Tom rose early as was his way and found the big man sitting on the other side of the fire, apparently watching him as well as the forest. He gave a nod of greeting and went into the trees for a moment, returning quickly and going to sit by the fire as well. "You don't know me," he said quietly as he peered into the flames. "You've no reason to trust me. But I swear to you now I mean no harm."

John nodded and said nothing. They both stared into the dwindling flames as the fire died, silent, but at least half way comfortable. Finally John spoke, slow and deliberate. "You might not mean harm, but you'll bring it," he said simply. "Gisborne is chasing you. That puts us in even more danger if you're with us."

"Please," Tom scoffed. "He's been chasing you lot for how long now? He'll never catch you. I'm actually safer in your company." He let his gaze move to the big man, watching his face. Something was off there, something was wrong. "And when has Robin ever refused a challenge? This is nothing more than another risk, and he adores those."

John didn't nod. He was silent for a few moments more, considering. Tom was right; everyone knew how much Robin enjoyed tormenting the Sheriff and his Master at Arms. But this might just be too dangerous. "You'll need to be more careful," he finally rumbled. "A little more dirt on your hands and face. Anyone with sense is going to see through you, little girl."

"Girl? What? Are you mad?" Tom blustered as he rose, backing away. "I'm no girl." Trapped, the thought flashed through his mind. Well and truly trapped. And John was much quicker than a big man had any right to be as he grabbed a hand and pulled Tom back to the circle of firelight.

"Sit down." John's voice was soft still but commanding. Tom sat, mind whirling with ways to talk her way out of this. How had he known? She had been so careful! "I'll keep your secret," John was saying softly as he tipped her face up. "And I'll help you. Here." He held out a handful of ashes, still warm but not hurtfully so. "Smear those about. You're too clean. And those hands are small, not enough callouses." He waited until she'd complied and then tipped her face up. "Better."

Tom closed her eyes, unwilling to let him see the tears forming there. "And what price for your silence?" she asked softly. He was a man, he'd want something from her. Had she escaped Gisborne to merely find another master? Despair threatened and she shoved it down.

"Tell me why."

It certainly wasn't what she'd expected. It took her several seconds to find her voice, though her eyes never left his face. There was kindness there, and curiosity, but nothing else. He wasn't going to hurt her or demand anything she didn't wish to give.

"My father was killed in the Holy Land and my mother – she died of a broken heart. It made me a ward of the King, and in his absence, Prince John." She nearly spat at the thought. "He arranged a marriage for me in order to get me off his hands. I objected, he didn't care. So I objected a bit more strongly."

John snorted. "How strongly?" Both voices were kept quiet; they had no wish to wake the others. She, because one person knowing her charade was more than enough, and he to protect her.

"I stabbed my future husband." She was suddenly back in the castle at Nottingham, drawn to his quarters like an errant serving wench because she'd dared criticize the Sheriff's dinner conversation. That in itself shouldn't have been enough to warrant even a harsh word, much less her abrupt removal from the proceedings, but she had objected to the content. Torture and other similar subjects weren't fit dinner conversation in her opinion and she had told him so.

Gisborne had nearly dragged her to his quarters. Not her own, though they were closer. No, he'd been ordered to punish her and he'd wanted to do it in the privacy of his own rooms.

She'd begun to tremble and John watched as her face paled. "That's enough, then," he said reassuringly. The memory was obviously distressing to her and he'd not be the cause of it any longer. But a chuckle escaped him nonetheless and she glanced over at him, the spell broken and her fear once more banished. "You stabbed him. You, I like." He ruffled her hair slightly.

She stiffened at the touch and then gave a rueful smirk. "It wasn't enough. I didn't kill him."

John looked up then. "Dawn. Wake the others." He rose and stalked over to Robin, nudging him slightly with a toe while Tom went to shake Will and Much.

"We need food," Robin said with a yawn as he dropped next to the fire. Much nodded and Will gave one smooth up and down motion of his head and then was still again. "Tom, can you cook?"

"Not very well, but I'll try." She moved away from them and stoked up the fire, and then hung the kettle on a hastily improvised spit. "What have you got to put in it?"

They all looked at each other sheepishly. Then another voice rose from the edge of the clearing as a pair of rabbits dropped next to the fire. "It is a good thing you have me to look after you," Djaq called out cheerfully as she advanced into the camp. Will immediately rose and went to her, touching her hand lightly.

"I was beginning to worry," he said simply before falling silent again.

"I've been hiding from the Sheriff's men since before nightfall," she replied quietly as she came closer. Tom was already dressing out the rabbits she'd brought, dropping them into the pot to boil. Djaq raised one dark eyebrow at Robin. "They are desperate to find a young woman. Some say she stabbed Gisborne, some even that she killed him." She shrugged. "He's surprisingly able for a man on his deathbed. He leads his men on another search today."

Tom kept her attention on the pot, though John gave her a sharp glance. Robin snorted. "If the girl did stab him, obviously she didn't do a good enough job. He and his men were on the road after Tom here last night." He gestured toward the newcomer and Tom merely nodded a greeting. This woman might be a Saracen, but she was also observant. Tom hadn't missed the miniscule widening of her eyes when she'd seen Tom's face. Yes, she knew. The others, however, hadn't twigged to the fact yet that she was female and that was the way she wanted it.

"She stabbed him," Tom confirmed quietly, keeping her voice pitched low. Hopefully the other would understand and play along. "I was in the castle. He came staggering down the steps with one hand holding his belly and blood all over. Looking for her. Sent his men after her straight away, on all roads out of the castle and Nottingham proper." She was stirring the pot as she spoke, not looking at them. "But he was on his feet, which means she didn't do a good enough job. Just a scratch, most likely." She shrugged. "Here, this is what we've got. Hope it's edible. Just broth and meat, sorry."

"It's food." Much shouldered in with his bowl and took some of it, settling down to eat. The others chuckled at him and watched. "What?"

"They're waiting to make sure you aren't poisoned," Djaq said with a small smile. "Go on."

Tom gave a wordless growl and took some of it herself. "Right, then. Ask me to cook and then don't eat it. Starve if you like." Her voice was rising and she stifled the rest of what she wanted to say. She had to get control or she'd be in trouble.

John gave a bark of laughter and got his own and they ate in peace for a while. Finally Djaq spoke again. "The taxes are waiting in his armory," she said quietly as they gathered closer. "The guards watch all entrances and exits, all windows. We cannot get in."

"Then we bring it out." Robin gave them a smirk. "What can we do to that end?"

They all looked at each other. Tom cleared his throat. "A forged message, maybe?" Her voice was soft as she offered the suggestion.

"Wouldn't work, unless you know someone who could forge Gisborne's signature. Or the Sheriff's. He's hiring smarter guards." Robin shook his head. "So we have to be smarter still. Disguises, pose as the guards? No, that wouldn't work."

Plans were suggested and discarded quickly, each one more outrageous than the last. Tom had a fleeting glimpse of something that might work but she couldn't bring herself to do it. She couldn't. She'd die the minute she was seen. "I'll get some more wood," she said simply and stalked off into the forest.

Djaq rose to follow but so did John. Something passed between the two and Djaq sat back down next to Will, though her face was troubled.

John found Tom a bit farther away, out of sight of the others, pacing frantically. "Want to help, have to help, but he'll kill me. He'll kill me."

"Tom?" John wouldn't touch her, though she seemed lost in her own thoughts and didn't seem to see him. He'd seen her flinch at the barest brush of his fingers in her hair and he wouldn't distress her. "Tom. Tom, settle down. What's wrong?"

She stopped pacing and stared up at the sky, tears making tracks through the ash smeared on her face. John wanted to help her, to reassure her, but he didn't know how. Finally she stepped near enough to put one hand on his arm and scrubbed at her face with the other. Most of the ash was rubbed away and he felt uneasy about it. She was deliberately discarding her disguise and suddenly he was afraid for her. "You don't have to do this," he said softly. "Whatever it is you're thinking, you don't have to do."

"You lot need a way in. I can give you that." She stiffened her spine and dried her tears. She had to do this. She'd only been in their company for a day, but she had heard their reputation among the poor, and she had seen firsthand how they cared for each other. She had to help them and this was the only way she knew how. "Come on. We've got to tell them."