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I forced myself to keep watching. Up until the point four men circled him, with Guy of Gisborne in the lead, that shitty little smirk on his face.
They overwhelmed Stump, tackling him until I could no longer see my friend.
I turned tail to find Little John and try to recover what we could from this dismal day.
Chapter 40
Robin
Somehow I’d gotten turned around. I should have left Nottingham through the same gate Tuck and I used to arrive. But I would’ve had to go through the entire city, increasing my chances of capture from the black-cloaked men. Who knew how many of them waited for me on the other side of the arched bridge?
So I’d gone south, through the exit I was familiar with. I’d rounded the outskirts of Wilford and Nottingham in the countryside to push north.
Now, I was surrounded on all sides by thick trees. I recognized none of the landmarks. I thought I knew Sherwood Forest well . . . but I only knew the little section of it close to my estate. I had overestimated my knowledge and now I was paying for it by losing time.
I have to get back to the Merry Men before they’re attacked! If anyone else has access to this map . . .
My tears had dried. I had succumbed to the notion that Uncle Gregory was dead, valiantly protecting my escape, even when my distrust for him had reached a fever pitch. I’m sorry for doubting you, Uncle.
The cut across my arm was worse than I realized. As the sun began to set, dizziness hit me. I had to slow my horse, lest I pass out and get thrown from my saddle.
The map, I thought. Blood loss had affected my focus. I have all the answers tucked away in my shirt.
Pulling up on the reins of the brown mare, I whispered in her ear and patted her neck, slowing her to a trot and then a walk. “Where do you think we are, girl?” I asked, and she snorted in response. We’d been traveling north for hours now.
Had I taken the wrong trail to get to the witch’s cabin? Was I even going there? I couldn’t remember if Little John had said we were staying overnight in the new location, or if it was time to move already, to keep Sir Guy of Gisborne behind us.
I dismounted to catch my breath. Checking the back of my forearm, near my elbow, I winced at the vicious slice. The wound was dark and grimy with dirt. The blood had stopped running, yet now it was caked with filth from my mad rush to get out of Wilford.
I needed to wash it so it wouldn’t fester.
There’s no time!
“You won’t be saving anyone if you can’t save yourself first, sister,” Robert reminded me.
“I know that.”
Closing my eyes, I let the dizziness envelop me for a moment, hoping to fight it off by regulating my breathing. I listened for sounds of running water. Heard nothing. Just the chirping of insects and nighttime critters in the forest around me.
If I kept traveling the way I was going, I’d eventually run into a water source. There, I could clean my wound and wet my dry throat and parched lips. Maybe shake this confusion from my head.
I led the mare by the bit and pulled the crumpled map out. After studying it, I frowned. I knew well enough where the witch’s cabin was, since it was circled, but the problem was I didn’t know where I was. I had been blindly riding northeast, assuming I was going the right direction, only thinking of escape and rescue.
The Merry Men needed to know why they were having trouble avoiding Guy of Gisborne. They needed to know someone in their ranks had betrayed them by making this map and sending it into Nottingham to be discovered, meant to get into the law’s hands.
After shuffling down the trail with my head bowed for a few minutes, I sighed. Perhaps if I can find one of these other landmarks on the map, I can double back to the one where I’m supposed to be.
I looked up at my surroundings. Still nothing recognizable.
Then I heard the faint trickling of running water nearby, and my heart leaped to my throat. “Come on!” I yelled to the mare, and dragged her with me off the trail. We slid down a small slope, through a thicket of weeds and bushes, and came to a clear creek.
I went to my knees and cupped my hands into the frigid water. My steed bowed her head and drank. The taste was crisp and rejuvenating.
Before I could splash any on the jagged cut across my arm, a low growl to my left froze me.
Slowly, I glanced over. My stomach dropped.
Three wolves sat on their haunches less than a stone’s thrown away from me, sipping from the tiny creek. Watching me.
