Oh yeah, so last time I forgot to mention that updates will be slow. :/ It appears that school is set out to consume my life, so in between studying for tests and working on other writing projects, I'm trying to squeeze in time for this fanfic. I am definitely going to keep updating, though, no matter how slow the progress gets. Chapter two here is set two years later than the first chapter: so now Marian is eight, and Robin ten. It's about Robin getting his first real bow and Marian wanting to learn how to fight. Enjoy!

A whistle echoed throughout the woods.

Marian frowned, brow suddenly bent, and looked up from her sketchbook. She cocked her head. Had that been Robin with his trademark whistle? But he wasn't supposed to meet up with her today. He'd said his dad had something he needed him to do.

Still…that was Robin's unique whistle, the one he always sent out in his usual way whenever he was looking for her. She mimicked a bird call, letting the wind carry her voice––her standard reply. She shifted in her seat on one of the branches, high up in the forest trees.

No answer. Her heart slowly sank down from the fast beat it had just been giving off. A few seconds passed. Wait…but there it was…faint, but sure. It must really be Robin!

She couldn't stand waiting any longer. "Robin!" she shouted. "Where are you? Why don't you come out?"

There was no reply, not even the snap of a twig or the bush quivering from movement, all the signs that Robin had taught her to look out for. The little sneak! What was he doing here, and how could he be so still? Aggravated, Marian thrust her sketchbook to the side, flipped her cape fully around her shoulders, and prepared to climb down.

Thwack! An arrow slammed against the tree trunk. It was a good three or four feet below her, but still her pulse accelerated and her heart began pounding against her chest as a rush of adrenaline swarmed her body.

Then Robin's face peeked out from under a bush, a beam transforming his entire face into one of excitement. "So, Marian, what do you think?" He strutted out into the open, swinging something at his side. Marian squinted. Could it really be––yes. It was a new bow!

"Robin!" she exclaimed sharply, ready to launch herself at him––whether with disgust or excitement she couldn't place. "Why didn't you answer when I called? Why did you shoot at me? Where'd you get that bow?" She started climbing down, lifting her cape to keep it from getting tangled in branches.

He laughed easily, tossing the bow to the ground. "Here, let me give you a hand." He edged closer to the tree and gently put his arms around her waist, lifting her back down to the ground. Marian felt color rush into her cheeks for a reason she didn't know, but she quickly turned her attention to his bow.

"Was it from your father, then?" she asked. "Was that why he needed you at home this morning? To surprise you with this bow?"

"Full of questions today, aren't you?" He laughed and ruffled her hair, picking up the bow and adjusting the quiver on his shoulder. Marian frowned and smoothed her hair. "Yes, it's from my father. As an early gift for my birthday, he says."

"But your birthday's not until October."

"Yes, so it's a couple months early. He wants me to be able to use it for the rest of the summer and fall, before it gets too cold. He wants me to be in practice and good at handling it for when spring comes. Then I can go hunting with him."

"Sounds like a good deal," Marian agreed, eyeing the bow. "You still haven't answered why you shot at me."

He groaned. "Oh, give it a rest, Marian! I didn't shoot at you. I shot at the tree, clearly several feet beneath you, and very carefully so that I was sure there was no chance of you being hurt." A stray grin crossed his face. "Oh, but your face…so startled!"

She whacked him across the arm. Lightly, to be sure, but she couldn't resist doing so. His frown of annoyance made her smile right back. "Like I've told you," she said sweetly, "never cross a girl without expecting her to retaliate." She was proud of that expression of hers, and even more so that she had used a word like "retaliate." After she stumbled across it in a book one day, Father had explained to her what it meant.

"Marian, Marian," he mumbled, looking heavenward toward the sky. "What am I going to do with you?"

"Teach me how to shoot that thing." The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them, but she didn't try to take them back.

Robin was staring. Clearly this request had been the last thing on his mind. "You never fail to surprise me," he huffed. "And for your information, it's called a bow."

She didn't care what it was called. She wanted to be able to wield a weapon. "How do I shoot it?"

He was looking at her dubiously. "Do you really want to do this? It might be dangerous…"

That was all the encouragement she needed. "Of course! Let's do it."

"Marian," he warned. "There is no going back on this. If I teach you to use a bow, I expect you to put it to good use."

In her little heart, Marian was offended for the briefest of times. "Remember our promise. No treating me like a baby." She kept her voice calm, knowing that if she blew up at him he would only be angry in return.

He paused and said, "Don't worry, I'm only making sure you're going to go through with this. I mean, you don't mind––"

"Robin." She wrenched the bow from his hands, rubbing her hand gently across the wood. "I promise I'll take this seriously and be careful handling a weapon. I'll listen to what you say––no, I'll both listen and do what you say, all right?"

He gave her a superior smile in his teasing way. "Then you can start by giving me my bow back."

Two weeks later, Marian bit back a groan as she hiked her way through the woods, awkwardly lifting her heavy skirts. She winced even as her fingers bunched up the fabric. They were sore already and had bled several times. She'd managed to, for the most part, hide this from her father and mother, since they had been busy lately and she spent most of her days with Robin. Having a father who was Sheriff did have its advantages.

"One day, Marian," her mother had scolded her a few nights ago, "you'll have to stop traipsing around in the woods with that rascal and start acting like a lady. You'll have to grow up someday soon and face life for what it is."

Usually Marian's mother was sweet and caring to her, and understood all of Marian's problems and what she felt, but this week had been particularly stressful for her parents. So her mother, aggravated, had given her that sharp reminder. It stung, a bit, because Marian didn't want to have to grow up. But her mother always said things for a reason, so Marian knew that she must take this to heart.

And growing up, she decided, would mean not complaining to Robin about how her fingers hurt. She'd persevere until she had this down. Already she had managed to draw the bow back and hit several easy targets that Robin had set up. Soon, she'd told herself with a dangerous determination, she'd be able to shoot an animal and perhaps go hunting with Robin.

But all of this didn't stop Robin from looking at her with concern each time she showed up for her daily "lessons." He'd eye her red fingers and ask if she wanted to stop, but she'd beg him to go on, and they would both plow through it, even though secretly they wished they couldn't. Robin didn't want to tax Marian, and at the same time Marian wished her fingers would stop hurting.

One thing was certain. There was no mistaking the gleeful shout that escaped Marian's lips when she hit a target, that excited rush that made her feel like holding her breath when she pulled the string back. No matter what pain she had to undergo, she wanted to keep fighting. Even Robin agreed that she did seem to have a knack for it.

Now, Marian was meeting up with him again for practice. Today went well. Maybe her fingers were getting more accustomed to the feel of the bow in her hands.

"Don't you think you've done enough for today, Marian?"

"Of course not." She gingerly hid her hand at her side, thankful that she didn't have to shake off droplets of blood. Her fingers were sore, and a spot along the side of her finger was red from pressure against the string, but practice was paying off. "That last arrow went off course into the bush. I'll just go get it."

Robin frowned, leaning against his bow, but said nothing as he watched her retrieve the stray arrow.

Marian ventured further behind the bush, searching for the arrow but to no avail. "I can't see it, Robin…I was sure it went over here. Wait, there it is!" She stepped over a large branch to reach it, but at the last moment her foot caught against the bark and sent her straight down. "Owww––" Her breath was knocked out of her from the impact, and she couldn't finish her sentence. Couldn't even breathe.

"Marian? Marian, that's not very funny…"

Silence.

Footsteps crunched through leaves. "Marian!"

He'd found her at last. Marian barely registered this, the shooting pain in her arm was so great. Her eyes stayed shut, and she could feel Robin moving her so that she lay on her back. She found this way it was a little easier to breathe, but her breath was shallow. She wished she could swoon or faint the way the ladies at court always did, but it seemed fate would have her stay conscious and endure the pain. She gritted her teeth and kept her eyes closed.

"Where are you hurt? Marian, can you hear me?"

"Arm," she croaked out.

Robin gently lifted her right arm; he'd guessed correctly which one was injured. He always seemed to know those things about her. "You scraped up your elbow. It's bleeding pretty hard. Are you hurt anywhere else?" There were ripping sounds as he spoke, presumably making a bandage to wrap around her arm.

"No-o," she was able to admit. "But it hurts to talk."

"That's because you hit the ground so hard, you couldn't breathe for a moment," Robin said in an important tone. He was taking charge, and most of the panic she'd read in his voice seemed to be gone. Marian forced her eyes open.

"I'm not going to die," she said.

"Of course not." Oh wait, his voice was shaky again. "We can save that for another day. Another day far, far into the future."

She smiled. He made her smile. "I want to keep learning to use that bow, Robin."

"Marian! You're in no shape to keep fighting!"

"I don't mean now, silly. But soon. What if was some thief who had tripped me? I want to be able to fight him back. Not necessarily with a bow. With a dagger, or even my own hands."

She watched as he studied her with an almost confused expression. "There's no point to that. I'll always be with you to protect you."

Marian thought it was the sweetest thing he'd ever said to her, but it didn't quench her longing to fight. "I know, and I'll always be counting on you, Robin," she explained patiently, "but you can't be there every second. I'd feel a lot better if you could show me how to defend myself."

She could see in his face that he would agree now. "I'll teach you," he said doubtfully. "But really––"

"We'll always be there for each other," she cut in. "For each other. That means we'll fight for each other. We can both be fighters, Robin, to take care of each other."

A gentle light entered his eyes, a playful grin transforming his face. "All right. You win this time, Marian."

She lifted her left hand, the good one, and squeezed his, the moment forever imprinted in her heart.

I'm going on vacation a week from today, so I'm not sure if I'll be able to update before then. If not…then the next chapter should be up in two to two and a half weeks.