Marian: A Rescue from Latin
᚛ᚐ ᚏᚓᚄᚉᚒᚓ ᚃᚏᚑᚋ ᚂᚐᚈᚔᚅ᚜

Marian and Robin go on a small adventure as small kits. The first preview for my new novel: Marian! The novel mostly features them as adults, but flashes back to their childhood together.


~ ~ ~

A small fox hunched over a large book, poring over a table of irregular declensions. The words seemed to grow more irregular the longer she looked at them. A soft breeze stirred summer into the room, caressing the wall hangings of ancient battles and long-dead ancestors. 

A scuff of claws on stone and a soft grunt of effort announced the arrival of young Reynard Hood, son of the castle forester. Better known as Robin. 

She looked over just in time to see him pop up, ears first. An instant later, a familiar scruffy-whiskered muzzle appeared, pearly fangs gleaming with fearless amusement. In the four years since they met, she had learned that smile to be a harbinger of mischief.

Arms crossed at the bottom of the window, his green eyes lit up when he saw her. "Hi Marian."

She rolled her eyes. "Hullo Robin."

A mess of rusty fur and hand-me-down clothes, he scrambled up to sit on the window sill. He perched with no regard for the steep drop behind him. His scrawny tail flicked with impatience. "Let's go play."

"I can't come play every time you climb up here." She returned her gaze, though not her attention, to the book. "Scarlet would send me back in here as soon as I stepped into the hallway."

The common fox stuck a hand out the window into the open air. "That's why I don't use the stairs."

She glanced down the sheer tower wall. "I don't think I can climb down."

"It's okay." He hefted a coil of heavy cord on his belt. "I brought rope."

The young vixen sighed. "I'm meant to be studying, not playing in the woods."

"C'mon, Marian." Rocking recklessly back, he stretched out his arms and caught himself by the sides of the window. "You say that all the time."

Her ears rose at him. "Your parents don't give you chores?"

"Yeah, but my chores are over once I do them." Hands gripping either side of the windowsill, he flung himself into the room. "You've been studying Latin forever."

"I need to be able to read Latin. I'm Princess Adelaide's lady-in-waiting." She let out a slow breath, then sat up a little straighter with whiskers lifted. "And besides, I'm a noble."

"I don't see why that's a big deal." He swung himself around a post of her bed. "I'm the king of nowhere. And you're the queen of nowhere."

Interlacing her fingers, she cast him a teasing smile. "Does that mean we're married?"

His posture shot straight for an instant, then he tried to relax it with a laugh. "Sure! If that makes you come out to play."

A frustrated chuckle escaped her muzzle. "Robin. Other children live in the village. I've seen them."

"Yeah, from up in this tower you're trapped in." He spun and gestured at the walls. "That's why I came to rescue you."

"My hero." She swooned like a fairy tale princess, then giggled. "But I'm busy, so you should go play with them."

His head tipped back with a groan and his foot stomped on the carpet. "The other kids are boring." He flopped back-first onto the bed next to her. "You can almost keep up with me."

Closing the primer so the cover wouldn't hit him in the nose, she set it on her nightstand with a big grin. "I can absolutely keep up with you."

"Nuh-uh." He stuck out his tongue.

She crossed her arms. "I just don't want to ruin my nice clothes."

He stuck an arm straight into the air. "So put on some not-nice clothes and let's go."

Her gaze flicked to the window. The weather did seem especially sunny. Friendly white clouds floated by against a soft blue sky. She was instructed to stay in her room and study, she reminded herself. Scarlet hadn't authorized her to galavant with the son of the foresters. "I do appreciate the offer."

His hand whomped onto the bed in the direction of her carefully scribbled-on slate tablet. "Or you can stay here until Scarlet makes you use up every piece of chalk under Nottingham and the whole town collapses." He imitated a great crashing sound. "Then maybe we can play in someone's root cellar."

The girl reclined onto the bed alongside him. "So distracting me is for the greater good?"

"Uh-huh." He winked. Reaching to his belt, he produced a kerchief filled with something. He placed the bundle on her stomach. "I'm just looking out for Nottingham."

She opened the bundle to find it full of midnight-purple blackberries. "By bribing me?"

"It's not a bribe if I found it in the woods." He shrugged. "And if the ones by the house are ripe, then the ones in the woods should be too. I know about this big stand of the bushes."

She popped a berry into her muzzle. A rush of tart sweetness burst across her tongue, leaving an aftertaste just bitter enough to call for another. Her gaze fell on him. "How far?"

He shrugged. "Not that far."

Still chewing, her gaze narrowed on him. "You're going to get me in trouble."

"We can climb back in the window." He nudged her with an elbow and tossed another of the berries into his mouth. "They won't even know you're gone."

By finishing the last of the berries, she bought herself a delay, but found no reason to say no among the sweet, ripe fruit. With a deep breath, she sat up. "Fine, but let me change clothes."

"Yes!" With a creak of the bedframe, he bounced to his feet. "Let's get going."

Her arms swung up at him "I can't get changed while you're here."

"I'll face the window." He traipsed to the window. "Make sure any bats flying by won't see."

The girl snickered. "How do I know you won't peek?"

His tail frizzed. "I promise I won't."

She crossed her arms and looked him over.

He cast her a crooked grin.

Marian rolled her eyes. "Fine. I believe you." 

Planting one foot on the rug, he swung his body to face the window. His hands settled behind his back, like a guard on duty. That scruffy tail fluffed back and forth with joy.

"These berries better be worth it." Grabbing a piece of chalk and her tablet, she scrubbed out the existing text with a rag and scratched out a quick "Ambulo in silvis cum Robin." — I walk in the woods with Robin.

"Are you studying back there?" His ears swiveled, even as he looked straight out the window. 

She yanked the chalk from the slate, then realized she wasn't doing anything wrong. "I'm leaving a note!"

His scrawny arms spread. "It sounded like studying."

The young vixen groaned and set the tablet on her bed. "Just watch for peeping bats." 

His tail flicked with amusement. "I haven't seen any yet, but I'm looking."

Digging to the back of her wardrobe, she grabbed the dress she'd been wearing when she learned why lap desks had that indentation for one's inkwell. She hurried into it, then reflexively dabbed the great ink blot with a claw to make sure it wasn't miraculously still wet. For all Scarlet's scrubbing, half the dress still looked a map of the nation's marshes. 

A quick look at her friend showed him fidgeting, but still resolutely looking out for noonday bat passersby. He stood at attention, save for his tail, which swished back and forth with impatient energy.

Hopping into her shoes, she straightened her asymmetrical dress. "Very well. I'm ready."

"About time!" Robin sprang into action, triple-knotting the cord to her bedpost and leaping to stand on the window sill. With a huge grin, he stood in the breeze and reached to her.

Again peering down the great distance to the ground, she cast him a look of wry suspicion, but placed her hand in his.

As surefooted as if he'd been standing on solid ground, instead of perched halfway out a window, Robin helped her up. "I tested every inch of this rope. It's Dad's good rope."

Nervous, she slipped an arm around his midriff. She eyed the dizzying drop out her window. The inner courtyard lay like a child's toys, complete with miniature wagon and little basket herb gardens. "That's really far down."

Coiling the rope around one arm, he edged back on the window sill. His smile turned cocky. "Yeah, but we're only going a step at a time." 

Slight alarm entered her voice. "We'd better!"

"We will. Trust me." His pearly fangs gleamed in a charming manner. "Just think of the wall as a floor. Like this." Holding tight the rope, he flicked a foot back and set it against the bare stone exterior. "We're going around the side. It gets lots easier after the first part. Ready?"

"Yes." Her tail bushed out in anxiety. She squeezed him tighter. "Don't let go of me."

Rare humility entered his voice. His green eyes met hers with tender regard. "You know I'd never do that." He looped the rope around their waists.

A blush glowed under her cheek ruffs. She looked away. Her mouth drew into a straight line. He was telling the truth, of course. He'd hold onto her like a gentlemanly escort if they plummeted off the side of a castle due to his terrible plan.

"One. Two. Three!" A small yap of adventure escaped his muzzle and he stepped beyond the window frame, pulling her with him. 

"Oh dear!" She squeaked and clutched him, arms and legs wrapped around him as her tail dangled off into open air. 

The cord seemed now far too thin, as they dangled. The young tod traversed the side of the tower in a spritely jig. He seemed unaffected by her weight or even his own. "Don't be so loud. Scarlet is gonna hear us." The funny twist he'd done with the rope slid it around one arm, then behind his back, and finally off his other arm. And it did so at an unreasonable speed. 

"Eep!" She buried her face in the worn fabric over his shoulder. Her stomach insisted they were already falling. "We should go back."

He paused in an instant. "Are you sure?" His hand gripped the cord tight enough to show his knuckles through the black fur. With casual calm, he glanced from the window to the courtyard. "Up is a lot harder than down."

A mild breeze blew her tail against his, reminding her of their precarious position. Every muscle of her body wrung tight. "I'm scared!" 

Indifferent to the wind rippling his clothes, Robin hugged her a little closer. That careful tone returned to his voice, as if comforting her in a far more horizontal situation. "It's okay. Just tell me which way we're gonna go and I'll get you there."

Her heart raced. Her breath caught. Nottingham, the River Leen, and vast Sherwood sprawled before her. How a view so similar to that out her bedroom window could petrify her, she wasn't sure. She pressed her face to his chest. "Down, please." 

His dangling tail lashed with happiness. "Sure! This is the good part anyway." Letting out another couple feet of cord, he whipped them around the corner of the square tower. His bare feet bounced a jaunty corkscrew path around the front of the tower to the top of the kitchen. 

Something in his steady embrace and the lack of falling to her death coaxed Marian into opening her eyes again. The wider landscape looked the same, though the wall parapets looked less like hostile spears and more like friendly shields. The sweet scent of the roses growing at the base of the tower drifted up on the breeze.

With a final kick, not unlike the one that had started their descent, Robin hopped to the roof of the much lower granary like a paper fluttering to the floor. "There."

Taking great comfort at having something to stand on, the vixen stretched a careful leg down, then another, and at last loosened her grasp on the boy. She stared up the sheer side of the white stone tower, the windblown tan cord a new adornment. "I can't believe we made it."

Traipsing like a dancer along the pointed top row of roof tiles, he released the rope and shook the tension from his hands. "I can't believe your bed is so heavy. I thought it would move a little bit."

Halfway finished straightening her dress, she spun to face him. "What would've happened then?"

"It would've stopped." He poked an index finger through the fingers of his other hand until it couldn't go any further. "Your bed can't fit out the window."

She lifted her hands with an annoyed look. "To us, Robin."

"Oh. You're really easy to carry, so I'd just keep holding you." He tugged on the dangling cord. "I had a good grip on the rope. I tested this out on the cliff with an old jug that weighs more than you."

"An old jug?" She felt slighted, though not sure how.

He shrugged. "Mum would be cross if I broke a new jug."

"I don't think she would like what we're doing any better." The young vixen looked around and took stock of their situation. "How do we get down from here?"

"That's easy." Sitting, he scooted down the roof tiles and pointed over the edge of the roof. "The stairs are right here."

Following his example, she scuttled after him. "I'm surprised you didn't want to go over the castle wall and down the cliff."

He offered an apologetic roll of his eyes. "Dad didn't have that much rope." With that, he dropped over the side of the roof and landed with a soft scuff at the top of the stone staircase. He raised his arms at her with a flick of his scrawny tail. "Don't worry if you knock loose some roof tiles. I know where they keep the spare ones, so I put new ones in when they break."

Legs dangling, she peered down at him from the edge of the roof. A giggle broke through her dissipating fear. "I should have known you were the reason some of them don't match." 

"Some of those broke on their own." He lifted his arms a little higher. "C'mon, before somebody sees."

With a deep breath, Marian scooted off the last row of tiles. Her stomach only had time for half a flip before he caught her. Her shoes landed once more on a surface the gods meant for them.

"See?" He released her hips and whipped his tail back and forth like he'd shared a great secret. Fondness sparkled in his green eyes like the sun through a leafy canopy. "Easy."

She shook her head with a chuckle. "You're impossible." Her already flustered heart fluttered in an altogether different way. She liked that he looked at her like that, but worried, if she thought about it too much with him present, she'd wind up stammering like a ninny. That would not befit a future queen's lady-in-waiting, no matter how many towers she'd just scaled. "What do we do now?"

"Dunno. Sneak past everybody, I guess." His skinny form skulked down the stairs.

"Robin." Her fists propped on her hips. "I may not know how to climb a castle wall, but I'm a better sneaker than you."

"No way. I'm way quieter." He spread his arms. "I can catch a bird in my hands."

Stepping down the stairs as intended, Marian took his point by raising her index finger. "Yes, but you get us caught every time we sneak into the kitchen. We're not trying to keep quiet. We're trying to keep from being told no." 

Mild pique narrowed his gaze, but he paused with trust and curiosity. "What's that mean?"

She swept a paw in the direction of the castle staff at work. "If people see you sneaking around, they're going to think you're up to something you shouldn't be. We just need to look like we're doing things we're supposed to."

His rust-furred muzzle bobbed in a nod. "That makes sense."

She swept past him with a swish of her tail, then twirled to smirk at him with hands clasped behind her back. "And unlike you, I actually have practice doing what I'm supposed to."

The young tod rolled his eyes, though the smile returned to his muzzle. Across the courtyard, a door clattered open. In an instant, his woodland stalking posture resumed: back low, ears flat, tail tucked.

Marian grabbed his shoulder and straightened him back into about as respectable as his posture ever got. Then she turned up his ears and untucked his tail. While she was at it, she straightened his tunic collar. "There. Stay like that, please."

Robin tolerated her rearrangements with an affable tilt of the whiskers. "Should I balance a book on my head too?"

"You had me leave all my books up there." Keeping her gait casual, Marian stuck close to the tower. She couldn't see who had come out of the old hall, thanks to the lush herb garden filling the keep's courtyard. From the timbre of the grumbling, she suspected the rat scullery maid. Steady sunlight baked a pleasant fragrance from the plants, likely obscuring their scents as well. "Remember?"

He glanced up the tower. "I could get one."

"Keep your feet on the ground for one moment, if you please." Cleaning imaginary dirt from a claw, she peered down the corridor that connected the keep to the rest of the castle. Nobody there. Assuming her nursemaid, Scarlet, didn't gallop down to seal the gates, they had a fair chance. "Come on." She took his hand.

His ears straightened even further than she'd set them, but he gripped her hand in return. He made no complaint as she pulled him into the gatehouse. As they stepped into the cool shade, their footsteps echoed and amplified. Simple geometric patterns covered the plaster of the arched hallway. Here and there, it cracked and crumbled. He poked at the fresco and rubbed the resulting dust between his fingers. "Why'd they put you and the Princess in the old keep anyway? So you can't get away?"

"The Rose Tower is not a prison. Prisons don't have flowers growing on them." She pointed back at the namesake rose vines climbing the structure. "And Princess Adelaide is next in line for the throne. She needs to know how to run a household." Her paw tipped back at the small courtyard with what she hoped was at least a fraction of the Princess's grace. "Since the keep is like a miniature castle, Her Majesty decided it would be a good miniature household."

"Explains her miniature bodyguard." Robin's gaze flicked around, as if checking the otter in question wasn't within earshot. "And your miniature nursemaid."

"Scarlet is from Shetland." She tried to picture the map in her mind, down to the little islands. "All the horses are small there."

Proud of his observation, he pranced beside her, still holding her paw. "And you're her miniature handmaid."

"Nobles can't be handmaids." She forgot sometimes that his family saw nobles less than any of the castle's other servants. "I'm a lady-in-waiting."

"Right." He nodded. "That's like a handmaid, but worse because it means more Latin."

She snickered as they descended a second set of stairs. "But less scrubbing."

He scratched his chin. "Not a very good trade. Floors and bedsheets get clean eventually."

They emerged into the light of the castle proper. This much larger courtyard bustled with activity before them. Servants hung laundry, shook the chaff from wheat with winnowing baskets, and griped to the wind god whenever the two tasks intersected. Two guards stood at the gatehouse, leaning on their spears; their tails twitching with gossip. A hare noblewoman sat on the steps to the grand tower, working at a hoop of needlepoint in the sunshine. Half a dozen merchants packed their carts, seeing the last of their merchandise stowed.

Her friend studied the activity. His keen green eyes flicked from person to person, from gatehouse to tower. Those black-tipped ears perked up as he listened, no doubt concocting a scheme.

Marian busied herself with examining a stack of reed baskets sagged outside the keep gatehouse. A bit old and brittle, probably destined for the rubbish heap, but they could serve her purpose.

Robin's gaze continued to dart around the castle. "Okay. My dad's good rope is back on your tower, so we're going to need to get the rope from the well. And we're going to need something to use as a grappling hook. Maybe if we get some bread crumbs, we could get a bunch of pigeons to land in the courtyard."

"Or we hold these baskets." She handed him two and took two more for herself.

Spinning to face her, he accepted the woven baskets and turned them over in his paws. "…We need bigger ones if we're gonna hide under them."

"We're going to walk out the front gate." With one in each hand, she feigned a casual stride, then spun before him with a wink. "The guards probably won't even notice us if we leave when those merchants do. They're supposed to keep people out of the castle, not in. If anyone asks what we're doing, tell them we're going out to pick blackberries."

"I don't think your plan is gonna work." He glanced to her with hesitation, though not objection.

She bumped him with her shoulder. "Trust me."

~ ~ ~

Hidden amid the salt merchants, Marian and Robin managed to contain their glee enough to pass through the castle gatehouse and final gatehouse at the far extent of the lower courtyard. The merchants themselves paid them little mind, at least after Marian flashed them a sweet smile. Robin appeared to be doing his best not to slink along, growing a few inches taller once it became apparent the plan worked. Once out of sight of the final gatehouse, they bid goodbye to their erstwhile traveling companions and scampered ahead of the small caravan. 

The west of Nottingham had tall, proud houses. Nobles, and the merchants rich enough to imitate them, lived just beyond the castle walls in the hope of catching any splendor that might roll downhill from it. Pressing on, the foxes reached the wide cobblestone rectangle of the Saturn Day market. It being a Sun Day, most of the stalls stood empty, though here and there well-dressed folk walked and chatted, while their servants haggled over the price of chickens and candles. 

Marian's heart soared. She smiled at Robin. "We made it."

"Your plan worked." The young tod shrugged, tail a merry twitch as sweet strains of lute echoed from a public house. "Now we just have to get outta town before someone catches us."

"Do we have to hurry?" Standing on her toes, she peered in a shop window to watch a crafts mouse saw the teeth of a wooden comb with delicate precision. 

"Not many blackberries in Nottingham." Looking nowhere in particular, he kicked his legs out with each idle stride and picked at a loose reed on one of his baskets. "Not fresh ones, anyway."

She cast him a glance. The faintest aftertaste of berries lingered on her tongue. The ones he brought had been quite good. After a whole winter of only dried and jellied fruits, they had been a delight. She could get Scarlet to take her to the market another time. "Very well. Lead on, Robin."

The scrawny tod straightened, tucked both his baskets under one arm, and then looped the other with hers. His chest puffed up under the secondhand tunic as he led her toward the edge of town and the bridge beyond. "This way, if you please."

~ ~ ~

Sherwood's cool shade greeted the foxes. Above, the canopy of leaves rippled in the breeze like the surface of an emerald lake. Scents of industry and inhabitation fell away, replaced by growth and green. Here and there, pools of sunlight collected and vanished on the forest floor. 

Having stashed their reed baskets in the brush, Marian picked her way through the mix of trees. Spindly trunks sprang from stumps a thousand years old. The Hoods had been tending this woodland for generations, knowing when and how to take trees to encourage more to grow. 

Robin had hiked at her side through town and scrub, but here he danced like a windblown leaf. Around trees and up boughs he swept, all without a pant of effort. Then, in a blink, he would vanish. When the trees grew too far apart, he'd hop down to the ground, hardly slowing as he scrambled up another trunk.

She'd hustle in the direction she'd last seen him. At last, she'd manage to catch up. 

He'd always be seated on some old log or dangling from a branch, with the ease of being in one's sitting room. His smile would greet her, flicking bits of bark from his fur as he waited for her to close the distance. Then, like the shifting light of the canopy, he'd scramble off again. Thereafter, he'd just be a rusty flash hopping between the close-packed trees. The method allowed him to bypass all manner of undergrowth and fallen timber. 

"Hey!" She spun, trying to lay eyes on him, then climbed onto a rock for a better view. "Don't leave me behind."

He popped out from behind a large bough, upside-down and watching her from several yards up. His smile shone like sunshine. "I won't."

She propped her fists on her hips. Her tail flicked behind her. Waiting, she knew he'd be down before long.

His bright green eyes rolled. Then, in a fluid motion, he swung to a lower branch, hopped between a few more, and at last to the earth. He stood before her, arms crossed, muzzle smug.

The young vixen shook her head. "I'm as fast as you when you don't cheat. You're like a woodland nymph."

"I can show you how." He sat back onto a low branch, as if onto a futon, then extended his hand. 

Judging the distance from branch to ground to be half her height, she sighed and permitted him to haul her up onto it. "How am I supposed to do this?"

Holding both her hands with his, he locked eyes with her and backed along the bough. "It's just one foot in front of the other." 

She took a cautious step forward. Slippers had been a dangerous choice. She considered taking them off, but that would entail falling. Besides, a noblewoman didn't run around the woods unshod. Another step followed without bringing catastrophe. 

"Good." He backed up to give her more room. "Use your tail to balance."

She struggled not to look down at how narrow the branch was. "What if I fall?"

He gripped her hands with gentle reassurance. "I won't let you."

Moving at the speed of her ambition, they advanced until a divide in the branch made it too thin, then back to the trunk in a slow and careful dance. 

Robin looked to her with pride. "See? It's easy."

Her brow lifted at him in amusement. "We're only a few feet off the ground."

He shrugged. "It works the same no matter how high you go."

She glanced at the treetops and shook her head. "I'm not going that high."

With a poised step, he dropped from the tree and bounced to the ground once more, still holding her hand. He tossed a sidelong smile up to her. "Then I guess I'm staying on the ground too."

She hopped down to join him, letting him catch her under the armpits to slow her fall. Standing nose to nose with him made her blush a little. 

His ears flicked shyly down as he broke eye contact for a moment. But then he regained his nerve, flashed amiable fangs at her, and tilted his head in the direction of the deep woods. "C'mon. It's not that much further."

With all the poise of a highborn lady at a regal ball, she turned and took his arm. "You are very kind to escort me, dear Robin."

His tail bushed out, but he made no move to pull away. He cast her a little smile, the composure falling from his tone. "S-sure."

A sparkle of joy fizzled through her, springing her steps and lifting her chin. "You understand I'll have to keep hold of you to stop you flying back up into the trees."

Regaining his cheeky bearing, he imitated her formal speech. "Very good of you." 

She walked at his side as they ventured deeper into the forest. It still seemed trackless to her, but her companion walked as if through a familiar neighborhood. He knew which rocks wouldn't wobble in the creeks and where game trails led. His black-tipped ears swiveled to catch the sounds of songbirds. Even just a short stitch of notes proved enough for him to identify them. He introduced her to the singers by name. Chiffchaff. Blackbird. White Wagtail. Chaffinch. Goldfinch. 

The pair trooped through the underbrush, hopped glimmering streams, and picked their way up scraggly slopes. Well into the woods, Marian crested a rise and looked back, only to realize she could no longer see even the towers of the castle. "Are we getting close?"

"Maybe halfway." Without breaking stride, he reached into a hollow stump and grabbed out a quiver and bow.

She tittered at his sudden production of shooting gear. "Aren't you scared you'll lose your bow that way?"

He shrugged into the quiver. "I remember where I leave it."

The young vixen surveyed the timbers surrounding her. "I don't think I could. The trees all look the same to me."

Robin nodded. A few steps later, he broke his brief silence. "Wanna know a secret?"

Without hesitation, she squeezed his arm. "Always."

"The trees are different shapes." He nodded in acquaintance to a hazel as they passed. "So I make them into signposts in my mind. It helps."

Marian took this notion in, then tried to see the myriad signposts ahead of them as any sort of guide to the woodland ahead. Not for the first time, she remarked to herself that being a forester took a considerable honing of the brain, on par with anything she'd encountered in her studies. One never knew what curiosity Robin would produce next. On that front, she peeked over his shoulder and into his quiver. "Is that your whistling arrow?"

"Yeah." He shuffled in hesitation, then pulled the arrow free. "It's not good yet."

Her tail dusted down his. "You're no longer tying an entire flute to it?"

"I'm not." His pink tongue poked out at her. He reached back and flicked the shaft in question into his palm, then held it out for her inspection. "That makes it fly crooked."

She looked it over. The quite conventional arrow had a second rod lashed to it, which featured carefully-carved lumps and holes. "You carved a smaller whistle."

He nodded. "It isn't very loud." With a single easy sweep, he flung the bow down his arm, nocked the arrow, and shot it forward. It screeched like a maniacal songbird, then wedged into a tree and vibrated, dead center.

She crossed her arms and stifled a laugh. "It also sounds a bit…high."

A sigh heaved his thin chest. "I can't make it bigger or it flies even worse." As they walked past the tree, he yanked the volley free and handed it over.

The young vixen turned the arrow over in her paws. "Why does it need an arrowhead?"

His brow bunched up in thought as he watched her examine his handiwork. After a spell, he scratched the scruff of his neck and shrugged. "To stick into trees and dirt, I guess." 

Her smiling muzzle dipped. She swished the arrow like a tutor's pointing stick. "If it didn't have one, you could put the whistle on the front."

Eyes narrowed, he stroked his chin: a gesture she'd seen his father do when discussing the woodland needs of the castle. "Maybe. Arrows are hard to find when they're flat on the ground, though."

Her gaze on him, she twirled the feathers against her chin. "Perhaps you could give it ostentatious fletching."

His whiskers sprung out with a grin at the ornate word. "That's a good idea."

The girl nodded and placed the arrow back into his hands. "It looks to me like it's flying straight."

"It just looks like that. I'm aiming left." Robin nocked the arrow again and aimed at a large tree, perhaps twenty yards out. "Stand behind me and see." 

She slipped behind him to peer around his cheek ruff. Perhaps he had it a few degrees off. Even with one eye closed, she had trouble finding an angle that aligned string, bow, and tree.

He pulled the arrow back and leveled it with a steady breath. A quiet moment passed, marked by the quiet rustle of greenery. The bow twanged, its missile shrieking like an offended piper before it bit into the large yew. He turned to her. "See?"

"Not really." As they walked to the target, she dusted some dirt from the tip of her tail. "But I believe you."

An exaggerated sweep of his hand illustrated the motion. "It curved because of the whistle."

As they trod on, Marian crossed her arms. "How come you never miss?"

"I missed just now." His ears rose at her. They reached the tree. After pulling free the arrow, he pointed to a spot an inch to the right of where it had stuck. "I was aiming for this light spot on the bark."

Her finger rose to cover a giggle. "You're joking."

"I'm not." Sounding a tinge bashful, he stashed the shaft in his quiver. "It's like how you always win at wrestling."

A smile found her lips as she thought of all the times she'd pinned him. House Hermeline, while hardly renowned for its martial prowess, had long trained its children in the basics of unarmed combat. A surprise counterattack from a fox thought helpless had proved the undoing of many assailants, according to family lore. "That's because I had lessons."

"I get lessons from my family." Leading on, he slung his bow back onto his shoulder. "I just don't have to study a hundred things in a day."

"I suppose that makes sense." She hopped over a fallen log. Perhaps if she didn't have to memorize the family lines of every noble house in Europe, she could swim like a fish.

Robin ducked through a near-invisible hole in a long-forgotten hedgerow. She followed. On the other side, they came to a massive tangle of bramble. It had overtaken a dozen large trees and a tumbledown cottage, swathing them in vines. Standing beside with his tail flicking, he pointed at the overgrowth, which looked to be the vegetative equivalent of a fiendishly sabotaged knitting basket. "We're here!"

She looked the thicket up and down, but found the fruits sparse and pale. "I don't see many berries." 

"Birds eat the ones on the outside first." He pulled free his bow and used it to sweep aside a curtain of prickly vines. His free hand presented the gap with a flourish as he gave a neat little bow. "We've gotta go inside."

Avoiding the draped foliage, she ducked in. Viewing the thicket from within, sunlight set countless leaves aglow, like a green-hued sky. Floating against this firmament, thousands of blackberries shone, dark storm clouds brimming with juice.

Marian plucked one from the vine with dainty claws. It broke free easily, as if ripe to the point of impatience. She popped it into her mouth. The berry burst in a spray of rich sweetness. Her ears popped up in delight as she turned to Robin.

The boy smirked with pride, in between shoving berries into his own muzzle.

After a dozen berries, the young vixen paused. "We should've brought the baskets."

"I didn't know about the baskets." Shedding his gear, he untied an empty canvas bag from around his quiver and offered it to her. "I brought a sack, though."

"These berries are very ripe." With ladylike consideration, she bit into another berry. Then juice started running onto her fingers, so she had to pop the rest of it into her mouth posthaste. "Putting them in a sack is liable to squash them."

With a sassy lash of his tail, he tossed a berry and snapped it up mid-air. "Then we'll have to eat them here."

With considerable merriment, Marian and Robin ate an extraordinary number of berries. Nestled in a world of greenery and laughter, the young noble fox envied her friend his freedom. He could live like this every day. Nottingham Castle stood so stuffed with responsibilities, it was a wonder it didn't burst like an overfilled tart. Her family's Castle Millepertuis held perhaps fewer responsibilities, though more traps. Neither balanced well against a thicket of ripe blackberries.

Two fox kits seated themselves on the earth and chattered about the excellence of their venture, the beauty of the day, and every topic that breezed by. They lay back on the grass and watched the glimpses of sky here and there amid the ripple of foliage. Finding no better pillow, Marian rested her chin on her companion's scrawny chest. The young tod stammered in his musings on who in Nottingham possessed the most inflated view of themselves. 

Complaining of an arm going numb, Robin slipped it around her shoulders. In another context, she'd have teased him about it, but her best friend hugging her added to her contentment in this sweet and somewhat berry-stained moment. He held her softly, still yapping about matters great and mundane. 

In the leaf-filtered sunshine, she felt wholly safe. She closed her eyes for a moment.

~ ~ ~

Precisely one moment later, her eyes opened on evening. 

Marian's ears sprung up. The rest of her followed an instant later. Her gaze dropped to Robin, who sprawled on the grass, comfortable and wide-eyed. "I dozed off, didn't I?"

He gave her a shy nod. "I didn't wanna wake you." His tone held neither subterfuge nor irreverence, only bashful care. 

Not for the first time, her vulpine mind studied this flicker of modesty from her friend. How could he be the very epitome of cheek all the long day, but forget to be a scoundrel with her? She found herself smiling at him. 

The tod squirmed and dipped his ears. "What?"

"Nothing." Standing, she extended a hand to him. "We should start back."

Robin took her paw and let her pull him to his feet. Together, they exited the thicket and made their way back into the wider wood.

~ ~ ~

Laughing muzzles stained with blackberry juice, Marian and Robin scampered through Sherwood. As they slipped through Nottingham, the sun lingered at the treetops, casting long shadows toward town. Tired legs had carried them up the castle hill. They'd lost track of time, but with a little luck she could slip back into her room and clean up in time for dinner. They scampered through the outermost gate and hurried toward the lower courtyard.

Movement swept in from just beyond the interior gatehouse. In a streak of rust-red. Two adult foxes hustled across the lower courtyard. Their rough-spun clothes and hurried pace marked them as Robin's parents, not hers. Hers would've stood and waited for her to approach.

Robin looked to her with a pained squint, as if watching a hedgehog trip backward onto him. His head tipped back at the front gate.

She shook her head and took a deep breath.

Heart drumming faster than a ferret folk dance, Marian attempted to intercept them. The pair of adult foxes bypassed her without breaking stride. Wrenna and Roland Hood flanked their son from both fronts. His father's black-furred hand shot forth, seized him by the scruff, and shook hard. 

"Ah!" The boy flailed, his feet kicking off the ground before bouncing back onto it.

"Reynard!" The elder vulpine shook a black-furred fist an inch from the boy's snout. "I may just thrash the red from your pelt! What were you thinking?"

The boy sputtered. "We were just climbing trees!"

"And eating berries!" Marian piped up, then realized their purple muzzles probably made that apparent. "It's my fault. I had Robin take me there. You know he wouldn't make me go anywhere."

Ignoring her, Robin's father gave him a vigorous shake by the scruff, then held him steady with a finger pointed straight at his chest. "We serve at the pleasure of the lords. We do not give them trouble. We do not put them in danger."

"I kept her safe!" Fists down at his sides, Robin looked his father straight in the eyes. "I gave her my word!"

His father's fist dropped. He looked to his wife, at his wit's end. 

With ears pinned back, Wrenna Hood crossed her arms. "You can't promise things beyond your power." 

Eyes teary, the young tod struggled to mend the cracks in his voice. "It's just the woods."

Marian became aware of tears soaking into her cheek fur. Seeing Robin cry always made her cry. She struggled for words, but couldn't think of anything to right the situation. She tried to put herself in the older foxes' position. Why would they be this worried about her safety, even after they returned safe?

The older vixen's tail lashed. "You can't protect her from the whole world."

His mouth flew open, but his eyes caught Marian shaking her head. His muzzle clicked shut, then opened with a more measured tone. "She's safe, though."

"I am!" Marian gestured at her own ongoing existence. Why weren't they listening to her? "Perfectly fine."

"And that's lucky." Roland Hood closed his eyes to stifle a growl, then opened them narrowly on his son. "Do you know what would happen to us if you'd gotten her hurt? Or killed? If she knocked her head on a rock and died?"

The scrawny fox squirmed. "No…"

The elder tod held his son steady, as if to keep him from evading the uncomfortable truth. "We'd lose our position, our home, and that's at the very least." 

The clues aligned in Marian's mind. Danger hadn't passed for the Hoods. Even after her safe return, they could be expelled from the position their family relied on. Guilt gripped her heart. She'd been prepared to risk trouble for herself. A chiding by Scarlet. Being assigned additional lessons, perhaps. But realizing that a whole family might suffer because she'd skipped out on her studies filled her with dread. Her tail curled around her shins as she tried to think of a way to fix her mess. Every thought had to swim upstream against a river of guilt.

Robin's voice quieted, as he struggled against renewed tears. "You said I could play with friends and go out in the woods once I was done with my chores."

"Lad, if giving you free run had this result, you won't see a break from chores for a year." He started dragging Robin in the direction of the keep. "And you're going to beg Lord and Lady Hermeline's pardon until the gods blush."

With quiet grace and a rustle of silk, Princess Adelaide appeared beside Marian. Smaller than Robin's parents, the royal ermine stood tall: marble-white as a temple statue, composed as a sacred hymn. "That shan't be necessary, Mister Hood." She settled a paw on the young vixen's shoulder. "As Marian is my charge, the Hermelines have consented to send me as their envoy."

Every hair on the foxes' bodies sprang to attention. 

"My lady!" The two elder foxes bent like trees in a storm. Still not releasing the boy's scruff, Roland Hood dragged Robin into the bow. 

"Please rise, loyal foxes." The ermine stood only a few inches taller than the kits, though her posture made her feel like a giant. She produced a neat coil of rope, tied with a fine purple ribbon. "I chanced to come into possession of your property. I thought it best to return it without delay, so as to avoid any impression of misappropriation."

Mister Hood accepted the bundle of cord with humble confusion, then a sharp glance at his offspring.

With supple elegance, Princess Adelaide turned to face the kits before the adults could respond. "Maid Marian, I trust you are well." Her brow rose ever so slightly. 

The young vixen scrubbed at the purple she knew still stained her muzzle. "Yes, my lady."

"Excellent." The Princess's muzzle bobbed, like a ship on cool seas. "I would not savor the notion of having misplaced my lady-in-waiting permanently."

"We're terribly sorry for all this fuss, my lady." The vixen bowed again, hands clasped at her breast.

"My boy is already seeing the error of his ways. He's a good lad, just young and headstrong." Roland forced a smile across his fangs and shook his son by the scruff for emphasis. "I'll see he doesn't have the time to make such trouble again. I—"

The ermine's paw rose like a gentle snowdrift. "Mister Hood, Mistress Hood, I have an alternative tactic, if you are of a mind to hear me out."

The rust-furred vixen glanced to her husband, then back to the Princess. "Of course, my lady."

Ears straight up, Roland released his grip on Robin, who staggered a step forward before regaining his balance.

"Thank you, loyal woodsman." With the grace of a swaying willow, Adelaide folded her hands and addressed the small fox. "Master Robin, I hear you are a man of your word." 

Rubbing the nape of his neck, the skinny fox nodded. He looked up at the Princess with a tinge of deference: far less than protocol required, but a considerable gesture by Robin's standards. His green eyes caught the evening light as he studied the ermine.

"And you are a clever soul, as evidenced by you slipping into my mother's castle like an errant breeze. So, let us come to a bargain." She studied him. Sunset glimmered on the small silver antlers of her coronet. "What will it take for you to not bother Marian anymore?"

Robin looked at her askance, first one ear rising, then the other. "What?"

"You have distracted her from her studies too many times." The Princess traced fingertips in the direction of the small vixen. "I need you to stop talking to her, but I do not expect you to do it without recompense."

His gaze narrowed. That scrawny tail lashed as he crossed his arms. His tone remained careful, however. "Is this a trick?"

Wrenna Hood's arms shot to either side. "Robin!"

Acknowledging the exclamation with a mild turn of her hand, the snowy ermine continued with easy calm, her eyes never leaving the small fox in front of her. "No tricks. No punishments. Just name your price for letting her be from this day onward."

His father reached an unsteady hand into the situation. "My lady, it's hardly necessary to bribe the boy—"

With gentle diplomacy, her ladyship tipped her glance at the woodsman. "Mister Hood, you shall have to forgive us, but we are in the midst of a negotiation."

The older fox bowed again. "Yes, my lady."

"So…" The Princess's delicate pink fingers spread, as if offering all the world's treasures to the boy. "What is your price, Master Robin? Sweets? Coppers? The smartest hat in Nottinghamshire? Surely there is something you want."

Disregarding the ermine entirely, Robin leaned to look at Marian with vague disgust at the situation. 

Marian's stomach churned. Princess Adelaide had given him a way to save face, but she was still going to forbid him from ever seeing her. If only she'd refused to go out in the woods. All this for some berries.

"Do tell me, young fox." Not even attempting to block him from looking at her, the Princess continued to look down at Robin. "What do you want most in the world?"

Robin's ears pricked, as if reminded of the ongoing conversation. His muzzle swung to face the Princess's head-on. He fixed his mouth to a stubborn line. His scrawny form braced with defiance, as if welcoming a blow. "I want Marian and me to still be friends."

Marian had played enough chess to spot a pawn moving itself in front of a queen. Defying royalty wasn't a winning move. Robin's boldness was going to cost him the offer and earn him a beating. And he'd still not be allowed to see her again. 

Mister Hood stood, wide-eyed, and engaged a running battle with his own hand, which attempted various gestures of intercession. 

Mistress Hood pinched the bridge of her nose with a groan of dread. Her ears pinned back in despair. 

Without a trace of anger, the ermine straightened. She glanced to the young vixen with a swish of her white tail. "You choose your friends very well, Maid Marian."

After a moment to absorb the turn in the conversation, Robin puffed up with pride.

With a blink, Marian looked her superior over. The girl muddled through the fog of surprise and found the presence of mind for a deferent dip of her head. Her parents would never approve of such an indulgence, but they'd already consented to royal judgment. The older Hoods, having sense far more developed than their son, could be relied on to accept a bit of regal mercy. 

Adelaide's gaze drifted back to the boy. "I should, however, like to have him not plummet off the castle walls." She lifted an elegant hand to the keep. "To that end, Master Robin will henceforth strive for more conventional ingress and egress." Her calm gaze turned to Marian with cool confidence. "And he will join you in learning Latin."

The boy's tail dropped as he looked on in horror. "What?" 

"I did say I need her attention on her studies." Princess Adelaide showed no reaction to Robin's outburst. "As you two are entirely impossible to separate, the only reasonable solution is for you to join her lessons."

He flung his arms wide. "But I can barely read English!"

"Then you shall have to study doubly hard." The barest hint of amusement tilted the ermine's whiskers. In the corner of her eye, she located her lady-in-waiting. "I trust Marian will find time to tutor you."

Giddy at this turnabout, the young vixen beamed. Not only would Robin not be banished from her life, but she would get to see more of him. Even better, the Princess approved of her doing so. "Yes, my lady." 

With regal patience, Adelaide turned to address the boy's parents. "And I trust the Hoods find this punishment fair?"

"More than fair, my lady." Robin's mother curtsied with exhausted relief. 

The woodsman bowed. "Thank you, my lady." He cast a sharp glance at his son.

Robin bowed without any physical encouragement, tail tucked, ears down. Locking eyes with Marian, he let out a quiet sigh. A flicker of relief started in his gaze and spread through his posture. A faint strain of conflict remained on his muzzle: frank talk to a future monarch rattled him not quite as much as the looming spectre of classical studies.

The girl shone her joy his way. Her tail bounced like a shuttlecock. The motion soon transmitted itself to his tail, which flung itself back and forth in turn. She resolved to study just how the Princess had taken the helm of the conversation and sailed it to a solution that satisfied all sides. Even more so, she wished to talk to Robin about it, though that would have to wait until the situation's iron had cooled.

Princess Adelaide straightened her posture and adjusted her crown with the faintest touch. "Very good. If there is no further justice to be meted out here, I shall return to my other obligations." She nodded to the common foxes, then to the noble vixen. "Maid Marian, if you would be so good as to attend me." In a swirl of composure and silk, she glided into the courtyard. 

Marian attempted to glide after her. After a polite distance grew between themselves and the Hoods, she cleared her throat. "So my parents weren't cross?"

The ermine inclined her head, looking all the more like a marble statue brought to life. "The Lord and Lady Hermeline's annoyance was considerable, but diluted when I informed them you had left me a note." She lifted an eyebrow at the younger noble. "In her haste to report your disappearance, Mistress Scarlet neglected to read your tablet, which contributed to the unrest."

The girl nodded and folded her hands before her. "What will you do now?" 

"I had resolved to spend the evening ascertaining your location." Adelaide looked forward, toward the castle proper and its towers and duties. "As that is no longer needed, I shall retire to my chambers to restore myself through painting." 

"Is there anything I can do?" Marian tried to match her stride to the mustelid's. "I can mix the paints or clean the brushes or…"

The Princess peered down at her. "Are you not eager to reunite with your parents?"

"I am…" She glanced to her parents' chambers, half expecting to see them glaring at her through a window. "Just not until they've cooled down."

"Very well." Her pink fingers steepled with patience. "I should like if you would report to me at your convenience, Maid Marian."

The small noble nodded. "I can go with you now, my lady."

Those pink fingers interlaced with smooth reserve and settled into a comfortable height just below her modest breast. "Your devotion is appreciated, young Hermeline. However, I should take it as a boon if you would first devote a moment to your own upkeep." Her fine-boned muzzle dipped as she looked the fox up and down. "In your present state, I fear the castle staff would assume I was using you as a paint palette."

The girl looked down at her clothes, noting the ink, mud, blackberry, and grass stains. A shy chuckle left her muzzle as she realized how unkempt she must have appeared to the Hoods and anyone else who had seen. One gave little thought to appearances in Robin's company. She gave a curtsy with her bedraggled dress. "Yes, my lady."

~ ~ ~

Scrubbed clean of most traces of her woodland adventure, Marian hurried into the great tower and up to the Princess's chambers. Servants gave her glances ranging from amusement to annoyance, which she returned with what she hoped was a suitably humble smile. Her heart had stopped racing, but her nerves still buzzed with residual excitement. Standing at the threshold, she knocked at the open door.

A bright yellow flower lay on a silver tray. Its thin petals radiated out like the spokes of a wagon wheel. Princess Adelaide dabbed paint onto a minuscule brush. With tiny strokes, she rendered a meticulous copy of the plant on a wooden slat. "Do come in, Marian."

The young vixen slipped inside and shut the door after her. It closed with a reassuring muffling of any noise outside. For all the keep's centuries on this hill, it could still hold a private conversation contained. 

Seated on a cushioned wooden stool, the ermine gave a subtle nod at the subject of her painting. "Have your studies enabled you to identify this flower?"

Tilting her head, she studied the blossom. Her studies, while varied, had not focused as much attention on wild botany as tamed agriculture. "Umm… Is it a buttercup, my lady?"

The Princess gave a subtle nod, touching brush to picture. "It is the lesser celandine." Her eyes did not leave her work. "Do you find that name suits it?"

"Celandine…celidonia? In Latin, that means swallow." Standing on her toes, Marian peered at the flower. "It doesn't look much like a bird, my lady."

"Indeed not." Leaning back with perfect ease, she considered the thick slat of wood. "Its bloom is associated with the swallow's arrival."

"I see."

"The true nature of the world is not always obvious." A slow and certain brushstroke traced across the wooden slat. "But, through careful study, it can be made known to us."

"Like how you studied Robin?" The words flew from her muzzle before she realized they sounded presumptuous. "My lady."

"Very good, Marian." Her white ears twitched, registering faint surprise. "We all have our place in this world. And, when we find it, we flourish." The brush clinked in a cup of water, scattering waves of yellow through it. "Your companion may not be suited to the life of a woodsman. It is possible he would be better served as a butler, given his comfort around nobility. Or perhaps a herald, given his indifference to castle walls in his path."

Marian imagined Robin stuffed into a tabard and carrying scrolls. "Perhaps so, my lady."

The Princess applied some green paint to her brush. "I would be curious what you learned of his nature today."

"I… I'm not sure, my lady." The kit shrugged. "He seems like the same boy I knew yesterday."

"A fair response." Her white tail rippled against the chair. "I, through our negotiation, ascertained his fondness for you is genuine."

A blush flared under the girl's cheek ruffs. It was one thing to tease Robin about liking her, but quite another to have her mistress mention that affection so plainly.

"Loyalty is a rare flower. It is important we cultivate it where we can." With perfect posture, Adelaide set down the brush and leaned back to contemplate her work. "Did you have a particular matter you wished to discuss?"

Summoning her feelings up into words, she bundled them together for presentation to the Princess. "I wanted to thank you, my lady."

"Indeed?" Her serene gaze settled on the fox. "I should very much like to hear what I have done to earn your gratitude."

Marian nodded, still amazed the situation had turned out in her and her friend's favor. "Everyone wanted to punish Robin, but you stopped them."

"Did I?" The ermine stroked her chin, but, with effortless care, avoided painting her white fur. "We shall have to inquire with him after a month of study and obtain his opinion on whether he has been punished."

"Yes, my lady." She giggled. Poor Robin. Smart as he was, she couldn't imagine him sitting still long enough to enjoy reading. "Still, you were very generous."

The Princess's delicate ears rose. "I am able to dispense due generosity all too rarely. I doubt even ascending to the throne shall grant me sufficient opportunities." Her dark eyes turned in the direction of the adjoining chambers. "Tell me: What does your handmaid think of her new student?"

In spite of her sincerity, Marian stifled a giggle. "Scarlet made quite a face when she heard."

"Did she?" The ermine steepled her fingers. "Alas, that cannot be helped."

"I'm very grateful." The younger noble curtsied. She'd gotten out of the habit of doing so in private with the Princess, given the lady's tolerant attitude, though the present situation more than merited it.

"It was quite impossible for me to take any other course." A cool calm radiated from the ermine. "I agreed to have you trained as my lady-in-waiting not only because you have the wits of a Hermeline, but because you have a heart. I should like to avoid breaking it."

Marian issued a tiny peep of gratitude. "It's an honor to serve you, my lady."

"And it is my honor to have one such as you attend me." A slow nod dipped her triangular muzzle. "I demand much of you, so I must give back as well."

"You didn't have to give me anything, my lady." Unsure what to do with her hands, Marian gripped the sides of her dress. "I would have stayed by your side in any case."

"Sweet, selfless Marian." A hint of fond warmth entered her tone. "Take this as a lesson. One cannot take from one's underlings without regard forever. Sooner or later, there must be a reckoning. I prefer my reckonings to appear in a time and manner of my choosing." With unhurried grace, her hands settled upon her lap. "One such reckoning was today. And it was a bargain all parties found agreeable. Such bargains are to be sought, if one desires to prosper in my position."

"But what about duty?" The girl lifted her hands. "My house swore to serve the Crown. That's the whole reason I'm here."

"The only duty we are born into is to aid one another. The world looms great and uncaring, so we small creatures must care for our fellows. However, the more duty you require of others, the more you must give them in return. Honors, riches, purpose, hope: many are the currencies with which we can repay our debts. But repay them we must." She straightened, the band of gold on her head catching the dusk rays. "Even the Crown, itself a great reservoir of duty, could be run dry if mismanaged."

The fox nodded, working through the idea. 

"Many look upon power and see only privilege. In truth, power is always a loan, one that can be recalled at any time. And, as you aptly demonstrated today, our high towers can isolate us, making our task all the more difficult." Princess Adelaide glanced out the window as the sun set through the boughs of Sherwood. "I know one's station can be lonely. But we nobles are sentinels. We watch for danger to our domains and cannot permit ourselves undue distractions."

Marian snickered. "Won't Robin distract me more?" Catching herself, she straightened. Best not to give the Princess reason to reconsider her mercy.

"I doubt Master Robin being present in your lessons will prove any greater distraction than he already does. And barring him from the castle, assuming such a measure is even possible, would only set your mind wandering after him." Her delicate white hand lifted the brush and began touching hints of dusk purple to the painted flower's leaves. "If I need your attention on your studies and your attention is fixed on him, he will simply have to study beside you." 

With a bounce, the young vixen folded her hands in front of herself. "I'll work even harder. And help him too."

Adelaide looked to her with the softest trace of a smile. "I know you will."