There was a renewed sense of energy, and a great sense of urgency. The men were to be hung at dawn. That left less than a day for the outlaws to regroup, and make their plans. John and Robin started to clear an area to create a replica of Nottingham Castle. Azeem disappeared for a while, taking Friar Tuck with him. At Robin's urging, Will sought out the healing ministrations of Fanny it what remained of her shelter.

As he entered, Fanny began fussing over him, ordering him to sit down and uncovering his concealed wounds. Mara had just returned from fetching more hot water when she caught sight of the gashes crossing back and forth. She clumsily dropped the pot of water next to Fanny, nearly knocking it over as she turned. Fanny nearly thought the girl was fleeing the structure for fear of her life.

Fanny did well in tending to the cuts, but took advantage of the opportunity to ask after Wulf. She barraged Will with detailed questions he hardly knew where to start in answering. He could hardly reproach her concern though. Her child was in danger, and Fanny's devotion was fierce. She asked if Wulf had any scars or cuts, if any old cuts had changed or healed, if his clothes were dry, if he had been left in the cold. Will felt that if Fanny had known the exact number of hairs on child's head, she would have asked if any were missing or out of place.

Will left the shelter feeling exhausted. He was intending to return to the miniature woodblock Nottingham, the location of growing debate and discussion, when he heard the sound of crying. Looking back, he saw that Mara had not gone far in her flight from the shelter. She was slumped against the trunk of a tree, her face buried in her arms, and her body almost convulsing as she wept.

Thinking she was also worried about Wulf, Will silently approached and sat beside her. He felt inept and graceless, but tried to put a comforting hand on her shoulder. "He'll be alright, Mara. We won't let anything happen to Wulf or to any of them."

Her sobs had stopped when he had arrived. Mara still felt her face hot and wet with tears. She was feeling mortified he had found her, but could not stop the occasional sobs escaping her throat as she hiccuped and sniffed. What she said was lost in the muffle of her arms.

"What?"

"That's not why I'm crying." Her head emerged. There are some who can look beautiful and tragic when they weep. Mara was not one of them. Even as she tried to wipe her face, her nose ran and her eyes were red and hot. She sniffed and hiccuped some more.

Will felt entirely at a loss. He had no idea of what to say or do. His hand remained on her shoulder, an increasingly ineffective gesture of comfort.

As she began to speak, her voice wavered and cracked. She wiped at her cheeks in embarrassment and frustration.

"Do you remember when we were little, the first time we went off the main road in the woods?" She was still hiccuping.

"Yes. I think."

"We were exploring, pretending to be great adventurers, and we got horribly lost."

Will did remember. He smiled at the memory.

"We walked for hours, still playing, until we finally made our way back to the completely opposite side of the village. We laughed about what a great adventure we had. Then you went home, and I went home. That night, I remember that in the middle of supper, I started crying."

Will withdrew his hand, and turned to look at her. Mara stared ahead of her, her voice steading as she continued.

"I suddenly realized how lost we had been, how close to real trouble. I kept thinking, 'We could have missed the path to the village so easily. I could have never seen John and Fanny again, never eaten supper with them again, and never slept in our house again.' I didn't understand how close to danger we were until after we had gotten through it."

"And now?"

Mara turned to face him, green eyes wide and unblinking. "Seeing you injured made me realize how much I hadn't wanted to worry that you might be dead."