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My arrow passed through the loose fabric of his sleeve and lodged in the yew behind him.

His arm jerked backward, pinned to the tree.

He shouted in surprise. Whatever order he'd intended to give was forgotten. That bought us a little more time.

Merry's archers kept firing into the ground around the soldiers, forcing them to remain behind cover. Little John charged through the orchard gate and knocked one man flat with the handle of his axe.

He struck another across the shoulder, shoved a third into the wall, and sent a fourth sprawling into the grass.

He never used the blade.

At the far gate, Alana began shouting directions.

Several soldiers actually obeyed her before realizing she wasn't one of their officers.

I would've laughed if we weren't so busy trying to escape.

"Your left!" Guy called.

"I see him!"

"Then why haven't you moved?"

"Because I'm waiting for him to get closer!"

The soldier lunged.

I stepped aside and struck him across the head with my bow. He dropped into the weeds.

Guy looked at him. "Was that necessary?"

"Very."

I turned toward the orchard gate.

Someone grabbed the back of my cloak. The sudden pull knocked me off my feet, and I landed hard on the grass.

Before I could turn, Guy seized the soldier's wrist and twisted it until he released me.

I scrambled upright.

The man was still trying to recover when I drew another arrow and fired it through his sleeve into the wooden gatepost.

He stared at his trapped arm.

Then at me.

"Robin," Guy said.

"Working."

"Your sheriff is bleeding."

I turned. He was right. A dark stain had spread across the left side of Guy's coat, and his face had gone pale. He was still standing between me and the soldiers.

Of course he was.

The stubborn man seemed determined to protect me even if it meant reopening every stitch I'd put in him.