Chapter Two: Gathering Firewood

Allan rolled over, pulling Deirdre close to his side and wrapping his cloak around them. He adored making love to her; when he was inside of her and she was squeezing him tight, he felt whole and when she cried out his name, he felt like he was worth something again. He kissed the top of her head as it lay on his chest, running his fingers through her mussed-up hair. She smiled dreamily against his smooth chest before she teasingly pinched his nipple.

"Ow, what was that for?"

Giggling, Deirdre kissed the nipple, watching it harden in the sudden coolness when the air hit it again.

"I'm just happy, is all."

Allan raised an eyebrow at her. "I'll have to be careful to not make you too 'appy. Lord knows what you'll do to me then!"

He couldn't keep a straight face as she grinned up at him. They had seen too much of drama in the castle, too much unhappiness; it was a relief to be able to tease and laugh with her. He sighed in contentment as he held her close, stroking her side with his other hand. His fingers reached her belly and he frowned. She had definitely lost weight since their wedding night when they had escaped to the forest; he could feel her ribs, and her belly seemed harder than ever under the skin. He would have loved to stay here in their cave all day, but he needed to find out why she was sick all the time and fix it.

Deirdre felt his body go tense under her as his hand stroked across her belly. She sighed and kissed his chest, trying to relax him so he wouldn't think of her promise. Although she had agreed to see a healer, Deirdre still balked at the idea. None of the others, including Allan seemed to be sick, so she knew she hadn't given them anything.

All she knew was, she had never felt this bad in her life, and the last time she had seen anyone this sick, they had died within the month. Her own illness had lasted longer than that already, so if she was dying, she just wanted to enjoy her last days with Allan as much as possible without pesky healers messing things up with their vile concoctions.

Allan rolled her off of him, kissing her soundly, knowing that she would still have to be forced to go see the healer. He grinned ruefully to himself; if nothing else, her stubbornness made her somewhat predictable, a fact for which he was glad since the rest of the time she was completely unpredictable. He caught her hands as they roamed down his body, and pulled away from the kiss she had deepened. He knew she was trying to put off the inevitable and he was dangerously tempted to give in and just enjoy, as he always did. This was about Deirdre's health though, possibly her life, and he refused to play with that.

"Time to go, Luv," he breathed in her ear, nipping it lightly before he pulled away, nearly falling over the leg she had hooked around his thigh. He caught his balance and rose to stand over her, smiling at her reproachfully.

"Can't we stay here instead, Muirnín?" Allan had learned very little Irish, mostly the words of endearment she used for him, like "sweetheart" and "my love"; he had picked up some not so nice words she used for him on occasion as well.

Deirdre yawned and stretched sleepily, watching in satisfaction as her body made his react. His breathing became more labored and he began to harden again as he watched her, but then he saw her ribs and he turned away, gathering her clothes and throwing them at her while he quickly put his own back on.

"We can't. Get dressed so we can go find us a healer." His answer was curt as he tried to keep from launching himself at her again.

Deirdre pouted, but did as he bade her. They left and made their way back to the camp, picking up some firewood along the way.

Back at camp, Much was puttering busily, unhappily eyeing the two plates of food that had yet to be eaten. He heard Deirdre and Allan talking and laughing as they came up the hill and deposited their load with the growing pile of branches and twigs. Much gave them a disapproving look.

"That's not a lot of firewood for how long you were gone," he snipped.

Allan and Deirdre laughed, Deirdre looking at the ground and coloring before losing all color at the sight of the plates of food. Allan was immediately sober as he pulled her away from the food and sat her down. He grabbed a chunk of bread and gave her a small piece, no bigger than a pea, watching her place it in her mouth and nearly choke on it. She swallowed dutifully as she looked up at his worried face. He made her eat another piece, taking a small bite for himself.

Much called over, "Don't you want the eg…?"

"Don't say it! Don't even say that word, please Much," she begged, holding up a hand as she struggled to swallow the small piece of bread in her mouth.

Allan shook his head, shooting Much a look that asked if he were some kind of idiot, while he rubbed Deirdre's back and spoke soothingly to her. He handed her the tea that Djaq tried to keep handy for her since they had discovered that mead made her sick too.

Allan looked up at Robin. The helplessness on his friend's face made Robin's own heart sore.

"Robin, I'm takin' Deirdre to Nottingham today, to find a healer."

"No!" Deirdre spat out vehemently.

Allan turned an incredulous gaze upon his wife. "But you promised you'd see a healer. Please Deirdre. For me."

"Oh Allan, of course I'll see a healer, just not in Nottingham. It's still far too dangerous for us to go there. If the sheriff or Guy finds out that we're there, we're as good as dead."

Allan closed his eyes in pain, then looked at Robin hopefully as the former lord of Locksley spoke up.

"There's a woman who lives outside Nettlestone. Do you remember Matilda?"

Allan nodded. "She's the one the sheriff was dunkin' in Locksley Pond, ain't she?"

"She is."

No one really liked to speak of that time, the last day Allan had been with them as one of the gang before he had become Sir Guy's man, the day he had broken their trust. Allan was back now and though that day was a part of their shared memories, they tried to avoid speaking of it as much as possible.

"She had a cousin, Madeline, who lived in the woods near Nettlestone. There were whispers of witchcraft, that's why she doesn't live in Nettlestone itself anymore, but she was as good a healer as Matilda."

Robin watched as Allan blanched at the mention of witchcraft. He knew his friend was superstitious, but with Matilda living in Scarborough now, Madeline was the best healer in the area.

Allan's face showed his indecision—would Deirdre be in more danger from her illness or from a possible witch? One look at his wife, pale and trembling and trying desperately to swallow more bread for him, and Allan's decision was made.

"Tell me where. I'll find 'er. You lot don't need to come with."

Much expelled a breath in relief. "Well, I'll just get to work on hunting down dinner then, shall I?"

Robin looked at Allan with raised eyebrows. "If you think I'm going to let you go alone, you're wrong, Allan."

Allan couldn't help his own sigh of relief, his eyes grateful as he looked at his friend. "Thanks Robin."

Allan picked up Deirdre and, along with Djaq and Will, followed Robin to Madeline's hut. Much and Little John chose to stay behind, too fearful of the witch to make the journey.