Crow reached over his shoulder to grab another arrow, but his fingers brushed only air. He had emptied his quiver. He lowered his bow, breathing heavily from the exertion of loosing so many arrows. His arm ached, but he welcomed the pain because it distracted him from thinking about Penelope. He glanced towards the side of the forest where she and William were still out talking somewhere, hoping they would come back soon so he could finally know what had happened.

Intent on focusing on something else, he turned to look at the tree he had been shooting at. The trunk was riddled with arrows at varying heights and depths. Setting down his weapon, he stepped forward and began collecting all of the arrows to return them to the quiver. He gripped the first one by the shaft and pulled hard until it came loose from the tree. These arrows had penetrated the target deeper than the other times he had practiced, though he wasn’t sure if it was because he was getting better with the bow or he was merely fueled by his frustration.

He continued gathering them until all of the arrows had been returned to the quiver. However, just as he was putting the last one away, he heard the sound of a twig snapping just outside of the clearing. Heart racing with nervous excitement, he looked up to see that Penelope had come back. And she was alone.

Without thinking, he dropped the quiver of arrows and hurried over to her, wrapping his arms around her and pressing a kiss to her lips. He pulled back to meet her gaze and noticed that she seemed upset. [i]That’s not good,[/i] he frowned, brushing her hair out of her face. “Are you okay?” he asked her concernedly. “What did he say to you?”