The swordsman was a Knight of Camelot! Summer studied him for a moment, as he studied her, wondering vaguely what he saw. He was tall, and dark, with pale eyes. She wondered if he ever smiled; he seemed so serious. And young, too; she hadn’t expected that when he came around.
“It wasn’t entirely my idea,” she admitted, in answer to his question. “I was ahorse, and armed, and then there were bandits, more than I could handle alone. They took me captive, but I think they considered me helpless because I am a woman, and I was able to slip through their watch.” She neglected to mention she’d used her magic to encourage that view.
“I would be deeply grateful, Sir Mordred, if you would escort me the rest of the way. I’ve nothing to offer you in return, though.”
Mordred gave a slow nod in understanding, “You shouldn’t have come alone, the woods are dangerous, m’lady,” he stated. The woman didn’t seem to be lying, as much as Mordred could tell, so he had no issues with walking her to the castle. She looked a little out of place in the forest, as did most women of high stature, but she had been incredibly easy to spot with her fiery hair. That must have been how the bandits had found her.
“I need nothing in thanks,” Mordred answered, a slight smile twitching at the corners of his lips in a way of displaying sincerity. He gestured for her to walk with him as he made his way back towards the path that he had previously gone askew from.
Summer caught the smile and returned it. “I wondered if you ever smiled,” she commented. “The honor of the Knights of Camelot is legendary; not so their grimness.” She followed neatly, a certain tension easing from the set of her shoulders at the prospect of his protection. “I knnew how many days the trip would take ahorse, but I’ve no idea how far I’ve managed to come on foot. Is the city far?”