After lunch, they mounted their horses again and rode south, along the river, until sunset. However, as if both Garreth and Prince Arthur had agreed that leaving Ginny and Sir Lancelot alone was a very bad idea, the two men did everything in their power to keep them apart this time.

Following Garreth's advice, the travellers decided to set up camp on the very border of his family's lands. He knew his people well and could guarantee for them, Garreth explained, but he also knew that their neighbour wasn't quite as concerned about the welfare of his people as his mother.

"Which means that they can't be interested in the contentment of their landlord, or the safety of his guests," Sir Lancelot concluded gloomily.

"Exactly. It will be safer to spend the night here," Garreth said.

"All right, let us pitch the tents here tonight," Prince Arthur agreed. "But I would really like to visit a town or a village too. Isn't there any close enough where we could have a proper dinner, ale, and a game of cards or dice?"

"No, we are too far from any settlement here, my lord. Maybe tomorrow night?" Garreth said, the vague promise lying in his words, making Ginny frown at him.

Weren't they supposed to avoid towns and villages? Lancelot grinned at her as he noticed the dark look she shot at her cousin, and she barely resisted the temptation to roll her eyes at the all-seeing knight.

The prince simply nodded, resigned for the moment, and helped Lancelot unload their horses while Ginny assisted Garreth.

With the last wide circle high above their heads when the dusk started to fall, the peregrine falcon, apparently content with the day's events, flew away, up-river, back towards Warwick Castle.

Ginny giggled as she thought that maybe it was Aunt Ealasaid who sent the bird after them... Garreth stepped on her foot in a silent, painful warning even as Lancelot grinned at her again from behind his horse. Only Prince Arthur seemed to have noticed nothing.

Once their tents were ready and a small fire brightening the night that had fallen in the meantime was burning nearby, they gathered around it for dinner. Ginny was feeling bored of stale bread, cheese, and a piece of dried meat again. She was sure that the prince would protest such a meal, but he did not.

He must be used to this sort of travel and adventure... she mused, then sighed as she realised that both the prince and his knight were old enough to have been in one or even more of the endless battles against the Saxons, and must be accustomed to worse food than this. She had never thought about this before, about how it would actually feel to be married to a warrior, seeing him leave, never knowing when or if he would return to her from a battle... Letting her thoughts ramble, the princess observed the three men absorbed in a conversation she was too tired to take part in.

"If only someone pulled that Sword from the stone finally," she heard Lancelot say, "God knows how much we need a king who would unite all the kingdoms of Britain once and forever, a man whom all the tribes, and even unworthy dukes like your neighbour, Warwick, would follow and obey..."

Just what did all the men have with that Sword? Did they really believe that the piece of metal would somehow make the one who managed to take it out the one and only king? Did they really think that anyone could just... take it, carry it away, stuck as it was in that rock at Tintagel by some dark magic, since the beginning of times? Ginny mused.

She pulled at Garreth's sleeve inconspicuously and shook her head in disapproval when she noticed the prince taking out a deck of cards and a pouch full of money from his pocket. But when Garreth only shrugged, letting her know that there was nothing he could, or would do to prevent this game, she stood up and excused herself, saying she would rather rest, than play cards tonight.

"Won't you give me a chance to win my money back, Sir Geoffrey?" Prince Arthur asked, looking up at her.

"Tomorrow night, my lord," she promised. Hopefully, that would keep him away from the town they might happen upon by the following evening.

Lancelot said nothing but watched her every move as she retreated towards her and Garreth's tent. It had been a long day for her, he mused. He himself was feeling tired, and he was well used to long rides.

The knight was surprised to see the flap of the tent flutter open some time later, when he was sure that she was asleep... Where was she going?
He lost the game as soon as he could and excused himself too, leaving the other two men alone and happy, by the fire.

The night reigning in the world beyond the bright circle of moving light cast by the flames was too dark for him to find her immediately. Lancelot thought that he saw her vanish upstream, towards a copse of trees... Guided by the faint light of a lone moonbeam that fought its way through the clouds, he walked into the copse, noticing a narrow path sprinkled with the bright gravel from the river, which he could follow easily in the near complete darkness.

He could smell the river before he saw its wan glimmer beyond the trees. And he could hear the girl before he saw her. Splashing silently, her feet still ankle deep in the shimmering water, she stood still, wrapped in a towel for warmth for a moment, before she reached for a shirt she had left on the bank, letting the towel drop into the shallows and pulling her shirt on in one swift movement, even before he could turn around to give her some privacy.

The knight did not realise he was holding his breath until his lungs began to complain, and he was forced to inhale deeply.

What was she thinking? She was alone here with three men, and the water was freezing, and the creepy mist was returning, rising from the river like the breath of creatures living in worlds beyond their own, invisible to their eyes. He could see her shivering under the thin fabric of her long white shirt, which made her look like an apparition when another finger of moonlight pierced the clouds and caressed her slight figure.

Well, it was his duty to talk some sense into her. But he wouldn't reprove her harshly, he decided, she looked too young, innocent, and ignorant of the dangers of real life, a girl who had led a safe and sheltered life...

His heart softened, Lancelot waited until she plaited her long, still wet hair, and pinned it tightly around her head. But when she finally chose to step out of the water completely and started walking towards him, barefooted, he could not wait any longer.

She jumped as she saw his dark-clad figure separate itself from the black trees like a stray, living shadow, but she knew who he was even before he took two steps towards her.

"You gave me a fright, Sir Lancelot!" she whisper-shouted, teeth chattering.

"You certainly deserved that, Sir Geoffrey," he replied, forcing himself to remain serious. It wasn't easy. "Where are your shoes?"

She shook her head. "I hate those things. They are not mine, they don't fit me well."

He sighed. "But this way, your feet will be covered in mud before you reach the tent..." And then, without any warning, he lifted her in his arms, making her squeal with surprise.

"Hush," he muttered even as she flung her arms around his neck, "they'll hear us."

She nodded, not protesting in the least against being carried back to the camp. The closeness of his body shocked her into silence. He was tall, strong, and smelled good, and... No one had carried her like this before, but she found this man's arms a rather comfortable place to be.

"Put me down," she forced herself to say, voice breaking, when they, too soon, reached the tents.

"Then let go of me," he whispered in her ear, his warm breath making her shiver.

She could see his smile flash in the distant light of the fire. She smiled shyly in reply as she uncoiled her arms from behind his neck, barely resisting touching his hair.

The knight set her on her feet, but before she could scurry inside her tent, he begged her to wait, vanishing in his own tent and coming back shortly with a blanket. He wrapped it around her, then lifted the flap for her to climb in.

"I... Thank you, Lancelot," Ginny said before he let the fabric fall down between them.

She sat on her bundle of quilts that would serve her as a bed, pulling Lancelot's blanket closer around her. It was warm and much softer than any of those Garreth had brought... and it was redolent of its owner.

She jumped at hearing his voice through the fabric separating them, his figure sitting outside projected like a shadow by the firelight on the side of the tent. Without thinking, Ginny pressed her hand against it, wanting to touch him again. He pressed his large palm, radiating warmth against hers, muttering, even as she could hear Garreth and Arthur's voices approaching the tents, "How can you... share a tent with a man...?"

Ginny giggled. "He's my cousin. And he looked at your prince more often in these two days than he had looked at me in years."

She saw him nod slowly, before he spoke again, "What is your name?"

"Gi... Gwendolyn," she muttered, catching herself at the last moment, wishing she could tell him her real name. But she had already told him that Garreth was her cousin. The knight, or the prince-- should he realise that she was a girl, too-- might remember Garreth's family tree...

"Good night, Gwendolyn," Lancelot said, standing up and joining the men before they would notice anything.

"Good night," Ginny replied, snuggling down, his blanket enveloping her from head to toe.

She listened to the drone of the men's conversation as they stood in front of the tents for a long while, but when Garreth finally came inside, whispering her name, she did not reply. She drifted off to sleep feeling warm and cosy, too elated to talk to her cousin, who was bound to spoil her mood somehow.

Sir Lancelot, unable to fall asleep, waited for Garreth to settle. Then, knowing that the girl was safe, he went to take a bath as well, to the exact same spot she had chosen, hoping that he could bring back the towel she had left on the bank.