Description: They are both running from the same people. She runs from the loss of her father. He runs in fear of his life. So what happens when the two clash heads in the middle of the forest, if she can't trust and he can't speak?

The two things Morgana LeFay knew at that moment in time were her name and the fact that she hated everyone. Absolutely everyone. Anyone that crossed her path – it was their fault.

Uther Pendragon. It was definitely his fault. It was because of that stupid, arrogant, heartless coward of a King that her father was dead. Killed in battle, they said, an honourable way to die. More like cold-blooded murder. That's how she saw it anyway.

Although, no-one else seemed to share her vision, especially when she'd screamed it at Uther and his entire council during a meeting and then proceeded to try and hit the King.

A pair of dumbfounded looking guards had dragged her away, kicking and shouting profanities, but not before she had managed to rake her fingernails down Uther's face, cutting his cheeks with the sharp edges.

The last image that had filled her mind as she was carried out of the hall, was the sight of the King of Camelot wiping blood away from his face onto his sleeve.

She had secretly delighted in this after she had been locked away in her chambers again, with two men standing outside the doors. 'Protecting her.' Well, that's what one of them had said when she'd tried escaping. If someone wanted to protect her, then they wouldn't have let her father die. She had sat there for hours that night on her bed, in the same position the whole time, thinking. She wanted to hurt Uther again. It was like some kind of primal need to cause his pain, some kind of hunger to hurt him like he'd hurt her. She had wanted to take action immediately, wanted something physical to fuel her undying rage.

Until she got the idea. If Uther cared about her so much, then how would he react to the disappearance of his precious ward? Ward. She hated that there was a word for her current predicament, like she was different, not accepted. Also, the fact that ward sounded like whore. And she definitely did not want people thinking that she was one of those.

So, she'd found some rope in a rickety old cupboard that she didn't even know opened until then. Her bed was shoved up against the window and the rope was tied to one of her bed posts. After she had bravely ventured out of the window, clinging to the cord for dear life, it became clear that the rope was not long enough to reach all the way down to the grass. So she had to jump, or rather fall, the remaining 4 metres. The ability to cry out had been lost when her back had hit the earth, knocking the air from her lungs.

Unable to move for a few seconds, Morgana had started to wonder how much damage the fall had actually caused her. But soon her breathing returned to normal and she picked herself up, brushing off the dirt that had collected on the securely fastened cape around her shoulders.

She then set out to find the small dagger that she had thrown down, thankful that she hadn't landed on the blade, rooting around in the darkness until she eventually found it.

Perhaps it hadn't been the best idea to leave in the middle of the night. She didn't have a light and only had a small weapon that was really only suitable for killing animals, not defending herself against bandits or powerful sorcerers. Uther said that the forest was crawling with druids, witches and wizards, always making someone go with her if she wanted to go riding. She pulled her cloak tighter around her and set off into the woodland.

. . .

The only things Merlin knew at that moment in time, was that he was called Merlin, his thoughts were all scrambled and that he had to get away from the people in red.

He also knew that he had to get back to some place called Ealdor because that's where he lived. Supposedly. His mind was all muddled so he wasn't sure.

He had no idea where he was, only that there were lots of trees. He was also pretty sure there was a word for a place with lots of trees, but his mind was all muddled so he wasn't sure.

He had been walking since dark and now it was light. He sighs and kicks a rock away with his boot and then breaks into a run. The people dressed in red would be catching up with him soon if he didn't hurry.

. . .

Morgana was now in daylight, her legs aching and she was beginning to wonder why she hadn't brought her horse with her. Then she remembered that she was trying to make it appear as though she had been kidnapped and that if her horse was missing from the stables then it would be quite obvious that she hadn't been taken in the night.

She swears – a luxury she wasn't allowed in Camelot – and scuffs at the leaves when she realises that the rope she used to climb out of the window would still be there now. How careless of her. Hopefully Uther would be so blinded by panic and anger that he would think up some ridiculous story about she was abducted through the window and then probably send out a search party.

She stops walking and looks behind her. Half of Camelot could be looking for her right now.

The thought makes her strides larger and faster as she starts running. The running turns into sprinting and she turns to corner of the trail and slams into something. Blinding pain shoots through her forehead, making her vision blur, and she is vaguely aware of falling to the ground and someone standing over her before she blacks out entirely.

. . .

Merlin's head hurt. A lot. Even more than it had before.

He was pretty sure the girl's head hurt too because she wasn't moving and her eyes were closed. At one point, he thought the girl was dead because she hadn't moved for so long, but then he remembered that people who were dead didn't breathe and this girl was definitely breathing. Well, he thought she was. But his mind was all muddled so he wasn't sure.

He had propped her against a tree and tried talking to her to hopefully wake her up, but then he remembered that he couldn't speak. He didn't know why. It was like his brain and his mouth were all disconnected.

He saw she had a cut on her forehead, probably from when they'd bumped into each other, and it was bleeding. Quite badly. Well, at least it was, before he had torn off a bit of his shirt and pressed it against her head. He had wanted to go and get some water to clean the cut and he thought he remembered passing a small stream not so long ago, but he was scared to leave her. What if she woke up and wondered where she was?

He sat there for a while and tried to figure out who she was. She was very... oh, he'd think of the word later. She had a dress on, he knew that much. And some shoes. And her hair was the same colour as his. And so was her skin. He wondered what colour her eyes were. Maybe they were the same colour as his.

He wondered what colour her cloak was. It was... well, he didn't know. He couldn't remember the names of any colours. The people who were chasing after him had the same colour cloaks as her. Oh, what were they? Red. That was it! She had a red cloak on. For a moment he panicked because he thought that she was one of the people looking for him. But the people who were looking for him were all men and she was a girl, so he knew that he had nothing to fear. Well, he thought she was a girl. But his mind was all muddled so he wasn't sure.

Yeaaah, I don't really know what this is, but it's nice to write. It's one of those 'Merlin and Morgana meet as kids, blah blah,' but I kind of wanted to do one with a bit of a difference.

The only thing I can really think of to say is please review and tell me if you want me to continue or not? Or just tell me it's complete and utter rubbish and take it off FanFiction immediately because it's a disgrace to this lovely ship. :)

Thanks for reading!