Thank you so much for the feeback. I know this is a sensitive matter and that's why its been hard to write so bear with me.

Will watched the woman sleep. To anyone who didn't know her she would look peaceful, lost in dreamland with not a worry on her mind but to him she looked troubled, there was a discrete twist to the corner of her mouth and creases in the corner of her eyes like she was scrunching her eyes closed so she would have to see something.

Will noticed all these things because he liked to observe people. It was a habit of his and the reason he could read people so easily. For example, he always knew when Much was worried even if he was desperately trying not to show it to the others. There was a tell-tale wrinkle the formed just between his eyes; it was so faint that it was barely visible but Will saw it.

He could always tell when Little John was upset even if no one thought anything could affect the older man. The carpenter knew where the cracks were in his tough armour. He would clench his teeth and not say a word. Will knew that he was a man of few words normally but there was something about the gritted teeth that always alerted him if the man wanted to be left alone or comforted.

Then there was Robin, he was the easiest to read by far. All Will had to do was look at his eyes and he would know exactly what was on his leader's mind. He knew when Robin had a plan or when Robin was seething inside or when Robin was terrified, not for himself but for Marian or one of his comrades. Those emotions shone at Will as brightly as the North Star on a clear night.

Djaq was the hardest to read and masked her feelings extremely well but in her sleep she was vulnerable and that was when the young outlaw would study her, figuring out her moods. That was how he knew that something was terrorising her in her dreams.

He knew he should stop staring at her now because the others were stirring and he needed to chop up some wood for the fire on which they would cook breakfast. Climbing to his feet the carpenter left the camp in search of some good logs.

Djaq's eyelids fluttered for a few moments, adjusting to the drastic change in light from the morning sun, before staying open. She looked around her and saw that the rest of the outlaws were barely rousing. Much was stretching in his loft but was yet to leave the warmth of his blankets and the others still seemed dead to the world. One bunk was empty however and the Saracen recognised it as Will's. He always got up so early.

Suddenly, all the memories from last night came flooding back to her and she let out a tiny gasp. Fortunately none of the boys heard it. Djaq bit her lip to stop herself repeating the same sound as she had several flashbacks of her brutal attack. They were similar to the ones that had been plaguing her mind as she slept.

The woman knew that she needed to get down to the river, clean up and dispose of her bloody clothes before any of the others got up. She would just have to avoid Will. Levering herself off the bunk, Djaq grabbed a few garments from the box where she kept the very small amount of spare clothes she owned and slithered off her bunk. She decided it would be better to subtly tell Much that she was going for a wash so as not to be disturbed or to worry her friends.

"Much," she called out softly and the young man turned in his bed and spotted her clutching a handful of clothes. She smiled weakly at him to avoid suspicion, "I'm just going for a wash in the river. Will you tell the others so they don't come down?"

"Oh, yeah, sure," Much yawned back, waving her away with a hand. He knew how sensitive the Saracen could be about the men seeing her body even though he'd heard that at some point young Will had already had a gander at it.

Fortunately or unfortunately, which ever way you care to look at it from, the former manservant didn't notice anything unusual about the Saracen's behaviour or appearance so she vanished undetected.

Down at the river, Djaq scanned the area around her before being sure it was clear of anything human. The only pair of eyes on her right now was the squirrel that was hurrying around in the undergrowth fetching acorns with which to store in his nest. He barely spared her a second glance when he saw she was no immediate threat.

The woman gingerly pulled off each of her garments, careful not to irritate any particular wound on her body and then she stepped into the cool water. The liquid refreshed and healed her, numbing any pain that she could feel and washing away all the blood related with her rape. She felt a lot cleaner physically but she knew that she would never be able to wash away the graphic pictures burned into her memory. They hurt more than the actual wounds themselves because they were so horrible and raw.

Djaq inspected her body to see the damage in daylight. There were several deep cuts on her inner thighs and plenty of dark purple bruising. On her arms were a matching set of ugly bruises shaped like fingers. She just hoped they would fade away before any of the men saw. There was no way she could explain them. Obviously she couldn't assess the carnage inside of her and she wasn't sure she wanted to so the Saracen decided to just leave it and hope any tears would heal themselves.

Wading out of the water, Djaq shivered as she felt a sharp wind whip past and reminded her that it was nearing the winter season. Hurriedly, she gathered up the tatty piece of material she'd brought with her and began to dry her body, gently patting around the tender spots.

Once she was almost completely dry the woman removed some herbs that she kept in the leather pouch on her belt. These herbs could be mixed with a little water to form a paste that would help keep any of her larger injuries becoming infected. Carefully, she placed a little wooden bowl down and picked up a roundish stone which she used to pound the plant. When it had developed into a greenish pulp she scooped some water from the river and mixed it slowly. After the paste was complete she began dabbing it on her wounds.

Finally, when she sure she had attended to her battered body as well as she could Djaq pulled on her undergarments and then her trousers. As she was pulling on a long sleeved shirt however she was aware that someone was watching her. She tugged down the hem of her top quickly and spun around looking for her enemy.

It was then she spotted Will standing at the edge of the trees by the little stone beach that lined the river bank with a small frown on his face. The Saracen froze in horror, wondering how much he'd seen, she'd been caught. Looking down she noticed that her bloody trousers from the night before still lay in a heap at her feet. He could see them; it would create too many questions that she wasn't willing to answer. It may be too late for that though, a tiny voice whispered in her mind, he could already know.

"Will! What are you doing here? I asked Much to tell you not to come here," Djaq gabbled in sheer panic, kicking the soiled clothes behind her in an effort to hide them.

"I'm sorry," Will said still staring at her with that odd expression on his face, "He didn't tell me."

"Oh, that's all right," Djaq replied hoping that he wouldn't suspect anything if she calmed down, "But would you mind, I mean I just need to clean up here."

"Clean up what?"

"Womanly matters, Will!" Djaq suddenly snapped, she congratulated herself internally on coming up with such a believable excuse for the bloody trousers.

Will, however, seemed not to be swayed. "Djaq," he started, his face solemn, "Why are there bruises on your arms?"

Please tell me whether I'm getting their characters and reactions right! I know women are distraught after sexual assault but I thought Djaq would take it practically at first, logically, because that's how she is. There may be some breaking down in front of a certain someone however. Review!