Godfrey glanced around him and cursed.

He had to meet with Phillip within two days and so far he was lost and tired all at the same time. He looked back at his horse that was foraging around the tree roots for any grass or anything else that it could digest, and once again cursed his situation and the unfairness of it all. The horse could live off grass which was in abundance in this accursed forest but Godfrey was expected to survive on nothing but dry bread and stale tasting water. Godfrey could just imagine his introduction with Phillip of France (providing he got there); his majesty would be well fed with at least a dozen cooks tending to him while he would arrive looking like a filthy peasant. Oh yes. That would be a memorable introduction, Phillip would probably throw him away from the camp and invade England any without his advice. His advice and his assistance that would be crucial for the invasion to work as quickly and as successfully as possible. If it failed Godfrey would be thought of as a failure, an imbecile who ruined such a brilliant plan because he got lost in the forest, history both English and French would forever mock him all because of this damned infernal forest. With this in mind and face set like stone, Godfrey pulled his horse away from its meal and mounted.

He'd be damned before he let a bunch of trees destroy his plans, and set his horse of on a gallop. As he rode he tried to take note of his surroundings so to prevent losing himself again, and he did notice that they seemed to become fewer as he rode. His hopes started to lift; he was meeting Phillip on the banks of a river and he was sure that if he kept his ears straining he would hear the tell-tale whispers of the Seine. Yes! There it was he could see the vast expanse of water from behind the trees and while his mind calculated how far he would have to go to reach Phillip, his stomach gave a rumble. Godfrey gave a sigh, well he had two more days and there should be plenty of fish. Eager to eat and be on his way he dismounted and peered over the bank; it wasn't that deep surely, he just needed a sharp stick to impale the food and he'd be gone. He turned to look at the trees hoping that he would be able to use one of the branches to catch a meal

Suddenly all of Godfrey's senses were alert; he could have sworn he saw something move in the water. Something very large and very near. Never mind the stick; he'd catch it with his bare hands.

He leaned forward but unfortunately he had overestimated the strength of the banks. Before he had time to muster a cry he was under the water. And it was much deeper than he had anticipated. Struggling to reach the surface he tried to remove his sheath and helmet but he was still struggling for air. The chain mail was weighing him down he knew it but he couldn't remove that. As his arms and legs were flailing wildly Godfrey would have given his soul for a breath of air. His movements started to slow and he could feel the exhaustion of his air deprived body take over. Godfrey was still sinking- sinking . . . sinking. Godfrey no longer had the strength to fight .His eyes started to close.

Air. Please air. Godfrey could feel movement around him. Something was gripping his arms. They were pulling him up. Somehow he opened his eyes and saw white hands around his own. An angel? A nymph? When he could feel himself being pulled up and was still finding it hard to breathe he realised that he wasn't dead. Using his last strength Godfrey started to move his legs and arms but the hand around his arm tightened its grip. He glanced up at his saviour; a female and smaller than him certainly and yet was pulling him towards the surface with both one hand wrapped around him with relative ease. Feeling lighter than he had when he was sinking Godfrey kicked his legs to propel himself towards the surface and noted to himself that the femalehad no wings.

Just as he started to feel he might pass out again from the lack of air his head broke through the surface. Gulping in huge amounts of air he let himself be dragged towards the bank by the nymph. When they reached solid ground she pulled him up using both hands and then let go, letting him crawl the rest of the way onto the bank, as soon as this was done the nymph shuffled over silently. Laying his head on the muddy ground he glanced up at her face, so he could memorise the face of the mythological creature and his saviour. Truly she must be a fey, Godfrey tried to think of all the folk stories he'd heard describing them and how one worked evils for the devil. But this creature had saved his life; surely she could not be evil. Godfrey examined her face to see if there were any abnormal features like pointed ears or strange colours in her hair or eyes. The skin was pale and stretched over high cheekbones but slightly flushed from having to pull his weight from the water; her hair which was plastered to her small head was chestnut brown which suspicious glints of another colour. Her eyes were a dark green with flecks of brown and were filled with an intense studious concentration he had only seen in experts at their art. She was panting; breathless and droplets from her hair and face spattered his face.

But Godfrey was too tired to take any further observations and so when she smiled at him, he smiled back and closed his eyes.