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I inserted myself before their argument could begin. “It’s fine, Little John. I’m all right to go.”
There was a tinge of hurt splayed across Little John’s face. He didn’t appear to hold my vanishing act from earlier this morning against me, which was good. Not anger. Disappointment, perhaps. Maybe he understood I needed to get my mind right before I threw both feet into the fire.
“Very well,” he said, nodding curtly. “Alan, go with them.”
Will rolled his eyes. “We don’t need a watch hound—”
“It wasn’t a request,” John snapped. “I won’t leave you alone with her. We know how you can get.”
I bit my lip, anxiety running through me.
Alan said, “Enchanted. I’ve not spent enough time with our little songbird.”
“You spent all day yesterday hunting with her,” Will pointed out.
“And it was not enough time.”
I gestured where he and John stood. “Where’s my family’s carriage?”
“Friar Tuck took it to scout our next location,” Little John said. “Then to Nottingham to look after the almshouse.”
“I urged him not to go,” Alan added, shaking his head. “What with everything going on right now.”
I assumed he meant with Sir Guy of Gisborne seemingly on our trail. “I find it admirable.”
“Aye. Admirable. And stupid. He cares for those whelps more than he does his own life.”
I smiled at that. Alan-a-Dale couldn’t convince me Tuck was not a good man. Reckless, perhaps, but that only reminded me of myself.
We agreed to return by nightfall, because John was planning another move later this evening under the cover of darkness. He said the Merry Men had to keep rotating their base of operation to stay one step ahead of Guy.
It made sense to me.
As we left camp, heading east through the thinning forest, I found myself wondering about our pursuer. And about my place in his pursuit. With Alan and Will flanking me on either side of the trail, I asked the angrier man, “Do you practice with those swords so zealously every morning?”
Will nodded. “It’s routine.”
“Why?”
“That’s a silly question, little thorn. To help defend the Merry Men.”
“From people like Sir Guy of Gisborne?”
“Precisely.”
Alan smiled wistfully. “Our resident wildman is nothing if not dedicated.”
I chuckled. It faltered when I recalled my heartfelt conversation with John last night. “I learned why Sir Guy is after the Merry Men.”
“Oh?” Will chirped, sounding disinterested.
“Little John said it’s his fault.”
“We don’t fault him for it.”
“You seem to fault him for quite a lot, Will Scarlet.”
Annoyance flashed across his face. “He’s not the same man he once was.”
