The cloudy, dreary day soon became a cold, blustery night. Robin stared grimly into the flames of Much's campfire, unable to draw upon happy thoughts of Marian to warm him.

"Wind!" Much complained. "I hate wind! Well, at least the people of Nottingham will go to bed tonight with full bellies, thanks to you," he added, trying to cheer his friend.

"Thanks to us," Robin reminded him. Looking up from the flames, he let his eyes scan each face huddled around the fire, from the huge and shaggy Little John to the diminutive, pretty Djaq. "I couldn't do it without you," he told them. "All of you. I thank you, my friends. We are making a difference."

While Much ranted on and on about the sheriff and Gisbourne, Robin determined within himself to stop appearing so glum. It was miserably cold in the forest tonight, and his mood didn't help the already fragile morale. He owed his men, who daily risked their lives trusting his commands, his very best. Besides, he was by nature optimistic, preferring to hope and plan, rather than choose to give up and despair.

He would win her back, somehow, away from Gisbourne. He loved her, and believed she must still love him. She had to know they belonged together, or else she surely would have married while he'd been away. She hadn't lacked for suitors, but she'd turned them all away, even his friend, Roger of Stoke.

He'd think of something before the king returned, meanwhile continuing his mission to help the poor and defy the sheriff. Slowly, he gave his friends one of his brilliant smiles, making them all take heart.

"That's a relief!" Much announced. "For a minute there, I thought you were in one of your moods!"

"What's Marian's plan with the mine, Robin?" Will asked, looking up from his whittling.

"She isn't talking, at least not yet, but I trust her, Will," Robin answered. "Marian can work wonders."

"Work wonders," Allan repeated, in a strange giddy manner. "I'd like to see her work her wonders here."

"Watch it," Robin snapped.

"Were you being funny?" Much asked Allan. "You didn't say, 'I'm not being funny,' so I assume, you were. At least, you were trying to be. Funny, that is. You failed, for your information, I think you'll find."

Allan responded by laughing hysterically, causing Will and Djaq to exchange looks.

"You gotta be the ugliest wench I've ever seen," Allan chortled, pointing at Little John.

John growled fiercely and raised his staff, but Robin soothed him with by raising his hand and saying, "It's alright, John. He's not himself." Fearing Allan might have suffered a blow to his head earlier that day in Nottingham, he gently asked, "Allan? Are you alright?"

"I'm great!" Allan grinned.

"You're drunk!" Much accused.

"You're stupid!" Allan countered back.

Pulling himself up to his full height, Much shook with indignation, speechless to think of a suitable comeback. "Why don't you just jigger off?" he cried at last, proud of himself.

"He's not drunk, Much," Robin said, concerned. "I don't smell any alcohol. Djaq?"

The small Saracen stepped forward and made a quick appraisal of Allan, who lunged at her in a failed attempt to grab her around her waist, not being coordinated enough in his current state to succeed. "The dusky Queen of Night!" Allan declared, giddily.

Will rose and stood over his oddly behaving friend, his silence far more threatening than any of Much's rants.

"And we're all her stars!" Allan continued, rising and skipping around the firepit. "Twinkling in the sky!"

"Robin," Djaq told him, taking her leader aside. "It's not drink, but something similar." Handing him something, she said, "Look! He has been eating mushrooms, a variety that causes a state very similar to drunkenness. He must not have any more! They will make him see things that are not there."

Robin sighed, relieved to know the cause of Allan's crazy behavior. "No more of these for you," he told him, opening his hand to reveal the mushroom Allan had been eating. "And no mushrooms for any of you!" he warned the rest of his men. "Most of them are poisonous, and after eating a few of these," he added, tossing the mushroom into the fire, "you won't be able to tell the difference."

"Mushrooms?" Much cried out, aghast. "Those mushrooms? That is revolting!"

"It's foolish, anyway," Robin clarified. "No matter how bored any of you get, here in the forest, come see me before you decide to alter your minds with fungus."

He needed his men to keep their wits, to stay united against the sheriff. A gang full of men with mushroom-induced delusions was the last thing he needed.

"Better help him get to sleep, John," Robin advised, puffing the air from his cheeks. "He might trip and fall in the fire."

"Hurt, he will be," Little John declared, doubling up his fist.