AN: Note to the observant reader... this chapter contains one tiny little detail that sort of gives away the plot twist that I have planned out for this story. Let's see if you can spot it....

-mere technicality-

A longbow and a quiver of arrows was all it took… He had done this trick many times now and it never failed. He was skilled with his bow and his arrows.

"Benedicta, "Robin tasted the name on his tongue, then repeated it aloud a second time. "You don't look like a Benedicta. That's quite a name."

"My friends call me Bernie," the young girl replied with a sullen face as she picked up another piece of bread from the ground. It was a wheat bun studded with poppy seeds but more importantly it was a wheat bun pierced by an arrow. "I still say you cheated," she said and pointed the arrow dangerously close to his face.

"I never said I was planning on carrying that container out through one of the gates, you just assumed that was how it would have to be done," he teased and grabbed the bread from her. Separating the bun from the arrow he threw it towards his cloak, which he had laid out on the grass.

"Can you blame me?! How on earth do one come up with an idea like that?! I mean splitting apples with arrows is one thing but shooting bread over stone walls on arrows is just plain dumb."

"Me thinks someone is being a sore loser," Robin chuckled as he bent down to collect another arrow.

"You could have hurt someone," the girl pointed out with a stubborn shake of her head.

"Aaah, but you see, that's why I aimed in this particular direction," he pointed towards the old church looming behind them. "It's fairly safe to assume that a place like is more or less deserted this late at night."

Bernie shivered visibly at those words.

"Aww, don't tell me you're scared of ghosts."

"Don't be silly." She glanced back at him sharply. "I'm not afraid and I'm not a sore loser."

"Come on, I don't see what you have to complain about. You have your flour and your bread; your family will not go hungry."

"It's not my family. It's not… this is not for me."

"Who's it for then?! Don't tell me we just went trough all that trouble for nothing." Robin replied, frowning.

"I don't have to tell you anything," she spat and turned to move away from him. "I did not ask for your help, remember?!"

Before she could get away, he grabbed her by the arm and they stared at each other for a few seconds.

"You keep saying that, yet I doubt you'd get very far on your own," Robin finally said in a calm voice.

"Oh, is that what you think?!" the girl asked as her expression changed from wide-eyed innocence to a devious smile. And then before he had a chance to react she kneed him in his man-parts and broke free.

Robin stumbled back, and doubled over in agony, his pride hurt along with the pain of the blow.

"I'm perfectly capable on my own, thank you very much!, the girl informed him triumphantly.

"I risk my own neck to help you and this is what I get in return?! " Standing back up with great effort, Robin glared at her. "You obviously, don't trust me. "

"Trust you!? How I can trust you when I don't even know who you are?, "

"I'm not one to throw titles around but fair enough. I'm the earl of Huntingdon."

"Really?!" she questioned, looking him up and down. "You are awfully young to hold such a noble title."

"That title says nothing about my age. Theoretically, it could have been mine since birth," he shrugged.

"Listen closely, Huntingdon. Some of us are born with a silver spoon in our mouths, but most of us aren't.." Something about her demeanor had changed. Her words and mannerisms were suddenly dead serious.

"You asked who the flour was for; I'll tell you…There is this group of foreign travelers, three maybe four families, who has set up camp on the outer fringes of the town." She paused, and when she spoke again, her voice was urgent, pleading almost. "They are in dire need of food and shelter but they are not allowed within the city walls because of the festivities. That hardly seems fair, considering the amount of food and wealth concentrated within those walls tonight. "

"I see were you are going with this. Stealing from the rich to help the poor!" he nodded thoughtfully. "How noble of you."

"Except, technically, I didn't actually steal anything. I paid for the flour, remember?!"

"That, my dear, is a mere technicality," he smirked and slung his arm around her shoulders. "You can count me in! I don't think I have ever been part of anything as deviously brilliant as this before."

"I'll take that as a compliment," Bernie said, ducking away from him. "We must hurry up and finish this while it's still dark though."

"Agreed, lead the way, my fair lady!," he said and grabbed his quiver to put the last of his arrows away.

"Aren't you forgetting something?!," the girl asked, halting her movements abruptly.

"What?! Oooh, right!," he sighed and turned around to gather their belongings; the bread, the food and the sack of flour. "My heart gets all fluttery, when you boss me around like this."

"That's good to know…."There was that smirk again. "….but actually I was talking about your friend," the girl commented with quick glance over her shoulder.

For a moment there he stared at her blankly. Then he realized who she was talking about, Much, his ever loyal man servant, who was lurking in the shadows under the pretence of keeping guard. Loyal to a fault but too much of a worrywart to enter a graveyard after dark.

"Oh, right! That's just Much. He's my ser-… he's my friend, my travelling companion. Don't worry about him, he's harmless. He'll talk your ear off if you let him, but he's harmless.

"He's the one that was distracting the guards, getting us out of that courtyard, isn't he?!"

"Ay, that's the one."

"I like him already!"

"Of course you do," Robin grumbled, waving his hand over his shoulder, motioning for Much to join them.

………………………………….

The forest was inky black and the air crisp and cool. Dark clouds gathered menacingly above the treetops, covering the moon and shielding its faint light.

A warm orange glow flickered between the oak trees like a floating ghost, disappearing and then reappearing through tangled branches. The light came from a campfire around which four men sat quietly. The three teenagers moved as close to the campsite as possible with as little noise as possible.

The girl had not been exaggerating about the miserable state of these people. Ratty blankets, rumpled clothes and limbs thin as dry twigs. Women and children huddled together like animals, showing all the early signs of malnutrition.

After a short deliberation the trio decided not to impose on these men and their sleeping families. Instead they left the flour sack, the bread and a few coins in a place where it would be protected from wild animals and rough weather, yet easy to spot in broad daylight. It was quickly decided that the boys would return in the morning to make sure the "goodies" were found by the right people.

The first drops of rain began to fall just as the trio was about to cross the big open area between the towering leafy trees and outer fringe of the town. It started as a light drizzle, but then quickly turned into a pour, a pour intensive enough to warrant a mad dash across the meadow towards the nearest barn.