Rowan Hood Returns Read Online Free PDF Page B

her next step, then her next, then her next, she plodded on. If it had been just her legs that hurt—but it was more. Every inward fiber of her ached. Mother. Dead. While those who had killed her still lived. And it was even more than that. There’s something wrong with me. Rowan’s heart felt like a black hollow of misery.
    Her toe caught on—nothing at all, nothing but flat grassy ground—and she fell sprawling, facedown, her breath knocked out.
    Biting her lip to keep from crying like an overgrown baby, Rowan lay still for a moment too long. Before she could struggle to her feet, strong arms lifted her up, but did not set her on her feet. The big lummox was carrying her again.
    â€œLionel,” ordered Rowan wearily, “put me down.”
    Without a word he strode onward, cradling her in his arms. Without a word Rook trotted by Lionel’s left elbow, and Etty by his right. Tykell swished away into the brush on some errand of his own.
    â€œI can walk,” Rowan insisted.
    â€œBut I beg to differ. It’s quite evident that you can’t,” said Lionel with none of his usual petulance. His low voice sounded almost grim. “What’s wrong, Rowan?”
    â€œI ...” She had to close her eyes. “I don’t know.”
    â€œBut you must have some idea,” he said, annoying as usual again, “my dear little girl—”
    A blaze of anger jolted Rowan with welcome strength. She squirmed, trying to free herself from Lionel’s arms; he was forced to slow down a bit to keep hold of her. “If you ever call me ‘dear little girl’ again,” she told him between clenched teeth, “I will shave every curly hair off your parlous fat head with Etty’s sword.”
    With an odd catch in his voice, Lionel told her, “May that day come soon. My dear little girl.”
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    Rowan lost track of the passing of time. Joggling along in Lionel’s giant grip made her feel dizzy. She closed her eyes again and kept them closed. Perhaps she slept. When she opened her eyes again and looked around, day had moved on toward late afternoon, and Rowan recognized the familiar slope down which Lionel was carrying her. They were entering the hollow folk called Robin Hood’s Dell.
    â€œWhat are we going here for?” Rowan demanded.
    â€œFor my hands to cramp and my arms to ache from hauling you,” Lionel retorted in his best babyish whine, although he strode along as easily as ever.
    â€œNo, I mean, why here?” This time it was strength of panic that helped Rowan wriggle in his grip, almost sitting up straight.
    â€œHold still,” Lionel complained. “What are you trying to do, pull my shoulders entirely out of their sockets?”
    Etty’s voice floated to Rowan. “We’re going here to meet Beau, Ro. So that she could hide Dove entirely, do you see? Very clever—”
    But Rowan barely heard, struggling wildly against Lionel’s grip. “Put me down!”
    â€œBut, my dear Rowan—” Lionel sounded not peevish at all, only puzzled. And upset.
    The big, stupid oaf. Rowan flared at him, “What if my father is here?” At the bottom of this hollow, in a clearing created by its own great expanse of branches, stood Robin Hood’s giant oak tree. His favorite hideout. If he had happened to choose to spend this night here ... “I don’t want him to see me like this! Put me down!”
    Oddly silent now, Lionel stopped and set her on her feet. Feeling a bit light-headed—perhaps because she hadn’t eaten today, Rowan told herself—she stood blinking for a moment. But she saw the troubled looks Etty and Rook and Lionel exchanged.
    Rook, straightforward as usual, spoke. “Wouldn’t you know if Robin were here?”
    â€œI—” Rowan shook her head, turned away. “Just let me alone,” she mumbled, stumbling downhill toward the clearing.
    Please,