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"Before you went in," Guy replied. "Possibly before I was arrested. Perhaps even before that supper."

He studied the nearest group.

"Those are Aldric's men. He'll recognize me on horseback, even in the dark."

"Then we won't use the road."

"There's a track through the western copse."

"I know."

"It crosses the old quarry road and bends east above Papplewick."

"I know that too."

"Then why are we going this way?"

"Because I don't particularly enjoy being told things I already know."

He gave me a look.

"You're welcome."

I smiled.

"See? We're getting along beautifully."

We headed west along the charcoal burners' track.

It was barely two feet wide in places, winding between thick undergrowth and old trees. The ground smelled faintly of charcoal from the pits that had once operated nearby.

No Crown officer had bothered watching that route in the six years I'd been living in Sherwood.

At the fork above the quarry, the track split into three directions.

Only one remained passable during wet weather.

"Left," Guy said.

I glanced at him.

He was right.

I didn't say anything.

There was no reason to encourage him.

We reached the charcoal shelter about an hour before dawn.

It was a small lean-to built from turf and cut branches, hidden above the old quarry. Very few people knew it existed, and I preferred to keep it that way.

Merry and Tuck continued with the horses to gather Little John and the others.

I got a small fire going in the pit, then helped Guy remove his wet shirt.

His wound looked terrible.

Four of my stitches had torn loose, leaving the lower end open by nearly an inch. Blood and fluid had soaked through the bandage, and the skin surrounding the injury was hot.