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Twice, we stopped and pressed ourselves against the muddy bank while soldiers passed along the path overhead.

Guy kept moving, although I knew his side was hurting him.

I also knew better than to ask.

He'd only tell me he was fine.

Merry was waiting among the willows beyond the second bend.

She had two horses, dry cloaks wrapped beneath an oiled sheet, and the expression of a woman who'd been inconvenienced by everyone around her.

"You're ninety heartbeats late," she announced, throwing me a cloak.

"We were detained."

"I noticed."

Her attention shifted to Guy.

She examined him from head to toe, taking in the soaked clothing, the wet hair hanging over his forehead, and the general condition of the Sheriff of Nottingham standing in the river.

"So," she said. "That's the sheriff."

Guy straightened.

"I am."

She looked him over again.

"Expected you to be taller."

I burst out laughing.

Unfortunately, laughing while freezing half to death was a terrible idea.

Guy turned toward me.

"Is everyone in your company like this?"

"Worse."

Merry handed him a cloak, although she held onto it just long enough to make him look at her.

"Welcome to Sherwood, Sheriff. Try not to arrest anybody on the way out."

The north road was already being watched.

We reached the crossing where Tuck had arranged the horses, and I spotted a line of lanterns along the Mansfield road.

At least a dozen.

They were spaced roughly two hundred yards apart, with soldiers standing near each one.

Those men weren't patrolling.

They were waiting.

"He positioned them before we went into the castle," I said.