Marian heard Robin's whistle and it was the sweetest of sounds, one she had recognised though a hundred quiet forests and a hundred stormy nights, one that she had recognised from her lonely bedroom window in a stifling castle while he had stood below and waited just to glimpse her.
And she recognised it tonight and turned on her heel, changing her direction and heading for it.
It was under a tree that she found Robin and gasped. "Rob!" she said, running even faster to close that last distance and skidding on her knees across the rocks and dirt and sticks as she dropped down to his level. (She'd find later that she'd torn her cargo pants and that a jagged stick had carved a shallow but bloody gash along her shin, but for now she didn't notice it at all.) "Rob," she repeated, reaching out for him, taking in his injuries and trying to work out where she could safely touch. "I'm here," she promised her love.