Nottinghamshire - Sherwood Forest

Three Weeks Later

Marian tugged at the dark green fabric of her hood. The rough woolen material scratched her fingertips, which peeked out of the fingerless bow gloves. Her breath hitched against the cloth in front of her lips, which hid her face, leaving little more than her eyes visible beneath the guise.

With one hand on the trunk, the young maiden crouched on one of an oak's high branches, whose spurs leaned far over the road below. The dense foliage blurred her figure among rustling greenery - as did Robin's, who lurked in another tree on the opposite side.

Marian opened and closed her fingers around her bow, hoping to find an outlet for her tension. A narrow forest path wound through the dense Sherwood Forest a few yards below them. No more than a few paces wide, it offered just enough space for the car with the steering box. The last few days' rain had softened the ground, and watery puddles had formed in the hollows and potholes. In some places, the wind had broken down branches scattered on the road-perfect camouflage for the trap Robin and she had set.

Her palms still ached from digging the grooves that would doom the carriage. Marian's stomach was uneasy at the thought of dangering horses and riders. She could only hope her plan would work out exactly as she intended. After all, all the last raids had not been extraordinary successes. At least here in the forest, far away from the castle, they were taking less of a risk. Here, escape was much easier if something went wrong.

Marian did not like to consider this possibility, but for the first time, she doubted her plans a little and could not completely rule it out. If there was only one thing she had learned from their joint thefts, something could always go wrong. To think that everything would work out was arrogant and presumptuous - and Robin already filled those qualities to the brim. So at least one of them should remain sensible and realistic. Nervous and wild, her heart beat in her chest, prancing restlessly like a young foal stumbling across the paddock.

"Are you sure you won't miss?" called Robin from the canopy of a large oak tree opposite her. Marian refrained from rolling her eyes.

"As sure as I met your face in my chamber," Marian replied, hearing the gurgling laughter from the other side. She should have felt insulted, but instead, she snorted, unable to hold back a smirk of her own.

"You've changed quite a bit from before," Robin commented, and the young woman leaned a little closer to the tree as her gaze tried to make out her companion in the foliage opposite.

"Really? You're still a dumbass," Marian stated, not needing to see the smirk on the other's features to know it was there. Yet he had no idea what it had cost her to shed the naivety of a noble doll. Marian's smile faded, unseen by the thief across the street.

"I remember the girl with the flaming red hair thrusting her hands on her hips like a boy while the oh-so-noble Gisborne stood behind her, scowling."

"And I remember the Earl's son, with a mouth far too big and cocky as a house. As I said, you've hardly changed!" taunted Marian cheerfully. Neither of them really meant it, and if the situation had allowed it, they would undoubtedly have laughed heartily.

But they were silent again, for they were aware of the risk they were taking. Marian would be disgraced and her father with her if they were caught. Her name would be tarnished, her whole worth wiped out in one fell swoop. For example, they would be imprisoned, punished, and perhaps even executed. This was no game. And yet she was willing to bet anything!

'Oh mother, oh Gillian. Would you be proud of me if you could see me now?'

Marian took a deep breath and tried to banish the dark thoughts of consequences. If this succeeds...

"Shhh! I think it's on!" hissed Robin, and Marian flinched briefly with nervousness.

When she raised her eyes, Robin's figure was no longer discernible among the branches and leaves. Only a few swaying leaves still bore witness to the fact that he had been crouching there a moment ago. What then fully claimed your attention, however, was movement at a spot in the undergrowth. The telltale cracking of branches breaking under too much weight, the rustling of leaves and twigs being pushed aside.

Marian pressed herself closer to the trunk of the tree. Green patches limited her vision, so she carefully pushed aside one of the spindly branches. A figure she didn't recognize suddenly detached itself from the thickly overgrown bushes at the edge of the road, and Marian held her breath. Her fingers closed tighter around the bow, making the leather of her gloves groan softly.

A man, perhaps in his mid or late twenties, stepped onto the muddy road. His stature was wiry and lean, his clothes incongruously noble. Marian's brow furrowed. He wore a blood-red doublet on which silver threads and embroidery shimmered in the little sunlight that fell through the canopy. The belt around his hips was worn, but the decorative plaques still possessed a dull sheen of silver. The fellow had a rakish face and a trimmed beard curled in spades above his lips like the French. What was such a snoot doing here?

The man looked around briefly, then trudged into the middle of the street. His boots made the mud underneath smack like hungry mutts, and Marian's heart lurched momentarily as he stepped past one of the covered ruts. His hand slipped under his jerkin, seemed to be searching for something, and then... he suddenly held an arrow in his hands.

'What the heck is he doing?'

Marian's questioning gaze slid to the other side of the road, but she found no answer there either. Instead, she recognized Robin's face, staring in disbelief and irritation out of the vegetation he had so masterfully crawled into. He, too, stretched his chin curiously to peer over a branch.

Then the stranger stepped on the spot and looked at the ground as if searching for something. He seemed to have found it - for suddenly, he grinned mischievously and dropped onto his backside and backward into the dirt.

'What the...?'

Marian blinked. Robin blinked. They both blinked, not understanding what was happening before their eyes.

Then the one lying on the ground took the arrow in the crook of his arm, wedged it between his brood and arm with the feathers up... and that's when Marian saw the light.

'Nononono!'

Marian's breath caught as her heart rolled over in her chest.

At that moment, there was a telltale whirring on the other side, and Marian watched, stunned, as Robin descended by the rope from his hiding place in the tree and hit the ground with a dull scuff of his boots. He strode out into the street, stopping beside the guy lying there in the dirt and crouched down as if to look at a bug.

"What exactly are you trying to do, my friend?" the thief's voice rang out nonchalantly, lacking any seriousness that would have been appropriate to the situation. A little while ago, she would have despaired at his attitude. Robin had been at war, and she had wondered, after their first encounter in a long time, how he could be SO after all that had happened. He was up to mischief, hardly took anything seriously, and acted more childish than ever.

However, since she had experienced him in the hut, Marian dared to suspect that it was Robin's way of dealing with what he had experienced. If he had given himself over to grief, perhaps he would be no more than a listless drunkard in one of Nottingham's grimy streets. Just like many other of the men who returned from the war broken. Robin, however, locked it all up inside himself and hid it behind a dissolute, laughing mask. Whether that could go well, she didn't know. And she shouldn't really care as long as they had a common goal.

Marian wanted to pull her hair out in frustration, but then she would probably have fallen out of the tree. What was this fool doing? Didn't he understand that he was now standing there like a sitting duck?

'Damn it!'

Sorrowfully she screwed up her face and tried to find Robin's gaze again. Should she shout? No way! That would have given away her position. So what, then? Should she cover his back? That would probably be the most sensible thing to do.

Marian's thoughts flashed over each other as she leaned against the tree and carefully, very slowly, applying an arrow. Her eyes darted over the bushes, leaves, and swaying branches on either side of the road. There was movement in the undergrowth, and her heart grew heavy.

'There are more!' it popped into her head, and panic spread through her. Her gaze slid around, and Marian tried to spy on the hidden men.

Then, however, she heard the approaching clatter of hooves in the distance - the carriage!