“Hide?” she asked anxiously, taking in my bedraggled appearance.
“Yes, mum.”
She straightened her back proudly as she walked toward me. “It would be an honor for my house to repay the kindness Robin Hood has shown us over the years!”
She opened the gate and bid me enter. Her cottage had a garden that had must’ve been harvested in the recent weeks and there was a pig pen containing several hogs all rooting around in the mud. The cottage was relatively clean and smelled strongly of homemade soap. I had never particularly enjoyed the smell ofthe lard that people mixed with lye, but it was a welcome change to the permanent stench of male sweat that seemed to permeate the entirety of the sheriff’s camp. Her home was sparsely furnished, with a lumpy straw bedtick in one corner of the room, and a small cooking stove and large washbasin in another.
Once inside, the old woman began to fill the basin for me to bathe in and boiled water to pour into the chilly well water I had drawn up by the bucketloads for her. She clucked sympathetically about my collar and chain, which she and I were unable to remove, but she proved to be a kind hostess. She even rummaged around and found a dress about my size that she said I could keep. My old tunic and leggings she took to be washed. I noticed that she discreetly held her breath as she took them outside, and I winced, knowing that they probably smelled similar to Sneeds’s potent odor. I hadn’t bathed in nearly two weeks.
It felt like stepping into a new life just to touch clean water again. I had refused to bathe while Baron or any of the guards watched. The most I’d managed before was the quick washing with handfuls of cold water right before I attacked Dorian. Now, hidden behind a faded curtain in the old woman’s cottage, I let myself breathe.
The water in the basin was warm from the fire. Steam curled upward, softening my chilled skin. I scrubbed hard, working the grime from everywhere, including every crease of each of my fingers, the crooks of my elbows, and the backs of my knees. I worked until my skin prickled pink and sore. Even under the iron collar, where the metal had rubbed my neck raw in spite of the fabric from Baron, I managed to rinse and dab carefully. The feeling was almost painful in its relief.
I washed my hair twice, then a third time, until it smelled of soap instead of sweat and smoke. Strands clung wet and heavy to my back, but I didn’t mind. I felt lighter, as if somethingI had carried for weeks had finally been peeled away and I’d discovered myself again.
When I dressed again, it took some maneuvering to pull the chain through the new garments. It was worth it, however. The dress was a warm, heavy wool dyed a warm brown, and beneath it, a dark green slip kept the rough fibers from scratching my skin. I hated dresses…but I nearly sighed at the warmth that settled over me. After days of thin leggings and a tunic stiff with dirt, this felt like heaven.
The old woman offered me her bed, her face lined with worry and kindness in equal measure, but I refused as gently as I could. She had already given me more than enough. Besides, my young back was used to hard ground. I didn’t need softness to sleep.
I spread extra blankets across the threadbare rug and lay down. My body knew what to do before my mind could think to resist, and sleep took me fast, heavy, and deep. For the first time in what felt like a lifetime, I slept without fear.
The next day, sunlight spilled in through the window, warm and high in the sky.
I stood, gathering the chain in my hands. “I need to go,” I told her, after thanking her for her generosity and hospitality.
“Not without some food first,” the old woman said. As she packed me a bag with my freshly washed clothes, food, and a full waterskin, she told me the story of when she had eight children at home and was sure they would die of starvation soon when Father turned up with a pouch full of coins and a large bag stuffed with food. “I’ll never forget that day,” she sniffed, then handed me the bulging pack. “I am just glad that I can finally pay back some of what your father did for me back then.”
“I’ll tell him so.” I smiled at her and shouldered the bag to continue my journey.
As I walked, I relished in the feeling of hope. Sherwood Forest was finally drawing near. The trees grew tall and close,their canopies familiar as the lines of my own palm. Sunlight filtered through in soft patches that dappled the path, and my legs felt lighter beneath me. After a real bath and a full night’s sleep, I felt like I could fly. I breathed deeper, walked faster. Home was so close I could almost smell the woodsmoke of campfires and hear the laughter of the Merry Men.
I rounded a bend in the trail and stopped short.
Someone stood barring the path ahead, broad-shouldered and all too familiar.
“Not again,” I groaned.
The bag slid from my shoulder and hit the dirt with a dull thump. My brief moment of peace and hope shattered.
It was Baron.
CHAPTER 15
There were no other travelers around. There hadn’t been for hours. I sighed. I was so close to home! I wanted to turn and run in the opposite direction, but Baron had already seen me and was moving toward me. “Can you just pretend you didn’t see me and let me walk by?” I called out wearily. I reached for my only remaining throwing knife, resigned to yet another fight.
Baron rolled his eyes. “You know I can’t do that, Laurel.”
He had shaved and looked clean for the first time since I’d met him. He no longer had on his handcuff and the other six feet of chain, and I desperately envied his freedom. I had looped the chain I was still attached to around my arms to prevent it dragging on the ground. How was it that Baron always knew where to find me?
We wearily studied each other’s positions. There were no sneak attacks or hiding in trees this time. This would be face-to-face, hand-to-hand combat, and I was at a severe disadvantage. I was significantly smaller, was still encumbered by the collar and some of the chain, and only had one small weapon.
“So, we’re going to do this the hard way then?” he asked, shaking his arms to loosen up.
“I suppose so. I’m not going down without a fight. But if you want to surrender, I will accept.”
“Not a chance.”
I kept my throwing knife concealed. One solid throw, and I might be able to sprint the last few miles to safety, or else get close enough to scream for the Merry Men. If the knife struck home, I was confident I would be able to outpace Baron. I didn’t enjoy the thought of injuring him, though. For all his faults, he had been more caring than all the other guards, who’d enthusiastically deprived me of any comfort. He had even given me blankets off his own bed on the night I was so cold. I resolved that my throw would not be a fatal one, just one to seriously wound.Repaying one kindness with another, I thought.
