Falcon's Beginning

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Chapter 6- Questing


The wind lashed the rain into Falcons eyes, stinging, blinding. Raising an arm against the harsh weather, she cursed the Islands weather and it’s changes. Galahad rode up next to her, shielding his own eyes. “Where’s Tristan?” He bellowed into the winds. Falcon simply pointed forwards, down the track. Bors and Dagonet followed Galahad,, who was closely behind Arthur and Lancelot. Gawain, Gareth, Percival and Haylie close behind. The other knights were blurred by the rain, shadows in the gloom. Her shirt and breeches sticking to her, her hair in rat’s tails down her back, Falcon felt like she would gladly remain in Briton for the rest of her life is she could only stop what she was doing and find a nice inn or a tavern. Sighing, she smelt the humid air, all that remained of the hot summery weather the day before. There was be no trace of clean, non rainy air. ‘Wonderful.’ She thought to herself, scowling. ‘No let up, and another four hours riding until dusk. Not a sign of the rogues and of Tristan. Life is so rewarding.’ Falcon thought sourly. Thinking back to the morning, her mood lightened a little, remembering how she was awoken.


The little, light kisses on her upturned face made her grumble and turn her face further into the warm material her head lay on. Gentle stokes up and down her back, light, so as not to hurt her healing wounds, humming. Finally, groggily, she raised her head and scowled at the grinning knight, smacking him lightly on the head with a straw filled hand. “Shurrup...” She muttered grumpily, wriggling harder into his chest. Chuckling, Tristan stroked her hair and lay his head back down, staring into the thatch and breathing in her scent. She fit so perfectly against him, like she was made for him. Breathing lightly, he could hear someone below, talking to their horse. Lancelot, he realised. Whistling low and mostly under his breath, he waited for the slightly older man to hear him, and ascend the ladder. Watching the curly head poke into the loft, Tristan had merely pointed to the sleeping Falcon and whispered, “Can you get her things from her room, please?” Lancelot had simply broken out into a massive grin and nodded, almost tumbling down the ladder in his haste to leave the two in peace. Tristan grinned. Now he would wake her properly. Flipping suddenly, he lay her gently in the straw, making her squeal in fright and shock. “Tristan! What are you-“ His mouth descended on hers, hungrily seeking entrance to her own soft mouth. Smiling, Falcon wrapped her arms around the scouts neck, pulling him closer as she opened her legs to accommodate him. Tristan growled savagely and pressed against her, his need very much apparent, his kiss drew her deeper into the wave of lust she rode so headily. The sharp pull of pain from her back made her yelp a little in his mouth, but the pain mixed with the pleasure and drove her to wrap her legs around his lean body, sharply pulling him to crush against her, his groin pressed hard to hers. Falcon’s breath was driven from her when she felt Tristan’s hand slip under her shirt, sliding up her toned stomach to cup her breast, kneading and caressing lovingly. Breaking the kiss, she groaned, drawing air into her starving lungs, her mouth swollen and red with the marks of the kiss. Tristan turned his attention to her neck, devouring the soft skin so willingly and lustfully displayed for him. He knew she was ready for him, the hot heat of her through her breeches drawing his attention sharply. Falcon almost shouted out when his hand left her breast, and he stopped his ministrations on her neck. “Wha..? Tristan…?” She asked, gasping for breath, her eyes unfocused, her pupils dilated with lust. Chuckling, he smoothed a few wild strands of hair from her forehead and cheeks, resting on his elbows. “Now is not the time, Falcon.” He whispered. “You tease.” She hissed, trying to get up. Tristan rocked back and slammed his hips to hers, making her fling her head back into the straw with a sharply taken breath and a curse on her lips. “I tease..” He laughed, lowering his mouth to her bared neck and placing a light kiss in the centre. Rolling off her, he brushed straw off himself and reached a hand out to her. Pulling her up, he kissed her one last time before descending the ladder, leaving her to try and straighten herself and listen to the rain begin with a growl of thunder on the thatched roof.…


“We should make camp!” Yelled Lancelot, shielding his eyes as he shouted to Arthur. Falcon rode up beside her commander and her friend, pointing out to the road, where a figure was making its solitary way though the rain. Tristan halted his horse and motioned to Arthur. Falcon glanced back, seeing the others huddled into cloaks. She rode with only a shirt and breeches on, loving the feel of the warm rain on her skin. Her hair was soaked, hanging narrowly down her sculpted back. Her saddlebags however, were safely wrapped in oiled cloth. She was not so fond of drying off. Arthur signalled for the knights to ride, and ride they did. It was another hour before they reached a cliff face, banked by trees and the road. There were several caves, the two largest could easily house horses and knights. Guiding her horse into the smaller of the two, she secured the soaked beast with Gawain’s, flicking her hair over one shoulder, she accidentally slapped Galahad in the face with her soaked locks. The sputtering young man glared at her, his damp curls sticking to his head. Falcon burst out laughing, her mirth almost doubled when she saw his outraged expression. “Sorry, Galahad.” She muttered, still grinning. “I should hope so!” He replied, grinning himself. He hugged her suddenly, and Falcon squealed. “No! Argh! Galahad, you’re wet!!”
“So’re you!” He yelled back, laughing. Pushing him off, Falcon shoved him toward to other cave, shaking her head and smiling ruefully.
Turning back to her horse, she pulled from her saddlebags a dry shirt and breeches, before dashing out to one of the smaller caves. It was damp near the entrance, Falcon noticed, so she went further back into the darkness. Quickly stripping down to her breast band and loincloth, Falcon reached for her shirt. It had moved. Suddenly, hands circled her stomach, drawing her tight to a hard muscled body, and a familiar voice whispered, “The time…what do you think?"


Alright, as much as this may sound cliche-I HATE this chapter. I can't seem to get it right. For the love of the god's, i started it 8 times...Please review, i need to know whats good and whats bad. No flames though please. Constructive criticism i can deal with. I'm also getting serious writers block! i need ideas...