I give most sincere thanks to those nice people who review. Let me know what to change. My sister, who is getting tired of being forced to read my writing, refuses to comment except in very complimentary terms. I wonder why...

Dodging trees and trying not to trip over logs was all fine and well, but Much was getting tired. Thorns didn't just stay in neat little groves for them to avoid (or if Robin had one of his crazy plans, run straight through). If he had to get snagged on one more raspberry bush, Much didn't know what he might do. Arthur, meanwhile, was trying not to accidentally whack Much with the staffs in his hands. He would've used them for clearing the way, but they were moving too fast, Robin was in the lead anyway, and it would make it too easy for the Sheriff's men. Arthur wanted them to suffer at least a little bit. So he kept on galloping, minus the horse, and hoping they would get to the stream before long. They did.

"Don't worry about mud," Robin called back to them. "Just run through and try not to get shot at halfway across." The stream only went up to Arthur's knees, but the mud on the bank seemed at least that deep. Nevertheless, they kept running, despite boots nearly getting sucked off. All the mud got rinsed off when they dashed through the shallow water. It returned when they had to go up the other bank. Robin continued running until they got to a denser part of the woods, where he and Arthur put down their burdens.

"Take a rest. Drink some water." He gave a water skin to Much. "I'll be back." The outlaw chief took a deep breath, and trotted back the way they had come.

"I'll never know how he does that," Arthur said. He'd gotten his breath back and was sitting on the bag of blankets. Much was still panting. "I'm not sure I'll be able to get up again after this nice comfy seat."

"Why did Robin go back?" Much asked.

"Dunno. Probably to either shoot at the Sheriff's men, check their progress, or do something else."

"That narrows it down a lot," Much said. He was stretched out, sprawled in one of the bigger clear patches between trees. They rested a few minutes in silence.

"It's that time again!" Robin was back. He must have taken a little break, because his breathing was mostly normal. "If we and they continue at the same rate, they'll catch up to us in five minutes. Although I haven't reckoned with mud. Good news! There are just eight of them now. One refused to run through the thorns—"

"Sensible man," Arthur grumbled.

"And the other stayed with him and the horses," Robin finished. "Now hurry up. I don't know why the rest haven't given up yet. I would've." At that, he grinned and encouraged Arthur and Much. With a little prodding, they were back to running. Much thought he would die pretty soon if he was lucky. Arthur steadily ran on. Robin, bag bouncing on his back at every step and pot hugged close, never paused. In a few minutes, a road was in front of them. Robin followed it north, but stayed far enough away from it to keep them from being spotted. Not too long after they sighted the road, a narrow bridge came into view. Urging the other two on, who looked almost ready to drop, Robin Hood led them across the bridge. Once to the other side, he shoved Much into a bush hidden from view of those on the bridge. The pot, bag, and weapons went with Much, though Arthur kept a staff as he slid amidst some reeds close to the end of the bridge. Robin strung his bow and put an arrow to the string.

"How are you doing, Much?" he called softly.

"We stopped. Never better."

"Arthur?"

"Wet."

"Good. They'll be here in a few minutes. Try to breathe quieter and not be seen. Very important. Don't let them know you're there until you must. For those who don't know, Much, take a really deep breath but don't hold it. It should calm your breathing a little." They started to hear intelligible voices. Unfortunately, it was mostly curses. Much listened intently. Arthur raised his eyebrows once or twice. Robin tried not to laugh.

"Wait. Shut up. I don't hear them anymore," someone said.

"You think this whole thing was a set-up, and they're going to ambush us as soon as we step out of the trees?"

"Maybe. Be careful, anyway." Eight men in black, ripped-up clothes stepped out of the forest. Robin stayed still, hoping the shadow he stood in would keep him unseen for now. Sure enough, they relaxed when, after a few seconds, none of them had an arrow sticking out of his chest.

"Single-file. They probably dropped their stuff here and went along the road. There's a bend right there so we can't see them running if they were."

One of them started along the wooden bridge. He looked a little nervous, but stepped on nonchalantly. Robin shot him. The man shrieked and scampered backwards. Robin hadn't killed him, and hadn't meant to. He just wanted to see if he could scare them off.

"Oh, you're just a sissy," a younger man said. His mustache was cut in a very pointy style so he looked like a rat. Robin guessed that probably wasn't the intent, and shot his right shoulder when he stepped onto the bridge. He looked like he would've run back too, if he hadn't just insulted the other man for doing that. So he walked on, not sure what to do. Robin shot him again, close to the other arrow, but this time it made the man lose his balance and fall in the water. Robin smiled, remembering what that was like.

"Look! There's an archer over there! See? Right under that tree," another black-clad man pointed out.

"Of course there's an archer, dimwit. You didn't think the tree shot me, did you?" the first man to be shot said. He was sitting on a rock and inspecting his left arm, where an arrow was shallowly embedded. The 'dimwit' averted his eyes and scowled. The mustached man was spluttering as he was dragged out of the creek by one of the others. Arthur admired them, oddly enough. Few outsiders were driven enough, and had sufficient endurance, to follow Robin through thorns, streams, and all at a fast pace. Now they were getting shot at, and still weren't heading home. There was either a tremendous prize, they were extremely bored, or had an awful punishment if they didn't succeed. Which led Arthur to wonder what their mission was, exactly.

"Maybe we could use one of us as a shield, so all the arrows get stuck in him and we can get past the archer and over the bridge," one of the bad guys suggested.

"Maybe we could shoot the archer," another said, rolling his eyes at the other's stupidity. "Who's the best shot?" Robin had been afraid this might happen. He sent off a few arrows in tight succession, hitting the hands of four different men. That was four less archers to worry about. The two he'd hit before probably wouldn't be much up to it, either, or so he hoped.

"Or maybe the question should be, who hasn't been shot yet?" someone said. One of Robin's arrows had hit his hand, but hadn't gone all the way through. Robin was careful about that sort of thing. It hurt more to have it pierce, and he didn't actually want them to suffer if he could help it.

"I haven't been hit. Where should I stand? I don't want him to shoot me, but I need a clear target." Robin shot him, then moved deeper into the shadows. The man unhappily looked at the black-fletched arrow in his leg.

"Oh, come on. If we all go across at once, he can't get us all." Robin got ready. The moment that one stepped on the bridge, he pierced his foot with an arrow, successfully nailing him to the bridge. While that one cursed and pulled the arrow out with a cry, the others widened their eyes and looked awed.

"I don't know. He must be some sort of—I don't know, to shoot so well. I bet he could get all of us at once."

"But you remember what the Sheriff said. Come back with an outlaw or else."

"We can always get a different one. Did he ever say why he needed one?"

"No, but I think it's because the peasants are starting to get rebellious. He needs an example, and a lawbreaker is perfect."

"I heard he got robbed by Sherwood bandits. Ten of them."

"Yeah, and now he wants revenge."

"But what are we going to do now? He said get a Sherwood outlaw. We aren't going to get another chance like this one. They're sneaky."

"I say we shoot him."

"Yeah."

"But what if he moves?"

"We shoot again. Anyway, he's barely moved at all so far."

"Okay. But what if the Sheriff wanted him alive?"

"Don't kill him, just shoot him so he can't get away."

"Who'll shoot him?"

"I will. Here, you guys get in a circle around me so he can't disable me too." Robin thought about ducking into the forest. That, however, would let them cross the bridge, and although Arthur might be able to get a few, it wasn't worth it. Robin had fast reflexes. He'd dodge their missiles. He thought about shooting a few of the Sheriff's eight men, but decided against it. His arrows were running out.

The archer in black had convinced his reluctant companions to guard him. Through a gap between two of them, he let loose an arrow. Robin had watched him aim and moved to the right. The arrow missed him by a few feet. The archer shot again, missing by the same distance to the left. A few more times he carefully aimed and fired, every time getting more frustrated when he missed. Arthur, surprisingly, was enjoying himself. He knew his leader well enough to realize they'd never hit him. It was just fun to see their best attempts foiled. Much couldn't see, but he heard the aggravated cursing of the Sheriff's men and imagined Robin smiling brightly. He was.

The Sheriff's men persisted in shooting at Robin fruitlessly. After a half-hour of this, Robin was getting bored, and the archer's arm tired. Arthur, fearing his leader would get too bored to move, or that the Sheriff's men would get too annoyed to stay on that side of the bridge, fished a fist-sized rock from the muddy water. Looking between the reeds, he hurled it at the archer. It hit his head and knocked him out. Robin didn't look too surprised. Arthur threw a few more rocks, most of them hitting and making a total of five unconscious. At last Robin spoke up.

"You know that I can kill the rest of you with arrows quite easily. If it so happens I don't, the rocks will. Make your choice—take yourselves and your comrades out of the forest immediately, or die. Very sorry to put it so bluntly, but I really must be going. Your decision?" All the black-wearing men were gone, either dragged away by their partners or dragging away their friends, in minutes. It appeared that the three that weren't hit by rocks were wise cowards.

Once a few minutes had passed, Arthur rose from the weeds and shook himself off. Much tried to extricate himself from the bush and ended up tumbling into Robin Hood. Hastily he scooted out of the way. Robin started chuckling. Before long, the three of them were laughing whole-heartedly. The innocent bystander would have seen no apparent cause, but that never stopped anyone. Eventually it died down, and Robin strolled over to Much's former hiding place, pulling out the scratched cauldron, torn bag, and chipped weapons. He sighed, but kept on grinning.

"They sure got beat up," Much said.

"We aren't much better, you know," Robin replied. "Somehow, bushes don't do anything for your looks, Much." He was right. Much, whose light brown hair was short but usually obedient, was covered in leaves and twigs and was sticking out in patches. The stream had gotten Arthur's yellow mop dripping and hanging in his face, but cleaner than Robin's, which was usually straight, reddish, and at ear level, but was now in some odd formation resembling a hedgehog. None were too clean, with mud, scratches, and uneaten breakfast abounding.

"Hate to be the bearer of bad tidings," Robin said. "But it's past noon, and we need to find the others before midnight. So, if everyone's ready to go…" Robin looked expectantly at them. Much stared up at him wearily. Arthur groaned, but creakily got up from the place he'd been sitting.

"Oh, all right," Robin relented. "We won't leave just yet. Take a nap, get yourselves some lunch. I need to make sure the Sheriff's men are doing what we want them to, and I'll look for signs of the Merry Men along the way. I'll be back within the hour."

"How do you do it? We're half-dead, and you're cheerfully saying you're off to run around some more. Are you completely insane?" It was Arthur who spoke.

"No doubt. See you later! Don't get caught!" Robin Hood trotted across the bridge and into the forest beyond.

"I'm following him," Much announced.

"Go for it. Bring his horn, and blow once if you get lost," Arthur told him. "And tell me what he does when you get back. I'm curious." Thus it was that Much darted off the same way, trying to be quiet and catch up.

Much ran for a minute or so, then stopped when he hadn't found a hint of his leader. He tried the listening trick Robin had taught him. Either Much wasn't very good at it, or Robin was impossibly quiet. Much looked around. The day hadn't brightened much since dawn, but the clouds hadn't decided to break yet. A few birds whistled, and the occasional small animal scampered past, but there was no other sound except the swishing of new leaves. It was only luck that Much happened to be sweeping his gaze in that direction when something green moved that wasn't a plant. He gingerly stepped around dead plants and dry sticks. Getting closer, he saw that it was indeed Robin Hood. Much had to duck when Robin's head swiveled right in his direction. The outlaw abruptly stood, still making no noise.

"Much, come here," he said quietly. Much drooped and obeyed. Robin tried to keep the corners of his mouth from going up, but he had little success. "You didn't expect me not to notice you, did you?" Much shifted and looked to the side. "Oh. You did. I see. Well, you can go back to Arthur unless you need something." Robin waited with a smile, but he twirled an arrow in one hand and Much knew he didn't actually want to waste time talking to him. Much tried to gather his thoughts quickly.

"Can I come with you?" Much asked. He managed not to chatter on about why, though as Robin pressed his lips together thoughtfully, he really wanted to say something to break the tension. Just as he was about to blurt something out, Robin made his decision.

"If you're sure you want to. Let me warn you, you'll have to keep up and be completely silent. Don't do anything if I don't tell you to. And I probably won't have time to stop for lunch, so if you're hungry, I wouldn't come. Your choice?"

"I'm coming," Much said firmly. Robin's face twisted slightly, but he kept smiling.

"Okay. Quiet, and follow closely." Robin noiselessly sprinting between trees and over rocks, Much stumbling quickly behind, both cringed whenever Much made an especially loud move. As they ran, Much figured that if he never set one foot in front of the other again, he wouldn't be too disappointed. He breathed as quietly as he could while he panted along. Robin slowed a little, to Much's great relief.

"Stop," Robin whispered. Much bumped into him. Robin stood rigid. Much, regaining his position behind Robin, listened. Far away, he heard voices. He strained to make out words, and pieced together something along these lines:

"You ran away from a single archer? Cowards."

"He wasn't an ordinary archer. You should've seen the shots he made! And there were rocks coming out of the water, too."

"Eight versus one, plus a few rocks. Pathetic. And I bet those five knocked eachother out when they were getting our their bows."

"Why am I even talking to you? You ran away from a few thorns!"

Robin interrupted Much's listening. "Come on." They jogged a few minutes, getting nearer to where the Sheriff's men were resting. "Stop." Much collided with him. Before he could noisily step back, Robin hoisted him clear of some easily-snapped twigs and set Much down beside him. Just within sight were the ten Sheriff's men. Five argued loudly, and the others had begun to revive. Robin set arrow to string, lifting and drawing the bow, but not yet shooting. The controversy between the ten men ended a few minutes later, with the one who'd stopped at the thorns looking smug.

"So we'll go back and find that outlaw--Robin Hood--but bring the horses this time." Suddenly an arrow protruded harmlessly from the speaker's hat. Much turned to see Robin nock another arrow.