Arthur's Note(s): Couple of quick things before I forget.

First off, so sorry for the lengthy delay there was a move half way around the world for school and it threw me for a loop.

Secondly, if you're just tuning in, enjoy.

Third, if you've been following along you can probably get by skipping to chapter 7 (when it gets posted), nothing major has changed just some slight alterations, elaborations and minor streamlining but most of it's the same. I'd love it if you read it from the beginning and tell me what you think.

Finally, let me know what you think, and review often. Constructive criticism is worth its weight in gold. Better or worse than the original?

PS-- Nope not mine and is this disclaimer really necessary?

Wren ran, not knowing where she was heading; only knowing that no matter what lay ahead it could not possibly be as bad as what lay behind her. The blood that stained her hands was not her own, but she did not feel remorseful for spilling it. Like any creature after being beaten too many times, she had lashed out at her attacker and for once in her life she had been victorious.

The world around her passed in a green blur as she raced down a narrow trail. Bushes and branches snagged on her dress and scratching at her face and arms. She batted them away, cursing as briars cut into her sensitive feet. Wren was relieved when the under brush cleared away and she ran faster leaping the occasional log with deer like grace.

Tears blurred her vision and she did not see the gnarled roots before she tripped and fell sprawled on the damp ground. For long moments she lay there listening for sounds of pursuit. Moments of silence passed before the forest awoke around her. Comforted by the sounds of crickets and birds she relaxed.

Too exhausted to continue her flight she curled up at the base of the large elm that sent her tumbling. While a small part of her brain fought to remain conscious her body had been pushed too far to respond, and she to fell into an uneasy sleep.

Tristan spotted the crumpled figure instantly. A girl, battered and bruised from what he could see a top his horse, but a girl nonetheless. The fact she was still breathing both piqued his curiosity and roused his suspicions. Sensing no trap he slowly dismounted, careful to make no sound as he took a few steps towards her. His hand rested on the hilt of his sword as he waited for an attack. None came.

He observed her from a few feet away still uncertain whether she was a device of the enemy. Her clothes were blood spattered, as were her hands, but there was no evidence of a battle nor did she carry any weapons. Fine bones ruled out Briton blood, and she lacked the build of a warrior. While the pale skin indicated that she spent more time indoors than out. She wasn't dressed for Britannia weather in only a thin dress and Tristan could see that her feet beneath were bare. But beneath the blood and bruises she was pretty, delicate.

What would bring a little bird like you out here? He mused silently walking around her looking for additional clues to her identity.

The knights were approaching; the scout could hear Bors' rowdy laughter. Tristan winced. The racket would get them all killed one day. Turning back he mounted and rode back towards the group, strangely reluctant to tell the others of her presence.

Signaling to Arthur the knights stopped in a small natural clearing. Close enough that Tristan could still keep an eye on the woman without the knights stumbling upon her.

Fire roaring and rations dispersed Tristan rose from the group, carrying an extra chunk of unleavened bread and jerky. His fellow knights watched him curiously, but did not question his actions. He was almost out of the ring of light when Arthur's voice stopped him, "Where are you going Tristan?"

Tristan nodded vaguely in the direction of the girl he had found, surprised that she had not stirred. The knights had not been quiet by any means. "Girl."

"A girl?" Galahad pressed his voice a shade too eager as he peered into the gloom skeptically. "Roman?"

"Not woad." Tristan shrugged, what more did they need to know?

He disappeared silently ignoring the disbelieving comments that followed him. A few meters from camp he paused, listening for sounds that he had been followed. He heard a muffled cursing as Galahad tripped and clucked his tongue disparagingly. The boy was hopeless. Only after he heard the footsteps heading back towards the fire did he slip from his hiding place.

She was where he had left her, still curled painfully in on herself as she shuddered against the cold. Definitely a foreigner, a Briton would have carried a cloak.

Instead of waking her he crouched a few meters away resting his hands on his knees, not wanting to startle her. It was never wise to waken a creature you did not know, and she was showing signs of stirring.

Wren did not know what had woken her. She sat frozen for some moments listening for danger. She could not explain the feeling that she was not alone. A low rustling to her left and her green eyes snapped open to clash with those of a well-armed stranger.

With a stifled shriek, she pressed more firmly against the tree. The figure did not move, instead regarding her with a curious expression. His lack of motion reassured her and the roaring of her heart quieted. Pushing her fear down just enough to function, Wren realized that he was speaking to her in low and soothing tones in a language that was familiar.

"Easy." Tristan murmured, keeping his voice soft. She regarded him warily, with eyes that were not as feral as they were moments ago. Her eyes swept over his lean form, before resting on the food he was holding. It had been a long time since her last meal.

"Hungry?" He asked catching the lingering look. Holding out the bread to her Tristan made no move as to rise, determined to make her come to him. He had always been good with animals; a woman should not be so different. And the key to befriending any wary creature was to give it some semblance of control. As long as she did what he wanted, did it really matter if she thought it was her idea?

"Eat?" When she did not move he mimed the action, unsure if she understood Latin.

She watched him for a few minutes longer before rising on unsteady feet, slowly walking towards him and taking the bread. Though his expression did not change, triumph flashed in his eyes.

She retreated back to the tree to devour her meal, taking another bite almost before the previous one was swallowed.

"Slow down." Tristan advised, aware her eyes were on him. She nodded and dutifully slowed down. He nodded encouragingly.

"Tristan," he murmured gesturing towards himself, though nearly certain that she was a Latin speaker.

"Wren." She replied so softly he was almost not certain he had heard it. Tristan nodded and then stood, causing her to withdraw. He made no move towards her.

Not one to trust lightly, are you? Tristan thought, catching her instinctive movement. That's all right neither am I.

"Come with me." Tristan took a few steps back towards camp, pleased to see that she was following him, albeit hesitantly. They walked in silence, evaluating each other. She was nimble footed, he noted, her feet making almost no sound in passing. A difficult one to track, the scout mused. As the light of the fire penetrated the trees, her footsteps lagged.

He gestured for her to wait a moment before he stepped into the light. The coarse hoots of laughter than greeted him, had her moving backwards. He held a hand up to hold her. His attention torn between the woman who was ready to flee and his shield mates, he summoned Dagonet with a curt motion.

"Where's your woman Tristan?" Lancelot laughed. Tristan shot him a freezing glare then turned to Dagonet, "She needs help. Be patient."

"Tris—" The healer began, trailing off when he caught the slight movement behind the scout. He watched Tristan give a small come hither gesture, but the shadow made no move to come closer. Dagonet could have laughed at the look of impatience that passed over the scout's face.

"Won't you come out, milady? We mean you no harm." Dagonet called softly, taking a few steps from the group. He held out his hand in a beseeching manner as if that could lure her from the shadows.

Hesitantly Wren stepped forward into the ring of light, if only to avoid the look on Tristan's face that said, come now or I will fetch you. He may have done her no harm earlier, but Wren had no desire to be fetched. The large man who had been coaxing her from the woods smiled softly.

The rest of the group sat in shocked silence before breaking into bawdy laughter.

Wren jumped at the rough noise, taking a few steps back towards the anonymity the forest offered. Her eyes glued on the group of seated men she did not notice that Tristan followed her movements, prepared to chase after her should she run.

Perhaps I would have been safer on my own, she questioned indecisively her eyes jumping from the men to the trees and back again.

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