Disclaimer: I do not own any of Nancy Springer's glorious creations, and certainly not the Rowan Hood series, to my great dismay.

A/N: Hello, again! I'd give you an excuse for not updating this story, but I don't have one, so let's get back to Rook and his desperate run to reach Robin's men before they are attacked!

Faster.

That was the only thought running through Rook's racing mind. His lungs burned, his legs ached, but his heart pounded blood through his ears at break-neck speed. Faster. Run faster. It became a chant. If he failed now, he would doom them all. If he failed now, he might as well have died in the mantrap.

Faster.

He was close now. He found the path back to his cave without thinking; it was ingrained into his memory, and he felt sudden gratitude for the years he'd spent living as a wolf in the woods. The crags were around the next bend, past the copse of birch trees and the sunlit clearing behind it. He was almost there. He was going to make it.

Rook sprang through the underbrush, bounding like a stag. As he broke through an ill-placed stretch of bracken and came face to face with the slabbed stone of the crags, two thoughts struck him at once. One was that he was not too late, for he found no battle. The other was that an arrow was whizzing towards his face.

He threw himself to the side with a yelp. He staggered in surprise, eyes darting around for the source. Then he saw: he was surrounded, with an entire host of longbows leveling arrows at his chest. Rook threw his hands up in surrender.

"Wait! Don't shoot," He cried. "It's just I, Rook!"

He was met with a tense silence. Not one of the outlaws lowered their bows, and a cold knot of dread started to constrict his stomach.

"You shouldn't have come back here, traitor."

The words were low and harsh. They sent a shudder down Rook's spine. He froze where he was, unable to run, unable to think… Finally, he managed to gasp out his message.

"The sheriff's men are coming. You all have to run. Now. You have to get out of here before it's too late."

The outlaws laughed at this, their voices dark and humorless. Allan-a-Dale, who stood closest, took a threatening step forward and spat, "You expect us to believe that? After what you did?"

Rook shrank back, realizing with painful clarity that the men had a very good reason to hate him… and with an even harder pang, he noticed that they were beginning to circle around him, closing off his escape.

"I did not intend Robin to come to harm, I swear it!" Rook broke out, his voice going higher in his fear. "You must believe me! You're all in danger!"

"Liar!" Barked one of the outlaws, a man Rook had never seen before. There was a clamor of agreement and Rook's heart fell. He knew very few of these men, he realized, and that fact would count against him. There was no one here who could vouch for him, no one who would take his side…

"He's with the sheriff! We can't trust a word he says." Shouted the red-faced, well-muscled man to his left.

Allan-a-Dale was eyeing Rook like a cat about to pounce on its prey. He called to the men, "What should we do with him?"

The words jolted Rook with the memory of Todd's capture, and the suggestions the Merry Men had all made for how to treat the captive. They'd gone easy on the boy… all except Rook, who had wanted to kill him… Rook felt a wash of despair as he realized his position: that vengeful bloodlust he had once felt was now shared by every one of Robin's men… but now it had turned back against him. He was the captive now. And there would be no mercy for him.

"Break every bone in his body!" Cried a the beady eyed man to his right.

"Pin him to the tree and shoot him like a target!" Called another. Then a score of ideas shot through the air, quicker and fiercer than arrows.

"Hang him!"

"Drown him!"

"Stone him!"

Rook turned back and forth, following the train of shouts with wide eyes and silently pleading for deliverance.

"Any one of them!" Yelled a voice from over his shoulder. "But let's beat him first!"

There seemed to be a collective agreement on the last thought, for each of the outlaws moved forward at once, some laying aside their bows and tightening their fists in anticipation.

Rook was rooted where he stood. Before he could think of any means to defend himself, one of the outlaws seized him from behind, pinning his arms behind him and holding him immobile.

"Please!" He cried. He hated himself for begging; Todd had not begged, not even when he was dying… "Please," He whimpered, laying aside his pride, "Please don't do this!"

A hard punch knocked the wind from his stomach. He struggled for breath. Another blow sent his head snapping back from the impact.

"You sold Robin to the sheriff, didn't you? Say it, coward!" A fist hurtled towards his face and split his lip.

"You betrayed us!" A sharp elbow sailed into his ribs. He doubled over, spitting blood as he choked.

"Admit it!" There were too many hands on him now, clawing and striking and squeezing until he bruised. They yanked him back and forth; he felt his muscles start to give, as if he would be torn apart.

"Tell the truth, traitor!"

"Alright!" Rook cried out. He was thrown to the ground and kneeled weakly in the dirt, hugging himself and trembling. Tears finally spilled down his cheeks as he spoke the words that had haunted him since the moment he left the band. "I am a traitor. I betrayed Robin. I betrayed Rowan," His voice broke on her name. "I'm no outlaw… I'm a traitor. I'm just a traitor."

He huddled there at their feet, hopeless, waiting for the next assault. There was nothing he could say to stop them; he was not innocent, and any plea that he was would be another lie- one they would never believe. He was responsible for Robin's fate. He had abandoned Rowan. It was his fault, he couldn't lie to himself any longer. Better to die an honest man, Rook thought, like my father.

"You all hear that?" Sneered someone above him. He didn't look to see who spoke. "He knows what a disgrace he is. "

"Then let's make him remember it!" Another outlaw answered back. Their tones were cruel, cold- a far cry from anything Rook had heard from them before. Robin's men had always been good-natured to Rowan's band, though a little rough, but it seemed that whatever protection his allegiance to Rowan had offered him was long gone. They were changed to him, now.

"I know- let's tattoo it into him! Put 'traitor' in his flesh."

"I'd rather carve it in!"

"Yes, with a dull knife."

"Where?!"

"His chest!"

"No- his face, where everyone will see it!"

"And we'll hang him from the tree as a warning!"

"And let the birds finish him off."

Horror flooded Rook. He gasped for air, panic beginning to overtake his senses. You're going to die, Rook thought, heart hammering in his ribcage. They are going to hurt you, and then you're going to die.

"Spare me," He choked out, his tears leaving tracks through the grime on his face. "Please…"

"We don't spare gutless traitors!" Hissed one of his attackers. He seized Rook's throat and slammed him down to the ground. "We'll make you pay!"

"Hold him down!"

They swarmed him. There was a man restraining each of his arms and each of his legs; another kneeled on his shoulders and held tight to his hair to keep his head steady. The red-faced outlaw took charge of the task, straddling Rook and pulling out a deer-skinning knife to use on him. Rook blanched at the sight of the blade. Though bloodied, bruised, and wildly outnumbered, he fought harder than he ever had in his life. He thrashed, kicked out, jerked back and forth and tried to duck from their grip. But he was helpless. There were too many, and he could not break free of one without another grabbing hold. Above him, the others watched, some grim, but some smiling with dark pleasure and even laughing as he got what was coming to him.

"Don't do this!" He screamed. He struggled wildly, but to no avail. The men only tightened their hold, and one reached down to clear the dirty strands of hair from his forehead so the outlaw and his knife could begin.

"Hold still!" The man ordered. "Move and the blade will take out your eye! Is that what you want?"

Rook said nothing. He only struggled harder to break the hold on his wrists and ankles again. But the knife was fast descending on him… he was trapped.

The metal was cool against his skin, and in his terror, he almost couldn't feel the pressure of the knife until it dug into him, hard. The pain came a beat later. He screamed. The outlaw worked slowly, torturously, to cut the stroke from his hairline to his brow. The blood came almost instantly after, and trickled down into Rook's eyes and pooled there. Rook sobbed, the pain and fear combining to overwhelm his courage. The man was about to cut the cross of the "T" when it happened.

"What do you think you are doing?!" Came the furious voice of Robin Hood. Rook's heart swelled with a surge of relief.

Rook could not see him from where he lay, but Robin's voice rang out loud and clear over the outlaws, carrying dangerous power that Rook had never witnessed before. The man was livid.

"Get back!" He roared, breaking through the circle. He seized the red-faced outlaw by the scruff of his neck, hauled him off Rook and threw him headlong into the bracken. "Get away from him!" The other men who had restrained Rook were scattering in fear. Robin came to stand over the boy, took one look at him, and lost control. Any mirth that had once graced those bright blue eyes was long gone and replaced with flames of hot, merciless anger. He rounded on the outlaws and thundered, "What the hell were you thinking!?"

"Robin," Rook called out. His voice seemed barely strong enough to get the outlaw's attention, but Robin was kneeling at his side in seconds. He placed gentle hands on either side of Rook's face and murmured kindly, "Rook lad, let me look at you." Robin's eyes were veiled in pity and something akin to grief as he observed him. Rook knew he must look as bad as he felt. He was still shaking hard. But there was no time to dwell on it.

"Robin, I have to tell you-"

"Shhh… Be still a moment." The man urged him. "You need to rest. How can you be alive? How did you escape?"

Without waiting for an answer, Robin moved to cradle the leg that Rook had shattered in the Sheriff's trap, and pulled back in shock when he found it completely healed. "How is this possible?" He asked, eyes widening.

"The aelfe." Rook said simply. Robin took on a glazed expression of surprise that Rook promptly ignored. He had bigger problems to address. "Robin, you have to run," He said, pulling himself up into a sitting position, gingerly. "The Sheriff and his men- they followed you. They'll be here any moment to kill you all."

"So he says…" Spat a burry voice. Robin swerved around, launching to his feet once more.

"Who said that?" He barked.

Allan-a-Dale was the only man with courage enough to step forward. He replied in a low voice, "You can't trust him, Robin. He betrayed you. You might've died because of him."

In less than a second, Robin whipped his bow into action and shot an arrow. It struck mere inches from Allan's feet, and the man leapt back in shock.

"The next one goes into the eye of anyone who dares to touch this boy. When I find out who started this, I swear to you-"

"Robin!" Rook was clambering to his feet now, desperation giving him strength. He swayed as he stood, but Robin was there in a heartbeat to support him. Rook tried again. "Robin, there isn't time- you have to go now."

"LOOK OUT!" Screamed a voice. But it left too little time to react. An arrow sliced through the air and struck the red-faced man in the throat. He fell like a stone, dead. Another launched towards Little John, but it never reached its target. It was knocked off course by the strike of a short sword. There, shielding the saved outlaw, was Todd.

"They're here!" He cried. He rose his sword arm into the sky and ordered the men with all the authority of a warrior:

"Prepare for battle!"