As a means of thanks for all the views and reviews, here's a giant of a chapter for you while we all try to while away those last few hours before the show returns. Hope you enjoy!

There was no doubt in Regina's mind now that the enemy would follow.

The grey, panicked by the flames, carried her with mind-blowing speed, zigzagging between trees and soldiers of yellow and black. Regina pulled back the reins a notch - it would be a long ride, and they needed to pace themselves well. As she hurtled through the narrow path, helmeted heads turned after her - she had succeeded. The growing racket of hooves on hard-packed ground only confirmed this: they were coming after her.

Regina concentrated all her senses on locating the passage to the entrance to the valley. There was a red gooseberry bush marking the hidden shortcut, but it would be tricky to see it in time at this speed. A club swayed at her, missing her by an inch. Regina weaved her way forward, straining her eyes for the passage. Could she have accidentally passed it already? Her stomach knotted at the thought. Then she saw a familiar-looking sentinel tree looming ahead, and splashes of red on green just beyond.

She tore through the shrubbery at full speed. Branches dug into her skin and ripped at her hair and clothes. Leaves obstructed her view and stung in her eyes. The mare slowed down, startled and protesting at the obstacles, but Regina kept urging her on, and the mare clearly wanted out of the bush anyway.

Angry voices trailed behind them, yelling invectives in some strange tongue. The horse craned at the ever-present greenery and whinnied in alarm. The voices were getting closer. Wood cracked and snapped under heavy clubs. Regina pushed back the rising apprehension and leaned over the horse's neck, patting her lightly, probing the mare's belly with her boots and talking to her in undertones. Slowly, they moved on. The branches thinned and revealed a deer-track. Regina spurred the horse into a trot, trying to avoid overhanging vegetation. Some thorn-covered branch swooped down on her, breaking the skin of her cheek. She barely felt anything.

Then, without warning, the forest came to an end and they were out in the open.

Regina could have whooped with joy - but they hadn't won yet.

Regina jerked the reins, sending the horse to the left, along the wall. At this point, the more distance she could put between herself and her pursuers the better. They would burst out of the the bushes any moment now, and then she would have a small army at her heels. Clubs coming down at her would be a reality soon enough but she'd rather avoid them until absolutely necessary - until coming at her would make these monstrous mercenaries easy targets for the party waiting at the top. Well, hopefully they were ready. Hopefully they had been able to handle the remaining attackers after she had lured the majority away.

A mighty crash followed the riders as they broke through the branches, and a raging battle roar announced their very clear intent: to hunt her down.

Regina was not afraid. The rapid flight of the horse seemed to be giving her wings. The wind painted her cheeks a deeper shade of pink, and strands of hair broke free from her restricting hairdo. Her fingers laced through the horse's silver mane. Her lips twitched, then a chuckle escaped her, and suddenly she broke into laughter - carefree like she hadn't known in ages. This was home.

But it would not do to lose herself entirely in the heat of the moment. Not too close to the wall, but not too far either. She needed to keep at a good shooting distance from the others perched on top of the ridge. They were still out of sight, but not for much longer.

Now and again, Regina would look over her shoulder and, with dismay at having her joyful ride disturbed, she'd even slow down once or twice when she thought she was losing them - that they were losing her. It would be most unpleasant if the Witch's henchmen chose to give up the chase and return for the others she'd left behind - everything would have been in vain and the group would no doubt suffer a horrible defeat.

A dozen riders had separated from the rest now and were getting closer,# while the large part of the army lagged behind. Regina searched the ridge above for a sign of a clearing, the glint of a sword or arrows swooping down into the valley. Surely she should be there any time now.

Glancing back again, her heart sank at the sight of a pair of pursuers barely two lengths of a horse behind. She had let them get too close. But the main army was still too far behind - would they leave the pursuit to the advancing handful and turn back? They couldn't afford to let that happen. So instead of launching her mare into full gallop, Regina merely spurred her on a little faster.

Then an arrow whizzed in the air and one of the brutes fell to the ground with a thud. Regina looked up and sighed in relief.

Finally, they had come in line with the clearing, and were now within shooting range. Another bout of arrows rained down into the valley, finding easy targets among the close-packed mass of enemy men. Two of her close followers fell back, wounded. Another three had met their end soon after. Good - someone understood the danger they were posing and was taking them down. Regina started breathing more freely.

However, the two riders closest to her were still gaining on her. Would an arrow find them soon enough or would she have to deal with them herself? In answer, three arrows came rushing through the air. Two hit their target, and the bay at Regina's heels ambled with the rider dangling from the saddle, an arrow stuck into his stomach and another one straight through his heart. The third arrow had missed, though, and a roar of mad rage from close behind made Regina shiver.

Men were falling in dozens, shrinking the army rapidly, but this one pursuer was more dangerous for the moment than all of them put together. There were no more arrows swishing by, however. Clearly they were now too close for the archers to dare chance another shot for fear of hitting Regina instead of the enemy. Her mind searched feverishly for a solution, and it stumbled across an obvious one.

Even as she let go of the reins with one had and made a fist, she knew it was for nothing. Indeed, the weak flare she was able to produce merely tickled her palm but there was barely enough force in it to hurt a fly. Magic seemed out of the question for the day.

And the man was now upon her, his chestnut head to head with her grey. He had lost his heavy club, possibly on purpose to ease his horse of the substantial weight. That meant he now had nothing to swing at her - except his thick, muscled, gauntleted arms. Before she had time to finish that thought, his fist came down at her head, missing her temple by a mere breadth of hair as she ducked. His helmet was knocked off in the wild attempt.

A single eye stared back at her, perched in the middle of the creature's forehead.

It only took one well-aimed blow. The Cyclops roared in pain as blood gushed out of his unseeing eye, and then he was gone, left behind by Regina's dashing mare.

Regina was jubilant. Magic had failed her, which was as alarming as it had been every time before. Ever since she had first learnt to use magic, she felt desperately vulnerable without it. But this time it was different. For the first time in ages she didn't feel magic was her only weapon, her only asset. Now she was able to do something useful without resorting to the thing that had started her on the path of darkness and was making it so difficult to leave that path. Heavens, she had just knocked an enemy out!

The army at her back had shrunk to less than half its original size by now, and she had earned herself no more than a few scratches back in the woods.

With a gleeful laugh, she spurred the mare on.

Arrows whizzed past Robin's ear while he stood idly with his empty quiver propped against a rock. Next to him, Snow White had just fired the last of her arrows, too. There was nothing to do but wait for the new batch to be brought - he'd already sent the youngest of his men, swift-footed Much the Miller's Son.

Robin's eyes darted back down into the valley.

The Queen and her grey were no more than a smudge of black and white as they dashed along the valley with the yellow-clad pursuers at their heels. Perched on their dark horses, the brutes strangely reminded Robin of bees, and the drumming of hooves could have been the buzz of a swarm.

But now that there was no shooting for him to do, it wasn't the enemy Robin was looking at.

When he'd first noticed the Queen on top of the rearing grey, wielding a giant fireball, his brain had simply shut down for a moment. Then the ball had broken the knot of attackers, and suddenly they'd started to retreat - or so he'd thought, until he caught the grey speeding away straight into the enemy-ridden woods, carrying the Queen with her.

The remaining men had been too demoralised by what they had witnessed to put up much of a fight. Their corpses littered the grass, and with them a handful of their own - all of them Robin's friends, the loss of whom had shrunk the already humble band of Merry Men further. There had been little time to mourn and plenty of wounds to attend to in the short time they'd guessed it would take the Queen to surface in the valley below - hopefully unharmed and with the unsuspecting enemy at her back.

But the wait had been long and nerve-wrecking. Positions had been assigned and quivers filled and set ready for fire, and still there had been no sign of the Queen.

"She'll be fine," Snow had said firmly, and no one had challenged her.

Then the Queen had finally emerged from behind a twist of the valley, with the enemy indeed giving a wild chase.

At Robin's order, arrows had been nocked, drawn and released. He had started by aiming to eliminate the riders gaining on the Queen. Much to his surprise, that had seemed to be Snow's first concern as well, and Granny's crossbow had followed the same pattern. Together, they had taken down all but one brute. Robin's stomach had jolted as the remaining creature had swung his arm at the Queen, and he could already see her hurtling to the ground - but instead, it had been the attacker himself to get the worst of it in just a blink of an eye.

Robin shook his head unwittingly. She certainly was an impressive sight, negotiating the harsh terrain with incredible ease, as if she weren't even aware of obstacles. If there was any fear involved at all, it didn't show.

A new couple of riders had separated from the huddle of the army and began to give chase. Robin flexed his fingers. Where was the boy with the new batch of arrows already?

As if on cue, Much finally arrived, bent under the weight of dozens of quivers. Robin nocked, drew, and released, nocked, drew, and released. A brute fell, and another one. Three more took their place. Robin cursed, nocked, drew, and released. The two remaining riders fell back, and he rejoiced - it seemed they were giving up. Beside him, Snow's arm dropped and she moaned.

Robin followed her terrified stare. His heart sank.

There was a ditch glinting with water on the far left of the valley stretching as far as the eye could see, followed immediately by a muddy uphill bank with a rock wall on top and an abrupt drop shortly afterwards - and the Queen was heading straight towards it. Could she not be aware of the obstacle yet? Was she actually going to try and jump across? Was such a feat even possible?

Arrows were no longer raining down into the valley. Everyone had ceased shooting. Belle's mouth hung open, and Snow kept muttering something under her breath. Everyone else merely stood huddled on the edge of the ridge, watching in awe as the scene unfolded below.

The grey tore forward without a sign of hesitation. Three yellow dots shot forward in pursuit. If the Queen were to fall luckily enough to survive, they would collect her - and make sure she didn't live. Robin chased the thought away. He glanced at Snow, whose face was now rearranged into a stubborn look of blind faith.

The Queen approached the ditch at a neck-breaking speed. She must have seen it by now. As a result of the long and tiring dash, the horse had gotten longer in her gallop. That wasn't a good thing before such a sequence of obstacles. Just as the worry nestled itself into Robin's mind, the Queen pulled at the reins and the horse bunched her canter together. Just in time, too, for now the ditch was right in front of them. Robin held his breath.

The grey sprang, soared over the wet ditch, and landed on the narrow grassy bank in a single leap.

There was a collective gasp up on the ridge that Robin barely noticed - this was far from over. The hind toes of the mare had barely touched the very edge of the bank when the front legs rose up in the air again and over the rough stone wall. The horse bounced off the fence and landed just beyond.

Now the Queen would have noticed the drop - or so Robin prayed. He caught himself wishing with all his heart they had enough left in them to master this last but no less dangerous hurdle. Anything could go wrong - the Queen might see it too late, be too slow to react, or the horse might panic and shy back at the prospect of a blind leap into thin air.

Everyone seemed to hold their breath as the grey rose up in the air again. Simultaneously, the Queen lifted herself off the saddle, leaning slightly forward. As they reached the peak of the jump and began to descend, she sank back down into the saddle and leaned back, balancing herself against the impact. She slipped the reins, allowing the horse freedom to stretch its neck forward. Globs of grass flew from the horse's hoof as it hit the ground with the Queen perfectly upright and firm in the saddle.

A joyful whoop went up, fists punched the air victoriously, and someone laughed.

Robin felt a rock fall off his chest but he kept his eyes down, anxious for the Witch's men's reaction.

The Queen's success seemed to boost the courage - or foolhardiness - of a dozen yellow-shirts, who now approached the obstacle at a ridiculously fast pace.

There was no way they could make it - they were abysmal riders blinded by hubris. Indeed, what followed was a tangle of limbs as arms, legs, and even necks broke on various parts of the obstacle. Out of a dozen men, only three made it through, and even those only just - one got through the ditch and the bounce but toppled forward upon landing the drop fence, the other two scrambled through the bounce and the drop fence on arms and knees. Each nursing at least a bruised arm or leg, they followed the unaffected Queen and her grey at a jog, leaving their maimed or rebelling horses behind.

Meanwhile, the grey had carried the Queen further away from them, until they reached the end of the valley and disappeared into the trees.

A flight of arrows went up and into the tarrying crowd of yellow and black. The three lucky pursuers beyond the ditch were now out of range - Robin had learnt that the hard way after releasing a dozen arrows in their direction and coming short every time. The rest of the army, decimated and demoralised by heavy losses, swerved and rode away along the ditch to find another way across.

"Let them go," Charming said, "they're finished anyway, they're no threat to anyone now."

"At least until the Witch raises a new force," one of the dwarfs said grumpily as they watched the last of the crushed army disappear on the horizon.

But what about the handful that had managed to cross after the Queen? She still was not safe. And there was nothing they could do about it.

Night had fallen and still there was no sign of her.

"Who knows what the way back is like," Charming reasoned with a distraught Snow White for the hundredth time. "She probably just decided to find a place to stay the night and return here by daylight."

"She's a tough woman, Regina," Granny growled drowsily with the crossbow hugged to her side. "And she's one heck of a rider, too."

Regina. So Robin knew the Queen's name now - she had never bothered to introduce herself as anything other than the Queen, but Robin had heard everyone else refer to her by the name lately. It suited her well, though the actual meaning was somewhat - well, peculiar under the circumstances.

Regina was indeed a great rider, one of the best Robin had ever laid eyes on - if not the best. That had been a stupendous reveal, and not only for Robin. Only Snow White had been unsurprised, and Charming had appeared to have been vaguely aware as well, but the rest of them had all marvelled at the brilliant piece of horsemanship they had witnessed. They still marvelled, as it was.

"I would never have made it," Belle spoke from the shadows. "That ride. It was foolish of me to think I could."

"No one else would probably have made it," Mulan admitted in all fairness. "That jump was...truly admirable."

"There are enemies out there," Snow sighed, "three that we know of, and who knows how many more that we don't."

Robin chose to avoid Snow's look. He shared her concern - the forest was treacherous with potential enemies lurking in the shadows, and skilled rider that Regina was, that might not be enough to escape this time.

"So, I hear you're a bard of sorts," Charming turned to Alan-a-Dale, who was in fact a minstrel. "Perhaps you could sing for us?"

Alan struck the strings of his lute and commenced to sing a song of chivalrous love.

Charming kept his eyes on Snow, and Robin wondered if he had initiated a change of topic purely for his wife's sake. Snow had seemed genuinely upset at Regina's prolonged absence. Yet they had once been mortal enemies. What a curious relationship the two women seemed to have. From all the small clues he had gathered, Robin guessed their history had to be as fascinating as it was complicated.

He left the fire to get a fresh wineskin of water and was surprised to be joined by none other than Snow just a moment later.

"What do you think? Will she be alright out there?" she asked straight-out in a tone that had aimed at casualness but fell short.

Robin didn't see the point of false assurances, so he gave an honest answer. "I hope so. Granny Lucas is right, the Queen isn't foiled easily."

"I should know that," she said with a smile that, to his surprise, contained some actual good-humour despite the sad glint in her eyes.

Curiosity got the best of him. "You don't seem like sworn enemies to me," he probed.

"Oh, well, we..." Snow hesitated, looking into the distance. "I don't really know what we are right now. Regina is... It's complicated. We've been working together recently," she said and shook her head as Robin offered her water. "It's not been easy, and heaven knows sometimes we've been in each other's hair - literally, at one point." She actually chuckled at that. The mental image he was getting made Robin smirk. "But we're trying, I guess," she shrugged. Then, having changed her mind, she reached for the wineskin.

"Well, it seems to be going quite well," Robin assured her. Then he added with a lopsided smile: "You certainly seem friendlier than the Queen and I have been - I guess we might have started off on the wrong foot." He hadn't expected for it to come across so despondent, and now wondered why that was.

Snow gave him a searching look, and seemed to consider for a moment. "She's difficult like that," she nodded eventually, "but she's also capable of great kindness. You must understand she's very unhappy - especially now, after what happened, after losing her-"

Robin must have looked as puzzled as he felt because Snow stopped mid-sentence and shrank back in alarm.

"You don't know, do you?"

"Know what?"

"About...oh. Oh my," Snow stuttered. "I thought she told you. But of course she wouldn't have. Robin, I wish I could - maybe I could - but no."

He didn't quite understand the inner fight she seemed to have landed herself in but waited, hoping for at least some kind of explanation.

"No, I can't," she said with more resolve this time. "Robin," she besought him instead, "just be patient with her. She can be a handful, but... I think you should-" Snow glanced at him and continued with a slight smile, "we should all give her a chance."

Robin awoke from his light slumber. Dawn was painting the horizon a pale pink but the clearing was still just an assembly of shadows moving around as Friar Tuck was handing out breakfast. It had been agreed the previous night that they would set off at daybreak in search for Regina. The time had almost come.

Hook was polishing the article of the same name, while Charming sharpened his sword with a whetstone. Mulan was shaking a yawning Belle awake. Snow, on the other hand, had probably not slept a wink judging by the way her eyes were drooping. His Merry Men were good to go, though, and were loading the last items onto the two horses they still possessed.

And just when everything was ready for departure, the overhanging branches of the giant sentinel flagging the path parted, and through walked Regina leading the grey by the reins.

She was slightly dishevelled and sported a few scratches but otherwise looked as regal as ever.

All previous buzz had died out and the clearing went dead silent.

"So much for a warm welcome," Regina said.

It was nothing if not sarcastic, and Robin's spirits lifted at the familiarity of her voice. At the same time he realised everyone was still gaping at her unashamedly.

Then Snow made a sudden move, and next moment she was throwing her arms around Regina, who seemed entirely too shocked to even protest at first. As she was locked in the embrace, however, a sharp cry escaped her, and Snow sprang back in alarm.

"Are you injured?"

Regina had clutched her shoulder on instinct but rapidly removed her hand now.

"I'm fine," she retorted with unnecessary abruptness. "Although I would certainly not say no to breakfast."

Regina's bluntness seemed to finally break the charm: suddenly all eyes were eager to look anywhere but the Queen's direction. Tuck offered her an entire loaf of bread and a tankard of ale, the latter of which Regina simply shrugged off. Someone had bolstered a log for her to sit on and Alan offered his cape in the morning chill, which Regina refused just as poignantly as she had done with the ale or any sort of treatment of her injury - because Robin was sure there was one, if not more. He also had an inkling Alan would soon be gracing them all with songs about Rhiannon the Reborn, or something along those lines. Snow had nodded off resting against a tree. Well, they were in no hurry for the moment.

Further off, Little John was tending to the grey Regina had led rather than ridden back. That gave Robin an idea. He waved John away as discreetly as possible, waited for Regina to finish eating, then asked her to show him what injuries the horse had suffered. To make sure he wouldn't be rejected, he suggested to meet by a nearby stream, where he could wash and bandage her - suggesting the horse, of course, even though he had something else in mind, too.

"You want me to what?" her voice rose at the thief's outrageous request.

Regina had refused to listen to her gut, and now she was paying for it.

She had agreed, very reluctantly, to meet Robin Hood by the stream after breakfast, only because she wanted to make sure the poor horse, battered and exhausted, would be properly tended. She hadn't slept three hours at night, and out of that not an hour in a row, and desired no more than a piece of hard ground and a coarse blanket. Instead, she was stuck here with him.

The man seemed utterly unfazed by her aggressive tone.

"Look," he said and continued to wash down the trembling grey in the stream, standing up to his calves in cold water, "either keep it on or take it off, just as long as I'm able to treat your wound."

Regina placed her hand on the mare's nostrils and stroked her lightly. The animal was still showing signs of stress when all she deserved was plenty of rest and good food. But first her bruises had to be tended to.

"I don't need you to do that for me," she said coldly, whereas in fact her blood was boiling. Sometimes her own self-restraint startled her - perhaps because so often she would spiral completely out of control. "I can heal myself with magic."

"But you haven't," he said. The man was not even looking at her, and his absolute calm unnerved her. Hers was fake but his seemed real - how could she contend with that?

"It's nothing," she tried again.

"Alright," he said without a hint of passion.

Was he really giving up so easily? She could hardly believe it, and felt her anger flare quite irrationally. Wasn't this what she'd been trying to achieve?

"Then why don't you help me out here?" he gestured at a particularly nasty bruise around the mare's knee.

Regina's sense told her not to but, like so often, she dismissed the thought and reached to grasp the horse by the leg. A sharp stab of pain jolted through her and she staggered. It was all she could do not to yelp and keep herself from losing balance and crashing into the water.

He gave her a quick glance but made no move to help her. What could one expect from an arrogant bandit anyway?

"It's going to get worse," he had the nerve to say, putting a stretch of cloth over the horse's wound. It turned out he could manage perfectly well by himself. "I guess it already has, hasn't it?" he turned to her abruptly, catching her off-guard.

Regina whipped around to hide her face from those prying eyes. She said nothing, resolved at first to ignore him, to simply walk away. But her shoulder hurt, and it hurt bad - worse than it had the day before, worse even than earlier that morning. Damn him for being right about this, too. This was going to be more humiliating than accepting a cup of tea.

As she spread her heavily stricken coat on a rock and sat on it, she couldn't help watching his calm, confident movements as he continued to wash and bandage the mare. The horse seemed to have warmed up to him, even though it came from Charming's stables, not his. Horses generally had good instincts when it came to people. Well, it's not like Hood was about to hurt it, so that was accurate so far.

Sitting there with only a black strapless corset on, waiting for him to kindly pay her attention, felt demeaning and unnerving, and she had half a mind to rise and leave. She was deep in thought trying to come up with an adequately scathing remark in lieu of a farewell when he finished with the horse and turned to her.

Regina's face rearranged into a defiant expression, but the man's features also changed for a brief moment. She was well aware she probably looked alluring even with bits of twigs in her hair and dust on her skin, but she felt everything but beautiful at that moment. Did he find her attractive or just pathetic?

The urgency with which he averted his eyes didn't tell her much.

Robin Hood rummaged in a bag with his back to her. "So now the secret's out, perhaps you would care to share how you became such a skilful rider."

"Did Snow White tell you that?" she spat with contempt without a second thought.

Whether he found the accusation strange or merely thought she had spoken out of malice, he didn't respond to the jibe. "She didn't need to. We saw it with our own eyes."

"I prefer not to be stared at." Regina looked away as Robin set down beside her a flask, a patch of cotton, and new batch of linen bandages.

Robin looked at her strangely, as though he had some kind of a reason to not believe her. Eventually he seemed to decide to let it go.

"They mean no ill," he said as he dipped the cotton patch into the contents of the flask. "Quite the contrary – everyone's rather impressed."

The fact that it felt like balm for her soul was deeply disturbing. "Even you?" she mocked. But in reality she only wished she'd feel the contempt she was working so hard to wake.

"Especially me," he glanced at her - she hadn't expected that, and now their eyes met, and it got warm. "I had no idea you were such an accomplished rider."

Regina searched for something in that piercing look - ridicule, accusation, anger - something familiar. She found nothing, and her eyes dropped to the ground.

"You don't know me," she said and heard the faintest hitch in her own voice. It terrified her.

"You're right. I don't." He was actually admitting it. That was new. "Perhaps that's not entirely my fault though."

She raised an eyebrow.

Robin was busy cleaning the nasty bruise at her shoulder now and didn't respond for a while. The angry black-and-purple bruise was a result of the combined effort of a gnarled branch, a jutting out rock, and an incredibly stubborn Regina, who had refused to search for another way and insisted on crashing through all obstacles - but she most certainly wasn't going to tell him that. There was no open wound, and the disinfectant didn't burn at all. The slightest touch, however, any kind of contact with the livid mark, was enough to put her in agony. So why wasn't she feeling anything at the light dabs of cotton this...insufferable man was covering the skin in?

"You don't seem to be exactly willing to let people get to know you," he said eventually with the most fleeting of glances, but she still felt his eyes burning holes into her.

A sudden weariness overcame her. "Why would I?" she asked reproachfully. "People hardly seem to care anyway. They're perfectly happy with their own idea of who I am."

"I have to agree. People indeed fail to see beneath the surface at times. We like to put labels on others. Evil Queen." Regina fought back a shudder. Surely this was provocation. What was he trying to do? "Thief." He fixed her with his eyes. "Bandit."

She felt the sting in his words. The man had a nerve. Yet he also had a point. How infuriating. Regina strove to dismiss a pang of guilt. It was new and very unpleasant, and she took up the first weapon she found at hand - she didn't have to search far.

"Is that what your men were doing when they thought I was out of earshot - calling me names? I'm not blind." She had heard them whispering behind her back. It was always the same. People were suspicious, gossiped, and judged. Even when she did nothing to deserve dismissal it would always be the same.

Much to her dismay and puzzlement, he chuckled, and a wide smile remained on his face.

"Ah, that. Now that is an interesting story."

He had these dimples in his cheeks when he smiled like that. They were incredibly irritating.

Robin pushed the open flask into her hands and reached for the bandage, but he kept her eyes on her face as he said: "There seems to be a rumour going round according to which Rhiannon, the great queen and horse goddess of old legend, paid us a visit yesterday."

"That's ridiculous." An ancient horse goddess who also happened to be a queen come down to earth? If he thought he could pull her leg like this, he was mistaken. But he didn't seem to be mocking her. She just didn't know what to think of this man.

"But kind of nice?" he inquired.

Regina felt his eyes on her even as she stared into the green twilight. He had started fixing the bruise with the strip of linen, and she had to set her teeth to keep herself from flinching or crying out in pain.

"Mostly ridiculous," she said through gritted teeth.

He grinned from ear to ear. "So you admit there's a bit of nice."

She refused to say another word - supposedly due to the anguish of pain, when in fact she had run out of arguments momentarily. This horrible...person was able to keep up with her sharp tongue and wind her up by staying impossibly calm, yet so clearly not one bit hostile that every time she wanted to lash out she knew she would be making an utter fool of herself. So she resolved to say as little as possible, hoping he would finish soon.

After the shoulder, however, he proceeded to look at her face. His fingers brushed a strand of hair from her forehead and came to rest just beneath her hairline.

"Talking might help take your mind off the pain."

"I'm not in pain." It hurt like hell and her head started pounding again. Why couldn't the wretched man leave her alone already?

"I had an accident as a child," he said after a while.

Instead of pressuring her to talk, he had decided to offer up something about himself. Despite herself, Regina caught herself listening, hardly aware of the cool sensation of the thin cream left behind by his fingertips.

"I was run down by a carriage," Robin continued. "It took me ages to pluck up the courage to mount a horse after that. I'm glad I did, though. They're magnificent creatures, independent yet loyal."

That resonated within her deeply.

"I was four when I got my first pony. When I first fell off, my father told me the only way to defeat fear is to face it."

"A clever man."

"One of his best moments," Regina said with a smile that died on her lips unformed at the sense of loss. She quickly redirected her thoughts. "I loved everything about riding," she reminisced. "The wind in my face, the world just rushing by, the freedom… I spent my happiest times around horses."

"Why the past tense?" Robin asked quietly.

"I hadn't been on horseback for years. Not since…" Regina swallowed. "...I'd cast the curse."

"Are there no stables in your world?"

No, she didn't want to go down this road. Not now, not with him, not at all.

Robin was watching her, and she wanted to turn away from those eyes because maybe, just maybe, they were seeing too much, too well. Or maybe not - he seemed lost, confused by her unaccountable distress.

Then he turned to examine the long gash in her cheek.

"This might burn a little."

She hissed at the contact of alcohol with the half-closed scratch.

He retracted his arm at the sound. "I'm truly sorry. I'm being as gentle as I can."

"I'm fine," she shot back.

She wouldn't let him see her vulnerable, even though that was what she felt - and more so with every time his fingers brushed her skin as he was tending to the angry red line.

At the repentant look on his face, she added before she could stop herself: "I'm fine." This time there was no edge t her voice - the words tumbled out reassuring, almost gentle.

"It's just a scratch," Robin said with a finishing touch. "It should leave no trace. I'm glad you didn't come to any serious harm."

He went to return the flask into the bag and dispose of the cotton patch. Regina ran her fingers over her face. Somehow she still felt his touch linger, even though it wasn't really there. All the same, she breathed more freely now that it was over, and her spirits lifted.

"It seems your reputation as a good shot is not entirely unfounded," she said.

Robin turned. "Are my ears deceiving me? Was that a compliment?"

She didn't miss the mischievous twinkle in his eye.

"Let's not get carried away," she grinned. "I'm merely giving credit where credit is due."

"So am I." The twinkle was gone and he approached her again. "You rode beautifully, but there's more than that. You saved lives today."

She realised she wasn't ready for this as soon as he said it. Not now, anyway. Perhaps it was true, perhaps she deserved some recognition of what she had done - but for some reason, she couldn't handle it right now.

"Make no mistake," she said softly, "I sure won't make one…not again."

She might have been foolish enough to think a few good deeds could turn the tide, but she'd been cured of that absurd notion in Storybrooke. She remembered only too well how a good deed was equally likely to gain indifference as appreciation - as far as she was concerned one could never know which it would be. Even with everyone acting civil now, she was half-prepared for things to go back to animosity any moment.

"I'm still the Evil Queen."

"You weren't her today." Robin pierced her with those eyes again and she fought against it with all her might. "Perhaps you don't need to be her tomorrow, either. Perhaps in time you wouldn't even miss her anymore."

Did he really imagine it was so easy? Did he imagine she hadn't thought about that, that she hadn't tried it? Who was he to talk to her like this anyway? What did he know?

"Stop," she said icily. "I am the Evil Queen."

Those startling blue eyes were giving her a close look, one that seemed to reach the depths of her soul, no matter how hard a look she was giving him, or how tightly pursed her lips were, or that she had closed her face to all emotion other than contempt and coolness. He saw right through her.

To her surprise, and perhaps the tiniest grain of disappointment, he chose not to pursue the topic.

"As you say, Your Majesty," he said simply.

Without further ado, he went to get the calmly grazing grey mare and led her along the path to camp. Before the greenery swallowed him, he turned back to her again:

"If you would tell Regina it was an honour to make her acquaintance today. I would be pleased to see her again."

He had never called her by her first name before. Out of all the things he'd said, that was the thing that stood out the most.