was dark and morose. She knew it had to do with the girl’s wounds, and perhaps the upcoming plan. She also knew to talk to her, or spend time with her, it had to be on Merryn’s terms.

“Not long enough.” Merryn was surprised she had spoken aloud. She cleared her throat, trying to cover her embarrassment. “A year ‘n a bit.”

“‘M sorry, Merryn,” Evela said, her voice soft, filled with genuine sorrow. She could feel the pain, deep and profound. She wished there was something she could do to ease it. These were hard times, and death was all around them, awaiting his turn to gallop in on his black horse, trample the spirits of the living. “Ezra and I lost a child to the sickness.”

Merryn turned to the woman, only seeing her in profile, her face pale against the darkness. The streak of white seemed to glow.

“Sarah weren’t but three.” Evela took a deep breath, trying to keep the pain of her own loss down, squashed where it had remained all these long, two years.

“‘Tis a pain that does not leave,” Merryn whispered, turning back to the night. She felt Evela’s nod.

“Aye.”

Merryn took several deep breaths, then allowed young Alex to help her don her mail, full shirt and sleeves. The heavy metal fell to her upper thighs. She took the belt the boy gave her, synching it around her waist, the mail bagging over it slightly, bringing its length to crotch level. The quilted Surcoat was placed over the top, the belted above that of the mail.

Merryn moved her arms and twisted at the waist, making sure her movement was fluid. Already feeling the weight and heat of the armor, she pushed it out of her mind. Taking the coif from the lad, she carefully tugged it over her head, her hair already closely pinned. Alex straightened the mail around her shoulders and neck, then efficiently got her baldric in place, belting it while Merryn pulled on her gauntlets. Flexing her fingers, she was ready.

Merryn joined the small army that would be used this night. The majority of the men were being held back. Tonight was about surprise and attack.

Mounting her horse, she watched with pride as man after man did the same. Every window and door of Cayshire was filled with well-wishers as the double row of warriors passed through the lanes, the light of torches glinting off wicked sharp steel until the group was led by the light of the moon.

The ride was silent, each lost in their own head, knowing full well how things could turn out. Not a man there didn’t wear a cross, band of garlic, or some sort of token of faith in something stronger, and more powerful than he. Merryn could fell the warm gold against her upper chest.

The party decided to make camp as early morning approached. They’d travel the rest of the way come nightfall.

Merryn rolled over, readjusting her blankets, the fire crackling close by. She heard movement and opened her eyes. Angus stood from his place a ways across the fire, headed toward the lake. Merryn soon followed.

The dark man glanced over his shoulder before tossing a pebble in the water, breaking the mirror-perfect surface.

“Canna sleep?” he asked, looking back to the water. Merryn smirked.

“Was gonna ask ye the same.” She smiled, picking up her own stone. He smiled in return, caught.

Angus dropped his rock, brows furrowed as he looked down at his boots for a moment. Merryn waited him out, knowing he would speak when he was ready.

“Merryn,” he began, clearing his throat, keeping his voice low so as not to be overhear. “do ye think I’m leadin’ these lads to their deaths?” he glanced at the small army camp behind them, then looked deeply into Merryn’s eyes. She studied him for a long moment, trying to give him as true and answer as possible. Finally she smile, gentle and fond.

“Angus, they follow ye of their own will. The risks ‘r high, ‘tis true,” she nodded. “They know this.” She could still see the concern on his face, and the beginning dregs of doubt. Placing a hand on his shoulder, she turned him to look at her. “Angus, they look ta ye. If ye doubt now, they’re dead.” She paused, waiting for her words to sink in. “Turn back now, if ye dona believe in what ye do. Teresa would understand.”

Angus sighed, looking back out over the water. Shaking his head, he turned back to her. “Nay. We do this.”

Merryn smiled, giving a sharp nod. “Aye. We do this.” She raised her hand, he clasped his around it with the strength of the warrior.

“Together.”

“Together.”

Using hand signals, Merryn directed her archers to the nearby hills of Middleham. The rest of the men were placed in strategic locations near the bridge and drawbridge.

She glanced at Angus, the dark man nodding. With cat-like grace and silence, they made their way toward the mouth of William’s Hill, two guards standing sentinel. Merryn smirked; apparently they’d gotten smart after Cara’s rescue.

Without a sound, the brunette moved up behind the closest guard, seeing Angus out of the corner of her eye heading toward the other one.

A short grunt split the night, then all was silent.

Merryn reached to the small pouch tethered to her hip, bringing out the small metal pieces, picking the new locks that had been put on the doors inside the tunnel. The new locks were even easier to pick than the others had been- no rust.

The heat could be felt almost immediately after the second door had been opened, closed and wedged from the inside. The boiler room was working double time, which surprised the brunette, as the king wasn’t in the castle. Looked as though his remaining men were enjoying themselves.

Angus followed quickly behind, blade ready for anything. They tried to be as quiet and swift as possible. The heavy mail made their progress slightly slower than he felt comfortable with. The whole plan was on his shoulders, and that of the young girl just in front of him. If they failed, the plan would fail. One final look into determined blue eyes, Merryn pushed open the iron grate at the end of the tunnel, everything exactly as it had been during their last trip.

Merryn is amazed at the calm that filled her, an inner peace as she traveled the halls in the bowls of the castle. It was decided that she would descend into the pits of Middleham hell, release the captives and condemned while Angus made his way through the castle.

The knighted men would be strongly loyal and allied to their King, but the hired soldiers were just that- hired. They could use that to their advantage.

Merryn rode the dark halls, creeping along like a thief in the night. She smirked. That’s essentially exactly what she was. Stopping, her fingers flexed on the grip of her blade as she heard two men talking just ahead.

“Now get outta ‘ere, and feed the bastards!” someone hissed, muttering to himself as whomever he was talking to left to carry out his orders. Peeking around the corner, she saw the soldier sitting in a wooden chair, front legs off the dirt floor as he tilted it back against the stone wall. His eyes were hooded, boredom clearly written on his face. She scanned his body, seeing only a sword. No keys.

Making sure they were alone, Merryn scurried over to him, slamming her fist into his jaw, knocking him off his chair. Her hand around his throat kept him quiet, huge eyes looking at her.

“Where’s ‘t key holder?” she hissed. He just stared up at her. She pushed his head into the stone wall behind him. “Where?” The stunned soldier’s head was bashed against into the stone wall. “Tell me,” Merryn hissed, pulling the man up to look at her, by his hair. “Tell me where he hides, or die now, lad.” Merryn brought his face up closer to her own, letting him know she meant every hit upon that stone.

The soldier was trembling, eyes drifting toward the iron door at the end of the hall. “Feeding them,” he gasped, eyes beginning to tear from the raging headache splitting his skull.

Merryn shoved him, the soldier falling off the chair, landing in a heap on the dirt. Grabbing him by the boots, she drug him to a shadow-filled doorway, leaving him there, knocking him out with another blow. Running to the door, Merryn glanced over her shoulder once more, then slid inside.

She wrinkled her nose immediately as the stench of human bodies, feces, urine, and every other bodily fluid hit her nose. The smell was nearly unbearable. The air was thick and dark, dancing shadows from scattered torches. Thick wood doors, ribbed with steel lined either side of the narrow, straw-laden ground. Small, barred squares were cut out of each door at eye level. A few sets of fingers could be seen wrapped around some of the bars.

Merryn was surprised at the relative quiet of the dungeon. Walking down the aisle, she glanced into some of the cells. Shackles hung from the stone walls, most hanging open, the cell’s occupant laying in their own filth. She wasn’t sure if all of them were alive.

Movement caught Merryn’s eye, her own presence seeming to catch the guard by surprise. He held a large pail of something, bits of gray slime dripping off one side. Throwing the pale, his face pinched in the offense, immediately drawing his blade.

Not giving him a chance, Merryn ran at him, full speed, barreling him over with a full body tackle. They landed in the straw, a few stiff strands sticking the brunette in the leg through the mail.

The soldier tried to roll them over, but Merryn kept him on his back. She clamped her thighs into his sides, using the powerful muscles to keep him down. She raised her hand, growling as she plowed her gauntlet into the air. The soldier saw what was coming, the steel covered hand gleaming in the torchlight. He covered his face with his bracers, Merryn catching him instead in the side of the head. He grunted in surprised pain.

“Work with me, lad, and I’ll spare ye,” she panted, bringing the tip of a dagger to his throat. He looked at her with surprised brown eyes, one hand covering his ringing ear. She knew all too well how much that move hurt.

“Who are ye?” he asked, his voice shaky. This one was young, not sure what to make of this seemingly demon woman. New to the King’s army, he was stuck with dungeon duty.

“Yer worst nightmare if ye refuse,” she growled. Teeth clanging together, he nodded vigorously. He was stunned at the beauty of Merryn’s smile as she stood, holding a hand down to him. He took it, eyes unable to leave hers. Still holding his hand, she pulled him close, face a mere breath away. “If ye betray me, lad,” the boy’s eyes nearly grew out of his skull at the feel of the point against his privates. Understanding her message loud and clear, he nodded again. “I want ye ta take these prisoners out through ‘t tunnel. Ye know ‘t tunnel?”

“Aye,” he whimpered.

Merryn shoved him away, snatching the keys from his belt. Tugging the second key from the ring, she thrust them into his trembling hands. Hurrying over to the end of the aisle, Merryn inserted the large, iron key into the equally large lock. She looked into the small, square hole. An old man looked back at her, tired and haggard. His eyes were mere shadows of the man he once was.

“Stay quite, and ye’ll live,” she hissed. He nodded. Down the line she went, issuing the same demand. After all were released, Merryn made sure the young soldier did as asked, then headed into the upper sections of the castle.

Merryn took the stairs two at a time, her heart beating out of control. Angus had managed to lower the gates, letting the rest of the men charge in, roaring, blades raised high over head. The soldiers of the king were fighting bravely back, trying to defend their stronghold.

With the king gone in hiding at his country estate, the bulk of his army was with him, leaving basically a skeleton crew to keep watch over Middleham Castle.

Merryn made her way into the fray, both blades flying through the air, a whirlwind of motion and grace. If it weren’t so deadly, it would have been beautiful.

Carnage. That was all Merryn could think of. Panting, bruised and bleeding, she looked around. The fight had made it out to the Keep, bodies littering the ground, both dressed in the colors of the king, as well as those of Cayshire.

She fell to her knees, body about to give out. Glancing to her left, she saw Angus limping over to her. Relieved to see he’d survived, she gave him a weak smile. Collapsing next to her, the dark man sighed deeply, running a hand through sweat-slicked hair, leaving a thin trail of blood near his temple.

“‘Tis such a loss,” he said, his voice soft, whispery. Battle fatigued and weary. The left side of Angus’ head was covered with blood. The brunette nodded, falling to her bum, head resting against a door she sat near.

“How many dead?”

“Near thirty ‘o ours. Double that theirn.”

“Captives?”

“Safe.”

With a groan, Merryn pushed herself to her feet, or she knew is she didn’t rise now, she wouldn’t be able to. There was work to be done, and it had to be done now. Helping the dark man to his, it was time to set about removing bodies, tossing them to the mote.

“Ye men!” she called out to a small group of their own men. When she had their collective attention, she continued. “Get a wagon, Stephen, get a horse, begin gettin’ them out.” She pointed to the bodies around.

“Save weapons,” Angus said, his voice very shaky. Merryn turned to look at her friend, just in time to see him collapse.

“Boil more rage, now!” Merryn called out, dabbing arnica paste on her patient. Brows drawn with concern, she glanced over to her friend, Angus finally awake. The castle’s physician was seeing to his wounds, digging through the thick, black hair, looking for the source.

Sure that Angus was being care for, she turned her attention back to the soldier she was putting back together.

“Merryn?”

“Aye?” the brunette muttered absently, quickly wrapping her patient’s arm with the newly brought cloth. He was losing a lot of blood from the gash.

“Let me have a look at ye. Yer bleed-”

“Take care ‘o these men!” she hissed, turning to the surprised young soldier. Softening her voice, she turned back to her task. “Dona worry ‘bout me, Thomas. Help them.” She nodded at the room filled with moaning, some crying, men. With a quick nod, the soldier hurried to follow her orders.

Merryn’s head snapped at the sound of a loud cry. Angus thrashed on the chair where he sat, head buried in his hands. Blue eyes found the physician, trying to pick his way out of the room.

“Stop ‘im!” she yelled, running over to the screaming Angus. Two soldiers tackled the old man, all going down in a clang of male and air being pushed out of lungs. “Angus, Angus,” she breathed, trying to pry his hands away from his head.

“Burns!” the dark man cried, jerking back I the chair so hard he head-butted Merryn. Staggering back, the brunette shook off echo of pain rattling around in her head, stepping back over to her friend.

“Let m’see, Angus,” she murmured, using all her force to pull his hands free. The wound at the side of his head was fizzing, the hair clinging to his hands, skin curling, peeling back from his scalp. “Ah, Lord in Heaven,” she gasped. Looking around, she saw the scrap of cloth the physician had been using. Snatching it, she brought it to her nose, immediately grimacing back at the acidic smell. Turning to the two men who had the older man between them, each holding an arm. “Bryony?” she asked, waving the cloth around. “Ye bastard!” Throwing the cloth to the floor, she turned back to Angus, now whimpering. “Someone bring me some white wine!” she bellowed, “with,” she gritted her teeth, trying desperately to remember what Cara would have used. “Bugger te Hell,” she muttered. “Anise! White wine with anise!”

“Aye!” someone yelled out.

Within moments, Merryn had what she needed in her hands. “Hang on, Angus,” she whispered, dumping the herb into the wineskin, viciously shaking the ingredients together, before soaking a clean cloth with the mixture. “Take this,” she said, tossing the wineskin to whomever was close. Placing her hand on the other side of Angus’ head, she pressed the poultice to the angry wound, making the dark man cry out again.

“What are ye doin’?” Thomas asked, eyes wide as he watched the brunette snatch the wineskin out of Robert’s hands, pouring small amounts to the wound. With each washing, Thomas felt his stomach roil. What Merryn had called bryony, had burned through, leaving a bald, bloody spot just above Angus’ left ear. The skin was scorched and angry.

Merryn ignored the question, instead concentrating on cleaning off the rest of the poison. Lukas, one of the officers, stood just over Merryn’s right shoulder, watching.

“Bryony wouldn’t do that alone, would it?” he asked, his voice low. He saw the girl shake her head.

“Nay.” Blue eyes glanced at the physician, still held by the two soldiers. “Finish,” she tossed over her shoulder, grabbing a dagger from her belt as she walked over to him. Without a word, she drew her hand back, then thrust the blade into his gut. His gray eyes protruded from their sockets The blade went in easily, the hilt stopping its advance. Merryn felt the warm blood cover her hand and grip of the dagger, his face a breath away from hers. With a vicious snarl, she shoved him off her dagger, letting him fall to the floor with a plop.

Walking away, the men moved out of her way, silence following her out of the room.

Merryn was glad to feel the chill against heated skin. She was filled with the adrenaline of looking death in the eye, watching it cut one man down around her after another, only to bow out of her shadow. She could still see every face that fell pale before her, still see their blood, her sword slicing through the armor they prayed would keep them safe.

Walking the cold halls of the huge castle, Merryn could help but wonder what all this was for. What was the purpose of so many losing their lives this night. Many taken by her own hand.

Running her hands through her hair, which were still covered in blood and gore, she felt her body begin to tremble, the breath she let out shaky. Merryn was surprised to feel her eyes stinging, emotion pushing through. Letting a few tears of relief and release to slip out from her lids, the brunette took several more deep breaths. Heading back the way she’d come, she heard soft murmurings and the obvious sounds of feasting.

The exhausted girl made her way there, curiosity drawing her. She recognized many of the people gathered around a long table, strewn with random bits of food and drink. Many of them stood there, clothing hanging off terribly thin frames, others dressed in rags. All shoving as much food into their mouths as possible.

Merryn wandered through the room, wandering why they were back. She figured they would have scattered to wherever they had come from. There were a couple dozen people, some men, but mostly women and a couple children, all huddled around the skirts of what looked to be their mother, or some sort of close relative.

The brunette smiled at some, nodded at others, taking an overwhelmingly enthusiastic hug from one man who remembered her from the dungeon.

“Thank ye, thank ye!” he cried, fat tears falling down dirt-smudged cheeks. Merryn smiled.

“Yer welcome.”

With that, he hurried back to his place at the table they stood around, guzzling water from a wooden mug, the liquid flowing down either side of his mouth, leaving clean trails.

For the first time that night, Merryn smiled. She saw the excitement and relief on the face of these people. These were not hardened criminals, deserving to be chained and starved. These were the people of a ruler that needed to be stopped.

“This must end,” she whispered. Turning to leave, Merryn caught a flash of gold. Her head jerked, raising to her toes to see above the heads of those at the table. On the other side, near the wall, stood a young girl, her thin body huddled together, her dress long faded and torn. Her face was covered by long, golden hair.

Merryn made her way around the room, brows drawn. She felt her heartbeat quicken, a softening of her entire being. There was something familiar about this young girl, maybe ten years of age. As she neared, the girl’s head raised, bright green eyes blinking, focused on the approaching figure. The girl, seeing the blood, the armor and weapons, shrunk back.

Stopping, Merryn raised her hands in supplication. “Fear not, lass,” she said, her voice soft. The girl did not relax, but wasn’t trying to press into the wall anymore, either. “How long have ye been here?”

The girl raised her eyes to the ceiling for a moment, thinking, before they returned to Merryn’s face. “Two years, milady.” The girl’s voice was soft, a bit shaky.

Unable to take her eyes from the girl, Merryn reached behind her, grabbing a chair she felt there. She drug it over to where the girl stood, indicating the girl should sit. With a small smile, the girl sat. Merryn fell to her haunches before her, looking up into the gentle face.

“What’tis yer name, lass?”

“Grace, milady.”

Merryn couldn’t stop the tears from instantly welling in her eyes, her heart stopping for a moment. She swallowed, bringing a hand up to wipe the tear before it fell.

“Where’r yer family, Grace?” She felt horrible for asking as the girl’s face slowly fell, a golden curtain hiding her pain.

“Dead, milady.”

“Have ye nowhere to go, lass?” She watched the girl shake her head, shoulders dipping further. “Grace?” she reached up, gently tipping the little blonde’s chin up. Watery green eyes met her own. “Would ye like to come with us? Te a place where there is no cruelty. No shackles.” Grace’s eyes widened slightly, hope briefly flitting through her eyes before swiftly disappearing.

“Aye, milady,” she whispered.

“Call me Merryn, Grace.” Merryn gave her the biggest smile she could manage, trying to assuage the girl’s fears. She stood, clenching her teeth so she wouldn’t wince as pain sliced up her leg, where she’d been kicked by a soldier who she’d then run through. Her attention was brought back to the girl sitting before her.

“T’was nice ta meet ye, Merryn.”

Merryn smiled down at the smiling girl, which made the brunette’s heart clench in profound sorrow once more. So similar.

“It was so nice te meet ye, lass,” she whispered, walking away.

“How do ‘ye feel, Angus?” The dark man turned from the window he stood before. The moonlight shone off the white cloth wrapped around his head.

“Survivin’,” he said, turning back to the window, looking out over Cayshire. Merryn walked up to stand next to him. “We did it.” He grinned at her, though his smile was broken.

“Aye.” Merryn glanced at him as she began to speak her mind. “What’tis yer plan, Angus?”

He sighed, shaking his head. Angus had been beaten down at Middleham. His wounds had almost killed him, and Merryn sensed a fear that had sprung inside him. A fire had been lit inside her.

Turning fully to him, she looked deeply into his eyes.

“Let us finish this thing, Angus,” she said, her voice strong, confident, eyes wide. “Let us take ‘t bastard.” Her voice gained strength with every word, every thought, every dream. “Angus, we could take it all! Dona ye see?” She waved her arm over the shire below. “These people, our people, Angus, depend on us.”

Angus sighed, dropping his eyes. He shook his head. “I’ve done what I came ta do, Merryn.” He refused to look at her. She shook her head.

“I dona believe that. Ye started this, yer heart is in this.” She smacked the windowsill before them. “Ye got scared tonight, didn’cha?”

He sighed, but said nothing, turning his attention back to the world beyond the window.

“Fine.” Merryn pushed away from the window, walking across half the expanse of the room. Jaw clenched, she turned back to him, her voice booming. “But I refuse to end this!”

Merryn head footfalls behind her as she slammed through the double doors that led to a small garden.  Staring up at the mono, she wanted to howl.

“Yer leg still bothering ye, is it?”

Merryn didn’t have to turn to know it was Evela who stood not three steps behind her.  She also didn’t answer.

“Perhaps it should be looked at?”

Merryn shook her head.  “Nay.”

“What troubles ye this night, Merryn?”

“’R all men so stubborn?” she looked over her shoulder at her friend, blue eyes narrowed.  They narrowed further when they saw the emerging smile on Evela’s lips.

“Never married, then?”

The brunette chuckled, shaking her head.

“Save fer perhaps…” Evela let her words drop away, no need to finish.  Merryn looked at her, surprise jumping to her eyes.  The soft smile she was receiving made her face ease from its pensive expression.  She sighed long and deep, turning from her friend to look out into the night once more.

“A miracle has happened, Evela,” she said, her voice soft and filled with the wonder she felt.

“And what is that?”

Merryn felt a soft touch on her shoulder, then she was slowly turned to face her friend.  Evela’s head fell slightly to the side as she saw the glimmer of emotion in those expressive, blue eyes.

“At ‘t castle,” Merryn began, “I saw someone, a young girl, who,” she swallowed, taking a deep breath to keep her emotions in check.  It was a losing battle.  “She looks just like her, Evela,” she whispered.  Evela said nothing, her hand dropping from the taller woman’s shoulder, caressing her upper arm.  A watery smile spread across full lips. “Grace.  Cara’s Grace lives.”

Evela didn’t understand, but could feel the mixture of Merryn’s tumultuous emotions oozing from every pore.

“Come here, Merryn.”  She eased the brunette’s head onto her shoulder, her own dark eyes closing as she rubbed gentle circles over Merryn’s back.

Merryn allowed herself to be held, her own arms wrapped around the small woman’s back.

“Cara spoke so of’en of her,” she said absently, finger licking against a loose string on Evela’s dress.

“Who is Grace?” the smaller brunette asked, her hand rising to gently caress Merryn’s dark hair, fingers running through the soft, cool strands.  She smiled at the soft sigh that evoked.

“Younger sister.  Cara thought she’d perished with her mother.”

“So what has ye so angry?”  Evela gently pulled away, just enough to look into blue eyes, caressing the soft skin of Merryn’s face with her thumb.

“Angus.”  Merryn ran her hands through her hair, wincing slightly as her fingers grazed a bruise that had to yet to heal.

“What of him?  What has he done?”  Evela saw Merryn’s rueful smile.

“’Tis what he won’t do.  Evela, he could lead these people.”  Merryn felt her heart beginning to pound with the passion this subject aroused.  She looked into dark eyes, patient and listening.  “Edward, he’s weak!  We could bring back the land, free these people.”  She swung her arm over the expanse of the garden.  “This country is bein’ ripped apart by sickness ‘n fear.  Edward has done not a thing, not but run away.  These people ‘r dyin’, Evela.”

Evela looked up into the passionate eyes and couldn’t help but feel inspired and moved.  Something inside told her that if the land was to be saved, it would be Merryn who could do it.

“And Angus?”

“Is afraid.”  Merryn sighed again, giving her back to the other woman.

“So make him unafraid, Merryn.  If anyone can, ‘tis you.”

Merryn looked at her friend once more brows drawn.  She saw nothing but honesty and affection in those dark eyes.  Evela smiled at her uncertainty.  She reached up and cupped the brunette’s cheek, thumb running along a prominent cheekbone.

“Be the leader ye were born at be, Merryn.”

Merryn closed her eyes, feeling a gentle tug on the back of her neck.  Her heart began to pound, blood racing as she felt warm breath on her face.  The soft touch of lips on her forehead made her sigh in contentment at the human touch.  How she missed being touched.

Opening her eyes, she looked at her friend, sharing a smile.

Merryn walked the long halls of Cayshire, her thoughts tumbling over each other, not one staying long enough to sort through.  She did have a destination in mind, however.  The smells and sounds told her long before she arrived that she was headed for the kitchen.

A swarm of women bounced around the small, stone room.  It was hot, steam wafting from two huge cauldrons placed over well built fires.  One woman stood near one such cauldron, bringing a wooden spoon to her lips, blowing across the broth she’d scooped from the simmering stew.

“’Tis not ready,” she announced, sticking the long-handled spoon back into the pot, using both hands to stir.

Merryn looked around, seeing a small group of women standing near the bread ovens, talking and tittering like young girls.  The brunette smirked, amused at their giggles.  She’d never understood such behavior.  One woman in particular caught her eyes, the dark ones quickly ducking.

Tamara quickly excused herself from the others, and wiping her hands on her skirts, headed over to the taller girl.

“C’n I ask ye a favor, lass?” Merryn asked, leading the timid woman to a small alcove.  Tamara nodded, meeting her eyes for just a moment.  “The young girl, Grace, brought from Middleham,” Tamara nodded in recognition.  “I want ye to sort of take ‘er under yer wing, lass.  Teach her what ye know, let ‘er help ye here in the kitchens.”

“Aye, Merryn.”

Merryn smiled with a nod of thanks.  Leaving the small brunette to join her friends, Merryn went out in search of some solitude.

Dropping her weapons in her room first, Merryn felt light, and somewhat naked, in her tunic, tights and boots and cloak draped over her arm.  She stopped into Tamara’s room before heading up to her favorite place.  It was late, and she was glad to see Paul had gone to sleep already.

Kneeling next to the large bed the boy shared with his mother, she brought the warm blankets up further, tucking them just under the boy’s chin.  Brushing dark locks back from his face, she leaned up, placing a soft kiss on his forehead.

Satisfied that the lad was warm and comfortable, Merryn headed up to the turret.  Wrapping the cloak over her shoulders, she shrugged into it, clasping it at her throat.  The cold night felt good against her skin, making her feel alive and attentive.

She couldn’t help but smile as she thought of recent events.  Never would she believe she’d find a purpose in life, other than basic survival.  And who would have thought it would involve so many, and such a wide scope?  Sometimes she still thought it madness.  Perhaps Angus was right.

Eyes closed, Merryn inhaled the refreshing, smoke scented air, allowing it to fill her lungs, and her being with peace.  Her body still hurt terribly fro the beating she’d taken at Middleham, and wasn’t even entirely healed from her row with Gerik.  She smiled, thinking of Paul.  He’d sat upon her lap, big, brown eyes studying her face.  He’d reached up a small hand, placing a light touch on every bruise and cut, wanting to know what had caused each.  Merryn had gone into a tale for each, satisfying the boy’s unending curiosity.

Cara would have loved the lad.  So inquisitive and smarts to spare.  He and Merryn had come to some sort of gesture understanding.  He would respond with movements in his hands, eyes, cocking of his head.  There wasn’t much that the brunette didn’t understand from the boy.

Grace.  Yet again Merryn’s mind flew off in an entirely new direction.  She saw the young girl earlier that day, so quiet.  She was nothing like her sister, who could talk to anyone, putting the angriest of men at east with just a smile.  Grace was shy and soft spoken.  Her eyes were guarded.  They were nothing like Cara’s, always so filled questions and wonder.  Their coloring was near exact, though.

Merryn thought of no greater gift she could offer to Cara, than to care for her beloved sister, making sure the girl was properly treated and happy.  She’d do everything in her power to make sure that happened.  Tamara was the right person for the job, that she knew.  Their temperament seemed to be somewhat similar, and Tamara didn’t have an intimidating bone in her small body.

Confident that all would be well with Grace, Merryn’s thoughts turned once again to Angus, and his sudden cowardice.  She wondered if he still stood at his window, looking out over the same night she, herself watched over.  What stopped him?  They were so close.  More than one hundred of the surviving soldiers from Middleham had joined them.  For those who did, they were allowed to help plunder Middleham, keeping their prize as their raise in pay.

For those who refused…  Merryn sighed, not wanting to think about that.  It had been regretful, but necessary in its brutality.  As it was, they’d be forced to face Edward’s finest, as this would not go unpunished.  It was now they needed to take this bull by the horns, turn the people against their king, gaining their favor and loyalty.  The nobles, as well.

“Blasted, Angus,” she hissed, slamming her scarred fist into the stone she rested on.  Once again she saw the terrified people running from those open cell doors.  Some were too frightened, and had to be coaxed to freedom.

When they’d left the castle, a small regiment of soldiers staying behind with some officers, the captives who had nothing to lose and everything to gain, had traveled with them.  Most were so grateful, they offered any and everything, any skill they had, any assistance  Merryn had been deeply touched by their gratitude.  Placement within Cayshire had been swift upon arrival.

That was three days ago.  Action was needed, and needed now.

Merryn nodded to herself, new determination making her stand a bit straighter, head held a little higher.  She’d talk with him again.  She had to.

Whistling with new purpose, Merryn tossed her breakfast into the air, snatching the apple as it fell before taking a healthy bite.  Her boots echoed through the stone halls with long, confident strides.  The sunlight of the cold, January day shone down upon her as she entered the Keep.

At the end of the yard, by the stables, she saw whom she was looking for.  Trotting across the expanse, she caught the reigns of the great, black horse.  The rider looked down at her.  She met his gaze head on.

“We need ta talk, Angus.”

The dark man sighed, looking out over the Keep, and those who hurried along with their daily duties.  Finally meeting demanding blue eyes, he sighed again.

“Fine.”

Merryn stepped back as he dismounted, his grunt of pain in such contrast to his usual, poised grace with a mount.  His black hair flopped over the white bindings around his head.

“Come.”

With long, loping strides, Merryn led Angus to the blacksmith’s shop, which was quiet.  Ezra and his men hadn’t started work yet.  She wanted somewhere quiet for them to talk.

Turning to the dark men before her, Merryn was almost giddy with what she had to say.  Once she’d gone to bed the night before, she’d lain in bed, her mind a whirlwind of thought and ideas.

Eyes bright, she began. “We’re gonna finish this, Angus.  Do it not, ‘n we die where we stand.”

“Meanin’?” he spread his legs wide, arms crossing his chest.

“Meanin’, do ye think Edward is gonna jus’ roll over dead when he hears Middleham has been sacked?”  Merryn saw Angus’ jaw clench briefly before he shook his head.  “We’ve strength in numbers, Angus.  Our army has doubled o’er night, the king’s own men joinin’ our fight.”

“Aye,” he was listening.

“I’ve got it all worked out in my head.”  Merryn took a breath as she got her thoughts in order, wanting to say it all just right.  Looking him in the eyes, she spoke in an even, calm voice.  “First, we use the nobles against ‘im…”

The two horses rode along the dirt path, dust and debris flying off the beating hooves.  Cloaks flew from the riders’ shoulders, the winter wind blowing them from hunched backs, the riders urging their mounts to ride faster, harder.

“… We give them a choice, lettin’ them decide their own fate…”

“Lord Robert expects you,” the guard said, his face impassive as he led the guests through the halls of the grand estate house, finally opening double doors.  Beyond lay an expensively appointed study with roaring fire at its core.  A massive oak desk sat near the back wall, the nobleman sitting behind it, head bent as he scribed with his quill.  Glancing up, he smiled at his guests.

“Welcome.”  He sat back in his chair, eyeing the man and woman before him, fingers steepled under a bearded chin.  “You sacked Middleham and wish for my cooperation.”

“… If they dona cooperate, …” Merryn raised a brow.

“Guard!” the young scribe ran from the room, ashen face a twisted mask of horror and stomach sickness.  The household was chaos itself as Lord Robert of Weshire was released from where he’d been pinned to the wall of his study, a bejeweled dagger pulled from his throat.

“… then we convince them.”

“You are wanting an army, yes?” the Barron of Middlesex asked, pacing before his guests.  He eyed them, knowing he was in the room with Satan, Himself.  But then again, he had been promised extensive lands, including that of his idiotic, and very dead  cousin, Robert, as well as more titles.  John stopped, a smile spreading across his pasty features.  “You have full use and loyalty, of course.”  Bowing at the waist, the Barron glanced at the woman, eyes twinkling as he took in her womanly curves.  Ignoring the sneer he got in return, he stood to his full height.  “Tell me what you need, and it shall be so.”

“… ‘n we will grow, Angus.”

The sun gleamed off the helms of thousands of soldiers, all bearing the colors of the rebels, the rising power of England.  The men stood in lines, row upon row of steel and pure human will.

Merryn flexed her fingers around the grip of her blade.  She held only one, the other hand holding her shield against her body, its heavy weight known to her flexed forearm.  She felt the comforting hang of her other blade against her hip

She felt the body heat of the men around her, could feel their anxiety and anticipation.  Across the field stood similar lines of soldiers wearing the colors of their king, Edward III, who watched, mounted on a steed.

Merryn could feel the blood pulsing at her temples, heart racing as her body twitched, muscles restless and ready to move.  Raising her sword, eyes still glued to the army across from her, she swallowed then shouted.

“Archers!”

The men at the rear were too far away for her to hear their answer to her calling, though she was able to hear the call of her officers as the request was shouted back through the ranks.

Lowering her arm sharply, she shouted again.  “Fire!”

Almost holding her breath at the sheer beauty of it all, a blanket of arrows caressed the skies, covering the overhead sun, like a black fog.  Her eyes scanned down to the soldiers across the way, watching them as they stared up to the Heavens, then brought up their own shields, arrows pounding into them, cries barely able to be heard through the thick, spring air.

Merryn raised her sword again, signaling the second wave of arrows.  Once again, English soldiers were brought down, others hiding behind their shields.

“… ‘n we will fight…”

“Charge!”  Merryn led the cry of her men, each surging forward, blade raised in aggression.  The clang of meeting steel was nearly deafening as the two sides collided.

“… ‘n we will win.”

Merryn felt a fresh wave of blood wash over her as she slit the soldier’s throat, not bothering to watch him fall before she raised her left blade, blocking a blow from behind, her leg reaching out in a flash to sweep the soldier off his feet.  Once he was down, she pounced, her blade easily slicing across his exposed throat, his male and plate armor useless.

Crying out in pain and surprise, Merryn turned, feeling the sting in her thigh, knowing the blood was soaking through the material of her pants.  She met her attacker head on, nearly frozen when she saw her own colors.  Perhaps he’d made a mistake, overtaken by battle lust, and attacked blindly?

Merryn quickly threw that idea out of her head when she saw the look in his eyes; murderous intent shone clear.  Rotten teeth bared, he struck again, his blow easily blocked by one of Merryn’s blades.

“There will be those who fight against us,” Angus said, his words slow and thoughtful.

“Aye.”  Merryn nodded. “’N those who betray.”

With a deafening cry of rage, Merryn pressed her blades together, whipping around, the double edge slicing clean.  Wide blue eyes watched in horrified fascination as his head toppled to the ground, rolling a few steps before rocking against the body of a fallen English soldier.

“We will overcome,” Merryn said, nodding at her own belief.  Angus smiled, holding out his hand.  The brunette quickly took it, unifying their shared goal and vision.

“Aye.  We will overcome.”

Eyes fixed firmly on the figure before her, Merryn grabbed the reigns of the horse, using the full force of her body to shove the soldier from the mount, and flinging her own body upon its back.  The horse whinnied and reared in surprise at it’s rough handling.  Getting the beast under control, Merryn kicked the animal hard in it’s flanks, following upon the heels of the pinto the king raced on.

“Ha!  Ha!”  Merryn cried, urging her mount on faster and faster.  Edward of England looked over his shoulder, eyes opening wide when he saw he was being chased down.  Merryn looked like a savage, her face bloody, hair flying behind her as she leaned dangerously over the animal’s neck.  Reaching out, she managed to take hold of the king’s cloak, yanking the man off his mount.  Throwing herself from her own horse, the brunette landed with a grunt, rolling to get out from under the galloping hooves.

Shaking herself out of her daze, Merryn saw the English ruler trying to get to his feet, his heavy armor keeping him down.  Throwing herself over to him, her leg too badly injured from her fall to get to her feet, she pinned him with her own body.

Edward tried to get to his feet, or at least turn to his back, but the brute upon his back would have none of it.  Merryn brought out a  dagger from her belt, and with little fanfare, grabbed the ruler by his hair, lifting his head.  A quick slice across his throat, and the king was gasping, blood gurgling from his fatal wound.

Raising herself from the monarch’s prone body, Merryn cried out as pain shot up through her leg and into her hip.  No matter, as she was overwhelmed by her soldiers, pulling her to her feet, then off of them as she was launched onto shoulders.

Merryn smiled huge as the deafening voices of victory filled her ears and heart.  A chant began, though was unintelligible for but a moment.  The brunette was surprised to hear what was being shouted all around her:

“Donal!  Donal!  Donal!”

PART 10

FULL GRIN, MERRYN jumped off her mount, heavy armor clanging as she hit the ground. Falling to her knees, she caught a very enthusiastic little boy as he ran into her arms. Relief washed over the brunette as she held Paul. When she'd said goodbye to him three days before, she had no idea if it was for good.

Giving him one last squeeze, she groaned as she got her feet, Paul hanging onto her hand. He was growing with leaps and bounds, seemingly right before Merryn's observant eyes.

"We are victorious!" Angus called, his voice echoing throughout the day, and answered by cheers of the soldiers, as well as those who now called Middleham Castle home. Some still stayed on at Cayshire, but Middleham was far more centrally located, and much better fortified than the crumbling structure by the sea.

Merryn walked over to Angus, standing with his hand firmly placed on the head of his cane. The dark man looked tired and weary. His health had begun to deteriorate since his wound at Middleham, and nearly incapacitating headaches and dizziness had kept him from the battlefield. He seemed to have aged overnight, and Merryn worried about him greatly.

With a smile, Merryn accepted his hug of congratulations. With a fond slap on the back, Angus presented her to the gathered crowds, nearby villagers filling all the gaps soldiers and household members didn't.

"'T King is dead!" he shouted, more cheers erupting, swords being thrust into the air with pumping arms of victory.

"Our Donal!" Baird called, eyes wide with the excitement and rush of such a victorious campaign.

Angus looked at Merryn, brows drawing. She met his gaze, her smile faltering at the look in his eyes. She knew he was deeply troubled by the new limitations of his physicality. She felt her heart drop as he swallowed, forcing a smile back to his face.

"Aye." He smiled, though it was tight. Nodding, he turned back to the crowd. "Donal! Leader and conqueror, though not sure if it be fer 't world." A round of amused and polite chuckles followed Angus' announcement. With one final smile, he turned from Merryn, walking away.

The brunette watched him go, sighing heavily. Suddenly her victory didn't seem quite so satisfying.

It was a time to celebrate, a time for new beginnings and for a new time of rule.

After helping her husband ready for the evening celebrations, Evela headed down to the kitchens. So much food had been prepared over the past several days. Basically since the war party had left. The dark woman had just prayed that it would not all be in vain. It was quietly agreed that were Merryn to fail, the food would be for a funeral celebrations.

The material of her dress billowing around her as she hurried down the stone stairs, Evela spoke quietly with a few household members, giving orders and directions. Guests would be arriving soon- local nobles, all having put their own necks on the chopping block. They hadn't realized they'd put all their faith in a woman, thinking instead that Angus ruled this roost. Evela smiled to herself. This was not the case, and most knew it.

The young girls around the land looked up to Merryn, a woman who had broken through tradition and expectation. The men either refused to see her sex, instead seeing the brave, capable warrior she was, or they hated her. The brunette feared this would always be so. Trouble brewed in the castle walls, she just wasn't sure from which direction it would ooze.

Everyone bustled about, wanting to make things perfect for the night's activities, as well as honor Merryn with the perfection. Because of her bravery, they were free people. The new rule was anxiously awaited.

The finest of the new kingdom had arrived, dressed in their finest. The music was lively and adding to the cheerful festivities. Evela helped to serve the guests, even as Ezra begged her to join him at the table. She knew how important it was to make a good impression this night, so refused his requests.

The gaiety of the evening continued, a local minstrel entertaining the masses. Merryn stood against a wall, watching the officers and men make the rounds, talking, laughing, dancing and enjoying themselves for the first time in many months. Tensions had been high, no one sure what to expect of such a battle, nor what Edward would do. His attack could come at any time.

She didn't know dark eyes were on her from across the room. Instead the brunette watched everything with slightly hooded eyes, and a smile gracing her lips.

Evela sipped from her mug of wine, finally deciding to enjoy herself. Everyone had dined, and it was time for merriment. She had even given in to a dance with Ezra, drinking her wine to help cool her body down from the exertions.

Glancing back at Merryn standing by herself, Evela's attention was met by movement. She saw a young girl, dressed in a gray robe, walking toward the blue-eyed woman, a single mug on her tray. Merryn saw the girl, setting her old mug on the tray, and taking the new. The girl bowed in deference at the tall woman, but as she walked away, Evela saw the girl glance over her shoulder, watching Merryn as she brought the mug to her lips.

A sickening chill flowed through the small brunette, and she felt her stomach clench. Nearly throwing her own mug at a very confused Ezra, she ran over to Merryn, trying with all her might to move her legs as quickly as possible.

The mug was nearly to Merryn's lips, the bitterness of the wine inside the cup just about to reach her tongue when the mug was suddenly sent flying, the red liquid splashing all over her and the wall behind her. Blue eyes rose to meet panicked brown.

Evela's chest was heaving as she fell to her knees, grabbing the mug in her hands. She brought it to her nose, sniffing tentatively at the contents that still stained the inside of the cup.

Stunned, but coming to quickly, Merryn fell to her knees beside her friend. She eyed the smaller woman, brows drawn.

"Poison," Evela said, her voice dark and quiet.

"Ye sure?" Merryn asked, taking the mug from her friend. The smaller brunette nodded as Merryn brought the mug to her own nose. She smelled the acrid smell right away, then stuck her finger into the mug, brining up tiny white granules on her fingertip. She studied them closely, eyes nearly crossing at the inspection. She could feel Evela's breath on her cheek as the woman got close, looking at her find.

"Who would do this?" she asked, glancing at the taller woman, who shook her head. Suddenly something occurred to her. Looking at the smaller friend, Merryn raised her hand to her mouth, then began to look around the room. They'd attracted a small crowd, but Ezra was trying to keep it at bay.

"What'tis it?" Evela asked, her voice dropping further. Blue eyes met her own.

"On 't battlefield, I was attacked." She sighed, running a hand through her hair. "By one 'o mine."

"Ye believe that is related ta this?" she held up the mug.

"Maybe."

"What 'tis this?" Ezra whispered, standing over them. His wife looked up into his eyes.

"Find the serving girl in a gray robe."

Merryn got to her feet as Ezra scurried off, grabbing one of his fellow blacksmiths before they left eh Great Hall. Turning to her friend, Merryn sighed.

"Thank you, lass. How did ye know?"

Evela shook her head. "Had a bad feelin', and when I saw the girl check ta see if you were indeed drinkin' what she brought ye," she shrugged. "felt wrong.

"Is there a problem?" John, Barron of Middlesex walked up to them. The smile never left his face, his hands clasped behind his back.

"All is well," Merryn said, her own smile not reaching her eyes. The man studied her, though said nothing. As Ezra returned with the girl, he walked away. Merryn followed his retreat, jaw clenching. Once the Barron disappeared within the crowd, blue eyes turned to the terrified girl. "Come."

Merryn held her emotions intact as she led the small precession through the Great Hall, away from the noise and celebrating. Pushing through the doors of the kitchen, Merryn turned, pinning the girl with piercing blue eyes. She decided to let the girl sweat, her dark eyes moving about, uncomfortable and afraid.

"Leave us," Merryn said finally, her voice quiet, deceptively soft. She heard the footfalls of Evela and Ezra, as well as kitchen staff, echoing out of the room. Alone with the tall brunette, the gir's pulse began to race, beads of sweat roiling down her back and slightly developed chest. "Sit, girl."

The girl quickly made her way to a stool, tucking her hands in her lap, legs pulled tightly together. She looked down, frightened of the anger in the amazing blue eyes of the woman she'd grown to admire and respect.

Taking a deep breath, knowing that the girl was not responsible for what could have happened, Merryn tried to calm herself. She stepped toward the young girl, who's name she believed was Ruth. The castle was so large, and its occupants so many, it was often hard to keep them straight.

"How did this happen, lass?" she asked at long last, forcing her breathing to remain calm and even. Instantly tears welled in dark brown eyes.

"'M so sorry, milady." The girl shook her head. "I knew not what 'twas in the cup!"

Merryn studied the girl, reading her eyes, seeing nothing but truth. She paced a few times, staring down at her boots before asking the next question. "Who gave ye the mug?"

"A dark man, milady." The tears began to flow down her cheeks in earnest now.

"What dark man?" She leaned in, her face close to that of the sobbing girl's, two finger under Ruth's chin. "What dark man?" she whispered again, feeling her blood beginning to boil. How dare he, whomever this dark man was, put this girl through this.

"The big man, milady," she whispered, her eyes finally meeting those of her questioner. Her gaze was huge, her fright turning from Merryn to the image in her head. "The big man with the mask!" she brought her hand up, covering the upper part of her face.

Merryn stood, gaze wandering off into her own thoughts. "Bastard," she whispered, then turned back to the girl. She forced a smile, bending down again. "Ye've done well, lass." Gently squeezing the girl's shoulder, she headed out of the room, taking the backstairs two at a time.

"What'tis this all about, Merryn?"

The brunette didn't turn at the sound of Angus' voice. She answered as she slid her swords home, making sure the buckle of her baldric was tight. "Gerik." She turned to look at him over her shoulder before tucking her daggers into her belt. "Ordered two assassins. One here, tonight, 't other on 't battlefield."

"What!?" Angus moved further into the room, his cane tapping lightly on the stone.

"Aye."

"Then we get 'im."

"Aye," Merryn said again. "He's here, Angus."

"Then we find 'im."

The clatter of armor and boots echoed through the empty halls of Middleham. Torch light bounced off stone walls, glazing the darkness with gold.

Shouts could be heard, rooms proclaimed clear, steps running up stairs, tapestries moved as curious eyes peered behind.

Merryn ran to the north tower, her boots thudding along the stairs, her hand on the pummel of the blade bouncing against her right hip. From the yard she'd seen a dim glow from the depths of the room. No one stayed in that room. Until now.

She stopped at the closed door, the crack underneath dark, though sulfur could be smelled, sulfur from a recently blown out candle. Resting her ear to the cool wood, she listened, eyes closed to allow her sense of hearing to flow out over the expanse beyond the door. Movement inside, close, just on the other side of the thick wood.

With a snarl, Merryn pushed the door open, hearing the satisfying grunt of surprise and thud of a body hitting the stone floor. Crashing into the room, the brunette felt around, her hands doing her seeing for her as she tried to orient herself.

A second before it hit her over the head, Merryn dove out of the way of something that whooshed through the air. She rolled to her feet, eyes wide as she tried to see through the inky darkness. The air in front of her nose was disturbed, causing her to jump back.

"I c'n hear yer heart poundin', ye Demon of Satan!" hissed a deep voice near the door. Merryn's snarl from earlier returned as hatred boiled through her body.

"Could only Satan survive yer cowardice?" she asked, moving around the tower room, keeping her footfalls silent. As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, she could see the outline of the hulking man, his head raised, trying desperately to hear what his ruined eyes could no longer see. "Havin' trouble seein' me, 'r ye?" she asked, brow raised in amusement. "Shall I light a torch fer ye, Gerik?"

With a snarl, the big man lunged at her with the thick stick in his hands, missing where she'd been standing by a breeze.

"Ye pay, ye bitch of Hell," he hissed, his voice low, guttural.

"Ye send a child ta do a man's job, Gerik. Then ye try on 't battlefield, eh?" Clicking her tongue, she shook her head, eyes never leaving his bulk. "Ye dona learn, ye daft bastard."

"I do learn from me mistakes," Gerik growled, his big feet moving him slowly around the room, his back grazing the wall as he went. "Kill ye this time, I will."

Merryn smirked, slowly drawing out her blades, Gerik's head tilting slightly at the sound of steel sliding against leather. His massive hands flexed on the end of the stick he held like a sword. He cursed quietly as he bumped into a small table, nearly sending it falling to the floor. The brunette wanted to laugh at his pathetic stance, but couldn't bring herself to do so. This man, a young, very capable lad, did not have to be such. He could have been a good, valuable member of her army. It was a waste of talent and a life, as Merryn knew one of them would lose their own this night. Gerik would not stop at any cost- this he had shown twice. His hatred and resentment of her femaleness blinded him more than his ruined eyes.

Merryn jumped out of the way as Gerik lunged, his stick swiping through the air with vicious intent, the end making solid contact with her hip, nearly batting her off her feet. The big man grinned, victory hissing through his teeth.

Knowing she needed to end this, Merryn leaned her body back, throwing out a long leg that caught Gerik under the chin. Startled, as well as propelled from the blow, he slammed back against the wall.

"Dona do this, Gerik," she panted, standing at the ready for anything he might dish out. "Ye can't win this."

"I'd rather die then watch ye and that fool ruin this country," he breathed, adjusting his jaw as he gained his feet.

Merryn felt a wave of anger rush through her at his words, no doubt the intent. Baring her teeth, she lashed out again with her boot, catching him at the temple. He stumbled back into the wall again, catching her boot before she was able to pull it away. The brunette cried out as her leg was twisted, her old injury yet again inflamed.

Quickly hobbling away before the big man could do any more damage, Merryn regrouped. She watched as Gerik wiped blood from the corner of his mouth, then threw his hair out of his face with the whip of his head. The rag tied around his head, covering his ruined eyes, was knocked slightly askew from her last kick.

Outside the closed door boots made their presence known.

"Stay out!" she called, ducking the swinging stick, Gerik using the opportunity of her calling out to find her. "'Tis between me 'n the giant." She ducked another blow, striking out again, using the pommel of her blade to catch him under the chin. She could hear the click of his teeth, then blood seeping out the corner of his mouth, Gerik biting his tongue. She felt as though they were playing with the other, cat and mouse at war. She didn't want to admit she was enjoying it.

Gerik's tongue slipped out of his split lips, licking some blood that dribbled to soak into the hair of his goatee.

"Ye could've been a great warrior," she whispered, a sudden sadness gripping her, though as he bared his missing teeth, lunging at her with renewed vigor and purpose, Merryn felt that sadness seep out with her sweat. He was obviously not playing anymore. "So be it," she breathed, grunting at the force in which she landed a kick to his knees. The big man cried out, legs buckling under him. The stick flew out of his hands as he hit the stone floor, his head bouncing slightly. Merryn was on him instantly, bringing her hand down, pummel landing a solid blow to his temple. With a final sigh, Gerik's head fell to the side, unmoving.

Panting, Merryn got off him, pulling the door open. Beyond stood a small band of soldiers, their faces glowing from the torches they held. She nodded toward the room behind her.

"Take 'im."

Merryn fingered the soft petals on the new, spring flowers. The moonlight made them silver, her fingertips caressing the precious glow. So soft, so gentle and beautiful.

The paths that wound through the gardens were clear and easy to follow. The greenery had been pruned to perfection, the fragrance an intoxicating mix of God's best perfumes.

"The night makes it magical, does it not?" Evela asked quietly as she walked along the path at Merryn's side. She saw her quiet companion nod in agreement, a small, white flower plucked and twisted in long, calloused fingers.

"'R ye goin'a attend the festivities tomorrow?" Merryn asked softly, bringing the flower up to her nose, inhaling the sweet fragrance. She heard a soft sigh from her smaller friend, glanced at her.

"I know not. Seems such a waste."

"Aye. That it'tis. He could've been valuable in this."

"What is 'this', Merryn?" Evela looked up at the brunette, her dark brows drawn.

Sighing, Merryn ran a hand through her hair, then chuckled at the grin she received after tucking the flower she'd nearly mutilated in Evela's hair. Sobering, she sighed once more.

"'Tis a new beginning," she said, her voice a whisper, filled with wistful hope. "'Tis a way to find our way back home."

"Is this yer home, Merryn?" she asked, glancing at her friend before returning her attention to the trees that lined the path.

"Aye, Evela, that it'tis." She smiled, though it was sad. "Never thought I'd have it again."

"Have what?"

"A home."

"Will ye tell Grace?" she asked, stopping their stroll to sit upon a carved stone bench. Merryn stood next to it, lifting her leg so her booted foot rested on the seat. She shook her head.

"Nay. The child thinks Cara is dead already. I need not give her 't false hope that her sister lived further."

Evela nodded her understanding. She had gotten to know the young girl well, and liked her quite a bit. The young blonde was quiet and thoughtful, a very good worker. Tamara was training the girl well.

"'T morrow should be an interesting day."

"Aye." Merryn nodded, dreading what the morning would bring. Sighing, she removed her foot from the bench. "Sleep well, lass." With that, she turned and headed back toward Middleham.

Merryn felt sick as she made her way out to the yard. The crowds were already gathered, news spreading quickly through the hamlet of Middleham. No one loved anything more than the spectacle of an execution. The builders had been up early, quickly constructing a gallows for the event.

She saw Angus, and he nodded, looking ever bit as uncomfortable as she. She stepped up to the dais where two chairs had been set up, front row seat to the event. Walking over to the dark man, she grimaced slightly as she took in the side of his head and face, back by his ear. The bandage was off for the first time, and she felt nauseous, knowing the disfiguration would be permanent.

"I cana believe 'tis come ta this," he said, shaking his head sadly. Merryn nodded, glancing over at the noose, ready for its first victim.

"Aye." Merryn nodded again, sighing. Looking back to her friend, she gave him a rueful smile. "Gerik must be made an example of." Angus nodded in agreement. "Let us get on with it."

Merryn walked to the front of the dais, raising her arms to gain the attention of those gathered. A hush began to spread through the crowd, all eyes focusing on her. When she saw she had everyone's complete attention, she began to speak.

"People of Middleham, hear me." She looked around, making eye contact with as many as she could. Her gaze was firm, yet troubled. "Ye've been under 't thumb of a tyrant fer many years," she paused, letting her words sink in. "No longer!" The crowd erupted in shrill cheers of hope and joy. She waited until they died down, then continued. "We've fought fer ye, bled fer ye, and died fer ye. Know this," Merryn held up a finger in warning. "We will not tolerate traitors!"

With that, the double doors that led into an anti-chamber opened, and two armed men escorted Gerik into the yard. The crowd grew quiet, all eyes on the large man, his head held high, hands bound in front of him. The cloth around his eyes had been removed, and Merryn winced at the sight of the shriveled sockets that were his eyes. Scar tissue criss-crossed the skin around them.

Booted feet clanked on the wood of the gallows as Gerik was moved into position. Turning back to the crowd, Merryn continued.

"This man would not follow a woman," she could feel fresh rage flowing through her. "yet he was too cowardly to lead himself. If ye have a problem with me, tell me now." Merryn's nostrils flared as she glared out over expectant faces, her hands balling into fists at her sides. No one spoke, nor breathed. They could feel her rage roiling over them in waves. At the continued silence, the brunette turned, walking back to her chair and sat. The guards took this as their cue to continue. One man fell to his haunches, quickly wrapping a rope around Gerik's ankles, pulling the knot tight.

Merryn couldn't take her eyes off the proceedings. She didn't feel guilt, but deep regret. Deep down she knew that this was good, to let the people know she was quite serious, but it still seemed so senseless.

Gerik's head was covered by a sack, the material pulsing with his breathing, which was quickening as fear was setting in. The noose was put over his head, and tightened, the thick knot just behind his left ear.

The noise level in the crowd was beginning to rise as excitement spread. The soldier's walked off the wooden plank floor, hurrying down the stairs, leaving just the executioner to carry out the sentence of the condemned man.

The man with long, dirty gray hair wrapped his hands around the thick lever for the trap door. He looked to the dais, waiting for the signal. Merryn took several deep breaths, then met the executioner in the eye. With a curt nod of her head, the lever was pulled back, releasing the doors. The crowd sent out a collective gasp as the large man fell through the large, square opening, the double doors flinging back and forth on their hinges. Gerik's body began to convulse, his tied legs wiggling, swinging his whole body like a fish out of water. His head was bent at a most fatal angle, slight gurgling sounds coming from the hood over his face.

Merryn made herself watch, feeling a punch in the pit of her stomach. It seemed hours the man struggled, but was merely moments. Finally his movements ceased, and Gerik's body swung uselessly. The castle physician made his way through the crowd over to him, checking for a pulse and any signs of life. Looking up at the dais, he shook his head.

"'T traitor is dead!" Angus exclaimed, the crowd roaring at the declaration. Merryn stood, walking across the dais and into the castle.

Principality of Novgorod

1360

Heavy boots pushed up clouds of dust in the hot, arid day. Unusual for that part of the world. Merryn ran a cloth across her forehead, mopping at the sweat that threatened to drip into her eyes. Glancing up at the sun, she could see it was pushing into late afternoon by its position in the sky.

"Donal!"

Turning to the path beyond the camp, she saw a rider approaching. Shielding her eyes from the sun's rays, she smiled and raised a hand in greeting.

"Ho, David." She walked toward the dismounting rider, reaching for the folded parchment he held. Unwrapping it, she quickly read over the lines, nodding with a sigh. Looking out over the camp, seeing her men taking care of their weapons, some eating or drinking. None stood around, nor slacked in any way. They were well trained, and filled their commander and Donal with pride that spread across her face briefly before being replaced by the severity of the situation at hand.

"Troops 'r movin' in through 't north." Merryn looked to the direction in question, sighing heavily. "Bastards."

"Do ye think there'll be a sneak attack, Donal?" The Donal's silence lasted so long, the soldier thought perhaps she hadn't heard his question. He cleared his throat, about to ask again when the tall brunette nodded.

"Aye." Her weathered face was lined, many years of sun, weather and battle scarring her more than skin deep.

The soldier, a loyal lifer, nodded. He knew what she would want and waited just a moment, as her unusual requests usually came within that span of time. When none were forthcoming, he hurried off to carry out her orders.

Merryn walked toward the sand dunes, the wind rustling up the dry grains, hitting her in the face, and making her squint against the onslaught. Resting her palm against the old friend that was her blade, she looked out over the dunes, seeing nothing but an expanse of sand and barren land. She knew her generals thought she was crazy for taking such land, but it meant expansion, as well as control of important trading posts. She had been steadily working her way across the map of Europe, claiming as she went. Her campaign in Germany complete, her army had marched south.

A small smile stretched sun-dried lips, white teeth blinding against darkly tanned skin. She had been gone from her seat in London for more than a year. Sometimes she forgot what home looked like. Her home had become a tent and her steed, Wilhelm. She often laughed when Angus called her 'Little Lionheart', in teasing from the kind of old, Richard. The French born king of England, who spent less than a year in his kingdom. The road and battles kept him away. She was the very same.

"At least I speak the language," she muttered. Brushing long strands of dark hair out of her face, she brushed again, as the hair immediately flew before her eyes. She thought of Angus, back at his estates near the castle, ruling in her absence. Many years he'd come to her, worry furrowing his dark brow.

"But 'tis yer people, Angus!" Merryn had argued, pacing. The dark man nodded.

"Aye. But they follow ye, Merryn. They look ta ye, no me. Donal." His eyes were twinkling when she glared at him. Seeing his good humor, she smiled in turn, looking down. "Ye've earned such a title, my friend." A large hand on her shoulder had stopped her movement. Meeting his eyes, she saw the affection in them.

"Rule with me, Angus," she said, voice quiet, yet firm. "Ye've got the diplomacy I have naught." She stared at him for long moments before finally he nodded.

"Alright then. But ye 'r 't Donal."

Angus had not fought since the last against Edward III. He had found his place in the office of politics, which Merryn happily left to him. She cared for her people, kept them fed and happy, but stayed out of the daily diplomacy. She made her kingdom grow, bringing prosperity to all she touched.

Merryn felt a pride spread through her that she had not allowed herself time for in many years. Her life had become one of the warrior. She led her men through blood and tears, their victorious cries a balm to a tattered soul. Merryn was happy, that she knew, and felt a contented satisfaction in the life she'd created for so many. Yet loneliness was an empty bedfellow.

As she made her way down the hill, she saw the face of the boy she'd adopted so long ago. Paul was a young man, now, nearly fifteen years in age with a lifetime of wisdom already. His dark eyes shone with such intelligence, his mind a sponge, never soaking in enough information or knowledge. A fighter, he would never be. Merryn had made sure he had the finest tutors and teachers, learning him in theology, science and the world around him. It had been quite the fight, as the Church saw science as the learnings of a heretic. After all, only their God created, and molded. Surely there was nothing to the sciences nor minds of man.

Rubbish, as far as Merryn was concerned. She wanted the boy to have the right to decide for himself. She missed him dearly, but tried to write to him as often as possible. It wasn't always easy to get a rider out to race back home and deliver her messages. She often had to wait until official business was sent out, a message for both Angus and her generals, and Paul.

"Donal, the men are ready." Lukas walked up to the brunette, matching her stride toward the Commander's tent. Merryn nodded in approval.

"I'll be joinin' them."

"Donal," the short, blonde man stopped, a hand coming to rest on her shoulder. Blue eyes met narrowed hazel. "Do ye think that is wise?"

Slightly annoyed, Merryn shifted her weight to one hip, hand resting on the other one. "'N why not?"

"Well, ye should rest fer the morrow's battle, is all." Lukas looked remarkably uncomfortable suddenly, and the brunette was amused.

"I see. Yer older than I am, Lukas." She smirked as a blush flared across his cheeks. Clearing his throat, he spoke.

"Thus why I wait here this night, Donal."

Merryn's head fell back, a hearty laugh erupting from her throat. Lukas looked at the Commander, a small smirk teasing the corner of his lips. With a slap to the back, Merryn headed to her tent to prepare for a long night.

Eyes closed, Merryn leaned back in the tub that had been brought to her tent. She had made it a standing rule that all soldiers must bathe at least three times a week. Most grumbled, but all conceded. The punishment for disobedience was not worth the annoyance of taking time to clean themselves.

Long, deeply tanned arms lined the edges of the round tub. The water just barely bobbed above firm, ghostly white breasts, the nipples the only dark part of her torso. Merryn's body had grown hard and defined from years of handling weapons and opponents, sometimes twice her size. A military career spanning half a score.

Bathing was one of the few times the brunette found any peace. No one was allowed in her tent or rooms while she bathed, no matter how serious the problem. She needed the time to regroup, relax and regain her sanity and clarity.

As blue eyes slowly slid open, she thought of what lay ahead. The fighters of Novgorod were known for their sneak attacks, small groups of soldiers were dispensed to infiltrate and assassinate. Not this time.

Water fell in noisy waves from the long, lean body that stepped from the tub. A soft robe waited for Merryn to step into, the thick material absorbing the excess water immediately. The brunette grabbed her long hair into a thick rope, squeezing and twisting the water out, falling back into the tub to bubble the surface of the water.

Slipping into her armor, a look of single minded determination slid across her features; a mask she knew and wore well. As she prepared herself physically, Merryn's mental state was shutting down, all thoughts locked away behind safe keeping until she was alone once more, victory unlocking the gates.

Buckling her baldric into place, twin blades, razor sharp, were slid home. The comforting weight at her hips helped to ease the brunette into that dark place she had to take herself before every battle. It was a place where no light could enter, no conscience, no care, save for that of her men. This was a place of ultimate sacrifice, where her own body and safety meant nothing next to theirs, and that of her people, loyal and acquired alike.

Hair pulled back into a tight knot atop her head, her helm was pulled down into place. Gauntlets tugged on, fingers flexed, she was ready.

The early morning was blessedly cool, a slight breeze washing over the small attack party. The camp of the enemy was not far now, just over the dunes. The small camp was dark, soldiers fast asleep. Gathered intelligence had told Merryn that the pre-attack was to happen the following morning, just before dawn. She could not let that happen. She would strike the head from the snake first.

Using hand gestures, she told her small party where they needed to be. A nod steel-covered heads told her that her commands were being heeded and followed to the very letter.

Merryn's vision through the slits in her helm told her that she was in the clear as she ran across an open valley, the dark outline of tents coming into view. Her blades left their sheathes with a satisfying hiss. She heard the similar hiss all around her.

Startled, Merryn threw herself behind a tent when she heard a barrage of battle cries coming from the dunes surrounding them. Eyes opening wide, she was horrified to see her men being cut down as the enemy poured in on all sides. The clash of steel was instant. She shrugged out of her surprise quickly, running full force into the fray, blades dancing.

The whistling of incoming arrows, caused men to fall around her, both her own and the Novgorod. Her attention was ripped from the volley of arrows by the sound of an attack coming from behind. She whirled around, her own breathing echoing through her ears in the cave of steel. Eyes wide, she met the blow with her left blade, kicking out with her right leg. The opponent was quick, whirling out of her way, then knocking her with a kick of his own, catching her in the armpit, and nearly knocking the wind out of her. She ignored the pain that san through her body, instead slicing with her right blade, hearing the satisfying howl of a deep cut. Her attacker wasn't finished with her, however. He swung with his saber, nicking her in the shoulder, the armor neatly absorbing the blow. Angry, she redoubled her efforts, her blades a blur of motion, confusing her opponent until he was trying to parry a thrust that had been there a breath ago. Finally Merryn felt the satisfying penetration of her blade making contact with pliant skin.

As soon as she pulled her sword free, she turned to the next man who dare cross her blades. Surprised to see him running, she bared her teeth as she ran after him, not wanting the cowardice bastard to escape.

This thought was no more out of her brain when Merryn was pitched off her feet. Landing on her side, she tried to get up, but cried out as pain bloomed through her chest, razor-sharp tentacles raced up into her left shoulder, and down her arm. Her hand convulsed, blade falling to the ground. She tried to raise herself to her knee when she was knocked down again. Breathing was becoming nearly impossible, the coppery taste of blood filling her mouth. Merryn began to choke, desperately grabbing at her helm with her right hand, tugging frantically until she felt the cool, night air run through her hair.

Crying out in agonizing pain that now leeched out through her chest and out into her body, which was suddenly being dragged from the battlefield by her arm. The soldier grunted loudly, desperate to get her to safety.

"Hold on, Donal. Almost there," he panted.

Merryn couldn't think, her mind taken over by the intensity of her pain. Her head bounced against a rock as she was drug, her eyes rolling back into her head as the jolt stole her breath. More wet heat flowed down her chin, gathering in her mouth, making her choke.

"Roll 'er over," someone hissed.

Merryn felt hands on her sides, her shoulder screaming out as she was rolled onto it, the blood in her mouth spilling out the side of her mouth, making her chin and cheek feel sticky.

Voices, mumbled and distant, the smell of earth under her nose, night's cooling breeze spreading over her suddenly naked skin. Words entered her ears, though made little sense- arrow … penetrated lung … Healer … ride hard!

Surrounded by white pain, clawed fingers reached into every fiber of her being. The brunette remembered a night fire and concerned brown eyes peering down at her. Her lids were opened one at a time, thick brows furrowed in concern.

Was that a hand on her breast?

"Must eat, Donal."

Merryn groaned as she was lifted from the liter she'd been strapped to. Her head lolled back, body limp and covered in sweat and dried and fresh blood. A constant groan oozed from her throat as she was carried inside, gently laid upon softness. Her brain was fuzzy, eyes unable to focus. She felt so hot, yet she shivered with a chill that made her body scream in agony. Raising a hand, she tried to touch the pain that webbed across her chest, but her hand raised not more than a small bit, too weak.

Merryn's world went black again, the pain slowly easing into the darkness, only to be replaced by the coolness of a cloth across her forehead. Words were murmured, though lost to the pain. Her lips moved uselessly, tongue filling the space, no words able to escape past.

Hovering. Someone was hovering. She could feel it. Crying out, a touch to her shoulder, stealing her breath and power to think. More hovering. A smile slowly spread, lopsided. Green eyes looked into her own, soft, filled with concern and love.

Those eyes. She knew those eyes. "I know you," she whispered, the smile sliding off her lips as her eyes lost their focus, darkness creeping in once more, stealing her pain.

"Sleep, Merryn. You must sleep now."

Merryn's brain raced, reaching for the soft touch, golden hair brushing into green eyes. Her eyes wide, she tried to focus, tried to reach out, grab her, touch her.

"Cara!" she cried, tears draining into her ears, her body convulsing with her pain and loss. "Don't leave me, Cara."

The hovering, cloaked figure was there again, always there, offering soft words and a healing touch.

Her breathing even, blue eyes blinked open, then shut again. Merryn took a deep breath, grimacing at the pain that caused. Easing the breath out, she opened her eyes again. Looking around the room, she realized she was in her own bed, the rich, dark wood posts and canopy. Glancing to her left, she saw a water basin, soaked rag hanging off the rim. Bottles and apothecary bowls of medicines and herbs littered the table. Moving her eyes around the large room, she saw the fire burning brightly in the corner, the wooden shutters closed tightly.

Her eyes made their way to the other side of her bed, near the door. Angus stood with George and a few of the house servants, speaking in hushed tones. One caught her eyes, cleared his throat. Angus tuned to look over his shoulder, a wide smile instantly upon his lips. He left the small group, moving quickly around the bed to her side.

"How do ye feel?" he asked, his voice soft. Merryn took a mental stock of her body, locating every single area that hurt or was sore.

"I'll live," she said, her voice broken and raspy.

"Aye. So I'twas said. Gave us a mighty scare, ye did."

Merryn smiled weakly, a light cough escaping her lips. This made her eyes squeeze shut as pain rocked her body again.

"Rest now, Merryn."

Nodding, the brunette closed her eyes. Just before she fell back to sleep, she heard Angus call for the Healer.

PART 11

A DEEP INTAKE OF breath brought Merryn back to the light of day- four days after she'd been brought to her bedchamber. Memories of her time on the battlefield quickly returned to her, and she moved slightly, testing the physical waters. She was sore, sharp pains stabbing at her shoulder and upper chest, but it was not excruciating as it had been.

Eyes slowly opening, she saw the huge chamber around her, the wooden canopy above her head. The sunlight outside the open windows tried to penetrate the stone cave of a room, but fell short. Lit candles and lamps tried to make up for the dimness. Looking down at herself, she saw that a soft, cotton gown had been placed over her long frame, though buttons down the front could be opened so her wounds could be tended to. She was clean, dry, and tightly bandaged, though she could feel a stiffness on her skin, where a healing paste of some sort had been spread.

"Healer, how is she?" Angus asked, his voice hushed. This brought curious blue eyes toward the door. She saw the dark man walking toward a cloaked figure, their back to the brunette. Soft voices breezed over Merryn's ears, the words 'Donal' and 'will survive' uttered time and again. With a nod, Angus turned, headed out of the room. Blue eyes turned toward the figure, who was now turning back toward the large table that had been set up, its surface covered in raw herbs, some bundled together. A pale hand reached out from the oversized sleeve of the cloak, taking a bowl, the other grabbing a neatly folded cloth.

Merryn watched as the figure turned, the deep shadows of the hood obscuring the face. She felt her heartbeat quicken as the bowl and rag were laid on the table next to the large bed she had lain in.

"How do ye feel, Yer Highness?" asked a soft voice, the sound melodious on the morning air. Merryn couldn't breathe, nor answer. She waited with baited breath, praying the healer would remove the hood that hid her face. The deep shadows under the hood were now facing the brunette. The pale hands reached up, strong fingers pushing the hood back, revealing short, golden hair, brushing against a forehead, soft brow, dark blonde brows slightly knitted, a wrinkle of concentration bunched between them. The nose was small, finely shaped, as were pale lips.

Merryn's breath and heart caught as green eyes were opened, meeting her own. The brunette felt the sting of tears behind her eyes, which took in the expanse of the beautiful face. She gasped softly at the slight scarring she saw littering the left side, leading down her neck, disappearing into the dark material of the full circle cloak she wore.

"'Twasn't a dream," she whispered, her voice hoarse.

"We must clean yer wounds, Sire." The blonde's voice was soft, yet stern. The green eyes flickered away, back to the medicines.

"Cara?" the healer did not respond, instead turned back to her, gently pushing the blankets aside, revealing Merryn's cotton-clad torso.

"I must unbutton yer gown, Yer Highness." Nimble fingers began to work on the buttons, slowly revealing badly bruised skin, disappearing into white bandages. Though there was pain, Merryn was unable to take her eyes from the woman before her.

The healer worked with gentle efficiency, her touch warm, her ministrations knowing and healing. Even so, her manner was aloof, detached. As Merryn looked up into the green eyes, filled with a calm wisdom that instantly put her at ease. Those eyes were so familiar, yet looked at her with nothing but the kindness her profession required. Golden hair was cut short, just brushing over small ears. The flickering of the candlelight next to the bed, drew the scarring into pitted shadows.

The Healer gently unwound the bandages, revealing creamy white flesh, dotted with bruising, cuts and finally the two wounds, made by the arrows of a good shot.

The Donal winced slightly as the rag, soaked in a cleaning solution, carefully moved across and inside her wounds.

Head sinking into the pillows beneath her, she closed her eyes, no longer able to stare at the woman who hovered over her. She pushed the pain away by thinking, disappearing into her mind and thoughts.

The Healer. Was Merryn losing her mind? Was her feverish state causing her to see something, or someone, that was not really there? Was her brush with death making her wish what could never be? If that were the case, then she'd rather they had let her die. The disappointment alone would kill her.

"This may hurt," the healer said, her fingers lining Merryn's wound with a thick, grainy paste. The brunette sucked in her breath, almost unable to breath. The blonde rested a comforting hand on a strong shoulder, also helping to keep the Donal flat on the bed. "'M sorry," the healer whispered. She took her fingers away, quickly dipping more of the paste, only to return, sealing the wound with the goop. She placed a clean bandage on the wound, then turned her attention to the other wound. "We'll be turnin' ye over, as well."

Merryn said nothing, just closed her eyes and allowed the soft touch to sink in to her skin, regardless of the pain those fingers were inflicting. Her mind was so foggy, her thoughts flying out of her body, almost as though she were watching from a safe distance out of her body. She saw the healer leaning over her, a small body wrapped in a dark cloak. Golden hair in stark contrast, the short strands sticking up in various places, bangs a bit too long, brushing into beautiful green eyes. She stood, finished cleaning and packing the second wound.

"Hold on ta me," the blonde said, her hands grabbing Merryn's waist, gently turning her. The brunette cried out softly as pain shot through her midsection. She felt the gown being taken off the rest of the way, leaving her back exposed, save for the exit wounds that were still packed from earlier. "I know it hurts."

Merryn closed her eyes, trying to get her breath. The healer stepped away from the bed for a moment, then was back. Fingers were suddenly placed at the brunette's mouth.

"Yer Highness, eat this." A sweet paste was put on Merryn's tongue. She recognized it as something Cara used to make. She knew she'd be asleep within moments. She also registered the slight salty taste- the blonde's skin. As she drifted off, her pain fading into the darkness, skin sensitized as she felt soft touches, heard soft words.

"Merryn …"

Blue eyes opened, an instant smile graced Merryn's face as she saw Cara looking down at her. The brunette was lying on her soft bed, the blonde lying next to her, holding her head up on her elbow. Soft green eyes looked down into her own. Cara's fingers were tenderly caressing Merryn's uninjured shoulder.

"Merryn," she said again. When she saw she had the brunette's full attention, her smile widened, eyes twinkling. "Ye once called me Mo Shearc." Merryn smiled at the term of endearment, nodded. "Am I still yer love?"

"Aye, lass." Merryn reached up, Cara's soft cheek coming into contact with her palm. "Always," she whispered. Merryn's eyes closed as she felt soft fingers brush the skin of a bared shoulder, breezing over her cheek, the backs running back down her neck. Merryn couldn't help but move her head to the side, exposing more of her neck for the soft fingers and gentle touch. A soft voice whispered in the air, Merryn straining to hear what was said. Sensitive ears finally picked it up.

"Why did ye leave me?"

Paul stood, stretched his arms far above his head, dark eyes squeezing tightly shut as the stretch flowed through his entire body. Shaking it off, he walked over to the massive fireplace that spanned one entire wall of the sleeping chamber. Poking at it, he sent the flames reaching again, the heat nearly searing his face as he stepped away. Like the woman he'd come to see as his guidance in all things, he preferred to do things himself. The young man never felt right about having a servant called for to do what he was more than capable of doing himself. He understood that a castle the size of this one needed much help to run it.

Glancing toward the huge bed, he saw the woman in question, still deeply asleep. Needing to be close to her, his fear running high since she'd been so gravely wounded more than a week ago, Paul had brought his studies into her bedchamber. All his books and writings were set out over the huge desk that his adopted mother used to make plans, when she was home, that is.

Merryn, which nobody called her anymore, had been claimed by the heart of the young boy many, many years ago. His own mother, Tamara, had died nearly six years ago now, bearing the child of a soldier. Both mother and child had been lost, regardless of what the castle's physician had tried to do.

Distraught, Paul had turned to the fiercely protective wing of the tall, blue-eyed leader. The boy had really been raised by the entire household, but no one could soothe him like Merryn could.

Walking over to his studies, the handsome boy looked down at his books, dark bangs falling into darker eyes.

The castle had been in absolute chaos when they'd received word that The Donal had been so seriously wounded. Yes, she'd been wounded in ways the boy couldn't even fathom over the years, but she was always able to be treated either on the battlefield, or at camp with the camp physician. This time, all knew it could be a mortal wound. There was only one that might be able to heal her, and that was The Healer.

The Healer was known throughout Europe. She had the touch of the divine, her skills bringing Jesus back from the cross, as had been said. No one knew who she was, or where she came from, just that she could work magic with her herbs and potions. Her quiet, soothing demeanor was almost as legendary as her healing skills. It was even said she had studied with famed French physician to Pope Clement VI, Guy de Chauliac. He admired her bravery, considering the Church and devout Catholics everywhere, often saw healers as charlatans. Only God, in all His wisdom, could truly heal. It wasn't uncommon for healers and physicians to be found guilty of witchery.

Paul glanced over his shoulder at the table loaded with those potions and bundles of herbs. Some he recognized, from the teachings of his adoptive mother over the years. He'd not spent much time with The Healer, but when he had watched her, on first arrival, he had been amazed. Her touch was amazingly gentle and sure. Though she said little, she had a core of calm within her that seeped into her patient, putting them at ease, and corking their fears. When she had spoken to his mother, the blonde's voice had been soft, almost reminding the boy of the running water in a stream- clear and calm, and highly refreshing to the wounded soul.

He could learn much from her. The Healer had been very patient with him, softly explaining what she was doing. Paul had been allowed to stay, as he helped to calm his mother, her cold, pale hand wrapped up in his own.

The young man looked over his shoulder as one side of the double doors was pushed open. The familiar dark cloak came into view as The Healer entered the room. Her hood was slightly pushed back from her face, leaving her features partially in shadow.

"Good afternoon," she said softly to the boy, walking over to the bed. Paul hurried over to her, smiling his greeting. He figured the blonde understood his inability to speak, but she said nothing of it. If she did speak with him, she either asked no questions he'd have to answer, or simply asked him to do tasks that he could respond to with the physical deed. Such as now. She turned to the lad. "Might'nt ye fill this?" she handed him a water bladder. With a big smile, he nodded and took the container from her, hurrying from the room.

The Healer turned back to the brunette, still asleep in the large bed. Her facial features were at peace, forehead free of lines of pain or worry. Dark brows, finely arched rested over pale lids, which fluttered slightly. The Donal must be dreaming.

The blankets were pulled back, revealing a new, dry gown. The wound had created fever, which in turn caused the garments to be soaked through with sweat often. When The Healer had checked her patient earlier in the morning, she had changed the gown, bundling the old to be washed by the castle clothing washers.

Nimble fingers made quick work of the many, tiny buttons of the simple cotton, deftly pulling the ends apart to reveal skin that was quickly becoming more of a natural color. The deep bruising had gone through its paces over the many days, turning every color of the bruise spectrum, now urine yellow.

Blue eyes began to roll restlessly, a dark head turning from its side. The Donal opened her eyes, seeing green, narrowed in concentration. Unobserved, Merryn was able to study the face of her healer. Slight lines spread from the corners of her eyes, as well as the wrinkle that gathered between her brows with her concern. The skin of the blonde's face was tanned, which Merryn figured was from sweeping the forests or private gardens for just the right herbs; growing them, nurturing them to healing perfection.

"Might I get up 'n about today?" the brunette asked, bringing green eyes up to meet her own. The eyes were aged a thousand years. After a moment, The Healer nodded.

"For a bit."

The brunette was eternally grateful. She was becoming restless, allowed through as the pain had subsided substantially. Now she felt sore, as though she'd been drug behind a horse for a couple days.

The door opened, and an instant smile spread across The Donal's face as Paul entered the room, a fat water bladder in his hands. The blonde quickly covered Merryn's breasts as the boy stepped over to the bed. She smiled a thank you to the lad, taking the water and creating her mixture in the apothecary bowl with the marble grinder.

The brunette held out a hand to her son, which was quickly taken. Blue eyes watched carefully as Paul told her all about his day, and what he'd been doing, and his studies of the ancient Egyptians and their marvelous structures. His hands were a blur in his excitement.

The blonde glanced over at the boy from time to time, trying to figure out what he was explaining. She was at a loss, though The Donal seemed enthralled. Soon she turned her full attention back to her patient, grateful that the young man was keeping her attention. The blonde did her best to keep her patient's dignity, but when she tended to the wound near her lung, she had no choice but to expose the Donal's right breast.

The wounds were healing nicely, both healing from the inside, the skin stitching together. The Healer knew it was painful for her patient, sharp pains shooting through the wounds as the flesh knitted back together, blood vessels healing themselves, and becoming whole once more.

Soon her job would be complete, and she could leave.

The Donal held her breath as she buckled her baldric into place. Whimpering, she quickly tore the thing from her body. Even without the weight of her blades, the leather strap was too much across her shoulder and chest.

Taking several deep breaths, she ran her hands through her hair, attempting to gain her composure once more.

"Ye do too much, Merryn."

The brunette glanced into the mirror, seeing Evela's reflection walking up behind her, dark brows drawn. Her friend and confidante was the only one in the entire kingdom who still called her by her given name. Everyone else, including her top officers and Angus, had gotten so used to Donal, that it had stuck.

The brunette grunted her response, impatient and irritated at her body's limitations. She hated limitations, and refused to allow her men or people to live by them, so why should she?

With a knowing smile, Evela helped her to finish dressing. The household had prepared a dinner in her honor, and the entire castle, and all those living at court, was buzzing with excitement and relief.

"Ye look troubled," the smaller woman said, her voice quiet. She looked into blue eyes over Merryn's left shoulder.

"'Tis nothing." The Donal walked away, grabbing a thick, leather belt that was belted over her jerkin, her dress dagger tucked inside. She felt naked without a weapon, even in her own home. Many years ago Gerik had taught her that she was never truly safe.

"Ye lie."

Merryn caught the dark, amused gaze. With a sigh, she turned her back to her friend, unable to look at her for what she needed to say. She felt she'd lost her own mind as it was, and didn't need to see the pity on Evela's face.

"'T Healer."

"What of her?"

Donal grinned ruefully. "Ye'll think I've gone mad." When she got no response, she continued. "My heart tells me 'tis Cara, yet," she sat heavily on a large, high-backed chair. "she seems ta not know me." Burying her face in her hands, her head fell. She felt even more mad for saying it aloud. It was not possible!

A soft touch was felt on her arm. Evela knelt next to the chair, gently pulling her friend's hands from her face.

"Merryn," she said, her voice a near whisper, just as the brunette's had been. They sounded so small in the huge room. "What tells ye this? Is this how Cara looked?"

"Aye. But," blue eyes narrowed in thought, "different." She shook her head, trying to figure out just what exactly she meant. "She has changed, aye," she nodded, "yet I feel it. I cannot explain it."

Evela studied the taller woman for long moments, then smiled. "Yer soul feels this, Merryn. But was she not dead?"

Donal sighed, shoulders sagging. She looked at the brunette, shaking her head. "I know not. What I thought. Lord knows I've been grievin' fer the past ten years." With that, she stood, mentally readying herself for what she knew would be an exhausting night.

Evela walked beside the Donal as she entered the Great Hall. As soon as she was spotted, thunderous applause rocked the great room. A bit surprised, the ruler tried to take it with as much grace and aplomb as she could. She stopped, holding her arms out at her sides, looking at everyone, letting them know she was alive and well. As the cheers and applause died down, Merryn moved to speak.

"'Tis nice ta be up 'n about." She smiled, getting nods and applause of approval. "I have so many ta thank, who are not here, but fight for our kingdom. Thank ye all fer bein' patient with me. I know 'm no 't best patient in't world." This got a full out grin from her, and boisterous laughter from the court. "However," she paused, looking for the one person she wished to personally thank. As though it was understood room-wide, a path began to part, slowly revealing a lone figure, dressed in a gown of emerald, made from the finest materials the kingdom of England had to offer.

The Donal was taken off guard, so beautiful was her healer. She took a step down from the dais she'd been standing on, her boots echoing on the stone floor. All eyes followed her progress as she made her way through the parted sea of well wishers, stopping before the blonde.

Hair freshly washed and glowing in the hundreds of lit torches and fireplaces throughout the room. Jewels dangled from her lobes, and winked from a perfect throat. Gone was the heavy, dark cloak.

Looking into her eyes, the green color stunning the brunette anew. The eyes were so different, not the open, loving eyes Merryn had once known. These eyes were guarded, allowing no feeling to show. They were alive, yet dead.

It took all Merryn had to not grab her, hold her close, see if her heart could piece this mystery out for her. She felt so confused and deeply sad. Pushing all these thoughts from her mind, she lowered her head, grunting slightly as she fell to one knee.

"My deepest gratitude, great Healer."

It only took a moment before the entire room followed suit, every person bowing before the blonde, who looked on with wide eyes, at a loss of what to do. Glancing up, the brunette found herself looking into two glistening green eyes. The emotion was quickly gone, replaced by the wall that lay beyond the brilliant color.

"Please arise, Yer Highness," she whispered, looking slightly embarrassed. The Donal found her feet, reaching out to take a small, pale hand between her two larger, deeply tanned and calloused ones.

"Thank ye," she whispered back, trying so desperately to grab the blonde's full attention. The green eyes would only look into her own for a breath before they were bouncing around. The blonde nodded, but said nothing.

Dinner was served, the Great Hall filled with echoes of laughter and conversation. The music was quickly overshadowed by the gaiety. The entire night, Merryn was swarmed by people, not getting a moment to herself. Even still, her eyes tried to follow the Healer around, her heart aching. She wanted so badly to run over to the blonde and take her into her arms, never letting her go. Even if it wasn't her Cara, but fate's cruel joke, the small woman brought her love back, if even just for a moment.

"Has been quite 't day, eh?"

The Donal looked to see Angus standing next to her, hands tucked behind his back. He gave her a side glance, dark eyes sparkling. She nodded with a smile.

"Aye. Glad te be up." She rolled her eyes, making Angus chuckle.

"Aye. 'Tis bout time ye did yer job." They both laughed, mostly out of final relief. Angus soon grew sober. Thick brows drew. "We thought we'd lost ye, Donal. Ye'd lost so much blood," he shook his head at the memory. Paul, himself had ridden out at breakneck speed, despite his lack of equine grace, desperate to get to the hospice the Healer ran in Kendal. He'd nearly collapsed in her arms as he handed her the frantic message.

"What of this healer?" Merryn asked, catching a brief sight of the blonde, a gracious smile upon her lips as she spoke with a member of court.

"She's known throughout 't land. It's been said she was touched by God, Himself, His healing grace in her fingertips." The dark man glanced at his long-time friend. "So it shows."

The brunette nodded. "Aye. Indeed it does." It didn't seem Angus recognized the blonde, which set even more doubt worming through the Donal's mind. Maybe she was mistaken. Perhaps it was trick of the light, coincidence, and purity of hope and desire unfulfilled. With a sigh, she realized just how exhausted she really was. It had, indeed, been a long night.

The announcement was made, wish of a good night's rest, and soon the brunette was back in her rooms. She was sore and out of breath. It hurt like hell to bend over and remove her boots. Getting one to finally let go, she tossed it to the floor before laying back against the bed, panting, eyes squeezed shut at the pain that threaded its way through her insides. Taking several deep breaths, she was about to pull herself back up to sit at the edge of the bed, ready to tug off the other boot.

"Allow me, Yer Highness."

Blue eyes popped open, surprised to see the Healer kneeling before her, taking the heavy boot between pale hands.

"Ye mustn't pull yer wounds open once again," she said softly, tugging at length, the boot sliding off, and hitting the floor with a thud. Merryn could not speak. She felt as weak as the kittens that ran free throughout the castle. She felt herself being gently pulled up off the bed, only to be guided back down, her head coming to rest on the soft pillows. Her nose took in the smell of fresh linens.

Blue eyes opened, taking in the sight of the blonde in her beautiful dress, her hair slightly mussed from the exertion of pulling her boots off, then cradling the brunette's precarious steps further up the massive bed. It seemed as though the healer was avoiding eye contact. As she was efficiently being disrobed, the brunette spoke, her voice soft, near a whisper, tongue thickened from the large quantity of ale she'd drank.

"Where've ye been?" Green eyes glanced up, meeting hers for but a moment.

"With yer guests, Yer Highness."

"Nay," the Donal whispered, her voice vulnerable with emotion. "I thought ye were-," she swallowed, unable to say the words. "Where've ye been."

"I've been healin'," the blonde whispered back, eyes refusing to meet blue. "I am 't Healer, after all." Her smile was sardonic.

Her fingers made quick work of the brunette's clothing, though Merryn was surprised when she heard a soft gasp. Looking into the blonde's face, she glanced down at herself, feeling the cool metal of the gold coin around her neck. She had put it back on while getting ready for the festivities. It had been removed when she'd arrived back at the castle, and she never went without it.

The healer quickly turned to the brunette's belt, removing the dagger, setting them aside, and working on tight breeches.

"I'tis fer luck," Merryn said quietly, fingers reaching up to touch the coin. This bout with death had been the only time it had left her neck since she'd put it on so many years before. The blonde said nothing, instead helping the Donal into another gown, fingers trembling as she buttoned the garment. The brunette continued. "I never take it off."

"Take this," the blonde ordered, her voice cold and harsh. Surprised, the brunette took the white, compacted powder from the blonde's fingers, swallowing with the water given her. "Ye need ta rest now." The healer turned away, though her words had cracked. Gathering her skirts, the blonde hurried from the chamber.

Merryn smiled, a soft sigh escaping through closed lips as her head tilted to the side. Soft lips brushed her throat, moving to the side of her neck, by hear ear. She could feel warm breath against her ear, then a wet tongue lapping at the lobe.

Sighing again, her hands raised to rest on the warm skin of the naked back that lay upon her. Her fingers could feel the movement of muscle and spine as her love pushed herself up further, dragging her body more fully upon that of the brunette. Merryn's head turned, blindly seeking the mouth of her lover, which she quickly found. Her lips were as soft as Merryn remembered, her taste all her own. A soft tongue brushed against her own, the warmth of the body atop of the brunette's making her own flare to life.

She heard a soft voice murmur against her mouth, a soft pleading to be loved and touched. Merryn felt her gown being slowly unbuttoned, soft, warm fingers exploring the exposed skin as they went. She gasped loudly as a palm found her breast, her nipple immediately growing into the touch.

Soft lips and tongue moved down over her neck, a burning trail being left in their wake until finally they wrapped around the nipple, sucking it into the warmth. Merryn felt her entire body erupt in flames, a pulsing beginning in her lower belly, spreading throughout her body.

Blue eyes flew open as a gasp left her mouth. The brunette's body convulsed, then continued to pulse as small aftershocks hit her repeatedly. For a moment she was baffled, but then a memory, long dead, grew new life as her body began to calm. Slowly pushing herself to a sitting position, only wincing slightly, the Donal's hand made its way to her heart, which was pounding rapidly. The pleasures of the body had been something she had thrown from her mind or option. After Cara, there was no one else- couldn't be.

Pulling herself out of the bed, she shivered again as the movement caused a tightening in her sex. Somewhat confused, and somewhat amused, she peeled her completely saturated undergarments down her long legs, picking them up and tossing them into the fire. It wouldn't do to have the household know the Donal was having nocturnal adventures. A castle was the best place for information. Of any kind.

Deciding that the chill in the stone walls, despite the roaring fire, which a servant would keep burning throughout the night, would be best to ease the ache and tension. Padding over to the window, she opened one side of the shutters, early dawn greeting her. The frigid air coming in kissed the skin of her still heated face. Eyes closing, she reveled in the feel.

Knowing that the healer would soon be with her to change her bandages, Merryn walked over to her wardrobe, opening the massive doors. Tugging on a fresh pair of undergarments, she headed over to the fire, stoking it.

She had no idea how she could face the blonde. After her reaction to seeing the coin that had been fashioned into a necklace, the Donal was positive it was Cara. Someone once said the heart doesn't lie, and hers was screaming for what was lost. The recognition had been instant and fierce. Why doesn't Cara see it? She had to make her see it, make her remember.

The brunette's heart was heavy as she walked to the table where Cara had worked, her herbs and medicines once spread across it. Doing a double take, Merryn realized the table was now empty. Gone were the apothecary bowls and grinders, bundles of herbs, fresh and dried. Gone was the flask of white wine used as a mixer. Gone was any hint of the Healer.

The servant nearly dropped her tray when the double doors slammed open, the space filled with a frantic ruler.

"Donal!" she gasped, heart jumping to her throat. Wild blue eyes focused on her.

"Thea!" Merryn breathed, taking the young girl by the shoulders. "Where's 't Healer?"

"Shh, she left, Donal."

"What?! Where? When?"

The girl tried to draw back from the intense gaze and harsh touch. She was held fast. "I know naught, Donal. Lady Evela asked me ta bring ye this, and tell ye she'd be up ta tend ta ye." The girl's almost dropped the tray of breakfast, the quickly hands of the wild brunette catching it first, shoving it back into the girl's arms.

Without another word, Merryn ran past the trembling girl, calling out Evela's name.

The Donal ignored everyone she passed, save for a quick glance to see if they were her friend. Her heavy boots thudded against the stone, her fingers reaching down to tie the laces of her breeches as she ran, her tunic flapping against the backs of her upper thighs in the commotion of movement.

Nearly skidding to a stop, the brunette caught a glimpse of white hair, and pushed through the door that led to the kitchens. There she found Evela, turning to look at her, stunned dark eyes wide. Merryn was nearly out of breath, her lungs screaming at her, not fully healed. Holding up a finger, she caught her breath, then spoke.

"Where is she?"

"Who?"

"The healer!" Eyes wide in emphasis, the Donal was about to continue when she saw green eyes studying her. Turning, she spotted Grace, mid-pour, the heavy jug of cream held steadily in her hand. Still taking deep breaths to get herself under control, she walked over to the young woman, so beautiful. Her long, golden hair was piled up atop her head to keep it out of her eyes. With a kind and tender smile, she caressed the girl's cheek. Grace smiled with utter trust.

"'Tis so good ye are alright," she said, her voice so soft, much like her sister's.

"Aye. 'N how is 't little one?" Merryn asked, placing her hand over the hard ball beneath the girl's dress. Smiling wide, the kitchen girl covered the larger hand with her own

"Soon, Donal."

"Aye. I will make sure David is home in time."

"Thank ye, Donal."

Turning back to Evela, completely calm now, she asked again. "Where is the healer, Evela? I must know."

"She's gone, Merryn," the smaller woman said, her voice soft, filled with sorrow.

"But why?" Donal was surprised to feel a lump forming in her throat as she asked the question. Her heart was shattering all over again. Evela shook her head.

"I know naught, Merryn."

The brunette's head fell. Glancing over at a very concerned looking Grace, the girl's hand instinctively resting upon her protruding belly in protection, blue eyes fell on Evela again. Resolve firm, she shook her head.

"Nay. I cannot let her go again." Storming from the kitchen, she headed toward the Keep. "Saddle my horse!" she called out. Heading back inside, she hurried to her bedchambers to grab her cloak and weapons.

"Donal!" George ran up behind her, trying to catch her before she disappeared inside. The ruler turned, boring fierce blue eyes into her long-time friend.

"Not the now, George," she hissed, about to turn away again. He caught her arm.

"What are ye doin', Donal? Ye can't be off riding' in yer condition."

"I have to, George. I cannot let her get away again."

"Who?"

"Cara!"

"What?" Confused, the man shook his head. "I thought-"

"Cara is the healer! She's alive!" she exclaimed, taking the man by the arms, eyes wide for emphasis. "I have ta find her."

The girl had left on foot, so there was no way she'd gotten terribly far. Certainly not far enough that a small army on horseback couldn't find her.

It had been a fight, including half her army, but there was no way Donal was going to sit back and wait for Cara to be found.

She did promise to take it easy, and searched the closer villages and towns while the rest of the men traveled further. Each small group carried a horn, and were to alert the others when something had been found. One such horn was sounded, its deep resonating sound rocking the day.

Donal pulled the reigns of her mount, clicking her tongue against her teeth as she got the beast turned toward it. Towns people were coming out of their homes, unaccustomed to seeing their ruler in their town, certainly looking less than regal as she searched frantically for the blonde healer.

Her body was screaming every time the horse's hooves pounded the ground beneath her, but the brunette shut it out of her mind. It didn't matter as she raced toward the small hamlet where the horn had been sounded.

As she got closer, she heard loud commotion and yelling. Perfect chaos. Riding through the main street in the town, she saw the men of her search party were in the fray, pushing and shoving, trying to get to the core of the trouble. Seeing the glint of golden hair, without thought, Donal pulled her mount to a stop and jumped down, jarring her entire frame, still weak from recovery. Shoving through the crowds, which were parting like Moses' sea, as realization dawned on the villagers. Soft murmurs died down to deathly silence. At the center of the violent chaos was a huddle figure, dressed in a black cloak.

"Cara," she breathed, running over to her. Using the most gentle touch she could, she knelt down next to the trembling woman. Cara's face was buried in her arms, where she'd been trying to protect herself from the incensed townspeople. A few of the stones that had been thrown at her still littered the ground around their feet. Using two fingers, she lifted the blonde's face. Merryn nearly cried out when she saw the blood seeping from a gash on the side of her face, bruises already appearing. She had no idea what shape the rest of her body was in.

Taking several deep breaths, she pulled the blonde into her arms. Cara went willingly, her forehead resting against the brunette's shoulder.

"Can ye stand?" Donal asked softly. At the nod she got, she got them both to their feet. It was wild, fierce eyes that looked out at the crowd. "What 'tis 't matter with you?" she growled, daring anyone to look her in the eye.

"She's a witch!" someone yelled out, too cowardly to show his face.

"A witch, ye say?" she bellowed, holding the healer close. "She saved my life!" She looked around, satisfied as heads bowed in shame, eyes looking anywhere but at her. Donal began to lead the healer toward her horse, her men standing sentinel to make sure no one did anything stupid. More of her troops were arriving. "Up ye go." With gentle hands, the brunette got the blonde settled on the horse. Before mounting behind, Merryn turned back to her people. "Ye should be ashamed. Each one 'o ye!" Once sitting behind the blonde, a protective arm wrapped around her, she parted with one last exclamation. "Since when does God tell ye ta hate?"

Donal got the party turned around, holding the blonde close to her, headed home. She could feel the slight body against her own, and she couldn't help but inhale the scent of short, blonde hair, so close to her face. The way the sun glinted off the golden strands, the wind of movement blowing them away from Cara's head.

A wave crashed over the brunette so strong that it nearly physically knocked her backward. She felt a click, all the broken pieces of who she had become fell into place, the parts of her soul sliding together, bonding and knitting. There would forever be a scar at the joining of the halves, but by God, she was home!

She felt Cara relax against her, even the softest touch of a hand over one of hers, resting against the blonde's stomach. The touch was brief, then it was gone.

"Ye shouldn't be ridin'," she said, her voice quiet, but still able to rise above the pounding below them.

"I had ta find ye," the brunette said in her ear, closing her eyes as her cheek brushed briefly against soft hair. Cara said nothing, just rested her head back against a sturdy shoulder.

Donal breathed out in relief as she laid her bundle carefully down upon the soft bed, careful not to jar her too much. Green eyes looked up at her, but said nothing.

Straightening, Merryn moved out of the way as Evela leaned in, adjusting the pillows behind the blonde head. The smaller brunette gave the healer the softest, most genuine smile she had. Cara returned it, though looked away a bit overwhelmed by the intense kindness. That was one quality that had always drawn Merryn to the smaller woman.

"We must check ye," Evela said, her voice as soft as her smile. The blonde nodded.

"I do not think anythin's broken," Cara assured, but allowed her cloak to be removed. Beneath it she wore a very simple dress, light blue, the material thin, worn."

"Evela," Merryn stopped her movements with a hand resting atop hers. The smaller woman was about to remove the dress. Dark eyes looked into her own. "Please let me do this." After a moment, Evela smiled sweetly, and backed away.

"I'll just get some things to wash her."

"Get her a gown, Evela!" the brunette called to the retreating figure. Turning back to the blonde, she brushed a couple blonde strands out of her eyes. Cara looked into her eyes, then looked away. "Sit up, lass," Donal whispered, the blonde complied. She gathered up the material of the light blue dress, tugged it over her head. Pale skin became visible, flawless and smooth. Blue eyes gave Cara her dignity, concentrating fully on what she was doing, trying to help the small healer.

Donal removed the girl's turnshoes, laying them gently on the floor near the bed. Turning back toward the bed, she saw the healer's back, the blonde slightly bent over her drawn knees, hugging herself. Blue eyes took in the creamy skin, but then dark brows drew at the bruises that were littered up and down the woman's back. About to ask if they hurt, her question froze in her throat.

Donal sat on the edge of the bed, slowly, as though in a daze. Her eyes were riveted to the skin of Cara's upper back, to the left of her shoulder blade…

Her eyes opened wide, hands freezing as she lifted the blanket. Tossing the covering aside, she gently turned Cara to her side. "No," she breathed. White pustules and lesions littered Cara's upper back, near her left shoulder.

Merryn sat back on her haunches, stunned and unable to look away. She felt her heart seize in her chest. What was she to do about this? She knew nothing to cure it.

Swallowing, she felt her eyes sting as her fingers reached out, touching the scarred skin with the barest touch. At the first touch, Cara stiffened, then quickly moved away, turning angry green eyes on her. Shocked by the sudden move, Donal looked into her eyes, fingers closing as she dropped her hand. About to speak, she turned when she heard Evela enter the room, a gown slung over her arm and supplies in her hands.

The smaller brunette looked from one to the other, saying nothing as she set everything down on a small table that she drug over to the bed. Soon after, two young men entered with extra kindling and wood, making short work of creating a roaring fire in the fireplace, then quickly leaving, only to be replaced by three more young men carrying in a large, wooden tub. Setting it down, they scurried out only to return with bucket upon bucket of steaming water.

The three women watched in amazed silence, the boys so thorough and efficient. Soon, however, Evela turned back to the blonde, gently pushing Merryn away. The smaller brunette had the feeling that perhaps the Donal's touch wasn't quite appreciated at the moment. Checking the healer over, she was relieved to see all the wounds were superficial, and would leave the blonde very sore and slow moving for the next week, but no permanent damage had been done. She noticed the scarring on the girl's back immediately, and felt her stomach fall. She knew that kind of scarring- just maybe Merryn was right. Could this be Cara?

"Let me help ye, child," she said, her voice soft as she helped the healer to her feet, and over to the steaming tub. Donal stood aside, her hands trembling as she tried to wrap her mind around all of this. She truly had no idea how to handle all the emotions streaming through her- from intense and profound to grief, to intense and profound relief. Back to grief. Her confusion intense and profound.

"Merryn," she heard the soft voice, watery eyes look up into understand brown. "Come." Nodding toward the blonde, who had sank into the waters, Evela led the Donal from the room.

Once the doors were closed tightly behind them, Evela turned to the taller brunette, taking her in a soft, soothing embrace. Dark eyes closed as she felt the pain of her friend coming off her in waves, seeping into Evela's own soul. She said nothing, no words necessary. She knew Merryn wasn't crying, but was trying to silently give her permission to. The leader had been through so much over the weeks.

With soft circles drawn upon her back, Donal allows herself to be held and comforted. The soft warmth of her friend helped her to relax, her head resting against Evela's shoulder, arms hanging limply at her side.

"Come, Merryn. Let us get ye warm ale and pastries ye love so much."

The taller brunette raised her head, a soft smile across her lips. She felt like a big kid as she was led toward the kitchens by a warm hand in her own.

Blue eyes flew open, a cry echoing in the stone block cavern. Sitting up, Donal sighed, running shaky hands through her hair, the strands sticking to her fingers with sweat as the glue. The nightmare had been horribly realistic, her heart still pounding in her throat. Looking around the huge bedchamber, she saw the fire had burnt to nearly embers, as she 'd asked to not be disturbed throughout the night. Gaining shaky legs, she slid her feet into her boots, the cold stone of the floor sending a shock throughout her whole body.

She glanced over at the chair that sat before the large window, where she'd sat for long hours before finally giving in the sleep that burned her eyelids and made her eyes water. Contemplating sitting once again, overlooking the grounds of her beloved Saoirse. Deciding against it, she pulled on a cloak, leaving her rooms.

The castle was quite, the moon still high in the sky. The occasional patrol was passed, Donal stopping to speak with each man for a few moments before moving on.

It was bitter cold in the castle, despite the coming summer months. In some, less inhabited parts of the castle, she saw her breath puffing before her steps. She felt like a ghost, walking through the shadows, many soldiers walking right by her, no thought of her presence.

Slowly she made her way back through to the residential apartments and rooms. Before climbing the steps to her own suites, she glanced to her left, seeing the double doors that would lead to Cara's rooms. As if on cue, she heard steps behind her. Turning, she saw Raymond with an armload of wood. Bringing a finger to her lips, she stopped the young man, taking his load from him.

"Go rest, lad. I'll take this," she whispered. Confused, but bowing, the boy scurried off.

Pushing one side of the massive doors open, the brunette glanced around the large room. The fire was beginning to burn down, the figure huddled on one side of the large bed.

Walking over to the massive fireplace, she placed her wood in the holder next to it, squatting as she poked at the burning log with an iron poker, loading more wood in, her face glowing orange as the flames rose and danced.

Glancing over to the bed, she saw Cara's face, shadows dancing across her sleep-softened features. Rising, she walked over to the bed, noting how the blonde shivered in her sleep. Grabbing an extra quilt from the wardrobe, she spread it across the large bed, gently tucking it around the small body. Making sure the blonde would remain asleep, she sat upon the side of the bed, her face immediately softening at the sight before her.

Long fingers reached out, touching the softest hair they'd ever known, the strands tickling between her thumb and forefinger. She longed to run her fingers through the locks, feeling them swim over her skin. Blue eyes traveled across the face, the relaxed brow, though that slight wrinkle of constant concentration still lingered between dark blonde brows, as though even in slumber, the Healer tried to help. The lines around the blonde's eyes were relaxed in sleep as well. Soft, full lips were slightly parted, warm breath easing out between, the slightest glistening of saliva leaking out one corner. Donal smiled at this, wanting to brush it away, but worried she'd awaken Cara.

Cara.

Blue eyes closed at the sound of the name, so long banned to her lips. Never had she believed in the blonde's god, but now, she raised her face to the Heavens, heart opening in eternal gratitude. Peace washing over her, she opened her eyes, looking back into the peaceful face. Leaning down, she placed the softest of kisses to the blonde's forehead, then raised herself from the bed.

"Mo Shearc."

Green eyes watched her leave the room.

PART 12

THERE WAS A SMILE on her lips and song in the air as Donal saw to the morning's activities in the castle. The kitchen fires were burning bright, smells of fresh breads and meats wafting seductively under the brunette's nose. For the first time in nearly two weeks she had an appetite, and couldn't wait for the first meal, which would be served around ten that morning. Though she'd had little sleep the night before, she felt lighter and more alive than she ever had before.

Just to ease her own mind, she had checked on her most welcome guest first thing, seeing the blonde sleeping peacefully. Her bruises stood out darkly this day, as the wounds settled in. She knew the healer would be hurting badly, and ordered a fresh bushel of arnica to be brought in, along with white wine. She knew that was what Cara would prefer for her wounds. She also knew better than to presume she could do it better than the great healer, herself, so just had the ingredients brought up to Cara's room, along with breakfast and fresh clothes.

It had been a busy morning. The Donal had already convened with builders, and a separate, private bathing chamber was being planned for Cara's bathing pleasure. No doubt she was still as adamant as ever about her daily baths. A grin was imminent as the brunette's thoughts turned to so long ago, hooting and hollering about having to take so many baths. In their first month traveling together, she'd taken more baths than she had in her entire life up until then.

Spying Grace, she grinned and winked. She'd told the girl earlier that she had a surprise for her later, and the young blonde seemed beside herself at the prospect, though Donal had made sure no one who knew the Healer's true identity told her. The brunette was almost beside herself to reunite the sisters, both thinking the other long dead. Donal couldn't remember feeling so giddy as she made her way up the stairs, taking two at a time. Each jolt made her shoulder ache slightly, but she didn't care. There was nothing that could bring her down that day.

One of the double doors was open, Evela already with Cara, helping her dress. Blue eyes noted the arnica already had been pulverized to make the healing paste. A telltale rag covered with the goop, indicative of the excess having been wiped away. The two women stood by the window, the fresh air coming in to gently blow blonde locks back from Cara's face. Evela was speaking to her in soft tones as she brushed the short strands into place.

Donal stood back from them, hands clasped. Evela glanced over her shoulder, smiling when she saw the unsure look on the brunette's face. The smaller woman called for her with the hook of her finger, then put a finger to her lips. Getting the idea, the tall woman moved silently to the pair. Mid-stroke, she found the brush in her hand, Evela moving back away, silently making her way out of the room. Cara's soft voice continued.

"... Germany from France." She stopped, a soft smile brushing her lips, eyes half-hooded as she enjoyed the feel of her hair being gently brushed, the strokes relaxing and soothing. The strands had long become knot-free, but she was enjoying it so much, she said nothing. "'Twas then I learned many, many healing herbs." She sighed, hands gently playing with the flowing material of her yellow dress. "Ta answer yer earlier question, I came back to England four years ago. I've been in Kendal ever since."

Donal said nothing, just took in the feel of the golden hair against her hand as she ran the brush over the nearly glowing strands. Her eyes studied them up close, seeing each individual strand, some fluttering from her own breath. Her eyes ran down to Cara's ears, the very tips slightly flushed, her own natural coloring. Her slender neck, wisps of gold brushing it before it disappeared into the dress.

Eyes closing, Donal brought her nose to inhale the fragrance, immediately recognizing the freshness of cleaning herbs, as well as fresh air, and most importantly, the smell of Cara.

"Evela?" Cara's voice was soft, wistful, almost a whisper. Donal's eyes opened at the sound. She waited for the blonde to turn around, and for her to be found out, but to her surprise, Cara continued. The brunette changed the brush to her left hand, raising her right again, gently touching the golden hair, sighing softly as her fingers ran through it. She was surprised to see a resulting shiver run briefly through Cara before it was gone. Smiling, she waited, loving the coolness of the hair, the softness, so wonderful. "Has," the blonde paused, "Donal, taken care of herself?"

The brunette was surprised as her title and adopted name sounded so foreign on the blonde's tongue, like she wasn't comfortable with it. She swallowed, nodding, though she knew Cara couldn't see it.

"Aye." Her voice was just as soft as her companion's. She wasn't surprised to see Cara whirl around, wide green eyes taking her in. Smiling sheepishly, she raised the brush, wiggling it before handing it back to the blonde. "Donal did 't best she could, filling her emptiness with 't love 'o her people, tryin' ta find what she lost."

Cara stared at her for long moments, eyes filled with a myriad of emotions and unnaturally glistening in the morning light.

"Yer Highness," she said, her voice shaky, eyes turning angry.

"Please dona call me that, Cara," the brunette begged in a whisper. She tried to plead with her eyes.

Without a word, Cara pushed past the brunette, hurrying from the room. Head falling, Donal studied her hands, the feel of golden hair still like a ghostly touch against her skin. Blindly, she found her way to a large chair, sitting heavily. She wasn't sure how long she sat there when she heard soft footsteps walking across the room. A soft touch on her hand, then Evela's dark eyes as the small brunette fell to her knees next to the chair, her dress gathering around her on the floor like a small ocean.

"Merryn?" she asked, concern knitting her brows. Tortured blue eyes looked at her.

"She hates me."

"No," Evela shook her head. "I thank she's angry with ye. She had 't pox, Merryn. She was saved by a friar."

Donal's eyes widened at the news. "Pox? Friar?" She saw her friend nod. A smile was pushed out of her, as was a sniffle. "Father Michael," she whispered, remembering the friar well. Her head fell. "She was dead."

"Nay, Merryn. She was not."

A stab ripped through the brunette's heart at this. She had left her? No! About to open her mouth again, an out of breath Caleb ran into the room.

"Donal!" he screeched, his changing voice shattering on the word. Blue eyes flew up to him. "'Tis Paul."

Donal and Evela burst out into the Keep, seeing a huddle group near the gate, a horse being led away by his reigns. Seeing a flash of dark hair on the ground, the brunette ran over to him, pushing people out of the way as she fell to her knees.

"Get outta my way!" she snarled, scaring the daylights out of a cobbler. He quickly jumped from the fray, watching from the hushed sidelines. Frantic blue eyes took in the boy's pale face, body splayed out. His eyes were closed, blood pooling on the dirt from under his head. "Paul?" she said, her hands cupping the boy's face. "Paul?" she asked again, her voice becoming higher, tingeing on hysterical. Terror making her act irrationally, she began to shake him, becoming more and more frantic as he didn't respond.

"Yer Highness, stop."

Ignoring the soft request, she shook him again. "Paul! Wake up, lad! Wake up, son." Trying to push away when she felt cool hands on either side of her face. The touch refused to fall away, and in fact, she was almost painfully grasped.

"Merryn!"

Looking up, blue eyes wide, saw intense green eyes looking back into her own. Cara refused to lose her gaze. "Stop. Let me do me job."

Nodding slowly, the brunette sat back on her haunches, watching the healer, and praying for a miracle. It was deathly quiet as everyone watched Cara. She checked his pulse, then leaned over the boy, carefully opening first one eyelid then the other. Calling for a liter, someone ran off to do her bidding.

Getting to her feet, Donal watched numbly as her son was loaded onto the liter, then carried inside the castle, up to his rooms. She followed, doing her best to stay out of the way. She could see that the lad was breathing, his chest rising and falling, relieving some of his mom's fear with every breath. She also knew that if anyone could help him, it would be Cara.

She sat in the corner, listening as the blonde called out orders, various herbs and flowers, wine, water and privacy. No one dared ask Donal to leave. With a brief, comforting hug, Evela was the last to leave, closing the doors behind her. Blue eyes never left the boy, nor the woman hovering over him, asking the boy questions, her voice soft and soothing. To the brunette's immense relief, Paul was able to answer her questions, though his voice was thick, his tongue swollen from biting down on it when he was bucked from the horse.

"Very good, Paul," Cara said with a soft smile after the boy had wiggled the fingers of his right hand. "'N 't other? Nicely done." Sitting on the side of the bed, the blonde raised three fingers. "How many fingers do I hold, Paul?"

He studied her for a moment, squinting his eyes, then raised a weak hand, holding up three fingers.

"Very good, aye." Green eyes lifted, finding Donal watching anxiously. "Would ye help me, Yer Highness?"

Swallowing with a nod, Donal got to her feet and made her way to the large bed. Together they rolled the young man over. The pillow beneath his head already had a decent sized spot of blood. Seeing that, worried blue eyes turned to the healer.

"He'll need stitches," Cara explained, her fingers coming to rest at the wound, feeling around in the dark hair to see if it was just one wound, or several. The blonde nodded to herself. "Aye, a dozen should do it."

"Why does he bleed so?" Donal asked, confused with only a dozen stitches. Green eyes met her own again, then squinted slightly at the small smile spreading across angelic features.

"Come now, warrior. Ye should know how badly head wounds bleed."

Feeling stupid and chastised, Donal nodded, lowering her eyes. She watched Cara work her magic, holding her son's hand as she knew how painful stitches could be. He did well, was brave. Like his mom.

Cara began to clean up her medicines, the handsome young man comfortably sleeping. He would be fine, and the relief on his mother's face had made it all worth it. The blonde started slightly at the light touch to her shoulder. Glancing over her shoulder she saw blue eyes.

"Thank ye, Cara. I cannot show my gratitude enough." Donal's voice was soft, filled with all the relief in the world. Her heart warmed slightly at the small smile and nod she received. Swallowing, Donal decided to take a chance. "Would ye come with me?"

"Where?" the blonde asked, turning to fully face the brunette.

"Just come." Donal held out her hand, which Cara looked at for a brief moment, before hesitantly putting her small, pale hand in it. Feeling the soft flesh within her own, Donal closed her fingers over Cara's, and with one last look at her son, led the blonde from the room.

They walked the long halls of Saoirse, Donal smiling at those they passed, many thanking and congratulating Cara in her achievements. One servant even gave the small blonde a crown of fresh flowers she'd made in thanks for all of Cara's healing powers. The blonde smiled graciously, accepting the gift with a small hug.

"Ye know, Yer Highness," she began softly, a slight smile edging her voice. "I believe ye keep making these things happen ta keep me here."

Donal glanced over at her companion, a smile of her own gracing her lips. "Ye do, do ye?"

"Aye." Cara sobered slightly. "I was gonna leave."

Donal felt her heart fall. She said nothing, praying that maybe she had one last card up her sleeve to keep the healer with her.

Turning down one last hall, the closed door at the end of the corridor. Smells of fresh baked goods already filled the air. The kitchen door opened, and a figure stepped out into the hall, her soft footfalls silent. The girl was wiping her hands on the white cloth wrapped around her waist, her protruding belly making it difficult to keep her apron in place.

Donal heard a gasp beside her when the girl at the end of the hall looked up. Watching Cara's face carefully, the brunette saw green eyes opening impossibly wide, the blonde's hand flying to her mouth. Glancing down the corridor, she saw the blonde kitchen wench standing there, head slightly cocked to the side, her brows knit in thought. Turning back to Cara, Donal saw her face crumple, a small cry released from her throat. Golden head shaking in disbelief, she took a careful step forward, then stopped. Tear-filled eyes looked up to Donal, who nodded slightly. Turning back to the young women, who had begun to take careful steps toward them, Cara took off at a dead run.

"Grace!"

Donal watched in wonder as the two sisters met halfway, nearly knocking each other over. Cara was crying heavily, holding the younger girl to her so tight that it was almost painful. Pulling away slightly, hands buried in the long, blonde hair, just a tad lighter than her own, she saw Grace's red, tear-streaked face. Green eyes peered back at her, glowing from the upset. Unable to believe her eyes, she pulled the girl to her again, gently rocking her back and forth, the younger sister sobbing into her neck.

"Oh, Grace," she whispered, a sense of peace flowing through her in waves, the need to love and protect this girl almost overwhelming. Pulling away again, she brought her hand up, brushing tear-slicked strands of hair back from her sister's face, tucking them behind reddened ears. "Oh, my Grace," she said again, wonder in her voice. "How is this possible?" Her voice broke again, fresh tears running down her cheeks.

Donal watched from her place at the end of the hall, her face about to break open with her smile. She crossed her arms over her chest, feeling her own emotions grow heavy with tears of her own. Holding them back, she decided the sister's needed some privacy for a long overdue reunion. Pushing off the wall she'd been leaning against, she quietly made her way back down the long, cold corridors to her son.

He still lay in his bed, breathing calm and even. The bandage Cara had wrapped round his head was still clean, no new bleeding. She sat on the side of his bed, careful to not jog him. Reaching out a hand, she felt the cool skin of his cheek, but he wasn't clammy, which meant no fever. A soft smile brushing her lips, so filled with love and pride, she brushed some hair back from the top of the bandage, her long fingers caressing his cheek lightly before taking his hand in both of hers. His dark features stood out in such stark contrast to the paleness of his features. A handsome boy, dark hair, dark, finely shaped brows. His features were proud and strong, as was his young body.

She had prayed a long time ago that the boy wouldn't want to be a fighter like her. She'd gotten her answer many years ago when the boy's interests, even as a small child, leaned far more toward the curiosities of life. His brain was like a sponge, absorbing and begging for more. He was incredibly bright, and followed around any scholar he could, picking their brains with his thirst for knowledge. Donal had seen the way he'd followed Cara around already, longing to learn this new sort of knowledge- the ability to heal.

Someday the lad would make a wonderful ruler. His mind was sharp, temperament even and fair. Pride shone anew in the brunette as she leaned up, kissing his forehead.

Grace closed her eyes as the soft cloth was run over her face, gathering her tears, which she couldn't get to stop flowing down her cheeks. Her beloved older sister smiled at this, catching all the new ones, too.

"Is this 't surprise Donal spoke of?" the girl asked, Cara's free hand wrapped possessively in her own, cool ones. She refused to let go. The healer smiled, brushing back more hair.

"I know not, my sister." Cara smiled as her own fresh tears began. "My sister," she whispered, taking the young girl in her arms again, pulling Grace from the stool in the kitchen where she sat, holding her tight. Sighing deeply, she felt her heart beginning to slow, the cadence returning to normal. Pulling away again, she helped the younger girl sit once more, mindful of the girl's swollen belly. She'd ask about that later, but first she had to know how this had happened. "Ye did not die with our mother?" she asked, wiping at her own tears. The younger blonde shook her head.

"Taken, I was. Brought ta Middleham."

"Ye were in Middleham?" Cara whispered, tears filling her eyes all over again, thinking of her own captivity. "Fer how long?"

"Two long years." Taking a deep breath, Grace ran trembling fingers through her long hair at the memories that admission brought forth. Sensing this, Cara took her sister's hand. She remembered her own brief time in the clutches of Edward III.

"How did ye get out?"

Instantly Grace's face brightened, a smile spreading across her features like the sunlight blesses the land. "Donal. Rescued me, she did! She brought me ta live with her." Squeezing her sister's hand, completely unaware of the healer's relationship with the ruler. "She's so kind, Cara! She's brought in 't orphans from 't black sickness, and had them schooled! She has saved this land, she has. 'N everyone in it."

Cara listened, brows slightly knit as she heard the obvious love and appreciation in the girl's voice. She listened as Grace spoke of the brunette's standing up for her, and even fighting a fellow soldier once who was trying to take advantage of a then fifteen year old girl.

"Sister, please stay," Grace finished, her voice falling in profound pleading. "Please, please don't leave me again. Mother," her eyes began to fill again, "when ye didn't come back on the second day, as ye promised, she thought ye were dead." She brought a hand up, swiping at a tear that was squeezing out from the corner of her eye. "She had already come down with 't sickness. Dyin', she was. I waited, prayin' ye'd come back fer me." The girl lost her control, outright crying once more. She had no idea she could cry so much! And two very different types of tears within moments. Feeling the warm, strong embrace of a sister long missed, she fell into the embrace, allowing the tattered remains of her shattered childhood to heal.

"'M so sorry, Grace," Cara whispered, kissing the top of the girl's head. "Please forgive me fer not bein' there fer ye. I thought ye were dead, too." She stroked her sister's back, warm circles over the taught dress the girl wore.

Donal watched the sun falling from the sky. Standing from the chair in her son's rooms, she gave him one last kiss, and tucked him in further, then headed to her own rooms. The hours she'd spent with Paul had given her torturous thoughts. She'd done it again. She'd failed Cara in the worst way possible.

Closing the large double doors behind her, she looked at the roaring fire that had been prepared for her, then turned away. There was no heat that could melt through her frozen soul. Walking over to the massive desk tucked in the corner, she drug the huge chair over to the double window. Pulling open the shutters, she felt the cool breeze of night wash in, gently pushing at a few strands of her hair. The night air was actually warmer than the castle around her. Sitting heavily in the chair, she stared up at the moon, whose light shone down, painting her face in shades of silver and blue.

For not the first time that night, she thought back to that cabin she and Cara had called home for the happiest times of her life. The way they had cleaned it, made repairs, and then made it their own. The walls of the small structure had seen so much laughter and love. Donal couldn't keep the smile from her own lips in memory. Such bitter, bitter sweet memories they were. It didn't take long for the memories to turn dark. Cara had started to get sick so soon, within days. There had been no warning, no inkling of what was to come, nothing.

Donal felt the tickle of a tear at the corner of her eye as she remembered holding the delirious blonde in her arms.

Merryn's eyes opened, feeling heavy and filled with sand. She tried to figure out what had awoken her.

"Mum, 'tis Cara." Cara's voice was so soft, so filled with awe and longing. Merryn pushed herself up to her elbow. Cara lay on her back, eyes open and unfocused. She reached a hand out, fingers spread. "Mum."

Merryn gathered the blonde, so hot, skin slick with sweat. "Hold on, lass. Just hold on," Merryn whispered, cradling Cara's head in her arms. The blonde's eyes closed, face pale. Her breathing was becoming labored. "Please, Cara. Please," Merryn begged, a tear slipping down her cheek. She felt Cara's body go limp in her arms. "Mo Shearc, please, please don'a leave me. Please." Her words were cut off as a sob escaped her throat, her face buried in Cara's hair. She couldn't breathe, her body shaking as the strength of her sobs grew, finally shaking them both. Raising her face to the Heavens, Merryn squeezed her eyes shut. "No!"

A stream of tears were flowing from the brunette's eyes, her heart shattering all over again. How could she have been so wrong? Cara was dead! She slammed her fist into the hard, wooden arm of the chair she sat in, her anger at herself beginning to rear its very ugly head. She promised.

"I dreamed you'd come for me," Cara whispered, eyes tightly closed as she inhaled all that was Merryn- sweat, leather, dirt mixed with rain, and all that made Merryn. Her fingers dug into the brunette's shoulders, terrified that she'd be ripped away again.

"'M so sorry, Cara," Merryn whispered, her face buried in golden hair. "I'll not leave you again. I swear it. Never!" Her promise was so passionate as to almost frighten the blonde, if she hadn't been so relievedby it.

Burying her face in her hands, she felt the tears coming in earnest, though she tried to hold them back. There was no use anymore. Part of her wished she still thought Cara dead. At least that way the blonde wouldn't hate her, and she'd already dealt with the pain. This pain was nearly worse than any other she'd ever known. Was this to be her Hell?

Donal was startled when she felt a hand come to rest on her shoulder. Expecting to see the gentle concern of Evela, she was stunned to see Cara standing next to her chair. Green eyes were filled with overwhelming understanding and dare she say it? Love?

The dam broke anew, raw sobs pulled from the brunette's throat. "'M so sorry, Cara!" she sobbed. "So sorry."

Cara moved around to stand before the woman who was falling apart before her very eyes. With gentle fingers, she brought the dark head to rest against her chest, hugging her arms around Merryn's head. She leaned down, resting her own cheek against the top of her head. Eyes squeezing shut, she felt her own tears sting behind her lids.

Merryn's arms wrapped tightly around the blonde's waist, hugging her so close, her sorrow and grief finally able to be let go. She needed Cara to know just how sorry she truly was, how deeply, profoundly she hurt. She felt gentle fingers running through her hair, heard the soothing heartbeat of her healer, could smell the fresh scent of herbs and flowers on the blonde's dress, against her cheek.

"I love ye so much, Cara," she whispered, her tears still flowing, but the sobs calming.

"I love ye, too, Merryn," was whispered back.

Blue eyes closed, relief flooding her body, her soul filled to the point of bursting with gratitude and love for this small woman she held. She refused to release her hold, instead snuggling in deeper into the warm embrace, feeling the warm breath of the healer atop her head, ruffling the dark strands of her hair.

"Thank ya fer caring fer Grace." Cara kept her eyes closed, allowing herself to feel safe for the first time in more than ten years. The heat that radiated from Merryn's body filled her with peace, her devastation that had lasted for so long finally finding a balm. She could feel the ends of her heart starting to mend, though she knew it would be a very slow process.

"I'twas 't only gift I could give ye. I knew how much ye loved her," Merryn explained softly. She felt Cara pull back slightly, but just enough so she could look down into the wounded face before her.

Reaching down, Cara used her thumbs to wipe away the tears, which were quickly replaced by more. She stared into the tortured eyes, which at one time used to be her home. Merryn had always been the most beautiful woman she'd ever seen, and that had not changed. All around Europe she'd been, meeting royals and peasants alike. None could ever offer the pure, radiant beauty of the brunette.

Looking back to Merryn's eyes, Cara saw the exhaustion, and figured, like her own, it was probably both physical and of the heart. She knew it was time they both got some rest, but somehow she was afraid if she let the brunette go, she'd awaken to find it had all been a dream, and she was still wandering, heavy heart and pain restored. Making a decision, she stepped back, taking Merryn's hand in her own, tugging gently until the taller woman stood. Looking up into fearful eyes, Cara smiled, resting a hand on the side of the brunette's cheek. Blue eyes closed as Merryn immediately leaned into the touch. When her eyes opened once more, they glittered.

"Come." Moving away from the chair, the healer led Merryn to the huge bed, pulling the blankets down. Using gentle pressure, she pushed the brunette to sit on the edge, grabbing her boots and pulling them off, one at a time thudding to the floor. With careful fingers, she removed Merryn's tunic, tossing it and her weapons belt to a nearby chair.

"I'd like ta check yer wounds," Cara said, her voice hushed in the large expanse of the room. Merryn nodded. The brunette's heart was thumping in her chest, a tempest of emotions flowing through her. The feel of Cara being so close to her was bliss, but she was terrified what the morrow would bring. Never would she want the blonde healer to know just how much she truly hurt, but seeing her in her rooms, Merryn had lost control. She had wept the fears and pain that she had kept locked up for so long. And to hear that Cara loved her still ... Merryn took a deep breath, swallowing back fresh tears of joy and relief.

Looking up at the blonde, who was so skillfully checking her healing wounds, made the ruler's heart beat all the more. Tender, warm fingers, fingertips slightly shriveled from wiping away endless tears, both of Merryn and Grace, touched slightly discolored skin. Cara was amazed at how quickly Merryn healed. Some things never changed.

Satisfied that all was well, she walked over to the wardrobe, taking out a thick, comfortable gown. Helping the brunette into it, she smiled softly, tucking a few wild strands of dark brown back into place.

"Time fer ye ta get some rest, Donal." She grinned. "Healer's orders."

Merryn smiled, though it was sad. She hated that their night had to end. Standing, she wiggled the gown down the length of her body. Cara held the covers back for her to slide in between. Dutifully she did so, looking up at the beautiful blonde standing next to the bed.

"Cara?" she said, her voice a whisper.

"Aye?" the healer whispered back.

"Promise me ye'll be here t'morrow."

Cara smiled wide. "Scoot."

Stunned, but almost giddy, Merryn slid over in the expansive bed. She watched as Cara removed her shoes, then her dress, leaving her underdress on. The blonde slid in beside the ruler, immediately pulled into a warm, protective embrace. A golden head laid on the brunette's shoulder, arm resting over Merryn's midriff. The healer quietly asked if she were hurting Merryn by laying on her shoulder. Though it did make it ache a wee bit, Merryn kept her there. There was no way she was going to push Cara away now.

She felt the healer settle against her. With a soft smile, Merryn fell asleep.

Blue eyes slowly opened, soft, warm breath on her face. Focusing, she saw green eyes looking back at her, no more than a half an arm away. Cara was laying on her side, facing the ruler, studying Merryn's face, taking in her features, following the curve of her nose and brow.

The healer wanted to tell Merryn just how beautiful she was, but something stopped her. Instead she felt soft fingers tentatively reaching for her, a fingertip brushing along her cheek, down to her jaw line, over her chin, then finally a hand cupping the side of her face. Merryn smiled slightly when Cara didn't pull away, but instead seemed to lean into her touch. She was in awe of the sight before her. Tenderly her fingers began to move again, feeling the smoothness of Cara's skin until she reached the scarring at the left side of her face, back by her ear. The blonde's eyes closed, her head shrinking away from the brunette's touch.

"Shh," Merryn cooed. Cara opened her eyes, looking at her again, but they were guarded. The brunette traced over the slightly pitted skin, figuring it must have been from more of the pustules during her pox outbreak.

As she ran her thumb over a dark blonde brow, green eyes closed, Cara's body relaxing into the caress. A soft sigh escaped Cara's lips, which pulled a smile from her companion.

Merryn's eyes were drawn to the double doors of her bedchamber as one side was opened. A servant tip-toed in, his eyes focused on the fire, which was beginning to burn out. Quickly re-stoking it, he turned to leave when he spotted the two women. Eyes growing wide, his mouth opened a bit. Merryn chuckled.

"Thank ye, Matthew," she said softly. Cara glanced over her shoulder, suddenly feeling shy. She turned back to the brunette, burying her face in the taller woman's upper chest.

"G'night, Donal." The lad scurried out of the room. Merryn knew that what he had seen would spread through the castle like wildfire, no matter had innocent it was.

Turning back to the healer, Merryn smiled, running her fingers through the blonde hair on the head that was still buried at her upper chest.

"He's gone," she chuckled. Cara pulled back, giving her a sheepish grin, which quickly disappeared. The blonde had something on her mind.

"Why do ye wish me ta stay, Merryn?"

Merryn looked deeply into her eyes, and without a second's hesitation, she spoke her heart. "If t'weren't for my fear 'n grief, we'd still be in 't cabin, by 't woods."

"Do ye mean it?" Cara whispered. At the nod she received, she swallowed. "And what of her people? Ye'r the leader of this land."

"I'd give it all up 'n a moment." She smiled at the memory she was about to impart. "When on 't battlefield, 'n things seemed they could get no worse, I used ta dream of ye, lass. Ye'd smile at me, 'n give me 't courage to go on. Somehow I knew ye'd want me ta do whatever it be I was doin'."

Cara looked at the darker woman for a moment, stunned. "I used ta dream of ye, too, Merryn. Though I didn't want ta." Her smile was sheepish again. "Ye would come ta me, comfort me. 'Tis madness, I know." Her eyes fell, and she sighed.

"Cara, I don'a want ye ta leave. I," she swallowed then tried again. "I understand ye have yer own life, now, in Kendal. But-" she cut herself off when the most beautiful green eyes looked at her. Swallowing yet again, she finished, "please allow me ta be in yer life. Somewhere."

"I won't go anywhere, Merryn." She shook her head. "There'r too many reasons fer me ta stay."

"Oh, thank 't Heavens!" From the smirk she got, Merryn blushed at the extent of her outward enthusiasm and relief. She was relieved for the reprieve when she felt Cara turn to her other side, reaching back to grab the brunette's arm. Tugging it around her waist, and clasping in her own, the blonde began to relax to fall back to sleep. She smiled at the warmth that enveloped the entire back of her body as Merryn spooned up behind her.

Merryn walked to the Great Hall, body relaxed and comfortable. Her wounds had all but healed, and she felt relieved to have her blades back in place. It felt like life was coming back to normal, with a bonus. As much as she didn't want to allow Cara out of her sight, she had to return to business as usual. Besides, it gave Cara and her sister a chance to spend the day together.

"Donal!" Angus grinned, long strides eating up the distance between him and the ruler. The brunette grinned, taking the brief embrace from her comrade.

"How goes it, Angus?"

"Good, good. Though I'd say not as good as ye, eh?" he raised a brow. From the smile he got from his long-time friend, and respected leader, Angus put a hand to her uninjured shoulder. "Cara's back with ye, eh?"

"Aye." Blue eyes met dark. "She's come back ta me, Angus." Her voice was a whisper of awe, eyes large. The dark man's face split into a wide smile, thrilled for his friend.

"Well, take some 'o that good luck with ye fer this meetin'."

The long table had already been set, jugs of wine and plates of meats and cheeses were set out for the honored guests. Torches and lamps lit the large space, a roaring fire glowing over the hearth to warm it.

"Yer Grace," Merryn bowed, her eyes never leaving the dark, beady ones of the man dressed in a white robe with red, satin shoulder cape. A large, golden cross hung from a gold chain around his neck.

"Yer Highness," Bishop of Rutherford nodded acknowledgement. He held his hand out, a large gold ring balanced on his left ring finger, dark ruby caped with a golden crown with a cross through it. Merryn all but clenched her jaw as she placed her lips to the cool stone. The man's finery almost matched her own.

"Please, enjoy 't bounty we have brought fer ye." She smiled, sitting at the head of the large table, Angus sitting to her right so he could be her right hand man. The Bishop's people sat on his side of the table, at the other end, a large entourage. The elderly man looked at the ruler, disdain and disapproval clear on his wrinkled face.

"I've not come to enjoy anything, Donal." He shoved at the servant who had approached him with a tray of food. Merryn felt her anger begin to build, the muscles in her arms and thighs already beginning to tense, ready to push herself up from the chair where she sat. She felt a hand on her arm. Glancing at Angus, she tried to relax.

It was well known throughout the English empire that Donal and the Church did not see eye to eye. Unlike those before her, Merryn refused to give the Church the power they craved through their hypocrisy and domination through fear. Though she didn't believe in the Christian God, she felt it was wrong to use His name and Word as a management tool. The people were not allowed to pray of their own volition, nor were they able to read the Bible as it was written in Latin. The average villager could barely, if at all, read English, let alone an ancient language.

Looking across the expanse of the table, seeing the Holy man in his fine robes and glittering gold, Merryn suddenly felt her anger building again. Keeping her mouth shut, she waited.

"His Grace, the Pope, wishes for more influence with your righteous people. And," he raised a heavily jeweled hand, "with you, Yer Highness."

"I see," Merryn said, sipping from a goblet of wine. She remained quiet as the pompous arse continued.

"His Grace does not feel he has yer support in matters, Donal. He feels, as do I, that you are in fact, working against the Church." He laughed politely. "Surely this is not so."

"'T Pope is yer boss, Yer Grace- not mine." Merryn kept her voice low, not allowing her anger to take over. It was not the place. Though she may not agree with the Church, nor their ideals and doctrine's, she had to keep the peace with them. "My people find peace and solace 'n their god. Not 'n ye."

The good Bishop looked on, his small eyes widening. "Careful, Donal," he warned, "some might mistake ye for a heretic. His Grace, John XXIII can offer guidance to you and yer people, Donal. He is the only one who can save them-"

"Wrong!" Merryn shot t her feet, slamming a fist to the table. "My people need protecting, they turn ta me. What is John gonna do? Pray?"

"Donal," Angus hissed under his breath. The brunette ignored him.

"My people turn ta me, Yer Grace. I rule, I decide," she pounded her own chest. She was tired of the harassment by the Church, clerks and priests being sent to ensure support amongst the ruler. "Ye sit there in yer finest robes. More went inta that outfit than a man in London could spend in a year's time! 'N ye do it by takin' coins from 't trusting," she hissed, her long-held disgust seething. She had a deep seeded hatred for the Church and those who ran it from her days as an orphan in one.

Incensed, the Bishop got to his feet, followed by his entourage. His nostrils were flaring, eyes never leaving Donal. "Ye'll burn in Hell, Donal," he growled. "Unnatural as ye are. Burn in Hell!"

"I'll see ye there."

With a huff, the Holy man stormed out of the room, yelling for a castle servant to get out of his way. Merryn felt her body vibrating with rage, both old and new. She had lost control, and it would mean trouble.

"What have ye done?!" Angus yelled, once the Bishop was gone. He was near trembling with rage.

"I lost control," Merryn meekly explained, a hand running through her hair.

"Ye've done more than that, lass." Dark eyes met blue, daring her to correct the title he knew she hated. He knew she was in no place to make any sort of demands at that moment. "'T Pope already resents a woman tellin' what he can and canno do." He stared her down, seeing recognition of the truth in piercing blue eyes. "Now ye go 'n insult him? And his Bishop?" Angus' anger was returning swiftly to the surface. He shoved her, watching her stagger back a few steps.

"My people deserve ta make their own choices, Angus," she defended.

"Aye, that they do," he conceded, "but a good ruler is diplomatic, Donal! Today ye were a beast! Retribution will be swift." He calmed, mind racing.

Merryn sighed, again running her hands through her hair. She had to fix this, knowing full well that Angus was right. Despite what was taught, the Church was not a forgiving entity.

Sighing, she turned to her highest officer. Standing tall, her full height, unflinching. Making a decision that could change much, she spoke her mind.

"Angus, I canno fall to the Church. I have not o'er these past years, and I will not now. They will not rule me, or this realm. Do ye understand me?"

The dark man also stood tall, breathing in through his nose. He heard what his Donal had said, and though he agreed, he was also a practical man, knowing when it was time to agree just to keep peace. Alas, it was not his decision. He nodded.

"Aye, Donal."

"Good. Now come," she slapped the man on his back. "We've a festival to arrange."

Green eyes sparkled as Cara listened to her sister prattle on and on about her life in the castle, and how awed and overwhelmed she'd been at first. She told the healer all about Cayshire, and how Donal and Angus had brought in anyone who needed a place to stay, or who wanted a better life.

Cara watched Grace, unable to take the smile from her face, so proud was she at the beautiful, intelligent, responsible young adult the girl had become. She knew their mother would be so happy to know she would have been a grandmother.

"What?" Grace asked, noticing that she was being stared at. Her sister smiled, shaking her head before putting an arm around her shoulders. They continued on through the gardens, gathering a fresh supply of herbs and selected weeds for Cara's collection.

"I am just tryin' to absorb the fact that yer here," the older blonde said, gently squeezing the narrow shoulders in her grasp. Grace smiled.

"Aye. 'T same fer me." Slinging her arm across her big sister's back, she pressed their sides together. "Cannot wait fer David to come home ta meet ye." The girl's grin was infectious.

"When do I meet the boy?"

Grace sighed heavily, her free hand resting upon her belly. "When the wars in Novgorod end."

"I see."

"'Tis where Donal was wounded. So scared, I was," the younger blonde whispered.

"Scared for Donal?"

"Aye. More so that it was me David brought back."

Cara nodded in understanding. Releasing the younger girl, she squatted next to a patch of parsley, arranging her cloak around her body in the chilled day. Glancing up to the skies, she could see rain was near. She could smell it.

"Hold this, Grace." Once the girl had taken the small basket from the healer's hand, Cara turned back to the small patch. Digging through it, she bent down until her face was mere finger-lengths from the wild herb. Using her nose, she separated the spongy green plant until she found what she was looking for. With a triumphant grin, she found a sprig that was about to turn bad.

Pulling a small dagger from her belt, she sawed at it, the plant coming free in her hand. Rising to her knees, she held the plant up, examining it from every angle. Satisfied, she handed it back to her sister to place in the basket, which was already half full.

Grace grinned, helping her sister to her feet so they could continue on to the next batch. She arranged a few of the herbs so as to make the basket more room-efficient.

"What?" Cara asked, noting the big smile.

"Makes me think of when we were children, back home. Mum yellin' fer us ta hurry up fer supper."

Cara sighed at the happy thoughts. "Aye." Hugging her sister close, eyes squeezing shut in relief, she released her with a smile of her own. "Come. Let's go fer the buckbean I saw a bit back."

They began to make their way back into the trees when Grace stopped, eyes opening wide. Cara glanced over at her when she felt a stopping hand on her arm. The girl's mouth opened, but nothing came out. Not until a scream was ripped from her throat.

Merryn waited for the towncryer to finish writing what she'd said. His wife stood nearby, shyly smiling at the ruler. Donal smiled at her, trying to put the fidgeting woman at ease. Finally her husband finished scratching the announcements on his parchment. Handing it to the brunette to read over and make sure was correct. Opening her mouth to ask for a change, Donal's head snapped toward the archway of her throne room at the piercing cry that echoed off the stone walls.

Throwing the parchment at the stunned cryer, she ran toward the noise. Eyes wide, she saw a couple servants running toward the physician's room. Following them down the dark hall, she stopped just shy of bowling over a group of curious onlookers.

Whispering followed her as she made her way through them until she was finally in the room, itself.

"Stop, Grace! Do not push." Cara's brows were knit as she placed her hands upon her sister's swollen stomach. Closing her eyes, she allowed her sense of touch to take over. Her hands smoothed over the heated skin of Grace's belly, her head raising as she concentrated on what she felt. "Yer child is breach, my sister," she whispered. Cara's eyes opened as she felt a presence beside her. Seeing Merryn's concerned blue eyes, the blonde smiled softly, then turned back to her patient. "I need ye ta hold still fer me, Grace. Can ye do that?"

"Aye," Grace whimpered, head lulling from side to side as pain ripped through her insides.

"Good girl."

Cara quickly untied her cloak, tossing it to the floor in her haste to get to her task. Arms and hands bared, she glanced down between her sister's spread legs. The girl's sex was swollen and moist from her water breaking. The girl was dilated and seeping, body readying itself for the miracle of birth.

Hovering over the end of the table, Cara's brows knit once more as she pressed her hand against the incredibly hot opening of the birth canal. Her fingers slid easily inside, followed by her thumb. Inside the girl to her wrist, the blonde glanced at her sister, gauging the girl's state of health. She was relieved to see Merryn standing Grace's head, leaning over her, whispering soft words of encouragement into the girl's ear, as well as gently stroking her hair and side of her face.

Turning back to her hand, Cara concentrated on what she felt. Soft warmth and liquids surrounded her flesh, softening the skin as it wrinkled. She tried to ignore the murmurs and whimpers of pain from the younger blonde. She had to do this. Both mother and child were at risk if she couldn't get the baby turned around to come out properly.

Reaching fingers came into contact with the soft skin of what felt to be a foot. Cara winced as a sharp toenail sliced at her thumb. Knowing she was where she needed to be, she grunted slightly, biting her lower lip as she reached for the baby's head, feeling the umbilical chord floating around, brushing against her wrist. It was thankfully not wrapped around the baby's neck. Feeling the side of her hand brush against a tiny cleft, Cara smiled.

"I believe ye have a girl, Grace," she said softly, meeting her sister's eyes for a brief moment before returning her attention to her niece. Gently urging the tiny body inside her sister's womb, Cara got her turned around so that her head was facing downward. The baby immediately began to slide downward. Cara also felt the inner muscles of Grace's cervix pushing a bit on her hand. Quickly removing it, she watched as her hand, covered in blood and a dark liquid emerged.

"Push now, Grace!" she urged. The girl cried out, eyes squeezing shut as she pushed with all her might.

"That's it, lass!" Merryn cried, standing, taking hold of one of the young blonde's hands, the smaller fingers squeezing tightly, painfully so, around her own.

"Almost there, Grace, come on." Cara was panting with exhilaration as the baby's head crowned, Grace screaming out her agony when the child managed to push through, her tiny, sickly white shoulders squeezing out of the tiny opening.

The angered cry of a brand new babe split the peace as she took her first breaths. Immediately Cara had her fingers in the child's mouth, clearing the airway of any left over mucus or liquids. Coughing, the baby resumed her crying, tiny body shaking with every strong pull of her lungs.

"It's a girl," Cara breathed, tears running from her eyes as she looked down at her niece. She quickly wrapped her up in a cloth handed to her. Grace watched, half exhausted, half beside herself with happiness. The baby was given to her, Cara still helping to support her, afraid that in Grace's weakened state, she wouldn't be as careful as she normally would be.

Merryn stood off to the side, arms crossed over her chest as she watched the beautiful scene unfolding before her. As Cara handed the child off to a mid-wife, she turned to the ruler, her face split with a smile. The brunette opened her arms, and the blonde flew into them.

"Good on ye, lass," Merryn whispered. "'M happy fer ye 'n yer sister."

"Thank ye."

They watched as the mid-wife stitched a sleeping Grace up, first making sure the after birth made its entrance into the world.

Grace was sound asleep, her head turned to the side as her body found some peace after nine months of strain and exhaustion.

Cara stood at Chloe's crib, the baby in her arms. She looked down into squinted blue eyes, faint, blonde brows drawn in infinite concentration. She smiled at the little sounds her niece made, tiny fingers wrapped around one of hers. Her eyes scanned her pinched face, taking in the tiny nose, nostrils flared as the baby instinctually took in everything around her, smells in the air that would remind her of her mother.

"'Tis a beautiful child, Cara."

The healer turned to her right, an instant smile matching that of Merryn's. She nodded, turning back to the child in her arms.

"Aye." She looked again at the brunette. "Would ye like ta hold her?" Merryn's smile at the offer warmed Cara's entire being.

"Very much so."

"Support her head," Cara whispered as she handed the tiny body into the brunette's tender embrace. The ruler looked down into the child's face, her smile grown soft and wistful.

"Hello, little Chloe," she cooed, bringing a hand up to touch the soft skin of the baby's face, lightly tapping her pert nose with a fingertip. Cara moved behind Merryn, resting her chin atop her shoulder, seeing what the brunette was seeing. For a moment, it seemed as if the impossible had happened, and the child in Merryn's arms was their child, borne of the love they had once shared. "A miracle, 'tis."

"Aye." Cara sighed with contentment, bringing her own hand up, tracing a light track down the babe's cheek. She smiled as the newborn's tongue instinctively lulled to that side of tiny, puckered lips.

"She hungry?" Merryn asked, never taking her eyes off the bundle in her arms.

"Nay. Grace fed her before I gave her an herb ta sleep."

Merryn nodded her approval. "Let us let ye sleep, little Chloe," she whispered in a sing-songy voice, turning toward the crib. Gently lying her down, she watched as Cara tucked the baby in, her swaddled body tiny and barely squirming.

"G'night ta ye, my love," Cara whispered, placing a soft gentle kiss atop the baby's forehead. Standing once again, she turned to Merryn. She felt uncertainty grip her. A feeling she did not like.

Merryn looked into exhausted green eyes. She knew the blonde needed sleep badly, and she also knew she wanted Cara to join her again in her bedchambers. The thought of sleeping soundly, knowing her healer was somewhere nearby, was unthinkable.

Cara felt her body beginning to sway as the need for sleep became a demand instead of a wish. Merryn had said nothing, had not invited the blonde to join her. She would not press an issue that she, herself was uncertain of. Eyes faltering for a moment, she ran an unsteady hand through her short locks. Turning slightly, she said over her shoulder, "G'night then, Merryn."

PART 13

MUTTERING TO HERSELF, Merryn finally rolled over, eyes wide open. Never had her bed felt so huge. Normally she had loved the expanse, as she had all the room she'd loved sleeping on the ground, but her body didn't pay for the nocturnal freedom. Such freedom seemed far more like a hindrance than privilege this night.

Giving up on rest, she gained her feet, grabbing a cloak to wrap snugly around her body after tugging on her boots. The fire had recently been rebuilt. Standing before it for a moment, the brunette warmed her chilled body, then headed out of the darkened rooms, grabbing one of her swords as she did.

As was expected, Saoirse was quiet. A few rats could be heard running along the walls, sniffing in their partial blindness for anything edible. The Donal walked down the stairs that led from her personal suite of rooms to the next floor, where guests and those of 'importance' slept. She found her way to Paul's rooms. He had been in bed most the previous day, the brunette checking on him from time to time. Cara had assured her that he would be fine, just needed some rest. He would be more sore than anything.

Pushing open the double doors leading to his rooms, she saw his fire was just about burnt out. Hurrying over to it, she quickly stoked it back to life. Turning to the bed, she saw dark eyes watching her. An instant smile lit up her face, far more than any fire could do.

"How are ye, lad?" Walking over to him, she perched on the side of his bed. He pulled his hands from under the covers, and with quick movements told his mother that he was fine, though still had a headache. He also told her that the healer had been there not long ago. Merryn smiled with a nod. "Aye. She is wonderful. More movement of his hands. Again, the brunette nodded. "Aye, son. I'd like her ta stay, as well."

Merryn looked away for a moment, indecision pulling her lower lip in to chew. She felt Paul's eyes on her. Glancing back at him, she decided to tell him the truth.

"Son, I need ta tell ye somethin'." The boy nodded, giving her his full attention. She knew that if Cara were to stay in the castle, perhaps become the official healer of the Donal, Paul needed to know the truth. Meeting his curious gaze, she began her tale. Paul listened, nodding from time to time to acknowledge that she still had his full attention. As the story progressed, his eyes got wider as realization dawned on him of just what his mother was telling him, the exact nature of Merryn and Cara's relationship at one time. Merryn swallowed hard as she got to the point in the story of Cara's illness at the cabin. She describe to him what it had been like to leave her, unable to burn or bury her. There was no way her heart could have survived watching such destruction. She ended her story at the night when she'd run into Tamara and her young son, Paul, and how the brunette had happened to be there to save their lives.

Nervous, Merryn finally met her son's eyes, waiting to see what he would say about the whole thing. She knew the lad was smart, and wise beyond his years, and could only pray that he would use that wisdom in reconciling what he'd just been told.

After sitting there for countless moments, the boy reached for the parchment he often used to write on when he was communicating with someone who did not understand his silent language. Bent over the parchment and scribbling a few words, he showed his writings to the brunette.

Ye really do like to anger the Bishop, don't ye?

Merryn broke out in relieved laughter, especially when she saw the twinkle in the boy's eyes. She watched as the boy began to scribble furiously again.

I do not understand such a love, but I do see what a wonderful person Cara is. She makes ye happy?

"Aye, Paul. That she does."

Do ye know her again? As in what 't bible says of know?

Merryn read the words, then shook her head. "No, son. I don'a know if we'll ever be that way again. But I do love her, 'n want her in my life." Paul nodded, tapping his own chest. "Ye, too, eh, lad?"

The boy grinned, turning back to his parchment.

I don't have a chance now, right?

Again, the boy's dark eyes twinkled. Throwing her head back in thunderous laughter, the Donal took her son in her arms and squeezed him. Giving him a quick kiss on the forehead, she grinned at him. Shaping her thumb and forefinger into an L, she placed them over her heart. The boy returned the gesture. It had always been something between them.

Gaining her feet, Merryn took the parchment and quill from the boy. "Sleep now, lad." Making sure he was warm and comfortable, she left him.

Leaving Paul's rooms, she felt better, but no less awake. Bringing her cloak a little more closer around her, she walked on, heading down out of the residence suites, and deeper into the guts of the castle.

In some ways she hated being home. On the battlefield, and in camps, she was typically so exhausted from fighting that she fell right to sleep. Out in the field, she got a better five-hour nights sleep than she did a full night at home. She was restless and antsy. She'd had longer stints at home between battles before, but none that were so taxing on her emotions.

She was glad to see the fixings for the festival that was coming in two days. It was time to celebrate. All the townspeople were invited to Saoirse to partake in food, wine, good ale, as would be made sure of by the connor, and any goods merchants wished to sell. It would be great good fun.

As she made her way toward the library she'd had put in the massive structure. About to go in and grab one of the many, rare hand-printed books to take up to her rooms, she noticed a flickering light. Walking across the massive hall, her steps echoing against the two-story ceiling.

The chapel door was closed, though the very faint flickering of candlelight within licked under the crack.

Taking the handle in her hand, she gently pulled, hoping the hinges would not creak. She was lucky, and they held her silence. Within the confines of the small room, the stone floor was bare, as parishioners came in to kneel to their knees. At the front stood a small altar for the castle priest to stand and perform his sermon in Latin.

A single candle tall candle was lit at the center of the room, its wick glowing and flickering in the constant breeze that weaved its way through the stone halls and rooms. Kneeling before this candle was Cara, back arched as her forehead nearly touched the floor. Her hands, unseen, were clasped under her chin. The blonde was completely silent, her eyes tightly closed.

Undecided on whether Merryn should leave this very private moment or not, her eyes were locked to golden hair, seeming to shimmer in the equally golden candlelight. She watched, enraptured by the gentle way Cara's body moved, almost as though she were rocking, raising just enough for her profile to be visible. Merryn could then see that her lips were moving, though nothing came out. Her clasped hands still rested against her forehead as she rocked back down, forehead nearly against the floor once more.

Deciding it was a moment too intimate for her to be witnessing, Merryn slowly backed out of the room.

"Don't leave," she heard softly whispered. Her eyes fixed on the blonde, saw her rock a couple more times before she sat up fully on her knees. Head bowed, she seemed to be closing her prayer, then gained her feet. Turning to the brunette, she smiled, which Merryn quickly returned.

"'M sorry. Shoulda gone."

"No," Cara said softly, walking over to the taller woman. "'Tis alright. Was nearly done." Merryn nodded acknowledgement. The blonde's head tilted slightly to the side. "Why'r ye not sleepin'?"

Merryn shuffled her booted feet, hands fidgeting as she tried to avoid eye contact. Finally she felt a gentle touch to her cheek. Her face was directed toward Cara's amused one. One shoulder shrugged, almost like a child.

"Can'a," she muttered in explanation. She melted at the smile that received.

"Do ye need somthin' ta help?" Cara was amused, but half serious all the same. Dark brows drew, and an even darker head shook. "Well then, let us get ye back ta bed." She took one of Merryn's hand in both of hers. Looking down at the differences- one deeply tanned and calloused, the other pale, soft, almost petit. Glancing back up at her companion, she smiled again. "The Donal needs her rest."

"As does 't great, all-knowing Healer."

Cara smirked, walking past the ruler, still holding her hand, giving the brunette no choice but to follow, feeling their fingers entwine as they walked.

"Paul said ye were by ta see 'im," Merryn said at length, stepping aside to allow the blonde to enter a narrow staircase before her. A dark brow raised at the sight before her- a wonderful behind.

"Aye. He heals quickly." She glanced behind her, amused when she saw blue eyes dart away. "Like his mother." Merryn smiled up at her.

As they reached the top of the staircase, Merry had to make a quick decision. One way would lead to Cara's rooms, the other to her own. Taking the lead as they hit the landing, she tugged lightly to the right. Looking down into twinkling green eyes, she smiled sheepishly and got them going toward the staircase that would lead to her bedchamber.

"Where is Paul's birth mother, Merryn?" Cara asked, her voice soft as they made their way through dark, cold hallways.

"She died when he was just a boy. His da, too." Merryn pushed open the doors to her suites. The fire warmed the room nicely from the chill in the halls they'd just traversed.

"He adores ye." Cara smiled at the pride that reflected plainly in the Donal's face. Merryn nodded.

"And I him." And I ye.

Cara looked around, then turned back to the ruler, brow raised. "Why did ye bring me here?" she asked, her voice soft. She thought she had an idea, as it was the same that had kept her awake, but she wanted to hear it. Needed to hear it.

Swallowing, Merryn took the blonde's hands in hers. She knew that if she were to get Cara fully back into her life, she needed to be as honest as she could with the beautiful healer. She began to speak, her voice soft, slightly shaky.

"I could'na sleep because ye'r not here. Will ye stay?"

Cara looked up into the beseeching face that was once again becoming so important to her. Raising a hand, the oversized sleeve of her dress falling down her arm, she cupped Merryn's cheek. She could feel the softness of the tanned skin, her thumb gently caressing the defined cheekbone. Nodding, she smiled.

"Aye."

The tension in the air suddenly grew thick, blue looking deeply into green. Cara could feel her heart rate quicken, and her breathing slightly hitch. Knowing she was not ready for anything more than sleeping, she dropped her gaze and took a step back.

Merryn swallowed hard, taking several deep breaths as Cara moved away from her, readying for bed. No other had touched her since Cara, and she knew not what to do with her body's sudden awakening. Deciding this night was not the time to think about it, she, too got ready for bed.

The castle and grounds were abuzz before the sun had risen. Just inside the gates of Saoirse booths were being set up, merchants displaying their wares to their best advantage for sell: pots and jugs, instruments, herbal mixtures, various food stuffs and carved, wooden toys- just to name a few. Excitement was in the air, children running around trying to help their parents, as well as playing with each other.

Every member of the household, including Evela and Angus, were helping to ready the festivities. There was no one that hadn't been bitten by the bug of excitement and anticipation for a wonderful day.

Giddy as a schoolgirl, Merryn crept back into her rooms. She was fully dressed and bathed, and had been a busy little ruler already, as the sun was beginning to smile upon the land. She walked over to the bed, where Cara was still very much asleep. The blonde lay on her side, hands tucked up under her chin.

Snatching the healer's full circle cloak, where she'd left it heating by the fire, she passed the overheated garment from hand to hand as it cooled slightly. Finally able to handle it, she tossed it over her arm, and gently woke Cara. Green eyes opened, then closed tightly as their owner groaned in displeasure.

"Come on, now, lass. I've got a surprise fer ye." Merryn couldn't keep the grin from splitting her face wide open. She wrapped the warmed cloak around a small frame, making Cara moan in pleasure as she was enveloped in soft warmth. This made her far more willing to follow the brunette out of the suite.

Getting no answer to her request for information, Cara became silent, trusting Merryn, and attempting to keep her early morning temper in check. She was led down the stairs, toward her own rooms before being suddenly tugged through a single door.

Merryn threw the door open, gently nudging Cara before her. Green eyes widened as she took in the beautiful room before her. Gone was the stone of the rest of the structure. This room was somewhat small, and the walls were lined with marble, the floor beautiful tile with decoration of a rising sun embedded in them. At the center of the room, which was hot and somewhat steamy, was a marble tub, of the likes that the healer had seen in Rome- large and square with ornate carvings along the sides. Two steps lined all four sides.

Along one wall were pottery jars, labels scribed into the fresh clay before they had been baked. Cleaning pastes and herbs wait inside, as well as soaps made of lard and rose petals. She noted a complex network of piping that led into the floor, as well as a pump that sat about waist-high.

"What 'tis this?" she asked, stepping further into the room. She saw that the tub was filled with warm, inviting water.

"Yer own private bath," Merryn said, pride filling her voice. She was just amazed that her people had managed to get it all done so quickly for her. She'd reward them greatly for it, too. Cara turned on her then, eyes wide in shock and disbelief. The brunette grinned with a nod. "No doubt yer still as much 'o stickler as ye were before," she said with a wink.

"Thank ye."

Merryn was nearly bowled over by a very enthusiastic little blonde healer. Giving her a tight hug, she pulled away a bit.

"Bathe now, lass. I'll send Carla in with clothin' fer ye." A quick kiss to the blonde's flushed cheek, and Merryn hurried out of the chamber.

Once left alone, Cara walked further into the room, in awe, and deeply touched. Her eyes lit upon everything, not wanting to miss any of the precious details that had been added just for her use. She uncorked each jar, inhaling the fragrant scents, recognizing each without having to read the label. Merryn had added all her favorites, and she was stunned at just how thoughtful a gesture it all was. How had she remembered everything that the blonde loved so much? It seemed that daily the Donal was shocking her all over again with her thoughtfulness.

Looking down into the tub, she smiled when she realized that the surface of the water was covered with floating rose petals, their deep red in sharp contrast to the white marble of the tub. Sitting upon the wide ledge that wrapped around all four sides, Cara leaned over, dipping her fingers into the water. She moaned at the warmth, imagining what that would feel like over her entire body. The best she'd ever had was a semi-warm bath in large wooden tubs, heated buckets of water thrown in. The warmth had quickly been cooled by the much colder air of the room or outside. Truly decadent.

Reaching up, Cara unclasped her cloak, hanging it on hooks that dotted one wall. As she worked the laces of her dress, there was a soft knock on the chamber door.

"Come!" she called, watching as Carla entered, a smile and slight bow to the healer as the girl set a new dress of white and green upon a small stool, as well as several soft, thick drying cloths. As soon as the young servant left, Cara walked over to the dress. Holding it up, she smiled as she shook her head. She'd been given more new garments in her past weeks at the castle than in her entire life.

Her dress sliding down her body, she stepped out of the material puddle, stepping over to the bath. The blonde was almost giddy with anticipation. Holding onto the ledge, she carefully dipped a toe into the warmth, then her entire foot, the water rising all the way up her leg to her upper thigh. Soon she had waded out to the center of the bath, glancing behind her to find the seat that would keep her head above the depths. Slowly lowering herself, she closed her eyes with a deep, throaty groan. Her nipples instantly tightened and hardened from the contrast of cold to hot, her skin prickling with goosebumps. It sent a shiver down her spine that she hadn't felt in years.

Looking down at her body, pale and distorted under the water's surface, she saw her breasts, the slope just above the water's ripple, a rose petal floating by to obscure her right breast for a moment. It had been so long since Cara had looked at her body with any thoughts of pleasure. Not since Merryn. Then for a long time, in her studies, she thought back to what they had done, and thought that perhaps the wickedness of what they'd done together was why God had punished them, separating them, and Merryn leaving Cara.

But now…

They had been brought together again. Surely, if what they had was so wrong, they never would have been reunited. And surely if it was so wrong, it wouldn't feel so right.

Eyes closing, Cara leaned her head back against the edge of the tub, a deep sigh slipping from her lips. The water pulsed around her body, caressing long neglected skin. She felt the soft, velvety touch of her fingertips resting on the tops of her thighs, tickled slightly by the tiny hairs there.

Cara couldn't deny that Merryn still affected her, bringing her body to life when she thought it, like her heart, was long dead. What was she to do? Dare she open herself up again? Though the logical side of her understood what had happened, and how it had happened, and that these past ten years Merryn has been tortured more than anyone. But the other side of her, that lost, angry, devastated young girl, still cried and was terrified it would happen again.

Sighing heavily, she decided to just not think about it, nor analyze it too deeply. She was bonded to the ruler in no way that she could ever break or deny. As she relaxed further into the water, she decided to just take things as they came. No conscious thought had been made the first time, so why now?

It had been nearly half an hour since the ale-connor had sat on the bench in a puddle of ale. The crowd gathered around him watched, almost holding their breath. He swished a bit of the sweet English ale around his mouth, his enormous belly resting atop his leather-clad thighs. A heavy brow drew and released in concentration, some of the dark liquid darkening his red beard.

Swallowing what was in his mouth, he took the wooden mug into one plump fist and then began to wiggle his bum on the bench before finally standing. There was no sticking, his leather pants coming easily off the wood.

As he raised the mug high into the air, the crowd erupted in a cheer- mainly Jason, who had brewed the ale. If his ale had been 'short-measured', bad quality or quantity, the punishment would have been severe. Breathing a sigh of relief, he looked at those who slapped him in the back with gratitude.

People continued to pour through the castle's inner walls as the morning lengthened with the shadows, merriment in laughter as people perused the exhibits and ate good food, all provided by Donal. Her own people stood at the outside fire pits, roasting turkey legs, handing out bread and bowls of stew.

Games were set up: a line of targets for archery contests, as well as a course for horsemanship, Boccie, and of course, crowd favorite, jousting.

"What?" Cara asked, nearly exasperated. Glancing up at her companion, she saw Merryn look shyly away. Stopping their progress through the crowd, she put a hand to the Donal's arm. "Nay. Why do ye keep lookin' at me?"

Merryn gave her a side glance, then looked down at her boots. Finally raising her eyes again, she looked the blonde square on. "Ye look stunnin' 'n that dress, lass. 'N this," she brushed her fingers over the crown of flowers in her hair, a soft smile tipping her features. Her eyes shone such an intense shade of blue, Cara had to look away.

"Thank ye," she whispered, her cheeks turning every shade of red. Merryn decided to let her off the hook.

"Come, lass. Let us celebrate!" Grabbing her hand, Merryn tugged the blonde into the throng of the excited crowd. The music wafted through the air, dancing contagious as Merryn led Cara in an enthusiastic Grocheio. Both Donal and healer had irrepressible smiles on their faces, their claps joining the rest of the dancers, gaze never breaking as they turned away from the other, only to join back and make a tunnel for fellow dancers. Cara felt the light material of her dress swishing around her legs as they moved, and seeing the gleam in those beautiful blue eyes. She whipped around again, clapping once before whipping the other way, again her palms coming together to join the round of claps. She watched Merryn over her shoulder, doing the same moves, their eyes catching again and again, only for one or the other to look away, only for their gaze to be found again.

Merryn couldn't keep the smile from her lips as she swung around with other dancers, watching her healer do the same. As they came back together, never touching, their gazes met once more, both flushed with the excitement and exertion of the dancing. Dancing was something the Church strongly forbade, lest it incite urges of the Devil. Dancing was something Cara enjoyed very much, but such little reason to do.

The song came to an end, the dancers clapping enthusiastically in appreciation and a sense of camaraderie and accomplishment. Many of the townsfolk hurried over to Donal, not often having such a chance to speak with her and thank her.

Cara stepped back out of the gathering throng, pride filling her, and wonder. How on earth had a scrappy pick pocket ended up ruling England? As she watched the way the brunette interacted with her people, it wasn't hard to see. She was confident and self-assured, stern and fair, yet kind and caring. It was obvious that she loved these people, and even more obvious they loved her.

"Ye'v managed what we've been tryin' ta do for years."

Cara snapped her head around at the amused voice. Evela gave her a smiling side glance before turning to watch the excitement of the Donal.

"N what 'tis that?" the blonde asked, her own smile returning.

"Ye'v somehow convinced her to enjoy herself. She usually stays in a corner, watching, but never joining in the festivities."

"'N why not?"

"I know not." Evela sighed, plucking a flower from the basket she carried, and handing it to the blonde. She gave the healer a genuine smile of gratitude. "Ye'v given a ruler her heart back, young Cara," she said softly. "All of England and her far reaching empire thanks ye for it."

As the small brunette walked away, Cara twisted the flower between her fingers, letting those words sink in. Vaguely she heard the music start up for yet another dance, then a tapping on her shoulder. She turned to see Paul bow deeply before her, his dark eyes twinkling with mirth and the health of a young man. Wiggling his brows, the blonde knew what he was asking.

"I'd be delighted, Paul."

His grin was blinding as they began their dance.

Merryn flexed her knees, bringing her leg up, making sure the mail moved as she needed it to, not catching under the aketon beneath it.

"Alright," she said, encouraging her squire to continue. The boy knelt as he attached the cuisse, protecting her thighs, the heavy plates clinking together as he attached them with leather straps. While he did this, Angus helped by putting her pauldrons into place, the rounded shoulder pieces fitting nicely over the couter.

"Bend," he ordered, watching as Donal flexed her elbow, the metal moving as it should. Patting her on the shoulder, he turned to the cuirass with attached tassets, which reached to mid-thigh, neatly blending with the cuisse, which the boy had finished with. He was moving on to the greave, making sure the armor fit properly over Donal's boots, then strapping front and back tighter.

The boy stood out of the way, letting the warrior walk around the small armor chamber, flexing her legs and elbows, raising her arms, and moving her shoulders. Once this ritual was complete, Angus pulled the coat-armour over the ruler's head, her colors and coat of arms displayed brightly over the tournament garment. Grinning at her, he helped her with the mail coif, assuring it wasn't caught in her bound hair.

"I still say ye should be tournamentin', too," she grumbled, accepting her mail gauntlets from the squire, giving him a small smile of thanks.

"Nay," Angus said, taking her helm from it's wooden stand, tucking it under his arm. "'Tis fer ye to cause the oohs 'n ahhs." He winked, making his Donal roll her eyes.

Merryn flexed her fingers into the gloves of mail, the wrist guards steel plate. "Excuses," she muttered, sliding a single hand-and-a-half blade into its place at her side, then walking out of the chamber, into the yard where her war horse had already been saddled and harnessed, his own armor glinting in the sunlight.

With an alley-oop! she was up on horseback. Settling in the saddle for a moment, allowing her mount to get used to her added weight, grown heavier by her armor. Reaching down, she took her helm from Angus, rocking it into place, lifting the visor with a mail finger. She took her shield in her left hand and the lance, painted in her colors of black and gold, in the other. Tucking the weapon into her saddle, lengthwise along the beast, she nodded to her next in command, taking his words of good luck. Click of her tongue, and her horse was on his way.

Cara moved with the excited crowd toward the jousting grounds. Seating was set up amphitheater-style around a long, dirt field. Many of the wooden benches were already filled with spectators, murmuring happily amongst themselves, others caught up in the antics of the two fools in the field, providing amusing entertainment until the match began.

Cara sat between Paul and Evela, the brunette's husband, Ezra, joining them. The blacksmith stroked his dark beard as he chuckled at the antics of the men on the field, chasing each other and slinging barbs and insults.

The blonde lifted her face to the warm, cloudless sky. The sun beat down, but a gentle breeze helped to keep the day comfortable. It was a perfect day.

Green eyes opened when she heard loud horns announcing the arrival of the tournament opponents for the days jousting match. The fools dashed off the field, replaced by one of the castle criers.

"Hear ye, hear ye!" he called, all eyes on him. "T'day we have a treat of special care fer ye!" He threw his arm out with a flourish, the two war horses prancing onto the field, proudly carrying their armored riders, each holding their lance at attention. Merryn was easy to spot, the sunlight glinting off the golden visor of her helm, showing her rank and position.

"Our Donal ride to 't field," the crier continued, the ruler raising her lance to deafening cheers from her people. She smiled as she heard the stomping of shoes. She could hear her own breathing echoing around her, making her skin feel moist and warm. Looking through the slatted visor, she searched the crowd, trying to spot golden hair. She smiled when four people stood near the middle of the first section. They were too far to see clearly, but she caught the three dark heads, and one golden, knowing exactly who was waving and yelling to her. Nodding her helm in honor to them, Merryn turned her attention back to the match at hand.

Angus watched from beside the stands, near the mouth of the tunnel where the riders had entered the field from the stable yards. He leaned against the wall, arms crossed over his chest. Running a hand through thick hair, much filtered with gray now.

Watching the two opponents on the field, he smiled, knowing it would be a good match. Lord Handon from Kent was on very good terms with the Donal, and they enjoyed each others company. Handon was a good fighter, and an equally good showman- just like Donal.

"Warring against our Donal this day is Sir Henry of Maidenshire! First Knight of Lord Handon of Kent!"

The crowd cheered once again politely, though began to boo good naturedly. The other horseman raised his lance, pumping his armored arm to taunt those in the crowd.

Dark brows knit, Angus pushed off the wall, eyes trained on Donal, who glanced at him over her shoulder. Angus shook his head in confusion.

"Let 't games begin!" The crier ran off the field, allowing the opponents to find their positions.

Cara was beside herself with excitement. She heard so much of Donal's prowess with weapons, and was anxious to see her in action. She had to smile as she thought back to the days they traveled together. Merryn had been able to hold her own with a sword, but much of that had been bumbling luck.

She felt her fingers tense around the flower Evela had given her earlier, intent on offering it to Merryn as a gesture of the brunette's victory. She could feel Paul's excitement, nearly matching her own, sitting beside her. She grinned over at him to find he was already grinning at her.

"Will she win?" she whispered. His dark eyes widened as he nodded vigorously. She giggled, linking her arm with the lad's, her legs bouncing with nervous energy.

Merryn grasped the reigns of her horse tightly in her mail-covered fingers. She could feel beads of sweat rolling down her spine, the heavy, quilted material of the aketon absorbing it, as well as protecting her from the pinching mail that covered her body. She became focused solely on the mounted man down the field from her, seeing his own gauntleted hand flexing on his lance, and no doubt behind his shield, as well, just as she was. Pushing her boot more snuggly into the stirrups, giving herself a more planted, solid stance in which to absorb a blow, or plant her own.

Camulus, the massive black mountMerryn sat upon, stomped one of his front hooves, feeling the tension and anticipation of his master. Bucking his head slightly, he let Merryn know that he was as ready as she.

Blue eyes focused in on the other rider, seeing his thighs beginning to clench around his mount, as hers did the same. She could feel the blood and adrenaline begin to sing through her system, her sight turning to tunnel vision as she focused her sole attention on her opponent. Though these were games, she had to focus like it was battle.

Cara was nearly holding her breath as she kept her eyes on Merryn, almost able to feel the brunette's heart racing and blood pounding throughout her body. She felt the same way just watching!

The horses snorted, both seemingly ready to bolt at the first indication from their masters. The cue was given, and the beasts did just that.

The crowd was on its feet, cheering for their Donal as she raced toward her opponent, lowering her lance as she neared. There was a marvelous crack as Donal's lance was smacked away by that of her opponent. The horses passed each other, then the riders got them turned around, effectively taking the other's pre-match position.

Bringing her lance up, Merryn studied the knight downfield. His horse was pawing at the dirt. Her horse breathing hard from exertion and excitement, Merryn patted his neck, murmuring to him to settle him a bit. Grabbing the reigns again, she got ready for another pass.

"Ha!" she encouraged her mount, sending the beast speeding off back down the field, her opponent doing the same. Lowing her lance, she held it tightly against her side, holding it in position with her arm. She zeroed in on the oncoming knight, eyes widening when the sun glinted off an arrowhead that had been mounted to the end of his lance, painted dark red to match the rest of it.

"Bloody hell!" she cried as she lost her focus in her shock.

Cara gasped loudly, as did the crowd, as the two jousters collided, Merryn flying from her horse with the lance sticking out of her body. Cara held her breath until she saw the pole fall over harmlessly, figuring all was well, the healer felt her heart begin to beat again. That is until Merryn didn't get up.

Merryn tried to catch her breath, desperately clawing at her breastplate. She felt the jagged hole in the steel, but no wetness. Opening her eyes as she sensed danger, she saw the mounted man coming back at her. With a cry of intent, the man raised his bastard sword, intent on bringing it down to finish the job.

Blue eyes about to pop from their sockets, Merryn grunted as she forced her steel-encased body to roll out of the way.

About to run to the field when she saw Merryn moving, her hands feeling around her breastplate, the blonde was stunned to see the other jouster returning, his blade raised high above his head.

The crowd didn't have time to react as cries from the archery range rang out through the day, people beginning to fall right where they sat or stood, wooden shafts sticking out of their chests, backs, necks, and legs.

Realizing what was happened, the healer made sure none of those sitting with her were hit, then took off, jumping over those still sitting, crawling around others. Her healer instincts kicked in, and hiding behind fallen bodies, or the stands themselves, she began to try and calculate where her worst wounded were.

Merryn had to use all her strength to pull herself to her feet in enough time to miss the third pass. Keeping her wits with her, she used her own lance to crack the knight's horse's front legs. With a painful whinny, the beast went down, dumping his cargo to the ground. Like Donal, the knight rolled out of the way, mindful of the felled horse and his opponent.

It hurt like nothing else to breathe, but Merryn knew she had to stay lucid as she looked at the knight. She heard the commotion from the stands, but could not dare look. Pulling her own blade, she met that of the knight, clash of steel adding to the cries of fear and pain all around her.

Enraged beyond human capacity, Merryn felt a strength rush through her as she had a good idea what was happening. She heard her men rushing onto the scene, fighting the archers, or running them down, only to trample them with horses. She used all her might, all her skill and protectiveness of her people to fight the highly trained knight.

Grinning with satisfied venom as his sword went flying off onto the field, the sun glinting blindingly for a moment. The knight began to back away from her, but too late. With a cry of rage she thrust forward, underneath his tassets, the sharp point of her blade slicing through his mail, and into the tender flesh of his groin.

The knight cried out, the sound muffled inside his helm. Not bothering to run him completely through, Merryn kicked him off her blade, the man falling with a loud clang of steel.

She reached up, unbuckling her helm and tugging it off her head, tossing it to the field. Hair glued to her scalp and face, she ran over to the knight's sword, snatching it up as she past. Both blades in tow, she ran into the fray, chopping at anything in her path that was aggressive. She looked around frantically for any site of Cara, but was soon returning her focus to an enemy.

Looking out across the field, she saw Angus, two men with swords on him. The dark man was doing his best to keep up.

Merryn ran, her armor and the two, heavy swords in her hands slowed her progress. Baring her teeth, she sliced one from behind with one blade, then swirling around to slice his throat with the other. The man fell before he even knew what had hit him. Turning her attention back to Angus, she saw him sweating profusely as his attacker went at him with quick, frenzied thrusts. Angus was doing what he could to defend himself, completely on the defense. The darker man had not fought in years, and he was not keeping his breathing under control.

Merryn head someone come up behind her and turned, raising one of her swords to catch the blow her attacker had tried to bring down on her head. Her eyes burning hatred at the coward who would dare attack from behind. With a swift slap with her mail gauntlet, her attacker staggered backward, Merryn following, showing no mercy. She met his every blow, becoming the aggressor as she brought the other blade into it. She was not used to the weight of two long swords, and she could feel the strain in her forearms at the effort. Undaunted, she swung low with her left hand, taking the man's leg at the knee. Crying out in excruciating pain, he stumbled on his remaining leg, cry falling short when he had a sword stuck in his gullet.

Not even bothering to tear the blade from his body, she turned, meaning to help Angus when she cried out. Angus stood motionless, eyes as wide as his mouth as his opponent struggled to pull his blade out from the dark man's chest.

"No!" Merryn roared, vision turning red as she used all her strength, whipping her entire body around as she swung, catching the terrified fighter in the soft tissue of his neck. She didn't even watch to see where the head fell as she threw herself to her knees. "Angus, no," she breathed, gathering her oldest, dearest friend in her steel embrace.

Wide, dark eyes looked up at her, a sickening gurgle coming from his chest. He reached up with desperate fingers, trying to find purchase to grab onto. His fingers slid uselessly down the cold steel of Merryn's armor. With one final gasp, a word, he stopped moving, his body sliding down until he lay half on Merryn's thighs and half on the ground, eyes open, blood pouring from his mouth.

Teresa.

Feeling her eyes stinging with overwhelming emotion, she leaned down, holding Angus close, the tears threatening to override her control. Glancing up, she saw a man coming at her with a dagger in his hand. He looked afraid, but determined.

Gently setting Angus aside, Merryn felt her jaw muscles contracting as she got to her feet. He faltered just a moment as he realized he may be in trouble, but kept his momentum, to his mortal detriment.

With the roar of a lion protecting his pride, Merryn drew her arm back, then hit him as hard as she could with the steel of her gauntlet. The impact knocked the man off his feet, the side of his head crumpling like so much parchment. Dead before he hit the ground, Merryn looked down at him, spitting on his corpse.

About to walk away, she noticed something gleam in the sunlight. Bending, she brought her fingers to his throat, seeing the pendant attached to a leather thong. Tugging with a small grunt, it came loose.

"Bastard," she hissed, recognizing the Bishop's seal.

Bodies littered the yards, some alive, but many dead. Children, women, all gone. Those bastards had left no one untouched in the slaughter.

Heavy, steel-covered boots picked lightly through the carnage, not wanting to step on anyone, dead or no. Blue eyes scanned the dead, praying she'd find Cara, but screaming to God that she wouldn't. Not here. Not in these fields of death.

Merryn had given up asking anyone, all who survived dazed and grieving not only the dead, but what had been such a wonderful celebration of life. Donal's life. Guilt was eating through Merryn like a ravaging monster. If only she had not spoken against the Bishop, if only she had played it with diplomacy and grace….

Evela nearly jumped out of her skin as the double doors exploded inward. Her heart began to beat in relief when she saw Merryn storm in. The brunette was looking around frantically, her arms dented, a hole at the center of her chest, all the way to the aketon. Her hair was flat to her head, blood and dirt streaking her features.

The ruler was hurrying from group to group of the wounded, getting more frantic by the moment.

"Donal-" Evela began, not daring to use the ruler's real name in front of so many of her subjects. She was cut off by wild blue eyes. She whimpered in fear when her upper arms were grabbed in a harsh hold.

"Where is she!?" Merryn demanded shaking the small woman with each word. She had never seen fear in those dark eyes before, but it mattered not. "Where!"

"She's alive, Merryn," Evela breathed, "getting' more supplies-" not allowed to finish her sentence, the Donal was gone, armor clanking against itself as she ran.

"Cara?!" she called, running down the hall, her voice nearly hoarse from fatigue and swallowing a great deal of dust. Nearly passing the physician's supply room, she stopped, pulling herself back to the room with her hand on the doorframe. A stunned little blonde stood inside, her white dress covered in patches of blood, blonde hair disheveled and face smudged.

At the realization of who stood before her, Cara's face crumpled, and she dropped everything in her hands, not caring as jars shattered against the stone floor. She threw herself at the Donal, who was nearly bowled over.

The hard steel of Merryn's breastplate rammed against Cara's sensitive breasts, but she didn't care, thanking God over and over again that the brunette was alive.

Merryn heard the blonde crying, and held her tighter. Suddenly she was being slightly pushed away, her face taken between two soft hands. She barely had time to react as she was pulled in, Cara's lips pressing desperately against her own. Wrapping her arms more tightly around the healer, Merryn returned the kiss, both their mouths opening, hungry, desperation borne of fear and relief.

Out of breath, Merryn pulled back, resting her forehead against Cara's. "I was so afraid ye'd be dead," she whimpered, the full weight of her loss this day crashing all around her. She saw Angus in her mind's eye, her entire spirit breaking as she lost control of her emotions at the gentleness of the woman in her arms. Cara held her, whispering soft words of love into her ear, leaving little kisses along the brunette's cheeks, trying to kiss her tears away, noting how the emotion left a trail of skin through the smudges on the warrior's face. Soon Merryn calmed, the initial impact passing. She gathered herself together and pulled back from the blonde.

"I need ta meet with my men," she said softly, bringing up a hand, caressing the side of Cara's face with her fingertips. Green eyes closed as the healer covered Merryn's mail-covered hand with her own. She nodded in understanding. Merryn leaned her head down, placing a soft kiss on Cara's soft lips. "I love ye."

"And I love ye," the blonde whispered, returning the kiss. "Go now."

"How did this happen!?" Merryn bellowed, her voice echoing throughout the Great Hall. Her men stood around, broken and bloody, just like she was. It pained her every time she realized Angus wasn't at her side. George nor Aaron would be joining them ever again, either. "This," she hissed, walking around the room, assuring each man looked her in the eye as she passed, "is unforgivable." Heads drooped lower. "We're here ta protect these people, no get them slaughtered! Like sheep," she finished, in honor of their patron- Bishop of Rutherford. "Get yerselves cleaned up."

Reaching out, she stopped a man, one of her soldiers. He stopped immediately, watching as Donal looked away for a moment, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Taking a deep breath, she turned to the man.

"Thomas, I need ye ta do somethin'."

Cara sighed, again, as she turned from one more who had succumb to their injuries. Placing a bit of cloth over the child's face, she moved on. There were too many covered faces!

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Merryn enter into the makeshift hospice. Turning, she walked over to the exhausted woman. Merryn's armor was gone, leaving her in the ruined aketon, and mail leggings.

Closing her eyes with relief, Merryn leaned into the small body that she was able to lose herself in, if just for a moment. Opening her eyes, she saw Evela, trying to treat an elderly man who had broken his foot in the chaos.

"I'll be right back," she muttered, walking over to the smaller brunette. Dark eyes met hers for a moment before turning back to her patient. "Forgive me, Evela, resting a hand on the woman's shoulder. The smaller brunette looked up at Merryn, a sad smile upon her lips. She nodded.

"Nothin' ta forgive, Merryn."

Donal nodded, grateful for her friend's understanding.

"She was devastated, Merryn," Evela said, nodding toward Cara, who was stitching up one of the last injured. "Be with her. Calm her." She reached up, placing a soft hand on the brunette's cheek. "And yerself."

"But-"

"Go."

At the gentle urging, Merryn walked back over to the healer, standing behind her, watching as the blonde spoke softly to the man, finishing up her stitching by grabbed the cat gut tight in her teeth as she cut it with a small dagger. Cara turned, nearly walking straight into the brunette. Merryn smiled.

"Come."

Glancing over at Evela, who nodded, the healer left the brunette, Paul, and a few scattered other helpers to finish up.

Cara glanced up at the ruler from time to time as they made their up further into the heart of the castle. Finally they made their way up the narrow staircase, turning right, then climbing the last staircase. Merry was led through the huge chamber, cold; no fire this night. The brunette's head fell, figuring that Matthew had probably been killed.

"Sit. Let me have a look at ye," Cara said softly, pushing the brunette to sit on the side of the bed. She reached behind the brunette to unlace the aketon, peeling the quilted garment off the Donal, tossing it aside. She grimaced when she saw the massive bruise that sprang out of the center of her chest, where the arrow tip had crashed into her body, shredding her armor, and miraculously stopping just before penetration. "Let me get-"

"Nay." Merryn stopped her with a hand to the blonde's wrist. Gently pulling her back, the healer willingly went, standing between the brunette's legs, and running her fingers through the sweat and blood-hardened strands of dark hair.

"Ye should wash, Merryn," Cara whispered, her fingers running down the side of the brunette's face, Merryn's forehead resting against the blonde's breastbone. She felt her nod. "Ye can even use my bath." Cara smiled at the chuckle that received. Merryn raised her head, a smirk on her lips.

"'R ye sayin' I'm disgustin', lass?"

A golden brow raised as Cara looked her over, slowly nodding. This time an all out laugh burst from the brunette's throat.

"I see."

Cara grinned, but it faded as Merryn sobered. Gentle fingertips brushed the side of the ruler's face.

"What 'tis it?"

"We lost so many today, lass," Merryn whispered. "So many. And Angus-"

"I know. 'M so sorry. Ye did what ye could, Merryn. Ye have ta know that." Soft fingers traced down along the brunette's jaw, then butterfly touches along her strong shoulders. "'T people don't blame ye for this."

"How many were lost, Cara?"

"Fewer than were saved." She leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Merryn's forehead. "Come." Wrapping a cloak around the Donal's naked shoulders, Cara led her down to the blonde's private bathing chamber. Soon the tub was being filled with steam-heated water, the blonde tossing in herbs that would help sooth Merryn's muscles and help her relax.

Merryn stripped out of her clothing, mail leggings falling to the floor in a loud clump. She had to peel her tights down her thighs, the garment stiff with dried sweat and blood.

Cara tried to keep her eyes averted, but was having a difficult time with that. She caught a glimpse of the brunette out of the corner of her eye, and her breath caught. Gone was the tall, lanky girl of their youth. Before her now stood a strong, proud warrior, skin of her arms and face tanned a deep brown, which was a testament to Merryn's strong belief in protecting her people by her own blade; it was thought that the paler and pastier, the more wealthy. Tanned skin was for the peasants who actually had to make a living.

The years had placed lines of maturity and concentration on the already beautiful face, giving Merryn a look of strength and authority. Donal's body had grown strong and firm, rivaling just about any noble male in the realm.

In a word, Cara thought her ruler was stunning.

Merryn was completely oblivious to Cara's surreptitious glances as she climbed into the heated water, eyes instantly closing as a moan escaped her throat. It was pure bliss. A deep sigh escaped not long after when she felt soft fingers on her shoulders.

"Let me wash yer hair, Merryn," Cara whispered, sitting on the ledge near the brunette's head. At the nod she received, She gently pushed on the shoulders, urging her to wet her tangled locks. The blonde rubbed a generous amount of the most potent washing paste between her palms, feeling the thick, grainy substance squish between her fingers.

"Cara?" Merryn said as the blonde washed her hair.

"Hmm?"

"Do ye think 'tis a sin ta murder a man 'o 't cloth?" She waited as the silence drew out. Dunking her head at the blonde's urging.

"Do ye believe the Bishop was behind this?" Cara asked finally, her brow troubled. She rubbed a second helping of the cleaning paste between her palms, this time one made from rose petals. It smelled wonderful.

"I know he was. I found his seal on one 'o those bastards." Merryn could keep the hate out of her voice. Never had she felt such deep loathing for an enemy before. Any battle she'd ever fought had been a matter of politics and business as usual. This had been plain cowardly and brutal; a massacre and unforgivable.

"Then I say the His Grace should live by the Word- an eye for an eye," Cara said, her voice deceptively soft for the words she spoke. "Rinse."

Merryn wiped the water from her eyes as she broke the surface, sitting. She glanced over her shoulder at the blonde who was still perched on the ledge of the tub.

"Join me now that I'm not so disgustin'?" she asked, a grin quirking the corner of her mouth. Cara smiled, nodding. She was nervous as she stood, pulling her dress from her body. She could feel blue eyes on her just as acutely as she could feel her own body trembling under the frank gaze.

Merryn felt like she should give the blonde privacy by not ogling her, but she couldn't take her eyes off the beautiful woman even if her eyes had been ripped from their sockets. The skin was so pale, it was almost translucent in some places, so soft. The girl she once knew was gone, leaving the incredible woman standing before her now.

Trying not to stumble into the tub, Cara accepted the hand that was offered for balance. Murmuring a thank you, she sat down across from the brunette. Their gazes met for a moment before Cara dropped hers.

Cara leaned back against the side of the tub, allowing her body to relax, only for her heart to start racing again when she felt Merryn's thigh brush her own.

"Relax, lass," the brunette whispered, caressing the side of Cara's calf under the warm water. The blonde tried, but the mere naked proximity of Merryn was having interesting affects on her. It had been so long that she just wasn't sure what to do with all the feelings coursing through her, and part of her felt horrible for having them. It was one of the worst days of Merryn's reign, and here she was thinking of how much the brunette's nakedness was affecting her.

Merryn watched the small blonde, noting as she chewed on her lower lip, brows slightly wrinkled in thought. Perhaps she shouldn't have invited her to bathe with her? About to say just such a thing when Cara beat her to it.

Leaning slightly forward, the blonde looked at Merryn, her gaze strong, but her lip still tucked under her front teeth before being released. With the slow, dream-like movement under the water, Cara pushed Merryn's legs open, then turned around, scooting back until her back came into contact with the brunette's front.

Merryn's eyes closed as the smaller body moved against her, her arms automatically moving to wrap around the blonde's waist, pulling her tighter against her. Cara's head fell back against her shoulder, both sighing in utter contentment. It amazed Merryn just how familiar the position still was, as if they sat like this every day.

As soon as she relaxed back into Merryn, any doubts Cara might have had flew out the window. Immediately her body remembered this, how it felt to be held in the brunette's arms, how safe she felt, loved, and content. How had she lived without it for more than ten years?

Merryn had always been amazed at the way their bodies had fit together. She allowed her mind to expand into every fiber of her being, closing her eyes as she concentrated on every place in her body that came into contact with Cara's skin. New tingles began to flow through her as deft fingertips began to drift up her arms before sliding back down, entwining themselves with Merryn's.

Merryn leaned forward, allowing her nose to move up the blonde's neck, inhaling all that was Cara, reacquainting her senses. Cara tilted her head slightly, feeling the feather light brushes of the brunette's cheek against her own skin. The blonde's heart began to beat faster as her breath caught.

Merryn's shaky exhale made the blonde shiver. The Donal could feel her body responding to the proximity of their bodies, and the way Cara's fingers were beginning to trail up and down her forearms once again, nails gently dragging when the blonde felt soft lips press against her neck.

A soft sigh was released from Cara when the kisses began to turn deeper, wet. Her breathing became shallow, her body beginning to buzz with remembered pleasure, and just the sheer joy being touched.

Merryn worried she'd blown it when she felt Cara pull away, her hands immediately dropping to her side. Her breath caught when she realized the blonde was turning around. Gasping at the feel of the insides of Cara's thighs brushing the outsides of her own.

The healer looked down into hooded blue eyes, her breath hitching when she felt the brunette's sex brush against the smooth skin of her backside. Trembling slightly, she brought a hand up, cupping the side of Merryn's face, the other smoothing wet strands of hair back from the beautiful, angular face.

Leaning down, she gently pressed her lips to Merryn's, feeling the brunette's lips respond. Pulling back slightly, she once again looked down into opening blue eyes. She searched them, looking for what, she didn't know.

Merryn allowed her hands to drift over the blonde's back, roving up to her shoulder blades then running her fingertips back down along her spine. Looking up into questioning eyes, she wondered what was going through the beautiful blonde's head. She was trying to keep her body under control, realizing that their breasts were a breath apart.

"Merryn," Cara began, her voice breathy, her nerves shining through. "I," she stopped herself, eyes falling as she watched one of her fingers tracing along Merryn's collarbone. "I haven't-"

"Neither have I, lass," Merryn whispered, understanding. She smiled at the blonde, cupping the soft, exquisite face. "Not since ye."

Cara breathed out a sigh of relief. She felt a hand at the back of her head, closing her eyes as she drew closer to the woman she now knew she had never stopped loving. Their lips met and held, each trying to orient themselves with the kiss, with each other, and with the passion that flowed through them.

Merryn nearly felt light-headed just from the simple touch, but she craved so much more. Locking her hands at Cara's lower back, she used her arms to push the blonde even closer, both moaning into the kiss at the feel of their breasts meeting. Cara pulled away, her mouth open and eyes closed as she absorbed the intense pleasure.

The one time they'd been naked together had been the night the good Friar had shown them the pleasures of opium. She remembered little from their experience, and wished to know all their was of Merryn's body, every texture, every taste, every touch. She would allow nothing, certainly not clothing, to stand in her way.

Breathing hard, she looked down at Merryn, leaning in to kiss her again, this time her mouth was more demanding, her lips opening to those beneath them. Merryn was surprised by the sudden fire that seemed to be lit inside Cara, and responded, her own need building quickly. Her fingers itched and burned to touch the blonde, her body beginning to burn from a long extinguished fire.

"Merryn?" Cara panted against the brunette's mouth.

"Aye?"

"Let us go from this place," the blonde pleaded. She felt her love nod before her mouth was once again captured, her body held close.

Quickly separating, Cara climbed out of the tub, turning to hold her hand out for Merryn. The brunette took it, climbing out, but pulling the blonde to her again. The blonde whimpered at the feel of Merryn's body against her own, her mouth immediately taken. She sighed heavily at the feel of Merryn's tongue touching her own, sending a jolt through them both. Cara's arms snaked up around the brunette's neck, pulling her closer as her fingers buried themselves in long, wet strands.

Merryn's fingers spread out, trying to touch as much of Cara's back as possible as the kiss deepened. Suddenly Cara's lips were gone. The brunette was about to object when she felt them on her throat. Moaning, her head fell back, waves of heat flowing from the point of the blonde's lips all the way down her body. She whimpered when a soft hand, still warm from the bath they'd shared, cupped one of her breasts.

Cara yelped when she heard a crash, breaking away from Merryn's neck to see the brunette had swiped a long arm over the shelf with soft drying linens. She was lowered onto the make-shift mattress, the brunette's body following.

"Oh, Merryn," she breathed, the feel of the brunette's entire naked skin lying upon her own was overwhelming.

"Táim I angrá leat," Merryn whispered, her mouth moving over Cara's neck, speaking between kisses and licks. "I have always been in love with ye, lass. Always will."

"My love," Cara murmured, bringing the brunette's face back up to her own. Her kiss had become desperate, needy. Merryn responded with equal fervor, moving her body over Cara's, who's legs opened to accept her. They both moaned at the feel of the brunette's thigh pressing against the blonde's heated and saturated sex.

Cara's voice was hoarse as she tried to cry out, a soft tongue lapping across her rigid nipple. Her body had been denied the pleasures of the flesh for so long, she worried she might release just from that intense feeling.

Merryn moved as she sucked Cara's nipple between her lips. She wanted so badly to take her love up to her rooms, and the huge bed, but her need had overridden any sense of propriety. Hearing the blonde's sounds of pleasure urged her forward. She wanted to explore every single part of the woman beneath her, all that she never did before.

Cara's breath caught when she felt a hand roaming over her stomach, sliding down to cup her hip. Moaning slightly in displeasure as Merryn moved off her body, lying beside her, her protests were quickly cut off with a gasp as that hand on her hip was on the move again.

Merryn groaned against the breast in her mouth as her fingers felt the wet heat that slicked the insides of Car's inner thigh. An overwhelming curiosity took over, and suddenly she needed to feel the source of her love's passion.

"Merryn!" Cara gasped, her hand that rested on the back of the brunette's head, grabbing a handful of hair. Her eyes fell closed as she felt those fingers touching her desire, sending a jolt of pleasure through her body.

Merryn left the nipple she'd been sucking on, her mouth returning to Cara's. The blonde began to kiss the ruler in desperation, needing to connect as she was being stroked. Her kisses quickly became breathy until finally she had to break away from Merryn's mouth in order to breathe through her erotic haze. Merryn could feel her own breathing pick up as she laid a trail of kisses along the blonde's throat. As she heard Cara's breathing become more and more shallow, she raised her head, watching in wonder as her fingers worked between the blonde's legs. The soft wetness under her fingertips was incredible. She could never get enough.

Cara felt lightheaded as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through her, her hips bucking with the convulsions that rocked her body. Chest heaving, she felt Merryn's warm body rest along her own, the brunette taking the still-trembling blonde in her arms.

Merryn was surprised to feel wetness against her neck. Pulling away slightly, she looked into the healer's eyes, which were filled with overflowing tears. Suddenly concerned, her brows knit as she wiped at the moisture with a thumb.

"What 'tis it, lass?"

Sniffling slightly, Cara felt like one of the fools who had entertained on the field earlier. She laughed shakily at her suddenly burst of emotion. Shaking her head, she looked up into her love's eyes.

"'M sorry. Was just overcome."

Merryn smiled, brushing golden hair out of Cara's eyes. Leaning down, she placed a gentle kiss upon already swollen lips. Standing, she grabbed Cara's dress from the floor, holding it up for the blonde to slip into. Tugging the healer to her by the material curled in her fist, she grinned at the look of surprise. The smile quickly turned to a groan deep in her throat as Cara weaved her arms up around the ruler's shoulders, pulling a dark head down for a long, exploratory kiss.

Out of breath, and beginning to lose control over her body again, Merryn quickly pulled away, throwing on her cloak and clasping it completely around her nakedness, then grabbed Cara by the hand, leading her on a quick tour through the residential portion of the castle, and on up to the royal chamber.

Once tucked safely inside the rooms, Merryn bolted the door, then turned back to the blonde, her heart racing, breathing hitched in her throat as she watched Cara once again step out of her dress. Leaning heavily against the double doors of her suites, Merryn watched as the healer made her way toward her, green eyes never leaving her own. There was a fire and a confidence in those eyes that was not there before- ever.

Reaching the Donal, Cara made quick work of the clasp, the cloak sliding from Merryn's strong shoulders. Her eyes followed the heavy garment's progress to the floor, then made their way back up the strong body, heaving chest. When her gaze finally reached blue eyes, which to her shock were filled with a tad of fear, she smiled. Cupping Merryn's cheek, she reached and placed a soft kiss on the ruler's lips.

Without a word, she grabbed the brunette's hand, pulling gently. Leading the way to the massive bed, Cara indicated that Merryn should sit. The blonde walked over to the fire, adding a few more logs to ensure it would burn for hours, then turned back to her love.

With a fire borne of years of longing, as well as renewed desire, Cara pushed Merryn back to the bed, her mouth never leaving the brunette's. She felt strong arms wrap around her, holding her safe and tight. She felt it in her bones- this time they would never let her go again.

Doing something she had never done before, Cara began to explore Merryn's body with her mouth, suckling a nipple, enjoying the taste and reaction, her tongue flicking over the rigid flesh.

Merryn arched her back, needing more, though what more she had no idea. Burying her hands in soft, golden hair, she pressed Cara deeper into her breasts, gasping as a hand cupped her neglected nipple. She hissed through her teeth as Cara's mouth switched breasts.

Cara was amazed at just how arousing it was to pleasure the brunette. She could feel herself becoming wet once more in anticipation. Raising her head, she saw the most beautiful sight she'd ever seen. Merryn's eyes were closed, her lips slightly parted as her breathing was breathy and erratic. She threw her head back as Cara pinched one of her nipples. The blonde took that opportunity to latch on to the Donal's neck, using her tongue and teeth.

"Oh, Cara," Merryn moaned, her hands finding the blonde's arse, pushing her into her as she lifted her hips, trying to find some purchase. Cara never left her prize as she shifted her body, inserting one of her thighs between Merryn's legs, the brunette groaning her gratitude as she felt Merryn's wetness painting her flesh.

Cara released Merryn's neck, raising herself up on her hands. She looked down into the flushed face of the brunette, her own breathing uneven and shallow as she pushed her own sex down onto Merryn's strong thigh. She could barely keep her eyes open as she felt the pressure surge through her mid-section.

Merryn reached up, needing Cara's mouth against hers. The kiss was deep, Cara's lips moving against the brunette's, nipping at the full bottom lip before caressing the Donal's tongue with her own, swallowing a desperate whimper.

Cara moved her hips in time Merryn's.

"Cara," Merryn panted, "I want ta feel ye." The blonde looked down at her, not understanding. Merryn reached down, feeling the unbelievable heat they were both producing. Cara cried out as she felt Merryn's long fingers sliding through the saturated folds of her sex. "I want ta be inside ye, Cara. Please let me," Merryn begged.

"Anything, my love. Anything." Cara's mouth opened as her eyes closed when she felt one of the brunette's fingers sliding inside her depths, where no one had been before. Stunned and amazed by the bond she felt to the other woman as she gently slid back out, then in again. Needing desperately to share the experience with the ruler, she balanced herself on her forearm, her other hand reaching down, nudging Merryn's legs further apart. The brunette hissed as Cara's fingers found her wetness, crying out as they grazed across her clit. The blonde followed the natural curve of the brunette's sex, so much like her own, gasping as her fingers sank into moist velvet.

Merryn gasped, pulling Cara closer to her as she felt the blonde filling her. She found the healer's mouth, breathing too hard to kiss her, but instead held their lips together, both panting into the others mouth as they began to move as one.

Cara could feel her release coming quickly, small whimpers escaping her throat as she moved her hips in time with Merryn's gentle thrusting.

"I love ye," she whimpered, eyes squeezing shut as her body began to convulse once again. Merryn was too far over the edge to respond, the blood in her body pulsing to the waves of pleasure that spread through her at the speed and damage of fire, leaving her singed and changed forever.

Holding Cara desperately to her, she tucked the golden head under her chin, feeling Cara's chest heaving as hard as her own as they attempted to get control.

"Mo Shearc."

Cara smiled, nodding. "Aye."

The ruler of the English empire slept soundly, who would become the greatest healer in history wrapped tightly in her arms.

A young mother gazed lovingly down at her daughter, tiny fingers wrapped around her smallest one as the babe suckled at her breast.

"Soon, little, Chloe," the young mother whispered, "yer da will be with us."

The candlelight burned brightly, the flame flickering slightly from the cool breeze that wafted in every now and then. A young man, hair draping over his face as he frantically scribbled the events of the past two days in his book, so as not to forget a single detail. The newest volume to the Chronicles of Donal being created.

With love and pride he wrote, describing to a future world the wonders and goodness that lie in the breast of a single woman. His mother, friend, and ruler.

A lone, cloaked figure walked the halls, crossing himself as he passed a huge, golden cross. Keeping his focus, he felt the hard grip in his right hand, hidden. Ducking quickly in a small alcove in the wall, he waited for a small group of priests to hurry past, then continued on his journey.

"NO!"

A household in chaos, terror spreading like the hand of God as a dead Bishop lay in the arms of his squire. Small, beady sightless eyes look up to the Heavens. A look of fear forever on his brow. His cold fingers remain wrapped around the crucifix at his neck, a dagger of black and gold pinning the chain to his chest.

"REALIZING HE WAS out numbered, as the people loved her, and out-moraled, Pope John had no choice but to retreat. The reign of Donal of England lasted for more than fifty-seven years." Professor Soberman paused, blue eyes scanning her students who were hanging on her every word, and had been since the beginning of her story. She stood from the desk that she'd been perched on. "Sadly her reign as one of, if not the strongest female rulers in history, is greatly overshadowed by her successor, Elizabeth 1, the Virgin Queen. Elizabeth's reign has been called The Golden Age, but in my opinion, that distinction belongs to Donal, two hundred years before her."

The professor nodded at Timothy Stanton, raising his hand from the front row. "Tim?"

"Well, what about her relationship with that healer? I mean, shit, somehow I doubt that went over too well." A few chuckles joined the professors.

"No, it didn't. It was always rumored that theirs was more than a healer/patient relationship, but since Donal was ultimately known as the Pagan Queen, no one dared question it. Aloud, anyway." She smiled, pacing in front of her students, forty-two pairs of eyes following her. "Cara was with her till the end, when Merryn died at the ripe old age of eighty-one. She never did fight another battle personally. During her reign, England was more prosperous than it had ever been, the populous happy and content. There were also fewer wars during her reign than any before her, or many after."

Soberman stopped at her desk again, allowing all the information she'd just given the class a chance to settle and absorb. She saw a few students jotting notes furiously.

"Anymore questions?"

"What about Paul? What happened to him?" Jill Weston asked, chewing on her pen.

"Careful Jill- you don't want another explosion, do you?" The class laughed as the embarrassed girl removed the pen from her mouth. "It's because of Paul's careful, diligent writings that we know anything about Merryn, herself. Sure, there's been plenty chronicled about Donal, but not much about the woman behind the title and strength to carry it. Sadly, Merryn lost her son before she finally succumbed to death, but he lived a long, happy life, eventually giving Merryn and Cara five grandchildren, one of which became England's heir, a chap by the name of Henry IV." She paused, allowing everyone to write that little tidbit down.

Glancing at her watch, Sophie Soberman realized it was two minutes until class was officially over.

"Alright, guys. Have a great weekend, and study!" She smiled to the round of groans that earned. Her smile widened when she received a small round of applause from her favorite students, who took up the first two rows on the left side of the divided classroom.

"Thanks, girls."

"That was awesome, Professor. Thanks." Michelle Gonzales smiled brightly, then headed out of class.

THE END

Table of Contents

PART 1

PART 2

PART 3

PART 4

PART 5

PART 6

PART 7

PART 8

PART 9

PART 10

PART 11

PART 12

PART 13