Many thanks to kegel for the beta. If you are reading, drop a comment, I love hearing from my readers.

Chapter 4

He was glad to see Robin get out, but he would have been even more glad to have not seen him go in in the first place. The bow had been held tightly in his hands, the arrow ready to fly should there be any need. Robin had passed by quickly, Much staying with the others to detour any potential followers. They did not need much encouragement, a few arrows and the guards had all backpedaled over one another. That was their cue, and Much turned to follow the others into the forest.

Robin was just inside, that look on his face, the one he always got when he was thinking. He scanned over the group quickly, checking to see that everyone was there before tilting his head indicating they should go. Much fell in step with Robin, shouldering his bow.

"Are you alright?"

The question had come from Will, and Much watched as Robin nodded. "We just talked."

"Talked?" Allan shook his head, "Why? What did he want?"

"He wanted me to surrender," the man mused, raising an eyebrow at him.

"You've got to be joking."

"Needless to say that I declined."

"And he just let you go?" Much wondered how that was possible.

"Of course he didn't," Will scoffed. "Why else do you think Robin was running?"

"Let's just say he will be a little sore in the morning."

"You were in there for a time," Djaq joined the conversation. "What did you find?"

"The prince seems overly eager to catch me; other than that, nothing too unusual."

"Of course the prince wants you," Much shook his head. Wasn't it obvious? "You are an outlaw, you have a price on your head."

"Yes," Robin nodded, coming to a stop as he lifted a hand to his chin. "But it seemed as though he is overly eager to catch me. As is Chaffee..."

"So we avoid him," Allan shrugged. "Not that difficult; he stays in Locksley most of his time, every once in a while goes to Nottingham, but other than that?"

"The problem is that the villagers will not accept our help, and us even trying to offer them support can land them in a heap of trouble, if not sentence them to death."

"But you said the sheriff wouldn't call off the proclamation," Much was watching him now. "So what then?"

"The sheriff can't call it off," Robin explained bitterly. "Chaffee is the one who wrote it; the sheriff merely enacted it. I have a funny feeling that our friend the sheriff has lost some control since I was last here."

"Then we take Chaffee out," Will stated simply. "I know that you don't like the idea of killing, but we have to think of all our options here. As long as he's alive, there's no way we can help the poor."

"Even with him dead that may not change things," Robin warned. "But that is not an option we can take."

"Robin's right," Much added in. He did not like what Will had brought up. They killed, yes, but only when necessary. Now it seemed as though Will wanted to do so simply because it was the easy way out.

"And what do you think you can do to make him change his mind?"

Near him, Robin sighed, turning towards Will. "I do not know, but we must think of something. Chaffee is under protection from the prince. If anything should happen to him, then Locksley and Nottingham will suffer from it. His guards are under orders to destroy both villages."

"Now you really have to be joking," Allan was shaking his head as Robin delivered the news. Much could only agree with him.

"Surely there is some mistake?"

"Of course," Will added in, "he's probably lying; believes that you would kill him unless he made something up."

"I thought of that; until I read the letter myself," he reached into his tunic, pulled free a handful of parchment. Some of it he passed to Djaq, telling her to keep it safe, and the rest he turned over in his hands. He read it quickly to all of them, the group silent until he finished.

"This I do not like," John said even as Robin finished.

"It is revolting," Much could hardly believe what he had heard. "Destroy two villages?"

"It is madness," Robin agreed. "Nottinghamshire would never recover, not to mention the number of innocents that would die."

"So what do we do?" Much wanted to know.

Robin was quiet for a time, then shook his head. "We go back to camp."

"Well I know that, I meant after that."

"I don't know if there is an 'after that', Much. I really don't," Robin said quietly. The man turned, leading the way once more. It was surprising, and he could do little more than follow. That was not the answer he was expecting.

He wasn't surprised to hear from Chaffee. Vaysey had barely gotten up before the call came. He was enjoying his breakfast when the man entered the hall, pulling off his gloves as he sat. The man waved off the offering at food, but did agree to some wine, the servant scampering off to fulfill the request.

"I had an interesting guest in my house yesterday," he started out the conversation.

"Oh? Who would that be?" Vaysey wondered, although he already knew who it had been. It surprised him, somewhat, that Locksley had taken his advice, but then again he knew he should never be surprised at anything the man did anymore.

"The outlaw, Hud," Chaffee continued, sipping the wine. He set the goblet down, glancing towards him when Vaysey did not respond right away.

"Really?" he did his best to sound earnest, drawing in a breath as he ran his fingers along his chin. "But I thought he was dead?"

"Zat is what you said."

"Actually, I think we both agreed on it," the sheriff said mildly. He had to admit, Hood turning up out of nowhere had worried him. Somehow he had been able to keep his cool, pretend he wasn't really all that alarmed to see the man returned.

It did make him wonder where he could have gone, on what possibly could have been keeping him. It was clearly obvious the outlaw had not been around in recent times, unaware of all that was taking place. Now that he was back, however, Vaysey was interested in seeing where all of this would lead. Robin would not stand for how Chaffee treated the peasants, and while Vaysey was not a bleeding heart, he would be the first to admit he was glad for that. If Locksley somehow got the upper hand on Chaffee... all the better for him.

"You do not seem so surprised," Chaffee wondered, watching him.

"Well, you see, I never really believed he could be dead; he's a hard man to kill, after all."

"He must be caught."

"If it were that simple, it would have been done so long ago."

"He is only one man," Chaffee continued, earning a laugh from him.

"Well, why didn't you say so? I'll get on it right away."

"I knew you would agree-"

"A clue?" The sheriff shook his head. "I have better things to do than chase a man that will never be caught. Hood is a downright nuisance, but a minor one on a grand scale of things. No, we should forget about him."

"We will not," Chaffee cut him off. "If we allow zis to continue, ze peasants will follow soon. Zey will rebel, and we will have no order."

"Hardly; you yourself said they are refusing all help from the outlaws. Why would that change all of a sudden?"

"Zese peasants, zey love him, do zey not?"

"The peasants hero," Vaysey agreed, rolling his eyes. That was another irritating thing, although he was slightly amused by the simple idea that no one wanted his help. How frustrated Hood must be feeling.

"Zen we will hold zem hostage," Chaffee stated mildly. "He will come zen."

"No, no," he was shaking his head. "We have an agreement. I don't hurt peasants, and he doesn't kill me. I sort of really like that agreement."

"But he will not kill me," Chaffee answered.

"No," Vaysey agreed, "but then again you'd be surprised what you can live through." Hood may not kill, but he did not hesitate to wound. He could remember times before where Gisborne had gotten the brunt of Hood's anger, and did not doubt that the man would do the same to Chaffee. "How far does Prince John extend his protection, I wonder? Hmm? Might want to get that letter updated."

That was unlikely, for though the prince could secure the man's life, it was unlikely to cover him in any event of harm. Injury could come in many ways, and two functioning villages would not be destroyed simply because the man had an ill day, it simply would be impractical.

He could see the man consider this, and after a time he nodded.

"But we must find a way to stop him. It will be your assignment."

"Need I remind you that I am the sheriff here?"

"Not anymore zat I remind you ze prince is displeased wiz you."

This left him frowning. Of course, he did not need anymore reminders.

"What about those hunting traps? I thought those are what we were going to use?"

"Zat takes time, and use zem we shall when zey arrive. But we do not give up simply because of zat. Good day, sheriff." Chaffee finished his wine, moving to his feet.

Vaysey let out a sigh, hoping to finish his meal in peace, before turning his focus on a new worry. Exactly how was he supposed to catch a man who could not be caught?

Using the knife he cut another hole the cloth, holding it open as the man threaded a rope through. Much grabbed the other end, looping it around the post, and tying it off.

"Make sure it's tight," he reminded him, stepping back to survey their work. There was a considerable gap there now, but it could be covered with an extra blanket. That would do it for now, he supposed, but sooner, rather than later the section would need to be replaced. The weather had done a number on it during their absence, and without continual maintenance the fabric had began to wear away. It was only a small portion of the roof, but with winter coming they needed it to be strong.

"It doesn't look like it will hold for long," Much commented, stepping up near him. Will nodded in agreement. That was a problem.

"We'll need to go to Nottingham." And hope we can at least barter, he thought to himself. None of the villagers were accepting or giving help, but what if they were to do a business trade? He glanced over to where Robin sat, the man still on his bedroll, the same place he had been since they had first gotten back. That was the day before.

The rest of them had found other things to do; he and Much were making further repairs on the camp, while John and Allan had done some hunting. Djaq herself had taken to the letters Robin had collected from the manor, seeing what, if anything, she could find from them. Robin, however, had done very little.

Twice Robin had left; earlier to go and see Marian, though that had not lasted long. Then once more in the night, for Will had caught him coming back in the early hours of the morning. Most likely to see Marian again, though Robin would not tell him for sure. Since then, however, Robin had been content on not moving from his spot, other than to briefly pace around, stretching his muscles.

Will shook his head, unable to stand seeing the man like this. Robin had been the same when the man had learned of Marian's betrothal to Guy. Distant, quiet, withdrawn...Will knew the man needed a distraction.

"Robin," he crossed the gap, waiting for the man to meet his gaze. When it was apparent Robin would not, Will decided to go on anyway.

"The camp's falling apart; I need to make repairs."

"So?" Robin merely shrugged, "do what you have to."

"I need supplies," Will pressed. "Cloth mostly, but I could use some new tools. Nottingham's our best bet."

"Later."

"What, are you just going to sit here all day? Come on Robin, you've got to move on. You can't just give up."

"I'm not giving up," Robin said sharply, meeting his gaze for the first time just then. The anger he saw there made him take a step back, thinking perhaps he had pushed just a little too far. However, Robin shook his head, leaning back and crossing his arms over his chest.

"I'm thinking."

"You have a plan?" Much wondered. He was standing next to Will now, and his question got the attention of the others who had kept quiet during the whole ordeal.

"No," Robin admitted. "They have us in an unfortunate spot, and I don't know how to turn that around."

"So we'll figure out something," Will encouraged. "But we have work to do, and it needs to be done before long."

"So go to Nottingham," Robin looked up towards him. "You know the way."

Here he faltered. He did not want to be the first to say he was still worried. Before he would have argued with Robin about being able to go alone, that he could take care of himself. Things were not quite the same now, and he wanted the other to come with him. If not for his own sake, then as a distraction.

"I'll go with you," Allan offered, the man already moving. Will hesitated, hoping Robin would change his mind, but when the man did not move, he nodded. Yet as he turned, Robin called to him, and the hope returned.

Robin had moved to his feet, crossing the camp. A moment later he returned, passing the bag to him. The same bag they had managed to save from Locksley.

"Keep your heads down; you get in, get what you need, and get back out. Do not cause any trouble, you hear me?"

"Yes, milord," Allan rolled his eyes as he took the bag.

"I mean it," Robin warned, turning from one to the other. Will found himself nodding.

"We won't be there any longer than necessary, I promise," he hesitated for a moment. "You really aren't going to come?"

Robin shook his head, easing himself back down on the bedroll. "I have to sort this out."

So he would not budge. It made him a little angry, but Robin was as stubborn as he always was. He nodded towards Allan, moving out to take the lead. They had not gotten very far when they heard Djaq calling to Robin. It caught his attention, and he turned back to see what had taken place.

Robin was standing near her, holding one of the letters. Will quickly made his way back. "What is it?"

Robin didn't answer right away, a look of confusion on his face as his eyes skimmed the parchment. Finally he shook his head, looking up at him. "This doesn't make any sense."

"You have not heard anything?" Djaq wondered, causing him to frown.

"Heard anything about what?" Allan wondered, having trailed back as well.

"According to this, the king has sent out letters to select individuals...and the prince believes I am one of those individuals."

"A letter? About what?"

Robin shook his head again. "It doesn't say, other than that it may contain 'vital information' about the king. But why would the king write to me? There's nothing I can offer him..."

"Well, you did save his life," Much pointed out.

"And he doesn't know you are an outlaw," Will added.

Robin pursed his lips, taking in what had been said. "But if the king did send me a letter, then that would mean the letter would have arrived at Locksley."

"You don't mean to say you're going back there," Much warned.

"If there is a letter, then I need to know about it," Robin started, but was cut off by Djaq.

"No, here," she held up another letter from the pile, "It says here it was not found."

"And the price on my head has been raised," Robin finished reading. "They believe I have it on me. Well, that explains why the prince wants me caught." He fell silent, reading on through the rest of the letter. As he finished, he held up a hand.

"Here," he pointed towards the words at the bottom.

"What does it say?" Will wondered, unable to distinguish the letters.

"The prince is offering more than just a cash reward; he's offering Chaffee the position of sheriff."

"Of where?" Will asked alarmingly. "Here? In Nottingham?"

"That is not good," John remarked, and Will found himself agreeing.

"He's bad enough as the sheriff's right hand, there's no telling what he would do if he became sheriff."

"That is not something I would want to see," Robin agreed. He looked up at them. "I wonder if the sheriff knows anything about this deal?"

"Well you spoke with him earlier, didn't you?"

Robin nodded, "He did seem frustrated at being undermined...we could use this in our favor."

"Work with the sheriff?"

"We can both benefit from this situation."

"But he's the sheriff, Robin," Will pointed out. He did not like the idea of working with the man who had so recently imprisoned them all. There was no telling what the sheriff would do, of what he would agree to, only to turn his back on them all.

"And he can help us; we have a common goal, to remove Chaffee from his position. Or at least he will," Robin remarked, looking down at the letter. "As soon as I show him this, he'll agree."

"Or he will want the letter himself," Much replied dryly. "Then what? He will take you prisoner."

"There is no letter," Robin replied. "Or if there is, I haven't gotten it yet. The only other place it would be is at the manor, but it doesn't sound like anything was found."

"Maybe it hasn't been sent yet?" Much offered.

"No; according to this it was sent out months ago."

"Months ago? That would put Gisborne in Locksley," Will pointed out.

Robin was quiet, nodding after a moment. "I didn't think about that. I'm going to speak with Marian, the rest of you stay here. I'll be back shortly."

"You mean us, too?" Allan wondered, holding up the bag. To this, Robin hesitated, but finally shook his head.

"Go to Nottingham, get what you need. I'll catch you up later on what's happened."

Will could almost curse him. He wanted to stay, wanted to see what was going on. But there was no telling how long Robin would spend with Marian, and they did need the supplies. Allan was calling to him, already taking the lead. With a sigh he turned, moving quickly to catch up to the other. If they were quick, they would be back before nightfall.

There was little Marian could tell him. If Gisborne did have a letter, then he said nothing about it. Robin had tried to argue the fact he would be keeping it quiet, but she pointed out the simple fact that if Gisborne was aware of such a deal, he would be using it to secure his own position. As it was, Gisborne was growing anxious living the life of an outlaw, and pressuring her to move on.

Robin had once again tried to get her to come to camp, but she had refused. It was the third time she had said she was not ready, and was beginning to wonder if she ever would come. Or perhaps she was saying it simply to appease him, as she was trying to appease Gisborne.

The thought made his stomach churn as he moved to his feet. The others were asleep, and he wasted little time in gathering his things. He took with him his bow and quiver, as well as a torch, though he did not bother to light that until he was away from the camp. He did not want the others to know what he was up to.

It was difficult to see in the night, but he had little other choice. The tree he had chosen as a target was close enough to sight in on, and he strung the arrow slowly, willing his fingers to obey. Carefully he drew in a breath, pulling the string back. At the first sign of tension he could feel it falter, doing his best to grip it tighter, trying to hold on.

Suddenly the arrow took off, flying well before he was ready, driving into the ground. He allowed himself a breath before he pulled another arrow, stringing it once again, following the motions, a bit slower this time. He eased up when he felt his fingers give, trying to get a better hold before he drew again. He made it further, but still it was not enough, the arrow flying on its own path.

Angry now he pulled another arrow, and then a second, a third in all a quick succession, stringing and pulling back only to have it soar wildly in an unintended direction. He kept going, no longer even trying to aim, just firing as fast he could, the anger welling up inside of him. He could hear several arrows hit ground, could hear them break, knew he was damaging them beyond repair. It was reckless, for arrows were hard enough to come by and they could not just waste them as he was doing, but the truth was that he did not care. What use were arrows if he could not shoot?

Suddenly his fingers closed on empty air, a signal his quiver was empty. Frustrated he brought his bow down, the end digging into the dirt below, bending under the pressure. The abuse would break it, he knew, but he did not care.

Robin slowly sank to his knees, hands still clutching his bow, head resting against the wood. He had hoped it would not be like this. Had told himself time and time again that things would get better. Had led himself to believe he would be able to shoot again once his fingers had healed. But he had been a fool.

It had started even before he had left Devonshire. The fall he had taken in the forest there had turned them, had made them burn with a slight pain. At first he had ignored it, believing it would go away on its own. But it had not, and he had meant for Nathaniel to check them one last time before he had gone. Yet he had been distracted, mostly by Much's first decision of remaining behind. So he had forgotten, and two days into the journey back he had taken off the bindings Nathaniel had so carefully applied.

They had been loose to start with, and the wrapping caused his skin to itch in the most uncomfortable way. His fingers had not hurt any worse without them, and so Robin chose to ignore the pain. It had gone away eventually, but too late he noticed his fingers had taken an odd curve. And with each passing day he began to notice that it was harder to bend them, to make them move as he needed.

Robin hadn't tried to draw his bow until just a few nights ago. He would wait until the night when the others were sleeping, would try his best to hold the arrow, to try and line up his aim. Each night had led to the same result, and Robin had been patient, trying to remind himself that he could not learn in one night. But three nights in and he saw no noticeable improvement, and the realization of what it meant was finally sinking in.

He drew in a steady breath, trying to banish the tears that had crept from behind his closed eyes. "I know you're there."

How he hated them; he could not get a single moment of peace. He hated all of them, hated being here, hated having being forced to live in the woods, hated everything about it...and yet he knew none of that was true.

"Robin?" The voice was apprehensive, Robin turning to watch as Will came up near him.

"Now you know," he said quietly, unable to keep the shame from his voice. There was no point in trying to deny anything; he knew full well that man had seen him fail.

"I don't understand," Will shook his head.

"Isn't it obvious?" Robin was bitter, staring out ahead into the darkness. "I can't shoot."

"But how...you always," the man was at a loss for words. Robin knew that Will was watching him. Slowly he let out a sigh.

"You remember what I told you?" he asked, "How I was able to find Much?"

Will watched him for a moment before realizing Robin was waiting for an answer. The man nodded, prompting Robin to continue.

"That I went in as a guard, and that I was found out after a time?"

Again there was another nod. Robin let out a sigh, trying to figure out the best way to continue. This was the part he had neglected to tell the others, had simply led them to believe nothing had taken place. But that was far from the truth.

"They were not exceptionally happy about that," he explained dryly. "I was...interrogated," he chose the word carefully.

For several long seconds the silence stretched between them, Robin allowing his last words to sink in. He turned to Will, could see the man's confusion, before it struck him.

"You were tortured."

It wasn't a question, didn't have to be one, but still Robin nodded. It hadn't been the first time he had been tortured, but it had been by far the worst he had faced. He liked to believe he had been strong enough to endure it, but the damage done was becoming clearer with each passing day.

"I wouldn't give them what they wanted, I couldn't...doing so would have put Much in danger," he went on. He had eventually given in to them when the threat of abuse turned to Rhodri, who was but a child. Dax had protected Much then, Robin realizing now that he never had gotten the chance to ask the man why he had done so. It was a moot point, for it mattered little to the story he was telling now. He took a breath.

"They did not care what they did to me; I was not supposed to survive. They knew I was an archer, so they did the one thing that they thought would break me," he continued, holding up his hand. Even now he could remember the pain, could hear the awful sound as the bones separated from one another. The mere thought caused him to bring his hand back down against his chest to protect it, as if it might suddenly happen again.

"They broke your fingers," Will stated quietly. Robin could only nod, turning to look at him.

"I had hoped with time it would get better, that I could be able to shoot again. But it is useless..."

Will said nothing for a time, the silence their only company as the chill of the night caught up with Robin. He hadn't noticed it until now, shivering as it started to settle in his bones. Camp would provide warmth, but he wasn't ready to go back. What would he say to the others?

It wouldn't be long before they knew about him. Even if he swore Will to silence, they would figure out soon enough on their own.

"You can learn," Will offered then.

"I can't grip the arrow properly," Robin cut him off. "I have tried more times than you can imagine. It is no use...I am of no use."

"That is not true," Will was quick to defend, but Robin was just as quick in cutting him off.

"If I cannot aim, then I am a liability. I am a danger to all of you. I could just as easily shoot one of you as I could an enemy. And it is worse with a sword," he spat out quickly. While it was true he could fight with both hands, he was not as good with his weak and therefore could not always rely on it. Not when it mattered most. He was unable to keep a firm grip with his other due to his fingers, and any amount of force caused pain. Robin drew in a breath.

"If I cannot fight, then I cannot lead. I cannot expect the rest of you to cover for my faults."

"You know that is not true," Will answered in response, his voice just as angry. "How many times have you and the others covered for me when I could not fight? You did not abandon me and we as sure won't abandon you either."

"It is different," he replied testily.

"There is no difference."

"You were not expected to fight, we kept you at camp until you were well enough to do so. I do not have the same luxury, and even if I did it would not matter because this is something that cannot be fixed!"

"You do not know that," Will replied coldly.

"I do know," Robin answered. "I want to hope...but there comes a time when you can no longer do so. You just have to accept it."

"Robin-"

"This discussion is over," he moved to his feet, going to collect the fallen arrows.

"There has to be something-" the man tried again, but Robin cut him off.

"Listen, that's-"

"No, you listen to me," Will snapped, bringing Robin to a stop. It was a tone of voice he hadn't heard the man use before, the words laced with anger.

"We are in this together; you made that very clear when you saved our lives back in Nottingham. There isn't anything you won't do for us. The same goes for you too, and you do not just get to choose when to give up."

The outburst was unexpected, leaving Robin unsure of what to say. Will took a breath, calming down, his next words softer as he spoke.

"Djaq might be able to do something-"

He held his hand up in front of Will, shaking his head. "This here, this cannot be changed. What has happened is already done, and there's no going back from that."

"You will not know unless you ask."

"There is no point-"

"Then ask her!" Will cried, "If there is nothing she can do, then at least you know. Or is that why you do not want to ask?"

"Don't be ridiculous," he turned away, but stopped as Will grabbed his shoulder.

"It is, isn't it? You're afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"Afraid to hear the truth. That there might not be anything that can be done. Because if you don't hear it, then there is still a chance it might get better. Hearing it makes it real, and you're frightened of that."

Will was right, and he hated that. Hated that he could so easily be read. Robin took a breath in, letting it go.

"I have been able to shoot for as long as I can remember; it is a gift, Will. A gift from God; it's part of who I am, it is what makes me whole."

He held up his bow, catching it in the moonlight. "With this I can take a life, or I can save one. I can make things right, but not only that; when I shoot, I feel...I feel free, like everything's going to be alright. That somehow, we'll come out of this ahead. It comes to me as easy as breathing does...and without it...without it, I feel as though I can't breathe."

Will said nothing for a moment, another bout of silence spreading between them. Then he shook his head, his words quiet.

"Robin...I don't know if anything can be done; but what if there is something that can be done? Are you willing to risk all of that because you are afraid to hear the truth?"

"Sometimes not knowing the truth is easier," Robin admitted.

"But at least you would know."

He nodded. That was a point, he supposed. And once he knew, he could work dealing with the disappointment. At the very least, he would no longer wonder about it, the thought constantly on his mind.

"If there is nothing that can be done," Will continued, "if, then we will work until you do get better."

"I don't think that will happen."

"Why not? You had us practice with weapons until we were better. You pushed us, and you did not let us give up because we failed in the beginning. You remember how bad I was with a sword when you first took me to the forest?"

"Yes," Robin let out a laugh. Will had been able to handle an ax well enough, but he had wanted all his men well versed in swordplay as well. He knew the blade had been awkward and heavy for Will to hold, but the man had humored him, had followed his instructions, had kept trying even though he lost every time. Eventually he had gotten better, good enough that he could almost beat him in a sparring match. Almost...

"So, we will do the same. Will it be different?" the man nodded, "Perhaps, but different does not mean that it's bad. You remember the time I was caught in the mill? How my leg was hurt?"

Robin nodded, the memory dark in his mind. The gang had split up during that time briefly; Will, Allan and John had become entangled in one of Gisborne's ploy, had been led into a trap, and Will had almost paid with his life.

"I had a limp for a long time; hell, I still have one now, but you would never know, not just from looking. That's because I learned to work with it, not against it. You will do the same, you'll figure it out."

He wished he had as much confidence as Will did. The man made it seem so easy, but Robin wondered if Will really understood how much this affected him. He swallowed.

"How do you know I will?"

To this, Will shrugged. "You're Robin Hood; you figure everything out."

He couldn't help but grin. "I think you were in those dungeons for too long."

"I know I was," Will agreed with a grimace, "but even if I hadn't been, that wouldn't change my answer. You will figure it out, maybe not as quick as you would like, but you will shoot again. You have my word."

Robin wasn't sure if he believed him or not, but still he gave him a smile, "Thank you, Will."

"Let's go back to camp," Will suggested, picking up the arrows. Robin moved to help with the last few, putting the ones that could be saved back into his quiver.

"You will talk with Djaq then?"

Robin hesitated a moment before nodding. "You are right, I am afraid. But you are also right in that it would do no harm."

Will was also right about one more thing; he would figure this out. He would find a way to shoot again.

TBC