A full week without use of his bow dragged slowly by, seeming longer by years than it was. But it came to an end at last, and Robin was surprised to find Thornton, rather than his father, handing him back his bow.

"Thank you," the boy politely told Locksley's reeve and steward. "But does my father know you're giving it to me? I expected him to call me into his study and make certain I'd learned my lesson first."

Thornton's face was guarded as he answered. "The master asked me to deliver it to you. He is occupied with matters of importance, but wants to see you later this morning."

"I won't go far then," Robin said with a grin, quickly testing his bowstring. "I just need a few rounds of practice before I take on Will Stutely! Tell everybody I'm inviting them to come watch the competition, noon today, right here in the yard. Goodbye!"

And young Master Robin was off, out the door, bow in hand, quiver holding down his short cape from flying out behind him.

He almost ran back into the house, when he realized he wanted feathers to put in the small cloths he was planning to shoot, but decided there wasn't time. Better just to fill them with dirt first, to get the feel of it. He could get feathers from Ed and Bertha in the village, with all the chickens they raised.

Robin made quick work of digging dirt with his knife, loosening it to dust, and packing it in two small cloth pouches. He felt a thrill of excitement as he tied the pouches to a low hanging branch of an oak, pleased at how the autumn breeze stirred them as they dangled, then ran fifty paces away, for his first practice shot. It was pretty close range, but he'd increase the distance, once he got the feel for the thing.

The wind was tricky, he noted, dropping and then picking up again, and he took his time, taking it into account. When he finally did let loose his arrow, his face broke into a triumphant smile, for he'd hit both bags hanging side by side, bursting both to create little puffs of dust clouds.

He was just about to try it a second time, when he saw someone who made him catch his breath and drop to the ground, so he could watch her unobserved from the tall grass that hid him.

Marian was walking, alone, through the trees, probably looking for him! She looked very pretty, wearing a new blue green gown with a matching cap on her dark head, decorated all over, like the bodice of her gown, with little seed pearls. Robin watched her looking for him, forgetting all about his targets for a time. He felt happy, and he couldn't take his eyes off her, until he wondered, "Why am I hiding?"

His smile transformed to a wicked grin, and he pulled forth an arrow and carefully aimed, so that it landed a few steps just in front of Marian's feet.

"Robin!" she shouted, angrily. "You come out!"

Smug and pleased at having startled her, Robin jumped to his feet and raced down the hill, joining Marian under the trees.

"Don't you ever shoot at me, do you hear?" she demanded.

"What's this?" he asked, unable to stop smiling and reaching for her cap. She swatted his hand away. "You're dressed awfully fine, just to come see me," he teased.

"I had to wear it, my father made me, and we're not here to see you, but your father."

"So you were just wandering about outside my house, looking for my father? After all, he spends so much time outdoors."

Marian shivered, as the wind turned gusty. Immediately, Robin removed his quiver and his cape, placing the latter around her small shoulders.

"You shouldn't be out without your wrap, Wren," he said, kind and protective now. "I don't care how pretty you look in your new dress."

Marian appreciated the compliment, and his courteous gesture. Her anger disappeared, and she smiled and said, "You got your bow back!"

"This morning!" Robin announced. "I just started practicing, when I saw you. Watch this!"

Robin had come prepared, with a stack of small cloth squares. Dropping to his knees, he quickly dug more dirt, placed it on the clohes, gathered and tied their tops, leaving long strings from which to hang them from branches. "See how the wind makes them swing?" he asked. "Makes them all that much harder to hit."

"Show me," Marian said.

Their eyes met in a feeling of mutual admiration, and a warm rush of affection coursed through them both. Robin knew Marian would want to practice hitting the targets, too, and that it wouldn't come so easy for her, but that she'd continue trying, even after her fingers grew bloody from the bowstring. He loved her determination, so like his own, but first, he wanted to show off for her, and make her admire his skill.

From fifty paces, Robin took his time judging the wind, then loosed his arrow. Something went wrong. It was a good shot, but not so good as his first one. He'd hit one bag, but the other still hung from the tree, untouched.

Marian's eyes were shining, thrilled by the small explosion of dirt that had come from the first bag.

"Let me try!" she called out, warm in Robin's cloak.

Robin, unsatisfied, ran and examined the arrow he'd just shot. It looked alright, so he couldn't blame it for what he considered his failure. "My turn?" Marian asked, dropping to her knees and beginning to dig up dirt with her hands.

"No, not yet," Robin said, thoughtfully. "I shouldn't have missed."

"Robin, you didn't miss! You hit it! Dirt puffed out, exploded! It was wonderful."

"I missed, Marian," he said, almost tragically. "I should have hit both bags. I can't understand it."

"How many times have you done this?" Marian asked, trying to make him see reason.

"That was the second time."

"So, you're just learning?"

"Yes. But still, I should have hit both!"

"Then do it now."

Robin dropped down beside her and lifted one of her now dirty hands, examining it critically. "We better scrub you clean again before your father sees you," he said, smiling.

His knife worked much faster at digging, and very soon, Robin was aiming to hit two bags with a single arrow. He desperately wanted to impress Marian.

This time, his arrow sailed past both bags, hitting neither.

Robin stood still, his mouth agape, unable to comprehend that he had missed.

Marian hurried comfortingly to his side. "It's alright," she said, soothingly. "The wind picked up again."

"No," Robin said, his voice sounding hollow. "I should have hit them, Marian! I wanted to hit them, for you!"

"For me?" She drew in a pleased little gasp of air, then pushed her pleasure aside. "Perhaps that's why you missed," she realized. "Perhaps you were thinking of me too much. Forget I'm here. Remember what Will taught you. What is it he says? 'Never shoot for glory...' "

" 'Never shoot for glory, or for someone else's eyes, but shoot for the beauty of it alone. Be one with your bow,' " Robin repeated the Master of the Bow's words.

"Try one more time, and put me out of your mind," Marian told him.

Robin did just as Marian advised, conquering his thoughts to dwell on nothing but the wind, his targets, and his bow. He felt transported, removed from the world, with nothing between his arrow and its targets. Firing it, he knew it would fly true, and he watched it soar through the air and strike both bags, creating two separate, thrilling dust clouds.

"Thank you, Marian," Robin told her, sincerely. "It's your turn now."

But Marian's turn would have to wait, for Lord Locksley had summoned Thornton to locate the children and bring them into the manor. Malcolm of Locksley had an important announcement to make, and wanted his heir present to hear it.