Moving. Always moving. Alistair shook his head as he grew lost in his own thoughts. He wasn’t sure why he was here in all places if truth be told. ‘Here’ was Cenred’s Kingdom. It was in the city and even then Alistair knew that it was a dangerous place to be. Not that he minded though. He was used to danger. It always followed him around. And it would also come when he would least expect. He figured that someone was having a good laugh at him from above. Now there was a lovely thought in itself. The twenty year old winced slightly as he entered the city by walking. It surprised him at how noisy the city was. Then again he was used to living in the forest. Alistair was born on the border line between Camelot and Mercia. Some would have said that was a very dangerous place, especially when one was a Druid like him. But he didn’t mind that fact. His eyes went cold as memories of the raid started surfacing up again. He tried to block them out like always. He didn’t need to think about that. Not now. He sighed softly to himself as he glanced around. People were out and about. Talking and Gossiping. Out of the corner of his eye he saw children running into the streets. Probably stealing, he thought to himself with a smile that was rare nowadays.
His eyes fell on a young blonde haired girl that reminded him a lot of his sister. His sister that was captured in the raid along with the others and he had to stop for a moment. It took him a while to convince him that she was not Alyissa. He forced himself to move him, telling himself that he was paranoid. He stared straight ahead, his mouth in a thin line. He wished he had leads on his sister’s captor. They would pay for that, he promised silently. They would pay. They would wish that they had never set foot in the camp in the first place. He felt the stirrings of his magic and he took a deep breath. Sometimes that was the downfall of having magic when one was concerned. He had to keep a close reign on his temper or else his magic would flare up again. He didn’t want that. Alistair didn’t want that when he was in Cenred’s kingdom. Who knows what trouble would he cause. He shivered a little to himself. The thought wasn’t at all comforting. The Druid took a deep breath as he was trying to force himself to think pleasant things. He scanned the area in front of him with a rather bored look. His eyes were glittering like stones. He needed to get out of the closeness of everything and find some space. Some space where he could relax.
The twenty year old slipped through the crowds, always apologizing whenever he bumped into people. Something made him stop and glanced around. Something was not right. He could feel it. Alistair scowled a little to himself as he kept on looking around. In a city this noisy and crowded, he couldn’t be too sure if someone was after him or not. He breathed a sigh of relief as he took a small dash for an alley way. He slipped into the shadows easily as he recovered from the walk. He took out a knife that he always carried with him and never strayed from the shadows. His whole body was rather tensed. Alistair just hoped that whoever was looking for him, as he suspected, that they should get it over with as quickly as possible.
Her heart pounded in rhythm with her running foot steps as she proceeded to run. Why did trouble always follow Celta wherever she went? Oh, yeah...because she always caused it by digging into things she shouldn't be looking into. However, this time, it wasn't something she could just brush aside. It had to do with her missing father, the one who had abandoned her to the cruel world for years. She thought she had uncovered the real reason he had never returned to her, yet right when she got close to discovering the truth, they had to find her.
Cenred's men. They had been after her before, but she had never come face to face with them until this time. And she was far away from her Druid friends in Camelot or anyone who could or would help her, seeing as how Cenred has every single citizen wrapped around his forceful, sadistic fingers. And Celta was not one of them, and resisting just made everything the more difficult for her to escape. So here she was, her feet taking her through the forest as she searched for Eolas. She needed to make sure her horse was safe.
"There she is! Cut her off at the edge of the trees!" She heard hooves racing a little behind her and cursed under her breath. great. Just great. They had horses while she was on foot. It was severely unfair, but who ever said these men could be fair to her? She drove herself on even faster, gulping in every breath she could take in and gasping them out with pain. She couldn't run much longer. She was tiring and fast, so she needed to think of something else.
Celta found herself at the edge of the forest and Cenred's city, and slipped into a back alley, her beautiful yet wary eyes darting around her. She couldn't hear any of the men behind her, but she wasn't out of the figurative woods yet. Grabbing her dagger from her boot, she glared around her, yet still saw no one. Slipping her hood over her face, she slunk through the streets, keeping her face down and not even bothering to apologize when she bumped into other people on the street, not even one stranger who sent chills through her entire body. And it wasn't the bad type of chills; instead, she felt a sensation of magic rush through her, but in fear of her own safety, she kept moving quickly til she dashed around a corner and finally took a minute to breath and get some relief.
"Thought you could get rid of us that easy, m'lady?" The last word was mocking as a hand reached around to grab her hair and yank her in a spin. As it did, her hidden dagger struck out and hit skin. She was released with howls of pain and sent into another man's grasp. She struck out but her other arm was caught and grasped hard enough to cut off circulation. She hissed in pain but said nothing. Her dirty looks said everything she was feeling as she fought them every step of the way. She knew these men knew something of her father, of the tragedy that happened in her family, but they refused to tell her anything. The thought sent her struggling once more til a hand struck her across the face. She almost collapsed to the ground, black dots appearing in her vision.
A hand grabbed her face and forced her to look at the first man who had spoke, and she glowered hatefully before she finally controlled herself enough to speak.
"If you think I am afraid, you are in for disappointment. And I know that you know who my family was."
"Yes, a friend of the Druids. A disgusting race. Your king would be so proud." Celta's eyes burned angrily and she lashed out at him, kicking him in the shin and watching in satisfaction as he stumbled. She knew it might not have been smart to show her weakness, but the look on his face after she hit him was worth it.
"Don't...ever...talk about...the Druids...like that..." she gasped out in between anger and paniful breaths.