A/N: Guess who updated almost-sort of-not really quickly? I did! I know you're all very proud of me. (Not really, but I can delude myself. lol) And I know that I should be typing up some reviewer responses, but I'm too lazy right now,and my aunt just had a baby (by C-section. ouch) so I want to go visit. So next chapter; I promise.

And, as always, a bajillion pounds of thanks to my beta-buddy -Eh, Man - for saving me from both my obsession with the word "and" and my unique ability to totally forget about nouns and/or subjects of sentences. -

Enjoy!

and. and. and.

"Will, you look much too happy to have been doing anything Christian," Sara observed, wrapping a quick poultice round Marian's arm. The lady of Whitby was senseless on her back, but Robin was awake and leaning against a nearby tree. Robin and John were tearing a wool blanket into shreds for bandages, occasionally managing a few hand motions or clipped words.

"Shut your ale barrel, Sara," Will replied. "I was just out scouting for foresters. But how is your knee?" He smiled affectionately, putting his hand in Sara's hair. She looked up at him and shrugged. "It isn't festering. And it looks a wee bit like Major Oak, the wound does." She grinned rakishly and brazenly pulled up her dress to show him the mark. "See?"

"Ah! My eyes!" Robin cried, mockingly shielding himself from the sight of her legs. John mimicked vomiting, and the both of them laughed merrily.

"Well then! Salt in your poultices, Rob!" Sara returned, "and mayhap nettles, eh?"

"By nettles do you mean what your hair is made of?"

"More likely your nose! Sharp enough, isn't it?"

"Leave each other be," Will finally intervened, smiling despite himself. Robin was recovering remarkably, though his unusual buoyancy might have been the effect of that green mush Sara had forced down his throat. "Come now, my Sara, the wench will survive. But you ought to take care of yourself." He swept her into his arms to carry her across camp. She punched his chest good-naturedly and swore at him for treating her like a weakling, but she finally let him carry her.

The two of them lay down beneath a rowan, Will's arm round Sara's shoulders. He was struggling to clean and bandage her wound, listening patiently at she gave him corrections and laughing when she slapped his hand. They kept their faces close, snapping light insults and mumbling satire about the outlaws who passed them.

"How's Rob?" Will asked casually, fiddling with a strand of her hair.

Sara shrugged, feeling guilty for her lies. "He – well, he is doing well enough. I'm sure he will live." She kept her eyes on her newly bandaged knee, pretending to inspect the workmanship.

Will smiled, a relieved excitement spreading across his features. "Really? He's going to live? I mean, he looks well enough, but you can never know with Rob."

Guilty eyes drifting over to her patient, Sara answered with her lie again: "Oh, aye."

And seeing the joy on Will's face when she said that made the shame worth it. He kissed her forehead. "Holy Mother, my Sara," he said, "You are the most talented woman in England. The angel of Death doesn't stand a bloody chance" She nodded, forcing a smile onto her face.

But then she looked over at Robin, his breathing so much like a death rattle she couldn't tell if he were dying or not. His face was pale and the new wounds were bright against the rest of him. He smiled and he laughed and he teased, but he wasn't fooling her in the least. And she couldn't leave him for himself in Sherwood; she couldn't believe that her rosaries would be enough to keep him alive.

"Will." Sara put her hand on his arm suddenly, and he popped two concerned eyebrows. "Aye, Sara?"

"We have to move."

"What do you mean?"

"You've heard the reports coming in from Nottingham. There are foresters coming in full force. Nottingham's calling them in from the king's other forests, and they will tear Sherwood apart. We'll all be moving around like scattered sparrows in the next few sennights – and we'll be separated. Robin can't run like that – not as he is. He – he needs warmth… rest. And a few poultices. And better bandages than torn wool half made of dirt. And --- we have to ask Sir Richard again."

A little voice came from behind their tree. "Sir en't at home."

Will turned around to see who had spoken, and saw Jack standing behind him, quiet fear in his face. The boy smiled nervously, hunching his shoulders. "What do you mean?" Will asked.

Jack turned his head away. "Jennie – Jennie the tavern girl; she said he's gone. Says it was a big rushing and he then he was up and away."

"Holy Lord!" Will threw his hands up in frustration, and Jack cringed as if he would be hit. Will sighed and dropped his arms. "You fool, I'm not going to hit you."

"Aye." But Jack still kept his distance, as he did with everyone.

Will ground his back teeth in thought, staring angrily off at the woods. Had the bloody cosmos really taken that much of their energy to destroy Robin? They had to move; the foresters would be swarming them in a few hours, and they needed to go somewhere. He blew air out of his mouth, still royally furious. "And I suppose young Richard is in charge?" he snapped.

From behind Nan's skirts, Jack managed to peep out "Aye."

"Oh, brilliant - just brilliant. He'll never take us in."

Sara brushed a stray hair from her face. "We should go to the Lea. Young Richard will have to take us in."

Will arched an eyebrow at her.

She smirked. "After all, we have his betrothed." She looked over at Marian, who was gradually coming awake.

Will grinned. "You are brilliant, Sara."

"I won't deny it," she replied with a grim smile, "but I have no idea how we are to get to Sir Richard's without the foresters seeing us leave Sherwood. You know they set patrols all along the borders of the king's forest."

Will looked over at Adam, who was flirting with a group of young peasant women. "Adam Bell has three horses, aye?"

I blinked, hidden in the leaves of Sherwood's edge. Before me stretched the sparse shrubs that marked a forest's borders, and past that the woodland dropped into an open field. The ground was dotted with rocks and puddles from a light shower of the morning. And cresting the north end of that field was Sir Richard's manor.

I had come awake to find Sara leaning over me with a worried expression on her face. Apparently, John had convinced Will that I was not the one who stabbed Robin. His reasoning was that I had sword wounds, and Robin was not a good enough swordsman to injure me, so they must have been from Gisbourne. And so they were taking me with them on an escape to the Lea, so that they could seek sanctuary for their wounded. If we stayed in Sherwood, the foresters would eventually find us, and so we needed to disappear for a few days.

Unfortunately, no more than a few rods in front of us, half a dozen forester patrols were swarming the area. Their comrades were combing the inner woods for outlaws while they awaited any attempted escapes. It was going to be a hellishly close call if we made it across the field without their notice, and simply hellish if we didn't.

I gulped, the smell of damp earth strong in the air. Glancing backwards, I saw Robin standing behind me, murmuring in undertones to Sara. She nodded at intervals, pointing at this rock and that. She managed to wrest a smile from him every now and then with her sarcasm, but the worry line was deep and clear in his forehead.

And then a piercing screech of happiness ripped through the leaves. Robin and Sara ducked down; I started in shock, peering at the rider as he blasted into the path of the foresters. Adam Bell howled in mad ecstasy atop his chestnut horse, gathering quite a group of foresters around him. He grinned broadly at them as they pooled nervously about his heels. "Ah, lads, 'tis mercy from the Lord I've found you!" he gasped, spreading his arms to the sky. "The outlaws – the blasted cads are in the glade! I barely got away with my horse; I had to leave my son with that whoreson Rob – Robin, is it? He and those rogues set upon me and my son – look at these wounds!" He proudly rolled up his sleeves to show the bruises along his arms. "The giant one tried to pull me to the ground, he did!"

Robin gnawed at his lip, watching Adam intently. It was a dangerous gamble – Adam had received those wounds fighting foresters, and if any of them recognized his face he was a dead man. But instead they took it as proof to his tale, and after Adam cried of the large number of outlaws, two or three patrols followed him back into the woodland.

John grinned at Sara, and she returned it readily. "Now Will is to play the son," she whispered, mightily pleased with the success of the plan.

We all crouched, frozen with fear. I shut my eyes against the terror, letting every ounce of me concentrate on those fierce retreating hoof beats. Oh, Heaven, I was so scared. Everything shook like a leaf in the breeze; my entire frame ached with unspoken prayers and pleas to the angels. I wished for the bravery I saw in steadfast John and quiet Nan, who were calm and unshakable. But Good Lord, if we were caught. I twisted my quivering hands into my skirts, arching my wrists and winding the dirty fabric; I gnawed fiercely at my lower lip. If we were caught…Good Lord, hurry, Will.

Finally Robin whispered, "Where is Will? He's supposed to take those other patrols," he hissed. We all stood breathless and vulnerable in our hiding, waiting for the patrols to become suspicious. I trembled, every ragged breath of Robin's sounding like the pounds of someone's feet. Please, please. Lord, do not let those men find us.

One of the foresters grunted. "Come along, Jack, let's have a look around – see if we'll find any little squealers." Everyone stopped breathing. A group of our tormentors began forging their way into the outer reaches of Sherwood.

Robin swore. Glaring firmly, he grabbed dirt from beneath us and smeared some in his hair. Sara grabbed him by his tunic and yanked him upwards. "Have you gone barmy, Rob?" she hissed. "You're all bloody; you can't do this."

He shook his head as the foresters drew closer. "It's all the better." he whispered, "I look like a group of outlaws beat the ever-loving God out of me, don't I?" Sara bit her lip in a moment's hesitation, but the tramp of forester feet grew nearer. "Ach, very well." She yanked down a sleeve of his tunic, exposing a bony shoulder, and then pulled some hair in front of his eyes.

He scurried some distance to the side of our little group and then crawled into the forester's path, moaning as if in pain.

One of the foresters stopped, not a leg's length from my hiding place, and turned his head. "Mark! Luke! Over there! Damn you, I think we've found the son!" I said a small prayer of gratitude as he turned away.

The foresters surrounded Robin as he whimpered and gasped out a tale for the ages. The outlaws had nearly killed him, but he had managed to get their leader in the eye – oh, they made him pay for that one – and run away. But the outlaws were on the move; in their pursuit of him, they had shifted position from the glade. They were near the waterfall – he'd show them the way.

There was a loud tramp of feet, and patrols set off into Sherwood with Robin in tow. Their mutterings and treading s faded into the day's sounds until we were scarce able to hear them over the heavy pants coming from our own mouths. I shut my eyes, willing them farther and farther down the path. Leave us alone. Leave us alone. "Let's step out," Sara whispered, fingers brushing my knuckles.

The lot of us stood slowly, rising with that caution we mistake for beauty in deer. Brave Nan's slim bare feet slid through the brambles first, daring the world in the way I couldn't. I didn't want to dare; I wanted to cower like a rat in the brush and piss myself with fear. I took a retreating step towards the shadows, but Sara's hand was firm around my wrist Nay! My arm jerked in protest for a moment. Leave me to the forest, you Irish witch! Let me live and get off me! But then her hard eyes flashed at me, a bitter challenge. "Prove to me that you are no Norman," she hissed, nails fierce in my arm.

And I stepped into the daylight, facing the harsh force of the sun above us.

Sara nodded her approval; then a grim smile found her lips. "And now we run."

Like a pack of wolves we tore across the meadow, breaking into mad sprints and fantastic hurdles, over rock and ditch and hare. I gasped with pain as we ran; my side seemed fit to split itself open as I tore along the stretch. But fear was a stronger scent on the air, and it drove me to sprint like a madwoman through the field. I pumped my arms and threw my legs at the damp earth in a flustered miserable rush for freedom. My legs struggled to leave the earth, aching and heavy as bruised lead. My windpipe was raw and my heart pounded at my chest until I was sure its beating left bruises. Oh, Lord, I could think of nothing but the coming foresters. In my mind, I had always thought I would be brave if faced with this sort of thing. But I was so frightened. What would happen to us if we were caught? What in God's name would they do to us?

I threw my aching ribs into the hard door of the manor gate, nearly sobbing with pain. "Richard!" I screamed, my voice a croaking, ragged mess. "Richard!" Nan joined my cries, holding a hand to her chest and gasping. Others pooled around us, jumpy as squirrels.
But there was only hollow silence as I lay draped against the hard wood, an abandoned rag doll without purpose and without home. Take us in, Richard. Please. Do something useful with your life – just once, you oaf. My fist rose half-heartedly in some odd defiance before its dead weight dragged my arm back to the door. I screamed it one last time: "Richard!"

I could hear the patrols in the background, returning to their posts and seeing us run for the manor. I could hear John's grunt as he hefted some children onto his shoulders and ran faster. I could hear Sara's loud encouragement ringing across the field, mingling with the Gaelic curses she hurled at the pursuers. I could hear Nan beside me, cooing to some frightened little child. I could hear the broad and mocking defiance of David's voice railing against the approaching patrols.

I could hear the door open.

Richard swore violently at one of the stable lads and glared out into the day. "Is it outlaws?" I collapsed into the arms of my betrothed, an act I would never sink to in normal circumstances. Never. But I dropped wearily against him now and dug needy fingers into his tunic. "Good God, Richard, take us in. Take us in for my sake, if for nothing else." I shuddered, reaching blindly for his face. "I will wed you, Richard," I gasped, letting my palm frame his chin, "I will wed you next fortnight - no more stalling, I swear it - if you take us in - take us all in."

For a moment the ingrate paused, wondering if he really wanted my land so much. And he did. Bless his ignorant, wretched soul, he did. The outlaws and the peasants came flocking into the Lea, weary happiness on their faces. Nan spun round in the damp day, arms outstretched as she giggled with relief. A sprinting Ellie caught her roughly round the waist and squeezed. John tugged at their braids while Tain swung from his other arm.

And I lay content against Richard, letting his fingers in my hair and his arms round my shoulders. It was not loving, though for a moment I wished it was. It was possessive - I was his possession now; his mindless, thoughtless spineless little wife. And I knew it well as he that those were his expectations. No trouble.

In the soft silence, I heard a distant sound - someone was laughing. Laughing loud and harsh and mocking. I quietly lifted my head from Richard's chest and gently pushed him away. Who in Heaven was that? Sara followed me, slow steps making their way towards the gate. We both let our fingers and arms rest against the doorpost as we peered at the field below us.

Robin.

The foresters were dragging him by his hair across the field, shoving and striking and kicking. He was caught. They knew he was acting.
Sara's face went pale. "Dar Dia," she whispered, "Oh, dear Heaven." She turned to me, guilt and fear and utter helplessness in her eyes. "We can't go to save him. We would all be caught if-if we tried." She shut her mouth hard, as if fighting tears or curses or both. Worried fingers knotted in her hair as she titled her back her head. "We shouldn't have put him in danger so – so soon…Where is Will?"
Fear broke through my veins to course all throughout me, spreading like a wild liquid disease that turned my legs and arms into buckets of well water. Someone had to….somebody…oh, where could Will be?

I could feel the fear again, cold and hard like a needle. But it was a different fear. I was not afraid of what the foresters would do to me, but what they would do to him. It's an odd feeling odd, really, that I was so afraid of seeing him hurt. But watching the foresters pin him to the ground and bind his hands, sneering at him as they did it, was so bloody scary. I couldn't stand the idea of them hurting him; that the cads would even lay hands on him again made my heart race. Nay. Not again. Nottingham would not get within ten feet of him.
I broke away from the gate and raced for the stables. No chance to save him on foot, but maybe… men are afraid when they see a horse tearing down the field towards them.

"Come on, come on - get this bloody thing in your mouth!" The horse was fighting me, rearing and snorting like I was a dog beneath its feet. I threw the bridle to the ground and whirled to glare at the stable boys. "Good God, you lazy whelps, get over here and make this horse fit for riding!" Stupid, stubborn beast! The boys rushed over and made short work of saddling and bridling the horse, their small quick fingers darting into the saddle buckles and easily fitting the bit into the horse's mouth.

"Aye, aye - my gratitude," I snapped, jerking into the saddle. It was madness, I knew. Sheer madness - charging at a huge swarm of foresters, hoping to free someone I was probably going to trample. But something stupid inside me screamed optimism. God, I would die of fear if I didn't at least try.

The horse ripped through the gates and dug quick hooves into the soil, churning up dust in the coming summer's warmth. I leaned forward, so close to the animal's neck that I could smell its humid breath on the air. Eugh. Oh, that smelt like a mound of rat dung mixed with serf sweat and kitchen swill and---

Holy Saints.

Robin had wrestled himself free with a tug that must have left him bald. With a furious snarl, he dove on one of the larger foresters, and the both of them wrestled back and forth. Within a trice, the two men were directly in my path. Robin pinned his adversary with a sneering grin as my horse drew close.

He looked up and met my eyes for one terrifying moment.

I swore and yanked violently on the reins, grabbing a great fistful of leather in each hand. Come on, you stubborn animal. You stubborn, stupid, obstinate dimwitted mule! Robin opened his mouth for the death cry, dark eyes wide with terror in his face.

I screeched a French curse and brutally jerked the horse to side. If that blasted thing wouldn't stop, it would at least leave Robin be. The three foresters I was blasting towards cried out and ducked out of the way, rolling and tumbling and whatever other maneuvers would save them. I wheeled around, on fire with victory. Come and get me, you thin wretched little men.

I set the horse full gallop for the foresters surrounding Robin. He would dodge; he would be safe, but they would flee, they would be scattered like the selfish animals they were…I watched with grim satisfaction as my plan worked, sending the foresters out at a run like scattered chickens.

But then the horse reared.

I swore, but the stupid cursed ill-born nitwitted half-brain reared, and came down on something with a sickening crack.

The forester screamed, hands jerking to the knee that had been crushed by a hoof. I shut my eyes, pretending not to see the look on his face – the pain, the disbelief, the absolute horror, most of all the fear. Instead I reached for Robin, clamping both hands round his forearms. He swiftly swung himself up into the saddle behind me, and we rode for the Lea.

"Are you still in one piece?" I called.

Clinging tightly to my waist, Robin answered: "Aye. Thank you, Lady Marian."

"My pleasure."

"We were lucky. If you hadn't had them by surprise, they would have dragged you off your horse."

Realizing what an idiot I had been, I didn't reply for a few seconds. That had been horribly close.

A/N: Yay! We're getting near the end...I think I have 34 chapters in total. (Yeah, I originally said 30, but I can change my mind. ;-) Thanks sooo much for reading! I have the best reviewers ever! -