Disclaimer: I do not own Tales of Rowan Hood (I just love it!)

A/N: This is my first ever Rowan Hood fic. I've always wanted to write one, but I've struggled to get my ideas on the page. So we'll see how this goes. Please read and review. Enjoy…

Rook was lost in thought. Leaving Rowan and the band behind was one of the hardest things he had ever done. But he knew he had to do it. Rowan wasn't thinking clearly, she was losing herself. This was the only way he could help her. He prayed to the Lady he was not too late.

It had not been more than half a day since he'd left the group and turned back towards Sherwood Forest. Time stretched on as he walked silently between the trees. He was too preoccupied with his thoughts to make much progress today. He decided to make camp for the night and continue on in the morning.

Rook started a fire and curled up by it to sleep. He thought of hunting or foraging, but he was too tired. He wasn't hungry, anyways, after all that had happened. He had abandoned his friends. He remembered their faces, Rowan's holding a quiet dread, as if she knew what he was going to say just before he did, and the others three full of shock and betrayal. They must hate me, he thought. Maybe they will understand if I go back and beg forgiveness. No, he could not go back now. He couldn't imagine doing so, either. He had a task, and would not return until it was done. Rowan depended on it, even if she did not know it. Even if she would hate him forever. He was doing it for her own good. For the band, who could not survive without her. He had to find her father. He was the only one she would listen to. He was the only one who could help her now.

He took out the strand if the ring Rowan had given him the day he had met her. It shined against his skin, dark with dirt. He fondled it in his hands and thought of his friends whom he would miss. Not long ago, he would have scoffed at the idea of friends. He would not have listened to his heart back then, his heart that panged with loss and guilt. He would have tried to tell himself he did not need them. Like a wild animal, he would have run away from attachment as he would his feelings. It did not do for a wolf to fear losing its pack. It would learn to survive alone, like Rook had learned when his father had died. But then to find a home with the others…it made it much harder to be separated again.

Now he was alone. Just as he had been for the years after he had lost his father. Only now, he let himself feel it. He would not become the wild boy again. The wild boy was not a brave wolf, but a cowardly pup, afraid to face himself. Afraid to feel anything for having to bear the heartache. He had been lost for so long. He had been trapped in the dark parts of his mind. He would not let himself go there again.

Then suddenly, out of the shadows, a dark shape loomed. Rook leapt back and pulled out his knife. What was it, a dangerous beast of the forest? Or worse, spirits? Against them he could do nothing. He crouched low and searched the darkness frantically.

A furry body crawled into the firelight and into Rook's view. At first glance, a wolf! But Rook spotted a familiar marking, and he realized it was not just a wolf-Tykell! Could it be, really? It was. The wolf dog crawled miserably to Rook's side. The boy put away his knife and stroked Tykell's head. What was he doing here? Did he leave Rowan too? The wolf dog looked up at him pathetically, sadness in his bright eyes. He must have followed me, Rook thought, suddenly feeling terrible. As if it wasn't enough to leave them, he had stolen Tykell away. Maybe the wolf dog followed him, and now couldn't find his way back. No, that was ridiculous. Tykell could always find Rowan. He could wander much farther without losing her trail. He must have chosen to go. They had both chosen.

Rook laid down once again, Tykell pressed up against him, and tried to get to sleep. At least now he would not be alone.