Part 2 - Abscission

XII – Waiting for a Summer Wind

The arrow landed between the two previous ones, right in the middle of the knot on the tree. Robin nocked another one, drew his bow and watched as he hit the target once again. He reached for the next arrow, and from the corner of his eye he saw Much approaching.

Much watched as Robin fired the arrow – another perfect shot. There were only so many perfect shots one target could take, so Robin launched the next arrow at the tree right next to the previous one.

"It's your birthday," Much said as the arrow planted itself into the tree.

Robin nocked another arrow. "I am aware."

Much watched him fire a few more shots – all just as perfect as the others. For someone as good as Robin, this was not practice; it was just a waste of arrows.

"I was going to get you something," Much said. "I'm not sure what I would have given you. But John said you wouldn't accept any gifts from us anyway."

"He's right," Robin replied. He reached for another arrow but found his quiver to be empty. He sighed and began walking to the other side of the clearing to collect all the arrows he had already used.

Much followed him. "Then I thought about throwing you another surprise party. But seeing how last year… well, it didn't go well, I thought it might not be a good idea."

Robin nodded, a smile starting to spread across his lips. He wouldn't have expected anything else from Much. His worrying about something as trivial as birthdays was quite sweet.

"Anyway, I'm just saying this so that you know that I haven't forgotten your birthday and that I was going to get you something. It's the thought that counts, right?" Much said.

Robin yanked an arrow out of a tree. "Much, in all the years we have known each other, you have not once forgotten my birthday. And you do so much for me anyway. Trust me, I do not need anything from you," he laughed.

"Yes, well, I just wanted to make sure you know," Much said and began to help collect the arrows.

They worked in silence, pulling the arrows out of the trees and making sure that each one was still usable.

Robin had tried not to think about his birthday. It was difficult to believe that it had already been a year since the last one. That October had been a lot warmer than this one. So many things had changed since then. Sometimes Robin felt like he had lived a decade since the night when he and his friends were stuck in a barn, surrounded by mercenaries, completely unaware of the fact that the Sheriff was dragging Marian to the Holy Land, where she would eventually die. Robin preferred to not think about how long it had been.

A year ago, he had not had any clue of what was to come. He had had plans to meet Marian later that night. She probably would have given him a birthday present, he would have refused, but she would not have taken no for an answer. If only life had worked out that way.

Robin took the last few arrows from Much and placed them in his quiver. A lot had changed in a year, but Much's loyalty would never disappear.

When Guy of Gisborne opened his eyes, the first thing he saw was sunlight streaming in through a window. His mind took a moment to catch up to the fact that he was awake, and he felt dizzy despite the fact that he was lying down. The room he was in was small, and besides the bed he was on and a small table by the window, there was only a chair at the foot of the bed. A woman sat on the chair – a nun, judging by her clothes. She was working on something with the yarn in her hands. At first, she did not notice him waking up, but when Guy attempted to sit up, she turned her attention to him.

"Good morning. Feeling any better?" she asked and stood up. She walked over to the table, poured something into a cup and handed it to Guy, helping him sit up better.

"I… What- Who are you?" Guy asked, accepting the cup. His voice was rough, and his throat felt dry, so he downed the drink in one go, not caring if it was poisoned.

"I am Sister Catherine, and we have had this conversation many times before." The nun placed a hand on his forehead. "Seeing that your fever seems to be going down, you're hopefully going to remember me this time."

Guy handed the cup back to her, and she refilled it.

He drank two more cups and felt immediately better. Sister Catherine went back to her seat and began working again in silence.

Guy looked down at his left arm. It was bandaged tightly, and he had a sinking feeling that it had been broken. Next, he glanced at his right shoulder. That too had been bandaged. On this side there was a throbbing pain under the wrappings. It took a moment before he remembered the arrow that had landed there.

The memories began coming back to him. He remembered running from Nottingham. He remembered the Nightwatchman – no, the girl from Locksley. He remembered Isabella.

He must have muttered her name out loud, because Sister Catherine turned her attention back to him. "Your sister is alive and safe. She's the one that brought you here."

Guy nodded and carefully lay back down. In addition to his bandaged arm and shoulder, his legs felt numb, like he had not used them in a long time. There was also pain in his back as he moved. Moreover, he still felt dizzy and feverish.

Before he could ask Sister Catherine any more questions, he felt himself drifting back to sleep.

Allan did not look back on his first winter as an outlaw with fondness. They hadn't had a proper camp back then, and they had still tried the whole "moving around to avoid being found" thing. Mostly they had stayed in quickly assembled temporary camps, and sometimes, when they were lucky, in cold and wet caves. Compared to that, having a real camp for the winter was a luxury.

Not that it made their actual work much easier. After the announcement that the townsfolk across England would be paying the ransom for the King's release, the winter had become a particularly difficult one. The season was already tough enough for six outlaws, but when you were also trying to look after peasants that were trying to pay their taxes and a ransom for their King's release, it was easy to get overwhelmed. Allan couldn't help but feel a little bitter about the King getting himself captured. Not that it was his fault, but really, why did the peasants have to pay for his release?

When they had heard the news about the King's capture, Robin had seemed ready to go save the King on his own. It was strange how loyal Robin was to the King. Allan had only met him once and considering that the meeting had involved the King nearly executing Allan and his friends, his opinion on the man was not high. Not that he'd ever admit it out loud – he wasn't going to risk a charge of treason on top of everything else he had done.

The only reason Allan hoped that King Richard would eventually make it back to England was that the alternative was much worse. The idea of a King John made his skin crawl.

Allan missed the days when the lives of kings and princes and sheriffs made little difference to him. Life had been a lot simpler back then. Who'd have known that the life of an outlaw could be so complicated?

His time working for Gisborne hadn't been any simpler either. But at least that had come with better meals. And an actual bed. And a proper roof over his head. Not that Allan didn't appreciate the camp Will had built for them.

God, Allan really missed Will sometimes. Not just for his skills with carpentry – although undoubtedly, he would have done a much better job at fixing the camp's roof than Much and Allan – but for his wit and humour and friendship. Will had become like a brother to Allan, and his absence in the camp felt unnatural. Even now, Allan kept expecting to find him in the forest whittling some clever invention of his.

Allan missed Djaq as well. These days they all had to take care of their own wounds, unless Tuck happened to be around. He never judged their own attempts at patching up themselves, but Djaq would have pointed out how they bandaged an arm wrong or something. That would have been just about the only thing she judged. Allan knew that Djaq had figured out he was the spy, but she had been kind enough to give him a chance to take responsibility for his action. A chance, which he had not taken. Allan could only hope that if she were here, Djaq would be proud of how far he'd come.

Really, those two geniuses had better be having the time of their lives. Otherwise, their absence from Sherwood was for no good reason.

Guy's recovery was infuriatingly slow. He was confined to the small room, where only Sister Catherine visited him. Sometimes she only came to bring him food, other times she stayed and worked in silence on whatever craft she brought with her. She wasn't the type that chattered on for no reason, and for that Guy was grateful. Although, he would have liked something to do, even if it was something as mundane as talking about the boring day to day life of a convent.

One thing they did talk about was Guy's recovery. For him, it seemed like he had spent forever locked in this room. Sister Catherine had pointed out that the door was not locked and that he was not a prisoner. But it had only been a few weeks, and his legs could barely hold him up, so walking to the door to see for himself was not yet an option.

The wound on his shoulder refused to heal. A couple of weeks into Guy's recovery it got infected and gave him another high fever. That was when he lost the sense of time for good. Even Sister Catherine's visits blurred into one big mess in his head.

One day when he woke up, with his fever mostly gone, Guy was surprised to see Isabella sitting where Sister Catherine normally sat. She looked healthy, and much happier than when he had last seen her.

"You're here," he said, pointing out the obvious.

"Of course I'm here," she replied. "How are you feeling?"

"I've been better."

"Sister Catherine says your wound is healing finally."

Guy could not say whether that was true or not. His whole body felt sore; it was difficult to tell if that was a good sign.

"How long have I been here?" he asked.

"It's nearly December," Isabella stated matter-of-factly.

Nearly two months. No wonder Guy felt sore if he had mostly just lain in bed for so long.

"Have you been here this whole time as well?"

"Of course. Where else would I go?" Isabella asked.

Two months, and she hadn't come to see him once. At least he didn't remember her visiting.

Isabella stood up and held up some rolled-up bandages. "Sister Catherine says your bandages need to be changed. Do you mind?"

Guy forced himself to sit up and let Isabella begin to unwrap his shoulder.

"Why did you bring me here? How did you even find me?" he asked as she worked.

Isabella pulled the old bandages off and began cleaning the wound carefully. "I know you told me to wait for you, but I had a bad feeling about it, so I turned back. I found your tracks, and then I saw you down by the river with an arrow on your shoulder. I barely managed to get you on the horse. You were nearly dead when I stumbled across this place."

"Have they asked any questions? Did you tell anyone why we're here, who we are?" Guy hissed as Isabella touched a particularly painful spot on his shoulder.

"At first I came up with a cover story about us being ambushed by outlaws. But eventually I told Sister Catherine everything."

"Everything?"

Isabella nodded.

Guy stayed silent as Isabella put the new bandages on him. Sister Catherine knew who he was and what he had done. Why had he not been dragged back to Nottingham to be executed? Or was she just waiting for him to get better first?

Once Isabella finished wrapping his shoulder, she hesitated, and instead of sitting on the chair, she took a seat on the edge of the bed.

"Why did you come to see me?"

Guy frowned. "What?"

"When we left Nottingham. Why did you come to me? If you really thought you'd just killed the Sheriff, why did you waste time coming to see me?" she asked.

He hesitated. He wasn't entirely sure about the answer either.

"I… You had dropped your rosary."

"You wasted precious time just to bring it back to me?"

"No, but I… I guess I just thought that I might as well free you from your misery."

Now it was Isabella's turn to be confused.

"I don't understand."

Guy sighed. "I had already committed one murder. If you hadn't poisoned your husband, I would have gladly taken care of him for you."

Isabella stared at him with her mouth hanging open. "Why?"

"You… You're my sister. I can't take back what I did years ago, but I at least could have brought an end to your suffering."

An awkward silence fell over them. Eventually Isabella stood up and gathered the old bandages. "I should let Sister Catherine know that you're awake," she said. She rushed to the door, but stopped suddenly with her hand on the handle.

"I'm… When you're better, and you can leave… I thought I'd stay here," she said without looking at him.

"What? You're going to be a nun?"

Isabella nodded. "I don't remember when I would have last felt this safe somewhere," she said quietly and slipped out of the room.

Gisborne was not the only one that was frustrated by an agonisingly slow recovery. Against all odds, the Sheriff of Nottingham was alive and much to his annoyance – bedridden. No-one would have expected him to have survived his fall, especially at his age, yet it seemed that the man refused to die.

Vaisey wanted to get out of bed as soon as possible. He was tired of using incompetent middlemen to enact his will while he recovered. He had even sent for a new physician from York to make sure he got the best care possible.

It was almost like a Christmas miracle when the Sheriff was finally seen out of his bed on Christmas Day. Of course, there was no miracle at work here, even if the new physician had never seen someone recover that fast from injuries as bad as Vaisey's. No, Vaisey was getting better thanks to pure spite.

Even if Vaisey could not walk yet, it did not stop him from getting right back to business. The King was still being held captive, but Queen Eleanor's quest to collect the ransom was going a little too well. Vaisey needed to be ready for what was to come. He couldn't let one accident hold him back. Broken bones were merely a hinderance to Sheriff Vaisey.

And if he ever saw Guy of Gisborne again, Vaisey would make sure Gisborne experienced something far worse than broken bones.

With only Isabella and Sister Catherine to keep him company, Guy was getting bored. He only ever saw glimpses of the other nuns when he felt well enough to go out into the garden, but most of the time he stayed in his small room.

Although Isabella came to see him every now and then, there was still an awful lot of awkwardness between them. They did not have much to talk about. It wasn't like they had an endless amount of childhood memories to go through. Everything else in their lives were not worth remembering in the first place.

At least Isabella was happy here. It was obvious that she felt a lot more comfortable here than at Locksley or Nottingham. If only Guy had thought of bringing her to a convent all those years ago. Her life would have been a lot more peaceful as a bride of Christ rather than a bride of an arrogant monster.

Guy's recovery was slow, but Sister Catherine assured him that he would be well enough to leave in the spring. He supposed it was a nice way of telling him that that was how far her hospitality would extend. Isabella seemed anxious to get rid of him as well. She had made it clear that she would wait until he left before she became a novice. All Guy had to do was get better.

He was grateful to at least have a few months left. Here he had good meals and a roof over his head. Outside these walls, he had nothing. If he had to leave now, he probably would make it through just a few days. He had no money, no friends, he was probably wanted for murder, it was freezing cold outside and on top of all that, he could barely walk. Hopefully by spring at least two of those problems would be fixed.

Guy was lucky that Isabella and Sister Catherine even tolerated his presence, much less extended this much kindness to him. It didn't make much sense to him – in his mind, he deserved none of this. He should have just died that night by the river.

"Why do you do all of this for me?" he asked one day when Sister Catherine was changing his bandages. The wound on his shoulder was finally healing properly, although he still couldn't move his arm as well as he would have liked to.

"Aren't we all supposed to help those that need us? Especially nuns?" Sister Catherine asked.

"But Isabella told you about what I've done, didn't she?"

Sister Catherine nodded. "She's told me quite a lot about what you've done. Your list of wrongdoings is quite long, Guy of Gisborne."

"And still you're giving me food and shelter and even healing my wounds? You could have just let me die," he said. A part of him wished she had done just that.

Sister Catherine seemed insulted at the suggestion. "It is not my place to decide who gets to live and who doesn't. God must really want you alive, because you could have died several times over from this wound alone. It is not my job to judge you or your sins – I'll leave that to the Lord. But I will make sure that no-one dies because of my neglect." She emphasised the last words by tugging the new bandage tight against his skin.

"I don't know why God would want me alive. Or anyone else, for that matter," Guy said as he struggled to put his shirt back on.

"Perhaps this is a chance for you to finally be a good man," Sister Catherine said. She sat down on her usual seat and began to work on her knitting.

"I'm not sure if I even can be a good man."

Sister Catherine let out an annoyed huff. "Oh, please! Is that the best excuse you have?"

Guy frowned and leaned his back against the cool stone wall the bed was pushed against. "What should I do then? I can't bring back all the people I have killed or take back any of my other actions."

"No, you can't. But so long as you live, you have a chance to change. Find yourself a new purpose in life."

"How am I meant to find a new purpose for myself when I didn't have one to begin with? All I've done is follow Vaisey's orders like one of his dogs."

Sister Catherine sighed in frustration. "Are you really going to claim that you have had no will of your own? That all the sins you have committed happened because of Vaisey and not because you decided to do them?"

Guy could not find the words to give an answer. It was true that Vaisey had used him to do his dirty work, but there were plenty of horrible things he had done on his own. Vaisey hadn't made him kill that boy at Locksley – his own impulsiveness had. Vaisey hadn't made him leave his bastard child to die in the woods – his selfishness had. Vaisey hadn't made him murder Marian – his jealousy had. And Vaisey certainly hadn't made him force Isabella into a marriage that made her miserable. All of that – and so many other terrible things – was all Guy.

He stared at the wall and bit his teeth tightly together.

"I think you need to come to terms with everything you've done," Sister Catherine said. "And when you have done that, you can start thinking about how you can be a better person tomorrow than you are today."

The fire crackled softly as it painted dark shadows along the walls of the cave. Somewhere outside a cold wind was creating a snowstorm, but the only way to know that inside the cave was to listen to the howling of the wind. Archer and Kate sat by the fire, leaning against large rocks that poked out of the walls.

Archer watched as Kate combed her fingers through her hair, trying to untangle a very persistent knot.

"I don't understand how you managed to do this," she said, gently tugging at the ends of her hair. "How did you even undo my braid without me noticing?"

Archer leaned back with his hands behind his head. "Well, you were pretty distracted."

Kate sighed and rolled her eyes, but Archer didn't miss the slight smile tugging at her lips.

"What do I have to do to make you laugh?" he asked.

"I don't know, be funnier?" Kate suggested dryly, finally untangling the last strands of hair from each other.

Archer pretended to be insulted and let out a dramatic sigh, earning a headshake and a gentle smile from Kate. The initial annoyance she had felt towards him when they first met was long gone. Eventually she had gone from just tolerating him to considering him a friend. Archer wasn't nearly as bad as he had been when he had called himself Adam, and nowadays all his irritating comments were just friendly banter that Kate responded to with equal enthusiasm.

Kate hated to admit it, but in many ways, Archer understood her better than the other outlaws. They were both newcomers to an already established group dynamic, and with them being younger – and if she was being honest, less depressed – than the others, it made them gravitate towards each other. Kate couldn't help but wonder if the others thought there was something more than friendship going on between her and Archer. She didn't think there was, and she didn't want there to be. Sure, on days like this, when there was nothing else to do, Kate and Archer found themselves doing things most people would have considered to be beyond the limits of friendship. But all that was just two friends having fun to pass time. She wasn't in love with him, he wasn't in love with her, and that was enough for her.

Kate began to braid her hair again, her cheeks glowing red in the firelight. When she was done, she pulled her knees up to her chest and rubbed her hands together. This was the issue with winter – the cold could always find you eventually, no matter what you did or how many fires you lit. Kate watched the flames of the fire dance on the burning wood. She looked up to see Archer staring at her.

"What?"

"You look pretty."

This comment was not intended as a joke, which somehow made it a lot worse.

"You can't say that," Kate said and leaned her chin against her knees.

"Why not?"

"Because I've never heard you call any of your other friends pretty," she replied. She tried to keep her voice light, but her words sounded more serious than what she intended.

Archer stretched his arms and shifted his position. "Fine. If I tell Much he's pretty, do I then have permission to compliment you?"

Kate pretended to think hard. "Hmm, maybe. I'll let you know once I see Much's reaction." At least now they were back to joking.

Archer slid down to lie on the floor and closed his eyes. "You can be so demanding."

Kate watched as his breathing slowed down, and soon he was asleep. She reached out for her cloak, which was discarded somewhere to the side, and wrapped it around herself. Her own eyelids began to feel heavy, and she lay down on the hard stone floor, letting the distant howling of the wind sing her to sleep.

By the end of February, Guy's recovery was going surprisingly well. He could already stand up and walk just fine, and he'd even gained proper mobility in both of his arms again, although at times the wound on his shoulder stung painfully if he moved too quickly. Sister Catherine had told him not to lift anything heavy for a while and to take it easy. But at least Guy could function mostly normally now. The only thing that remained between him and leaving this convent was the heavy layers of snow that covered everything.

Guy could almost hear the sand in an hourglass counting down the days of his life that had any kind of guaranteed certainty. Once he left, there was nowhere for him to go. But at least his time here had assured him of one thing: He would not repeat his past mistakes.

Sister Catherine had quite bluntly told him that he needed to get himself in order. He could not wait around forever for someone else to come around and fix his mistakes. Although Guy hated to look back on his past deeds, he now had a newfound clarity on what he needed to do. From now on, he would not be ordered around by men like Vaisey. He would do his best to use whatever time he had left in this world to make up for his past sins. There would be no taking back what was already done, but if Guy could get a chance to do something good for once in his life, he would take it. He was tired of carrying around all that guilt that weighed him down. When he stepped outside the walls of this convent, he would make his existence worth something.

Spring always looked the same in Sherwood. Once the snow began to melt away, life returned to the forest. Spring had been John's favourite time of the year ever since he became an outlaw. Every day life got easier; he no longer had to worry about losing a toe to the frost, it was easier to hunt, there was more light and there were still many months left until the next winter.

Not that John hated winter. He very much preferred winter in Sherwood over travelling thousands of miles just to get a sunburn in a desert. Although Sherwood never changed, a lot had changed in John's life in a year. The loss of Lady Marian had made Robin into a new man. The whole gang had carried their grief around for months, but Robin had been hit the hardest. On top of that, they had lost Will and Djaq.

John missed those two. Unlike Much or Allan, those two knew how to be comfortable with silence. They were also wise beyond their years, and John hoped nothing but happiness for them.

Then there was the addition of Kate and Archer to the gang. They were the exact opposite of Will and Djaq's calm insightfulness – always rushing into things based on a gut feeling. Sometimes John missed the days when the forest hadn't been so chaotic. Not that he didn't like Kate and Archer. Kate was like a daughter to him, and he was proud to see how far she had come since the day she joined the outlaws. And although Archer shared many of Robin's more annoying qualities, he still had a good head on his shoulders. If only he used it more.

Springs themselves were often much of the same, but John couldn't help but wonder how much would change before the next one came around.

With winter finally gone, it was time for Guy to leave the convent. Sister Catherine seemed relieved to get rid of him, but she gave him food and a little money to get him started on his journey. As she sent Guy on his way, she gave him one last piece of wisdom.

"There is good in us all, Guy of Gisborne. Be a better man today than you were yesterday, and you will find that in yourself."

Guy hoped her words were true.

Isabella walked with him to the end of the road to see him off.

"So. I suppose this is goodbye," she said.

Guy was unsure what to say. This could very well be the last time he ever saw his sister. There were a lot of things he could have said, but there was only one thing that was important enough for this moment.

"I'm sorry. For everything," he said. Guy was sure he had never been more sincere with an apology.

Isabella nodded, and to his surprise, she wrapped her arms around him, hugging him tightly.

"I forgive you. I hope you can find peace, just like I have." She took a step back and reached into her pocket. "I want you to have this." She took Guy's hand into hers and pressed something into his palm.

Guy looked down to see their mother's rosary. "I can't take this. It's yours."

"I don't need it anymore," Isabella said. "It brought be strength whenever I needed it. I hope it does the same for you."

Guy hesitated but accepted the gift anyway.

The two siblings wished each other farewell, and Isabella watched as her brother walked out into the world, looking for a new purpose.