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The Rogue.

As she watched, a hand slid out from the shimmery emptiness. It clutched an acorn, which it tossed into the trees in the distance.

The man below them reacted to the sound and charged away.

The Rogue pulled his hand back in.

The two of them huddled in their trees for minutes on end, listening to the ebb and flow of the patrol.

One more patrolman wandered amid the trees near them, but he passed them by. Finally, Grace felt a lull. She shifted so her cloak didn’t hide her face and gestured to the shimmering mass in the branches.

The Rogue moved the verdure cloak so she could see him.

Grace gestured for him to descend and then began her own descent.

When they were both on the ground, Grace moved in close. “Step where I step, watch for branches and leaves, keep the cloak tight. You don’t want it to catch. And do as I say. Wecannotmake noise.”

The Rogue nodded his agreement.

Grace led him through the trees, heading west, away from where the patrol had entered Sherwood Forest. He made some noise but kept more silent than Grace had guessed he could.

They travelled ten minutes west, then Grace turned sharply toward town. She needed to get James out of the trees to a place the patrol wouldn’t search anytime soon.

But as she veered, a hand gripped her arm, stopping her.

Grace looked back at the Rogue. He shook his head, placing a finger in front of the cloth over his mouth, then pointed to the place she imagined his ear was.

Be quiet and listen.

Grace stilled, a chill running across her arms and down her neck despite the cover of her cloak.

A branch snapped, followed by a growled curse.

The Rogue moved for a bush. Grace tried to shake her head at him, but too late, his footsteps sounded, leaves cracking and brittle branches breaking. He stopped mid-stride, legs in a lunge, listening again.

It was silent for a moment. A bird screeched somewhere to Grace’s left. And then she saw, to her horror, the faint glow of lantern light on a tree trunk forty or so feet away.

Someone had heard him.

Grace pointed at a tree.Up!They needed to climb.

But the Rogue shook his head. Before she could reply with a more emphatic nod, he grabbed her arm and began to run, not toward the rim of the trees, but deeper into the forest.

No!Grace thought, willing James to turn around. She resisted his pull, but he was strong and fast, and her skidding feet were too loud.

Within seconds, a couple of voices called out behind her. “This way. I heard him!”

She gave in, hiked her skirts to her knees, and joined the run with her whole energy.

Deeper they went, and the foliage thickened. Branches and bushes slapped at them as they ran. Grace ducked and wove where she could. The Rogue collided with everything in his way. He dropped Grace’s hand so they could move more efficiently.

Weave!Grace wanted to shout, but they were already too loud.

She strained to listen for signs that they were being followed, but the cacophony the Rogue created made it impossible. How far had they gone? The Rogue hadn’t led them down any path, so Grace was disoriented. At some point, he’d have to stop. They’d have to return to town, or their absence would identify them.

As they charged across a footpath, Grace’s eyes caught on a familiar cluster of beeches, and panic erupted in her chest.

Abandoning fear of being heard, she called out. “Stop!”