"Swords up. Now, fight." Azeem ordered. On cue, four pairs swung into action, their shiny blades smacking the others, as each tried to perfect their skills and beat their opponent. Azeem walked on the outskirts, observing each man, and offering advice where needed.

"Scarlett," he interrupted the fight, as he watched Will try to attempt the newest maneuver Azeem had just taught. "You have to lunge extremely quick, in and out, otherwise you are vulnerable to an attack yourself."

Azeem took his own blade out and took the place of Will's partner. The two hit twice, and then Azeem lunged in with his sword, just barely brushing Will's side. "That is how it is done. Come on then."

Will brought his own blade up, he and Azeem parried several blows, and then Will lunged in—and Azeem knocked his sword aside and brought his own alongside Will's.

"Quick, it has to be quick."

"I was trying to be quick." Will groused.

"Well, try harder."

They fought again, Will lunged faster, but was still evaded by Azeem, though Azeem couldn't attack him this time.

"Again."

Scarlett rolled his eyes, but nodded agreement. The first blows were quicker than before, and then he lunged in, brushing Azeem's side as the painted man twisted to avoid the mock blow.

"Good," Azeem laughed. "That is how it is done." He returned the stick he had taken from Will's former partner, and gestured for them to continue.

Scarlett took to it pretty well, Azeem thought as Will took the defensive now, allowing his fellow outlaw to learn the technique also. He had good form, and worked ferociously to master the skills Azeem taught. The painted man laughed silently to himself. It seemed he did everything ferociously, thinking about the contest between Robin and Will days ago.

The camp had buzzed several days after, everyone engrossed by the rivalry, as they seemed to think it was. But after a while, it became apparent that this wasn't a rivalry at all, but a one-sided hatred that flowed nonstop for Scarlett. For Robin's part, he had given in to Azeem's lecturing, and had tried, unsuccessfully, to strike a truce between the two of them. But every single time he was rebuffed, and it seemed with every attempt, the man's loathing of Robin increased tenfold. And Robin had his pride, too, and after several rebuffs, he had angrily quit trying, remarking to Azeem that he wasn't going to grovel anymore to that strange, ill-tempered little brat.

But the odd thing, Azeem reflected, is that Will is perfectly at ease with me! One would think that if you hate a man that much, you would include in that hatred his right hand man, his sworn protector. But that wasn't the case. Scarlett hadn't said one cruel word to Azeem since the first day in camp. Will had actually been very friendly to him, and Azeem couldn't help but like the outlaw. It was a precarious position, being between two such bitter adversaries, but the painted man was so far pulling it off. And Will had never tried to flaunt his new friendship with Azeem in front of Robin. It seemed that whatever the hatred Will had for the noble, he was going to keep it strictly between himself and Locksley.

Christian is right about one thing, Azeem thought to himself, that Scarlett is indeed a strange man.

"Hey, everybody, gather 'round!" Little John's voice boomed. Azeem turned to see John and Robin purposefully striding out of John's hut.

Will reluctantly left the practice session and headed over to where the entire camp was gathering around Locksley.

"You all have done a wonderful job here," Robin was saying, as Will quietly pushed his way into the throng, "and so tomorrow we begin the crusade against Nottingham!" The resulting cheers forced Robin to stop talking and, grinning, he waited for it to settle down. "We'll leave at dawn, and stake out the road running through Sherwood."

He went on to explain the specific details in the raid, then he told the crowd that he would pick a small group for this first time. Robin looked around at the anxious crowd, his eyes roving to and fro, and then he grinned and spoke in loud clear tones—

"Bull!"

"Wulf!"

"Much!"

"James!"

"Giles!"

"Allan!"

"Peter!"

"Oh," Robin turned to the now familiar burr in his side, "and of course, Azeem."

"I would have gone anyway."

"Yes, I know." Robin turned to address the crowd once more. "All right, men, be ready to leave right at dawn."

"Did you hear, Will? I got picked to go on the first raid!" Giles clapped the other man on the shoulder.

"Good job," Will stumbled over his reply, trying hard to feel happy for his friend. Inside, though, he was disappointed. The first bit of excitement was finally going to happen, and he had to miss it.

"I still can't believe it. He chose me! Me! I, Giles Redwood, will go on the first ever raid against Nottingham!" He tore off in his excitement, eager to share the news, though everyone had heard the second his name was called.

Scarlett shrugged it off as he walked back to the practice area. He might as well perfect some of his techniques. There would be other raids.

"They're back!" Fanny yelled as she ran to where the figures were racing through the trees. There's Wulf. Where is he? Where is he, where, there he was! John ran to her and swung her mightily in the air.

"John, how was it?"

"Did you get anything?" others asked.

"Come on, let's see it then!"

Robin grinned as he looked around at the men that had accompanied him. "Shall we show them?"

"Yes!" the camp roared back.

Robin took a small bag, undid the purse strings, and poured out gleaming gold coins.

Triumphant cheers rang through the crowd as the men threw down coins and a few tossed some jewelry amidst the heap.

"A woman and her courtier were out riding," Much sneered, and then he deepened his voice theatrically, "and two fat old men who foolishly thought that they could still ride like the wind."

"Robin showed them, though" Wulf interjected in the story. "Robin jumped on the Sheriff's horse, rode after them, and pulled both of the fat cronies to the ground. You should have seen their faces!" He made them all laugh as he did some, rather bad, imitations.

"Will, it was incredible!" Giles exclaimed later that night. "Look at that treasure. And that was only today. If we keep doing this every day, why, we'll be rich!"

"Yeah," Will muttered despondently, not really listening. They were gathered around a fire along with Stephen, his wife, and his son. The celebration had been wild, and had gone on late into the night. Now, everybody was back in their homes, though some were still huddled around a few campfires, reliving the day's events and what this meant for the future. Will was lying on his side, absentmindedly throwing pieces of grass and dirt into the fire as he listened to Giles' tale.

"Tell us again," Noah eagerly leaned forward, listening to Giles from across the fire.

Will looked up in surprise. He didn't understand this eagerness on Noah's part. Several years younger than even Wulf, the child would now and forever bear the heavy scar that crossed the left side of his face. Will didn't know the full details that surrounded the mark, he didn't feel comfortable asking, but he did know that it was the result of the Sheriff's thugs when they burned the village. And that was Locksley's fault. Wasn't it? Without his gallivanting around and stirring up unnecessary trouble, the Sheriff's men would have never come around.

So why was the kid now so eager to hear about Robin's exploits? Had he gotten sucked into Locksley's tall tales along with Giles and the rest?

"And then, the way Robin just tore off after those two codgers, pushed them onto the ground, I wouldn't have believed it if I hadn't been there. I don't think those two doddering old fools believed it either, they kept staring at each other and rubbing their backsides, and all the time Robin's just looking down grinning at them. I tell you, the whole day he was just—"

"Will you shut up about Locklsey?" He was tired of hearing the same story over and over and over.

"Will, I was just telling about—"

"Giles! I don't care. All right? I don't want to hear another word." Will moodily turned away, picking at dirt and throwing a few specks into the fire.

The burly man who had been Scarlett's closest companion, which in truth wasn't all that close, decided that he should try and help his friend see the truth that was obvious to the whole camp, and was starting to become to him as well.

"Will, he is not that bad of a guy once you get to know him."

"Oh, and you know him, do you?" Will shot back, anger lacing his voice. "You've been out in woods with him for what, one day, and now you know exactly what kind of a person he is?"

Giles wasn't quite as quick to anger as Scarlett, but lately it seemed Scarlett knew how to rub everyone the wrong way. Testily he replied, "Well, I have been with him for a full day, talking and fighting alongside him, and that's a lot more than you can say. You have hardly said three words to him on any given day since he's been here."

"And your point is…"

"My point is that I'm a lot better judge than you of what kind of a man Locksley is."

"So what kind of a man is he?" Will cocked his head to the side, arms crossed, mockery evident in every move.

Giles rose to his feet. He wouldn't be insulted like this. He stormed away from the fire then paused, and turning back, he gave Will his answer.

"A better man than you."

The next day dawned, and with it the hopes of every outlaw. Once again, Robin was going to go stake out Sherwood road, and he had to pick his men.

"Hal!"

"Kneelock!"

"Stephen!"

"Alfred!"

Many names were called this time, it seemed already Locksley was going to start chasing after big game, Scarlett sneered. Or maybe he just wanted a big crowd around to watch him do another amazing feat. Whatever the reason, Robin had just chosen dozens to accompany him for some more excitement, and Will was not among them.

"You, Danny," Robin walked amongst the crowd. He gestured to Danny's right. "And you two."

Locksley walked over to Bull, and ironically enough, his friend, Ox. "And you two again. You did good last time, Ox."

"Thank you, sire," Ox gushed, which he quickly amended to, "I mean, thank you, Robin."

The leader nodded absentmindedly as he searched the faces crowded around. A few yards away, deep into the crowd, Will stood watching. The noble called more and more people out to go on, now the fourth, thieving expedition. He had just called out another name, when, turning around, his eyes met those of Scarlett's.

Robin tilted his head to the side, clearly deciding. He slowly worked his way through the crowd, calling out several other names. And then he was in front of the younger man. Robin studied him for a second. Will held his gaze squarely, pride etched in every muscle and bone in his body. He wouldn't let himself even look as if he cared about going on this stake-out. No matter how much he wanted a change from all this monotony, if Robin thought he would beg, he had another thing coming.

Robin seemed satisfied with what he saw. He opened his mouth; Will instinctively drew in a breath—

"How about you, Thomas of Bretford," Robin looked to the outlaw on Will's right, clapping him good-naturedly on the shoulder. "I hear you're pretty good with a sword. We'll probably need that skill today."

Surprised, Thomas could barely stutter a "thank you, sir." Robin didn't correct him. He passed by Scarlett, who stood ramrod straight, only his eyes revealing the animosity that lurked just beyond the fought-for self control. Robin walked on, but his mouth had the faint lift of a smirk as he did so.

Azeem was quickly on Robin's heels after the choosing, and asked heatedly, "You're not going to even give him a chance?"

"No."

A full week went by since that day, and Will had grown to accept he would not be chosen to go on the raids. It wasn't easy; anger always needed an outlet, and with every brush-off, his anger increased. The forced inactivity nearly drove him crazy, though it did help him perfect his swordsmanship a good deal. But just practicing swords couldn't assuage all his restlessness, and so he had to find another activity. He found it in the child christened Noah.

"Aww, you got me," Will cried as he fell to the ground, Noah's stick embedded under his arm.

"Ha ha, you heathen. That'll teach you to mess with an English knight." Noah triumphantly placed his foot on the "heathen's" chest.

"All right, all right, I surrender." Will laughed, reaching out for help to get up. As the kid's hand grabbed his, Will jerked back, pulling the boy to the ground.

"Hey, no fair! You're supposed to be dead!" Noah protested.

"War's not fair, sonny. Didn't you know that?" Will playfully wrestled the youngster. For the past few days, Will had been playing a big brother role to the boy, running around with him and playing all sorts of games. Noah was having trouble fitting back in with the other children. The other children weren't mean at all, but the little boy imagined he saw how much they disliked him because of his scar. Will knew that reality was the boys all thought him cool for having fought a real knight, and the girls thought him dashing, but were too shy to admit it. But you couldn't tell a kid to get his confidence back. You had to help build it back for him. And Scarlett was determined to help him get back what one little old pansy had taken away.

Easily he took hold of the boy's wrists with one hand, and with the other he hefted some mud, a result from the night's long drizzle, and dumped it on the kid's head.

Noah shook his head furiously, trying to get rid of the mud, but only succeeded in dripping it down his face. Will let go of his hands, and he eagerly scooped up his own mud, but laughing so hard, he managed to miss Will's face completely, hitting him in the shoulder.

"We need to work on you aim, sonny."

"Noah, I need your help." Stephen's wife sung out.

"He'll be right there," Will yelled back. Noah took that opportunity to grab a huge scoop of mud and completely plop it all over Will's face.

"Hey," Scarlett sputtered, spitting out the mud that had gotten into his open mouth. "Okay, you little devil, go help your mother."

"That child has certainly changed from the shy boy I first met." Azeem commented after the boy had scampered off.

Scarlett turned in surprise. Rising, he wiped a hand over his mud-splattered face, then wiped his hand off on his pants. "That child had just gotten clubbed in the face when you first met him. That's enough to change anybody. But he's gotten over it."

"Because of you."

"Because he's tough." Will changed the subject. "Did you want something?"

"No, I came to tell you something." He waited until he had Scarlett's full attention. "You're going tomorrow."

Will actually took a step back in surprise. He knew what Azeem was alluding to, the stake-outs, the excitement. "You're serious? But, why would Locksley change his mind like that?"

In the accompanying silence, he nodded knowingly, favoring Azeem with a sly grin. "Locksley didn't change his mind, did he?"

"Get some good sleep tonight. We leave early, and you will need all the rest you can get."

Azeem walked away, back to what he had been doing. "When are you going to tell him?" Will called after him.

"Just before we leave," Azeem answered without turning around.

Will snorted silently to himself. Grabbing his sword, he headed off for some additional practice. He shook his head as he glanced again at Azeem's retreating form. Tomorrow would be a fun day. And, oh, how Locksley would be mad!

That cheerful thought brought a satisfied grin to Will's face.