Returning to Roots

 The next morning, Braonan helped start building the walls for a fort. Not long after being released from that, it was time for his next shift on patrol, this one was with Andreas, so they'd be able to talk.

They were supposed to be meeting Felix to relieve him. He and Andreas agreed on many things, including a strong dislike of Felix.

Something in the foliage to the right caught his eye. A flash of white. Asking Andreas to wait for him, he searched for the plant, and was instantly hit with a bout of homesickness. How many hours had he and his mother spent together gathering berries and tubers? How many had he spent with his father, learning poisonous from edible and which ones were favored by which animals? Not enough. As he picked it up, his longing increased. It was white heather, the symbol of his clan. He tucked a sprig of it into his collar, the way a warrior would identify himself in battle.

When they started walking again, Andreas gave him and the flower an appraising look, "Well, aren't we looking mighty pretty today, should I also be wearing a skirt?". He rolled his eyes at his friend and explained, "It's a battle badge for identification ya dalcop, and kilts are not skirts." Andreas was undeterred, "So, you go into battle wearing flowers, huh? Terrifying. Is there a yellow daisy group? Or maybe a dainty rose? OH! I know, poison ivy! Now wouldn't that be fearsome!", he chuckled.

A flicker of movement in the trees caught his attention. At first, he thought it must be Felix getting ready to leave his post, but when they got there, Felix was nowhere to be seen. He gripped Andreas's arm in a death grip and dragged him back from the site, signaling him to be quiet. Bones, he thought. Treading carefully through the foliage, Braonan went scouting in search of someone, anyone, anything really, that could tell him what had happened.

It was possible that Felix had simply gone out of course, but his instincts and soldier training wouldn't let him relax until he was sure.

About 200 pedas from the post, he caught that flicker of movement again. Focusing on it, he saw Felix's dark figure wrestling with an opponent. He didn't care about Felix, but if this was an attack on the camp, then the enemy needed to be put down. He signalled Andreas that there was one visible opponent and notched an arrow. He saw the opponent's legs wrap around Felix's throat in a choke, then they flipped into dominant position. He now had a clear line of sight.

It was a girl. No older than him.

Braonan lowered his bow. Realizing what must have happened, his blood boiled as he crept closer. When he was within speaking distance, he straightened and announced himself, "Need any help? I'd be happy to get in a couple of strikes of my own on this 'un". She turned and saw his roman uniform and instantly produced a knife that he'd not previously noticed. She hissed at him in what sounded like greek curses. He did catch the word "kunops" and "romnus", so the swearing was confirmed. What really caught his attention was the cherry blossom pinned to her chiton.

He pulled out his sword and spoke in Gallic, "You came from Clan Jardine?", he asked, thinking of his cousins by marriage from Clan Jardine. Could she have seen them? Would he be able to find out without being stabbed? She lunged forward, blade aimed at his throat. He swiped and pushed her back. This time, he was better prepared to understand when she growled at him in greek, "What do you care, filthy Roman!".

He knocked the knife out of her hand with the flat of his blade and swung, stopping just before slicing her throat. "Never call me a Roman," he said vehemently in Gallic, "And it's my concern because I haven't seen a Jardine in four winters."

She glanced at his collar and saw the white heather. He could tell because her eyes widened as she put together the flower with his chosen language. "Now," he said, "If you're done trying to stab me, then we can talk without blades at anyone's throat.". He glanced at Felix, "Except for maybe his.".