Water sprayed the back of his shirt as the man behind him dropped to the floor with distinctive thud. The remaining water lapped against the ankles of Tristan's boots. He didn't need to turn around.

"Where the hell have you been?"

Tristan asked as Thoth splashed past his right shoulder and crouched down beside him. Together, they managed to lift the fence panel free of the muddy ground, and lay it flat on the ground. The horses needed little encouragement. Spurred on by the stench of smoke and the screams of the campsite, they stampeded past, disappearing into the trees.

He pulled them both out of the way of the panicked hooves and snatched up Excalibur from the grass. Mercifully, it had avoided the worst of the mud. Tristan edged forwards, crouching down by the fallen guard and pressed two fingers against his neck. Sighing, he staggered back as vines climbed from the mud to wrap around his ankle, just in case.

"We've got to find the others," Tristan said. His hands were shaking. He hadn't noticed before, had imagined them steady. "Come on! Stay with me."

Without waiting for a reply, he turned on his heel and ran back towards the camp, phasing through the trees that tried to bar his way. The guards were already winning. The outlaws had begun to retreat, trying desperately to flee, only to find more guards concealed in the undergrowth. Tristan looked around, scanning the crowd for familiar faces. There was no Mace, no Gawain...

Grayson, where was Grayson?

A blur of green moved past him. Celidon leapt through the air, colliding paws-first with an approaching guardsman, knocking him to the floor. The cu-sith bared his teeth, his maw already stained with mud and blood.

"Have you seen anyone?" Tristan asked, turning back to Thoth, "Gray? Bryar? Alex? Guy? Any of them?"

He darted over to Celidon and rested his hand on the cu-sith's back.

"Find them, boy," he urged, "please, I need you to find them!"

put all your faults to bed

TristaN

you can be king again