Trust Is To Be Earned

[Damara]

--

Demara was unsure as to how long she had been trudging through the seemingly never ending woods. What she did know was that with each step, she grew more and more tired. When lost, she knew common sense dictates that one should stay in the same place. But she had been forced from her initial position thanks to the wild creatures that hunted these grounds. She had ran as fast as she could, and used up a significant amount of her energy. Now, she walked with heavy steps, not having come across any source of food or river for water. Her throat was dry and burning and her stomach was so empty it was painful. She hated this. It thankfully did not happen frequently, but when she did, fear and panic consumed her heart, even if she did not let it consume her body. She was used to be protected; used to every step of hers being watched and armed men at her side at all times.

But now, she was alone. Without a doubt they would be looking for her. Her father would be filled with worry, and rightfully so! She knew in her heart they would find her, but it was that time in between that was frightening. It would not be too long until dark and it was at night that the most vicious of creatures and monsters came out. Apart from sustenance, she needed to find shelter. Both for protection as well as warmth, for the night would bring cold air and she was not dressed for such conditions. She was clad in less extravagant wear, having been riding with the men for a significant amount of time. But now, she wished she had a cloak or some sort of cover to provide her with additional warmth. Instead she had bare arms, small fabric coverings on her hands... at least her legs were covered. A fire! Yes! Surely she could build herself a fire... somehow. But as it was not yet night, she had time.

She finally managed to make her way to a clearing amidst the heavy wooded area. There she paused and tried to see something, anything, in the distance. It was without success. She did however hear a branch snap which caused her to abruptly turn toward where the sound was coming from. It seemed to be drawing closer to her. She frantically looked around for some sort of make shift weapon, and the closest thing she could find was a large stick. Picking it up, she snapped it in half so that it would have a point to it. While it may not be as threatening as a sword, if applied with the right amount of pressure, and in the right place, it could prove to be lethal. So she may be lost, she may be alone, and inside she may be frightened... but what good would it do to scream. She was a princess of her people and she had to swallow her fear and come face to face with the potential threat. So gripping her makeshift weapon tightly, her eyes focused on where the sound was coming from, and watched intently to see the source reveal itself.

{ tag; Morgana }

[morg]

Far more often than she would like to admit, Morgana found herself longing for the comfort and luxury of her chambers back at Camelot. She missed the warm, soft bed, the clean sheets, the warmth of the fire. She had to find her way back there somehow, to get back the throne that rightly should have been hers. Not Guinevère's.

But her list of allies seemed to be shrinking by the day. Uther's campaign to rid the world of magic had taken its toll, and many who would have fought by her side were now dead. The druids, who she had seen as possible allies, refused to fight at all, preferring peace over violence. But she simply couldn't do this alone.

What she needed was to find allies outside of the allied kingdoms. There were powerful lands up north and in other places, filled with people who didn't know Arthur or the Pendragon name, and who might not have the same hatred and fear of magic.

The trouble was, Morgana didn't want to travel that far away, not without knowing more about these other kingdoms or their people. It was risky, if she didn't know what awaited her there, she might end up in worse danger than she was in now.

These thoughts were weighing heavily on her mind as she walked through the forest toward her hovel. She was carrying a basket full of herbs that she had been harvesting for a ritual she was planning, and, in her dark cloak, she would have looked like just any other poor woman, cast out of her own town.

But she was cautious, as she had to be, in case the knights of Camelot happened upon her. They would not be fooled by her cloak and hood. So when she heard footsteps up ahead, she stopped dead in her tracks and listened for a long moment. Perhaps it was only a stag.

When she didn't hear anything for several minutes, Morgana continued walking, stepping into a small clearing. That was when she saw the girl.

Well, it wasn't a knight of Camelot, at least. "I'm sorry, I didn't see you," she said in her most innocent voice. "You can lower your weapon, I mean no harm. I'm just passing through on my way home. Can I help you with something?"