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John and Will were off on a hill to my left, speaking a more mature conversation under the night shade of a leafy beech tree.
I leaned back, pretending I was still woodworking, to listen in.
“Skellingthorpe’s not far,” Will Scarlet said. “We have friends there. Can fortify our numbers.”
“For what?” John said with an angry scoff. He paced in front of Will. “Just so they can die, too, once Guy finds us again?”
“What makes you think he’s going to find us again?”
“Call it a hunch.” John shook his head, turned, and continued his rounds. “No, we’d best keep our younglings out of the fold for now, to keep them safe.”
Will’s head lurched. “What are you saying, Little John? You think we’re pariahs?”
John’s eyes lifted from the ground, and I could see the glare in them. “That’s exactly what we are, mate. Until Guy is gone, none of us are safe.”
“Then we have to take him out.”
“We can’t. He has too many mercenaries in his employ.”
“Which is why we need more men! We’re talking in circles, man.” Will slapped his forehead with his palm and started down the hill to me and the little nook of shrubbery I sat near. “What say you, dandelion?”
“Hmm?” I craned my neck to the side, acting surprised as they both walked in my direction.
“Oh, fuck off,” Will drawled, “I know you were listening to us. Especially after you finished your little art project there.” He gestured to my lap.
Well, I suppose I’m not the slyest eavesdropper in the world. I thought about their argument. I was never the leader of this outfit. I was just along for the ride—both the adventure and the ride from the boys—and of course the money.
I had my reasons for sticking around.
“Moving so frequently has thrown off our typical relocation schedule,” I said, tapping my chin, “which makes it difficult to rendezvous with other Merry Men.”
“See?” Will said, sweeping a hand toward John. “He thinks we need to make a stand.”
“I never suggested that.” I frowned at the boy. “You’re always too eager to get in a fight, Will Scarlet. Even ones you can’t win.”
“Exactly,” John murmured.
“And you’re too hesitant to get in one,” I told the huge man, “because you think it makes you more irredeemable than you already are.”
“I do not hesitate!” John barked, offended.
“You make him sound like Tuck,” Will said with a small snicker. “Damned for eternity, so he tries to make up for it by giving scraps to the poorest peasants.”
“You mean the peasants like your father?” I scolded.
Will’s nostrils flared with anger. “Get the name of my father out of your mouth, dandelion. No one cares for him more than me—”
“I know that, lad. What I’m saying is you can’t pick and choose who you help. If you’re going to give to the poor, make it all the poor. Not just the ones you’re related to.”
Will closed the gap between us. I didn’t bother standing. I already knew he could kill me in a swordfight, so what was the point of getting blustery with the young windbag? He’d miss my music if he cut into me.
“We’re getting off-track,” John tried to butt in. “We need to find Tuck. He’s smarter than the rest of us.”
“Debatable,” I blurted. “Besides, he’ll know where to find us if he avoids Guy and sees our abandoned witch’s cabin. Otherwise, I’m afraid our dear chaplain is dead.”
Will’s eyes narrowed on me, arms folding over his chest. “Why aren’t you being your usual snarky self?”
I sighed and leaned back, staring up at the starry sky through the canopies. “Because I don’t find much to be joyful about right now, Will. Because we’re missing the one person who would bring the music and sardonic glee out of me. And it’s not Friar Tuck.”
