I Never Told You ;;Arthur;;

[Celta Meiru]

Her eyes moved quickly as she crouched down behind the bushes. She remained there for a few restless and silent moments, never making a sound for fear of alarming the men robbing the caravan. She watched the group pass and swallowed hard, every muscle in her body tensed and ready to run. She wanted so badly to have her bow and arrows with her, but of course, it was the one day she didn’t bring them with her while she was in her forest. Once she knew they were out of earshot, she ran for it. Her boots carried her a little ways, for they were her traveling boots, worn under her green riding dress that her adoptive mother had made for her.

Celta's breath came in short gasps as she forced her burning legs to keep going. She needed to reach her horse, for once she did, she could ride hard til she reached what she felt was safe. Of course, it would be her luck to wind up in the dark, scary forest by herself. She tripped over a small log and gritted her teeth as she felt her palms scrape hard wood. She got back up without hesitation and kept moving. She would take care of her injured palms later when she was sure she was safe. Her eyes darted around to scan for anyone or anything suspicious as she finally found her cloak settled on the tree nearby. Throwing it on over her dress, she fastened it around her and whistled for the horse she had been riding.

Eolas came rounding a cluster of trees and nickered, stopping by the young woman and tossing her head. Celta gave her a pat on the muzzle and swung herself up into the saddle quickly. The mare seemed to sense her urgency and braced herself to run. She murmured to the horse to use everything she had to get them back to safety, and she held the reins tightly in her hands. She squeezed Eolas’ sides with her legs and settled low in the saddle as Eolas took off, her long Thoroughbred legs stretching out as she kicked out leaves behind them. Celta could only feel the wind in her face and hear it humming in her ears as they galloped through the forest.

Celta’s positive attitude was diminishing fast, for the sun had begun to set, and she knew that her adoptive father Hadrian was waiting for her back at the house. Pushing Eolas on, she grabbed onto her dark mane and let the mare go faster beneath her. Eolas sniffed the air and slowed her pace, her hooves almost silent on the ground as her ears perked forward to listen. Celta's worry rose once more, and she immediately took up her bow from her quiver, along with an arrow drawn taut to the bowstring.

Frowning, she finally saw a man standing there with his back to her, his hands holding the reins of his horse and examining something, and her eyes narrowed. Just great...a strange man. Just what she needed right now. And who knew if he worked with her father and was looking for her to bring her back home...or worse. Focusing her well-trained eye on her target, she aimed her arrow and let it loose, smirking in satisfaction as it hit the intended target. A tree right beside the man's head. She dismounted, staring at his back. If Celta knew how to do anything, it was fight...and fight well. But then she saw the king's symbol on his saddlebags and drew in a sharp breath. Oh, damn...this wouldn't go very well. Who was this guy to be of such importance?

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur was not having the best of luck during his hunting trip. Of course, he was not entirely focused on it either. His lack of concentration certainly contributed to his inability to catch any prey. Oh well. Next time would be successful, for he was that confident in his skills as a hunter, and clearly, he was not discouraged. Everyone had an off day . . . though he would never admit this to anyone. His distracted mind suddenly snapped back into reality when an arrow was shot right near him. "What the hell!" He said in a voice not quite loud enough for whoever it was to hear, but it was enough for him to verbally express his surprise to . . . well, himself.

Now, because he was not dressed in his armor, nor did he wear the coat of arms to represent Camelot on him, the stranger could not have known from behind that he was in fact Prince, and future king of Camelot. This was part of the reason Arthur did not over react . . . although, this person may be well aware of who he was and was indeed trying to kill him. Because of this possibility, Arthur drew his sword and slowly turned around to face the attacker, who was still at a bit of distance from him. Arthur looked at him. Him?! No no, it was a HER. Oh dear. Though this fact, caused Arthur to be on the less offensive for it was a woman, and he never planned to engage in combat with the opposite sex. "You are either extremely lucky you missed, or just made a tremendous mistake." His voice was stern, though not too high in volume. "Now I command you to tell me who you are." If she didn't know who he was before . . . she was about to find out right now.