Grayson poured himself a bowl of hot oats and settled down onto a fallen log around a low burning fire. When he wasn’t training or sleeping, he was eating. He sat next to a young lad who honestly wasn’t even that much younger then him. But Grayson had finally gotten used to the older boy that starred back in the reflection of the mirror and was now able to judge age a little more appropriately then weeks previous.

The two shared their training regiment over their meal. The boy poked at his thinness but all in good fun. Grayson had also gotten used to being the camps constant sick-looking tenant. And as Grayson chuckled, he was becoming increasingly aware of just how comfortable he was finally becoming - a large change to when he first arrived.

They were just discussing their downward strike technique when Grayson just happened to look up.

Through the smoke the rose above the fire he could see a figure walking rather feverish through the camp. A figure that he and everyone else in the camp could recognize. Except, as Grayson’s head turned no one else’s followed.

He was tense - Grayson noted but unable to read his face as he quickly skirted the crowds. Head half cocked as he sat up in an instantaneously with the means to follow -but thought better of it as he settled back down.

“You alright mate?” His companion asked.

Grayson slowly nodded - still very worried for Tristan who had now disappeared all together.

Clearing his throat Grayson turned back to the boy and attempted to restart their conversation. But his eyes kept flicking back over the crowd. Ever fiber in his body told him to pursue but Grayson knew sometimes it was better to be alone for a bit.

He spooned the last bit of his food into his mouth with a smack of his lips before setting the bowl down beside him. He casually looked up again and saw Gawain-Guy entering - his expression somber. Grayson’s brows furrowed together as their eyes met briefly and with a shake of Gawain's head - he knew.

Well….

There were many words that Grayson wanted to say, none of them were appropriate.

Grayson looked over to the boy “If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got something to take care of.”

“Anything I can help with?” The boy asked, Grayson just shook his head quickly and left without another word. Perhaps it was rude, and Grayson struggled with the thought, but there were far more pressing things at the moment and shoved it to the back of his mind.

Grayson didn’t think and maybe that was a problem as he moved his way through the people and then the changing wood. He didn’t quite know what to expect either, which wouldn’t have been an issue but this was Tristan.

The soft crunch of leave under his boot followed him into the henge - the one place he knew he would go. And without another thought Tristan’s name left as a question off his lips, searching.

But he got no response.

As the branches have way and opened up he lips pulled tightly together as he saw Tristan. He sucked in a shaky breath, his feet planted and unwilling to move forward, a fear surfaced in him - one the mimicked when faced with a flighty animal.

“Hey…” he said, his words barely above a whisper.

Grayson