“They're right in here,” Ioreth said quietly, gesturing inside a large hut-style house. “I suggest you be quiet.”

It was less a suggestion and more a demand, everyone could tell. With the door open, they peered inside and saw six children. The youngest looked about three and the oldest couldn’t have been older than twelve. They mulled about, the four boys playing with marbles on the floor while the two girls, the youngest children, wiggled dolls around for fun. The dying light of evening was supplemented by a roaring fire on the other side of the room, and candles strewn about the furniture.

“My dears, you have some visitors.” Ioreth shuffled inside and pointed to the knights.

“You’re the one who saved us!” The oldest child smiled at Mordred. He got up from shooting marbles and walked over to thank him. “I made sure we got here safe.”

“Good.” Mordred nodded. “You did good work.”

“We owe you our lives,” squeaked the older girl, maybe five years of age. “Did you bring mum and dad?”

Mordred knelt down in front of her. A frown was plastered across his face. “No, my lady. I could not.”

“They're dead then,” spoke the first boy, legs trembling unbidden. “All of them.”

The knights watched as the children stared at them silently after this revelation. Tears were in every child’s eyes. Their entire world had just been shattered.

Fira knelt down in front of them. She held out her hand and took the youngest’s palm in hers. “It's okay to cry.”

The two little girls burst into sobs. Fira grabbed them into a hug. The knights hung awkwardly back, unsure of how to help. With a pointed glare at her friends, Fira passed the littlest one to Percival. She knew he was good with kids.

“Galahad,” she whispered, pointing to the other, slightly older, girl.

The young blonde knight got the message and took the girl’s hand. “It's going to be alright.”

Fira turned back to the four boys. There looked to be a set of twins. They must've been about seven or eight. She sighed and took their hands as they too began to cry.

“I’m going to show you to one of my very best friends.” She gave them a small smile. “He’s really nice. Silly, sometimes stupid, but nice.”

Gwaine went to object at both being handed a pair of children and her remarks but Fira gave him such a pointed look that he shut his mouth. Later he told her it was because the boys looked so… pitiable, not at all because he was occasionally scared of her.

The oldest boy was holding it together remarkably well. He had a few tears in his eyes but he wasn't crying. In fact he was worried about the last boy, a ten year old. They had a resemblance, so she assumed they were brothers.

Fira sighed. “Come on you two. Let's get outside with the others.”

Leon and Tor were speaking with Ioreth outside. Fira walked over to them. She watched Percival sitting in the grass, playing clapping games with the little girl, the child with a small smile plastered on her lips. She found Galahad using the slightly older girl’s doll to cheer her up. Gwaine had somehow found apples for the twin boys, and Mordred, Elyan, and Morholt spoke with the other pair of brothers.

“We should leave in the morning, if you can house us.” Leon looked at the ever-darkening sky.

Tor nodded in agreement as he focused on Ioreth. “We’ll take them with us to Castle Bertilak. They'll be well cared for there, away from the fighting.”

Ioreth sighed and rubbed her forehead. “Of course we welcome you here. But there are no beds available. All we can offer is food and water. Shelter will be up to you.” Then she turned to look at the kids. “It is what's best for them I suppose. We will give you an extra horse or two. One for the older boy, Darron, and one for that deserter.”

“Thank you, Ioreth.” He bowed to her. Then he turned to Fira. “It is time for the children to get to bed I would assume.”

“Now that they've calmed down, yes.” Fira looked fondly at the knights who were acting admirably with the distraught children.

Ioreth offered them her hut once more. “I'll house them.”

She went and gathered the children. All six bid the knights a good night and followed Ioreth like a mother goose and her goslings. They went inside the hut again and disappeared for the night.

Fira was left standing, staring at the stars while the knights began to retrieve their gear and set up camp in the center of the village. She just watched the dark clouds drifting by now that the sun was completely gone from the sky.

“Fira?” Galahad jolted her out of her musings.

She was startled. “What?”

“We’re all by the fire. Thought you might want to join us…” he gestured to the group that was eating a dinner of deer meat and bread.

She chuckled. “Yeah I guess I should.”

Together they shuffled over to the fire. Fira’s face was solemn and worried as she watched the flames dancing. She could feel the time of reckoning was coming. Ever since the run in with the White Stag, she had disliked fire. It reminded her too much of the visions.

“I'll stay in watch first,” Fira volunteered after dinner.

Leon nodded. “Percival, you and I will as well. Wake up Gwaine, Tor, Elyan, then Galahad, Mordred, and Morholt take the final shift.”

The others shuffled into their bedrolls in attempts to catch a few hours sleep before their respective shifts on guard. Fira stood from the fire and walked away, making her way to the well about fifty feet from their campsite. She sat down on the bench that surrounded it, putting her head in her hands. It was Percival who decided to investigate.

“What are you doing?” He stood before her, arms crossed, appearing far more intimidating than Fira knew he was going for.

She sighed. “Something big is happening here, Percival. Something dangerous.”

“You work with us for a living.” He smirked. “Of course it's dangerous.”

She rolled her eyes, shaking her head. “I can deal with regular dangerous. But this is a storm that's building. And it's going to break soon.”

“How do you know?” Percival furrowed his brow.

“I don't.” She shrugged. “Call it intuition?”

“We’ll win.” He looked at her in certainty.

“How can you say that for sure?” She seemed concerned. “How do you know?”

“Call it intuition.” He offered her a hand up and she took it. His giant hand dwarfed her own small one.

Mordred watched them from where he lay trying to sleep. He wondered if someday he could earn the trust of Camelot’s knights. For Fira’s words rang in his ears:

“Morgana is not our salvation. King Arthur is.”

Arthur had saved him once, just as Morgana had. Was it possible that the druid prophecies were true and Arthur was going to bring about Albion? If so, was it not his duty to see that Arthur fulfilled that destiny? After all, Fira certainly seemed to believe it. And Merlin.

Though Merlin had never trusted him, why, Mordred never knew. But with Fira on his side maybe he could win Merlin over. Maybe even the knights… for he wanted nothing more than to return to Camelot, the land of his birth. Slowly he drifted into unconsciousness with images of Camelot’s forests in his mind.