Falcon's Beginning

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I apologise for it being so short. I've had serious writers block. Enjoy...i hope!

Chapter 8- The Scout Loses His Light

Falcon smiled ruefully as she dressed again in dry clothes. Tristan had already left for the main cave, smirking slightly as he thought of the faces on the other knights. “Arse.” She muttered fondly, tucking her shirt messily into her breeches. Sitting down on the sandy floor to pull on her sturdy riding boots, Falcon thought over her actions. What had changed?
“Everything…” She whispered, not entirely sure what to think. Sighing, she stood and gathered her soaked clothes, retreating to the horse cave to spread the wet garments over the inside all, which leant in at an angle. The permeating smell of horses would sink into the drying cloth, she knew, but it was so often she rode, it wasn’t likely anyone would be able to tell. Besides, she’d smelt worse. And now, for facing the others.
In the main cave, the company was split slightly. Bors, Dagonet and Gareth sat on the far side of the cave to everyone else, talking quietly as she came in, they merely smiled in knowing, accepting, reassurance as she walked past, Falcon nodded in return. Gawain, Galahad, Lancelot, Haylie and Arthur sat on the other, starting a fire and Tristan and Percival were standing nearby, apparently discussing bowstrings. Galahad looked up and grinned, nudging Gawain in the ribs, who in turn poked Lancelot. All three winked and made kissing faces. Falcon mock scowled and stuck out her tongue. Haylie crossed to her and muttered quietly, “We all knew it was going to happen. You should have seen Lancelot’s face...an absolute picture of happiness.” Falcon grinned, feeling more at ease with Haylie than she had done in a while. Arthur merely smiled, nodding his approval, and Percival seemed totally oblivious to what had happened. Haylie quickly told Falcon he had been looking for dry timber in some of the other caves. Dinner that night was easy, laughter and smiled freely given, easily provoked, while Tristan and Falcon sat together, with their heads together, happy and complete. As the firelight dwindled, the knights bedded down, and when darkness claimed the caves, no one saw Tristan and Falcon curled up in a corner, simply content to hold each other and sleep, warmth engulfing them deep into the chilled night.


“Falcon, I’d like you and Tristan to scout ahead, one of you taking the left and the other the right fork. We will follow the left fork, low county, easily fought on, the other will take the higher road, and signal if there is an ambush waiting.” Arthur instructed firmly, looking at the pair, who sat ready amidst the other knights in their saddles. Nodding Tristan clicked his tongue and moved forwards, looking back to Falcon. “I’ll take the higher road.” Falcon called to him, looking up the pass, which was muddy and dank, leading up to a ledge, which carried on for a total of three miles before meeting the bottom road again.
“Falcon,” Tristan muttered as she drew alongside him, “ I don’t like the idea of you up there alone…”
“Don’t you dare, Tristan! I refuse to be treated like some precious spice, kept safe and away from any sort of danger in case it gets damaged.” Falcon hissed, her eyes narrowed. The scout sighed. “Fine. Be careful.” He muttered, stoically. His voice however, was not unkind. Nodding, Falcon pulled gently on the reins, and began the trek up the ridge.


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