Halfway to West Virginia it dawned on me that I needed to move beyond one-shots and write you all a full-fledged, multi-chap story. I wrote the outline of this in the car, in the dark actually. A few notes:

It's technically set after 2.11 (because I was dissatisfied with the preview for the finale and thought I could do a better one myself) I've all but eliminated spoilers for those who aren't up on the show, but there were a few that had to just stay in, like Allan's side-switch. One thing that might not make sense is Carter, all you need to know is he was taking a message from Robin to the King.

I elided time a little. Episode 11 took place during midsummer. But like other authors here, I wanted to see what the outlaws are like when there are icicles in Sherwood, so I fast-forwarded it to about this time of year (in eleven-ninety-whatever, of course, and when I say "this time of year" it's from a northern hemisphere perspective.)

I really don't like Guy, but it's hard to write a character you wish didn't exist, so I made him bearable. Sorry in advance if he seems "soft".

There will be, give or take, 13 chapters in all and I'll try to be speedy with the updates.

Happy reading and please let me know what you think!

"Riding in the snow again, Lady Marian?"

She looked up to see Guy standing in the door of the stables, arms crossed, slightly smiling.

"But of course, Sir Guy. And with this lovely cloak someone gave me, I shall be quite comfortable."

She grinned and brushed past him as she guided her horse out into the courtyard.

Guy had been too good to her, she thought, unhappy with the knot of guilt that tinged their friendship with uneasiness. She could never equal his affection in kind, and yet, she was proud of the subtle changes within him, for which she felt responsible. His presence made her smile. She was afraid of that. As for his "right-hand man" Allan, he had become an important friend to her, protecting her when Guy's allegiance to the Sheriff made overlooking Marian's more willful and generous nature difficult to excuse. That nature had kept her sneaking out whenever she could, in aid of the people of Nottingham town, the confines of which she was limited to, an unfortunate compromise that prevented her from assuring the well-being of her own village Knighton, or from seeing a certain outlaw. Unless, like today, Guy had allowed her the luxury of a proper ride with room to canter, outside the walls.

As she passed through the town gate, Marian looked towards Sherwood, her destination. The last time she saw it, there were still a few leaves clinging to the trees. It looked bleak today, however, and she wondered what kind of effect such a dismal forest had on the gang. She hadn't seen Robin in a week, and even then it was a distracted meeting outside a stall in the market. Robin was growing distant, his thoughts cloudy—she could usually read him at a glance, but lately his face was guarded and tense. He had received several hints at the King's possible return, and she knew Robin felt himself personally responsible for protecting Richard from the treachery the Sheriff and the Black Knights were planning. She knew it troubled him, but there was something else on his mind, she could tell. She had hoped to run into Much first to try to gauge Robin's mood. As she neared the cave where they moved their camp in winter, though, she got the feeling that no one was around. Marian never felt truly alone in the forest. There were squirrels and birds, of course, but there was also Robin, behind every tree. Or at least that's how she felt—but not today. This afternoon she felt a chill and an emptiness in the forest. The cave looked abandoned. She breathed out a huff into the frosty air, shivered, and pulled her horse's reins to turn around. As disappointment and cold set in, her face fell into a frown. She missed Robin—greatly. At the edge of the forest, she was about to kick her horse into a gallop, ready to race back to the warm, and for the first time lately, welcome air of the castle. She paused though, enough to remember how she would rather wait until she was frozen through for a moment with Robin than spend a lifetime by the fire in the Sheriff's castle. In that pause, a clear whistle shot out from behind her. She sat up straighter in the saddle and waited to hear it again. Instead she heard Robin hiss her name in a harsh whisper, forced and unfeeling, almost a command for her to obey. The softness she felt before gave way to a prickly and contrary wish to ignore him altogether if he was going to beckon her like that, but when she glanced over her shoulder and saw Robin standing in the clear, open air, out of the forest and vulnerable, she knew it wasn't the time to fight.