"We're home," She whispered.
He could feel that his voice was too thick with emotion, so he remained silent, choked with relief. They were back.
Back to the sting of tears from the bitter wind. The strewn leaves, crispy, beneath their feet. The charcoal clouds misting the skies. The flit of moths' wings in the thin moonlight. The low groans from a tired outlaw's throat. The pungent scent of onions bubbling in a thick broth. The creak of branches as the camp entrance sealed in the warmth of the fire...
It was good to be home.
"Is it you two?" a brass-blonde crown of hair and a pair of pale, hooded eyes lifted and faced the couple, "You're back?"
"Well, obviously, Alan A-Dale," a soft Saracen voice smirked through the steady crackle of the camp fire.
- -- - -- ---- -- ---- --- ---
"We were worried," John reluctantly broke into the long-missed chuckles that bubbled through the camp, a frown paining his face.
"Worried?" Will coughed, slowing down his laughter. He was laid on his old bunk, his head nesting in the crook of his arm as he joked with Allan and Much.
"Portsmouth is a dangerous area, now," Robin explained, slowly shifting from his corner of isolation towards his friends, "but you returned to us safely, no less." . His sorrowful eyes were encrusted with broken sleep, a peace that was scarce to him since Marian's death.
Djaq smiled reassuringly, seating herself next to Much to observe the supper that was simmering successfully above the fire. She shivered, the familiar smell of salty stew bringing her soul alive with the memory of Sherwood.
"And we have enough firewood, thank the Lord," Much grinned as he eagerly leaned forward to place the tip of his tongue on the burning ladle. He yelped, badly blistering his lips .
"What did I tell you about tasting the food before it's cool?" Alan sighed, smacking Much on the shoulder.
Much whimpered, crossing his arms in childlike impatience.
- -- ------ ------- ------ - --- -------------------
Djaq watched the gang retreat to their bunks, warm with conversation, ignoring every warning they had prepared about the Black Knights. Allan's face was glowing as if he hadn't shared a teasing comment in months, his cheekbones aching from his wide smile.
"Night, gang," Robin whispered, crouching weakly on his bunk.
Allan yawned, mouthing 'he's always like this' to Will and Djaq's worried expressions. He had grown tired of Robin's miserable antics, yet the couple who stood tanned from the Middle Eastern heat was new to this change in their leader. They smiled at each other sadly and knowingly, understanding Robin's mournful behaviour.
The steady hoots of a midnight owl crept through the camp, bringing a content sleep over Little John's body – whom was resting solemnly on his back. Much babbled softly in his sleep, although his mouth was badly throbbing, but he appreciated Djaq's careful dab of herbal salve over his lips.
Djaq watched Will sprawl across his bunk, sighing restlessly in her own. She had grown used to the thick camel skins of the Holy Land and longed for the heat of her lover's body. Will was likely to be pondering the same thought, shifting uncomfortably to face Djaq's bunk.
"It's been a long day," she whispered, smiling at Will's distant features.
"It has," Will agreed, his wistful eyes static on hers.
Djaq immediately took his longing expression as an offer. Her shadow slid across the camp walls as she crept into Will's bunk. He rolled over in triumphantly, allowing her more room.
