* * * *
They reached Trails End Road and Palomides got out first. They hadn’t spoken the entire trip. Lancelot kept on trying to think of something witty, something funny, but nothing seemed appropriate. He cursed at himself inwardly. He was Lancelot, Knight of the Round Table, and here he was acting like a shy maiden. His heart was racing, and he was fairly certain it wasn’t because of the Questing Beast.
Together they affixed their sword belts and left the road. The woods were dense and blushing with fall colors. There was no avoiding the dead leaves, and they crunched as they walked, drawing further and further away into the forest. Lancelot never really liked the autumn. Or rather, he hated winter, when the cold forced everyone inside, into their own personal cages, into layers of cl
