I groaned as a sharp chill bit into me. I pried my eyes open, my eyelashes crusted with sleep.

  For a brief, mind-tilting moment I could not remember where I was or what was happening. A gust of wind blew through my open bedroom window, snapping me back to reality.

  I rolled onto my side, blinking the bleariness from my eyes as I looked at the clock that sat on my desk.

  "3:00 in the morning?" I grumbled to myself, sitting up and glaring at my window.

  Ronan had disappeared into his room the second he was able. I had taken the opportunity to take a nap, my mind and body tired from both my last mission and the events that followed. What was supposed to be a quick rest had been much longer than I expected.

  I stood up and pulled back my drawn curtain a bit, moving to close the window. I froze, however, when I saw Ronan's window open.

  His window and my window faced each other, only a few yards apart, and were placed low enough you could climb out without injury.

  Even in the faint light I could see the weariness and the black circles under his eyes. More surprisingly, he didn't seem to notice me. Instead, he leaned heavily against the windowsill, gripping the wood with a white-knuckled grasp.

  He looks miserable. Wait, what is he even doing up?

  I opened my curtain the rest of the way. Ronan looked up at the sound, stiffening. Instantly his exhaustion disappeared into his customary blank, empty expression and stiff stance.

  "Still up or just woke up?" I asked, keeping my voice soft so it wouldn't carry and disturb the neighbors.

  Ronan blinked at me, a hint of confusion in his eyes and the tilt of his slight frown. "What?"

  "I just woke up," I offered. "A nap taken too seriously, I'm afraid."

  The confusion cleared from Ronan's expression. "I see. I also just woke up."

  Two sentences? He must be tired. I had a hard time getting one out of him earlier. He does look miserable though.

  "Want to go on a nighttime patrol?" I asked, the words coming out before I could consider them.

  I froze when I realized what I had asked. Ronan wasn't really one of Robin's band. He wasn't even trained to be in the forest. He was on loan from the Capitol, a place no sane person would walk at night.

  No smart person would say yes to that.

  "It's very safe," I belatedly added. "There's a little camp in the forest the night guard uses, we can visit with them."

  Ronan stared at me, the hint of a strange look in his eyes. After a long pause he tilted his head in a small, sharp nod.

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  "Give me a minute to get ready," I said. "I'll meet you outside in a few minutes."

  I closed the window and drew the curtain, scuttling about my room for my cloak and gear, which had been discarded in a pile on my floor. The memory of the icy wind still fresh in my mind, I slipped on a pair of warm leggings under my rumpled skirt before tugging on my boots. I also shoved a pair of wool gloves into my dress pocket before grabbing the pack I always took with me on forest treks. A scribbled out note for Robin and Marian, which I pinned to their door on my way out of the house, and I was slipping out the front door and ghosting down the porch.

  Ronan was waiting for me, scanning the quiet cluster of houses and empty street.

  I started for the gate, Ronan close behind. The moon, full and round, illuminated the sleeping village. The air was brisk and cool, so different from the warm early-summer days.

  As we approached the gate, guarded by two of Robin's band, Ronan tensed. He stuck even closer to me, eyeing the gate guards, then me.

  I rolled my eyes and waved at the guards, who saw us and waved back before opening one side of the gates enough for us to slip through.

  I smiled at them as we approached. "Thanks."

  We exited the village, the gate closing behind us, and set off into the forest.

  I could tell Ronan was trying to be quiet. But, maybe because of his exhaustion or perhaps his lack of experience in a forest, he was failing miserably.

  No matter. This isn't a stealth mission. I'm just getting him out of the village for a bit.

  I led us deeper into the forest, following familiar paths. The only sounds around us were the rustling of leaves and Ronan's clumsy footsteps. Everything else in the forest was asleep.

  Soon I spotted the soft glow of a campfire through the trees, and heard voices drifting on the breeze.

  We came to a clearing ringed by evergreen trees. A large boulder sat near the center, its smooth surface curved, forming a cave-like hollow lined in a tarp. A man sat at the edge of it, cradling a steaming mug. A fire pit sat next in front of the little cave, holding a fire just big enough to light the space. A log and two large stones sat around it, containing a man with a lyre and a woman knitting. A kettle and several empty mugs sat on a small cloth at the woman's feet, and several blankets were draped over one of the stone seats.

  The man with the lyre, Alan-A-Dale, waved to us.

  "What brings you two so deep into the forest, so late at night?" he teased. "Have you finally found a sweetheart Wren? I shall have to write a sonnet for the occasion."

  I rolled my eyes and sat on one of the stone seats.

  "Robin 'll kill any poor sap trying to woo his baby sister," the other man, Robert, said.

  I didn't know Robert well, so I didn't bother to correct him. Robin would love to get me a boyfriend, so I would stop complaining about Will stalking me on Robin's behalf.

  The woman, Elspeth, chuckled and looked up from her knitting. "Is this your new partner, Wren?"

  I nodded as Ronan took a seat by Robert. "Everyone, this is Ronan. Ronan, this is Allan-A-Dale, his wife Elspeth, and Robert."

  I gestured to each person in turn, then leaned down and poured a mug of the steaming liquid. It smelled of herbs and berries found in Sherwood, a tea similar to those made by fey according to legend.

  The silence stretched on, awkward.

  What do we talk about? Did we interrupt an important conversation? We should be chatting by now. It's never this bad when new members join.

  "You should tell Ronan some stories about Robin and Sherwood," I said.

  When all else failed, telling Allan to tell a story would at least make him happy.

  "Oh, a splendid idea!" Allan crowed. "I shall tell you the tale of the golden arrow. You see, Nottingham has an annual archery contest, and one year the prize was a golden arrow. It was a trap by the sheriff of Nottingham, and we all knew it...