Tor and Morholt looked particularly pleased as they began the travel day in earnest. They spoke in happy whispers, to the point which Fira was far too curious to not ask what they spoke about.

“Why are you two so jovial?” She pushed Aland up between them.

“Well, at the pace we're going, we should be in Somerset by the Winter Solstice.” Morholt grinned widely. “The magic festivals on that day are simply too good to miss.”

Gaheris had come up beside them. “You do remember you're considered traitors and deserters?”

Tor and Morholt’s faces both fell. They knew this of course, but they didn't like to think about it.

“Yes.” Tor nodded solemnly. “Indeed we are.”

The two fell quiet then. Fira dropped to the back by herself. She thought she heard something on the edge of hearing. She peered back into the forest they were traveling in.

This time she was sure she spotted a flash of white. Unlike Neve, the magical wolf she befriended who was also white, this flash of color brought her chills. So distracted was she that she only registered the whispers at the last moment.

“Mercenaries!” She shouted loudly, dismounting from Aland and then promptly getting shot in the leg with an arrow.

Fortunately the others weren't far behind and she continued to use her magic to defend them from where she lay on the ground. This was the first time arrows had been involved with the mercenaries.

“Stupid, stupid…” she muttered angrily as her hands shook and she stared at the arrow wound.

Galahad was the first to run back to her. He had a rather nasty looking head wound but didn't seem to care.

“Are you alright?” he demanded. Kneeling beside her, he inspected the entry point. Galahad gave a sigh of relief. “Didn't go deep.”

“Still hurts like hell,” Fira muttered, allowing herself to lie back on the grass. She murmured a spell to prevent infection and then lay quietly.

Elyan was the next over as the others finished off a last few remaining mercenaries. He knelt beside Fira and wiped a tear from her face. Galahad went to get the medical kit from Aland.

“Who else is injured?” Fira insisted of Elyan.

Elyan sighed. “You saw Galahad. Leon hurt his ankle and Tor’s got a few scrapes.”

“Galahad’s wound looks bad,” Fira said, biting her lip as Elyan began removing the arrowhead from her leg. “I need to see to it.”

“Gwaine is already doing that,” Elyan responded as he looked to find Galahad.

Percival brought the backup medical supplies over. “Here, Elyan.”

The knight took the supplies and fished for a healing poultice. Once he found it, Elyan applied it generously to the several-inches-deep wound. Percival handed him the needle and thread as he finished that up.

“This is gonna hurt,” Elyan warned her.

“No more than it already does,” she muttered back through gritted teeth.

Elyan shook his head and began to slowly stitch the wound up. Fira let out a shout as he began, having forgot how much sutures hurt. It'd been a long time since her last actual injury. Gwaine came over after treating Galahad.

“You alright?” He asked her as Elyan finished up.

She shrugged. “Just a scratch.”

Leon wandered over to them, his ankle wrapped tightly by Morholt. “You know, I do not understand why we don't make you wear armor.”

“Because it's annoying.” She shrugged, sitting up.

Leon rolled his eyes and helped her up. “Might save your life someday.”

She laughed. “I thought that's what I had you guys for.”

Gwaine smirked. “Other way around, love. Aren't you supposed to be keeping us alive.”

“Sometimes I can't remember why I do that.” She smiled as Leon passed her over to Gwaine. “How's Galahad?”

“He's going to be fine,” Gwaine told her. “At least as long as you don't give him any more heart attacks.”

“I feel like you knights need to realize that someday I'm going to die for you,” she murmured. “Move on and accept that.”

Gwaine gave a short laugh as he helped her over to Aland. “Good luck with that.”

“It's seems to be either that, or I kill you,” she reminded him ruefully.

Gwaine shook his head. “Those are just dreams.”

“You can't fight destiny,” she added quietly. “Something I've learned.”

Gwaine said nothing in response as he helped her up into the saddle. But, they exchanged a meaningful glance. The other had no intention of dying before the other one. Gwaine heaved himself up onto Gringolet.

They set off again, hoping to reach a good campsite by evening time. Tor and Morholt took the lead, as they had traveled this route but a month prior.

It was still cold though they moved South and somewhat West. Fira, still in a lot of pain from the arrow wound, felt it more than most. Though she wrapped her black Pendragon cloak close to her body, she shivered constantly. By nightfall it was almost unbearable.

“We’ll camp here for the night,” Leon ordered as he dismounted.

They were up against a cliff face where several shallow caves had been hollowed out. Percival helped a shivering Fira down from Aland. She was sleepy and immediately fell into unconsciousness upon lying down.

Gwaine and Galahad built a fire as the others prepared dinner. Leon talked with Tor and Morholt about the next several days and what to expect. According to the knights of Somerset, they would exit Oxfordshire and enter the kingdom of Avon in a few days’ time, the last kingdom before Somerset.

The knights soon slept, leaving Gwaine, Percival, and Leon on guard duty first. The foremost of these spent his time sitting next to the unconscious Fira. He undid his cloak and placed it over her.

“She alright?” Percival came over quietly and sat on the other side of Fira.

Gwaine nodded. “Just cold.”

When he said nothing more, Percival looked at his friend. “Something's got you worried.”

Gwaine have a grin. “Me? Worried?”

Percival wasn't buying it. “Come on.”

He sighed. Standing from his spot, he pinched the bridge of his nose and walked away. He went over to his pack and got out a bottle. Leon watched him from where he sat a ways away.

“I'm going to get more wood,” Gwaine muttered to Leon and Percival. He strode off into the woods, drink in hand and not even a torch.

Percival went to go after him but Leon told him to sit. He had to deal with Gwaine. Leon slowly stood and took a torch with him.

“Gwaine!” Leon found the knight sitting on a log, drinking.

He smirked. “What?”

“In the past two days how many bottles have you had?” Leon stood in front of him.

“Really none of your business, Leon,” Gwaine said, his smile dropping as he took a swig.

Leon watched Gwaine carefully. “Something’s up with you. This is not normal.”

Gwaine snorted humorlessly. He avoided Leon’s gaze and looked at the ground.

“Gwaine, what is wrong?” Leon demanded this after several moments of silence.

“Everything!” Gwaine glared at Leon. “Everything is wrong!” He pointed back with his hand at the camp a ways away. “My brothers, who I hadn't seen in over five years, appearing out of nowhere chased by mercenaries. Only to find out it was written in an ancient prophecy.” He stood and paced, his drinking becoming more frequent. “Fira’s nightmares becoming frequent again, with more and more of us involved.” He shook his head. “The damn prophecy. Speaking about us breaking apart. Speaking of some Maiden’s Knight. Who the hell is that?” He glared at the ground. “What I want to know is where Fate gets off thinking it can control us.”

“I don't like being placed in a prophecy any more than you,” Leon told him. “But-”

“I don't care too much about myself. Fate can go to hell.” He took the last drink of his alcohol. “I care about the rest of you. About those of us on this quest that never signed up for this. Fira, Gareth, even Galahad.”

“Galahad is a knight just like the rest of us,” Leon objected.

“He's barely an adult, Leon!” Gwaine shook his head and threw his empty bottle at a tree.

Leon had seen this before, but never in Gwaine. Gwaine’s short temper was well known to the Knights, and his fondness for alcohol. He was slightly concerned.

“Gwaine. Forget about destiny, forget about prophecies.” Leon grabbed the knights on the shoulder. “You mentioned those who didn't choose this life. Well, it's our job to protect them. You can't protect Fira, and Gareth, and Gaheris, by getting yourself drunk every night.”

Gwaine stopped and looked Leon in the eyes, finally. “Something tells me we can't protect them.”

“But we have to try.”