"Quit touching it; it hurts!" Morgan complained, pulling away from Djaq. Djaq rolled her eyes, shooting a look at Little John, who promptly held the squirming blacksmith down.

"Oy, come on! Is this really necessary?" she asked, writhing under John's hold.

"Hold still, Morgan. It has to come out!" Djaq commanded. The tone was sharp enough that Morgan stopped moving, containing her obvious discontent to whispered grumbles. Will stood off a few feet, wincing, sympathizing with Morgan. As wounds went, this one looked especially uncomfortable.

"Is she going to be alright?" Robin asked, walking up behind Will. The carpenter nodded.

"Djaq said the wound isn't serious. They're having more trouble getting Morgan to sit still," he reported. Robin had expected as much, tapping Much on the shoulder.

"Can you talk to her?" he asked. Much looked at Robin as if he had suddenly sprouted a third arm.

"Me?" he asked. "Why?"

"You think I'm going over there while she's like that?" Robin jerked his head to where Morgan had resumed her quest to escape Little John, thrashing about on the table. Much sighed.

"Why don't you talk to her? It's your fault in the first place!" Much pointed out. Robin cleared his throat.

"That is why I can not talk to her. She's surely upset with me," he reasoned, giving Much his best pleading look. Much sighed.

"You are lucky that I love you," he muttered, taking a deep breath and walking over to the table. He sat down in front of Morgan, mustering a polite smile. "Everything alright?" As soon as he'd finished speaking, he realized that the question was not wholly appropriate.

"Are you daft?" Morgan asked incredulously. "Of course I'm not alright! If you didn't notice, there is a bleeding arrow sticking out of me!" Much stood slightly, re-examining her injury. There was indeed an arrow sticking out of Morgan. Much sat back down for a moment.

"Right," he nodded. "I give up. Your turn, Robin!" he announced, standing back up and leaving the table. Robin watched as Much walked out of the camp.

"Morgan, you are my friend, but if you don't lie still, I will make John sit on you," Djaq threatened. Morgan sighed, trying to compose herself. It wasn't that she hadn't been injured before, as a blacksmith, minor injuries were part of the job. She'd just never been shot before.

"Someone talk to her. She needs to be distracted while I take the arrow out," Djaq instructed, gently pulling the arrow. Morgan howled in protest.

"Oy! That really hurts!" Robin looked to Will, who simply shook his head, backing up a step.

"Sorry, Robin, but Much was right. It was your fault," he said quietly. Robin sighed, walking over to the table and sitting in front of Morgan.

"Hello, Morgan," he said. Apparently spurred by the sight of Robin, Morgan managed to buck Little John off long enough to free her arms, grabbing Robin by the shoulder and giving him a vicious shake.

"Don't 'Hello, Morgan' me!" she snapped angrily, "This is all your fault!" Little John pulled Morgan's arms back, allowing Robin to move out of her reach should she get loose again.

"I swear, I didn't mean to," he began to explain, "The deer moved!" Morgan glared at him, but calmed back down, accepting his apology. He decided that it was probably best to get out while he still could, following the path that Much had taken out of the camp.


He walked all the way to the Great North Road, Morgan's vocal complaints following him most of the way. He shook his head. He hadn't missed a shot in such a long time that it was jarring to him.

He hadn't just missed the deer, he'd shot Morgan. True, she was going to be fine, if she'd just be still long enough for Djaq to get the arrow out, but Robin couldn't help but feel embarrassed.


"Morgan, stop being stubborn!" Djaq snapped, stamping her foot on the ground. "You're going to hurt yourself!" Will couldn't help but chuckle to himself. Djaq had turned to grab a wet rag, leaving Morgan alone with Little John for less than a minute. In that amount of time, Morgan had somehow slipped off of the table, run out of the camp, and climbed the nearest tree. Like a squirrel, Will thought.

He was concerned, though. She did have an arrow stuck in her, and even if it wasn't a serious wound, it could become one if she left the arrow in. Morgan shook her head, clinging to the tree.

"I'll not come down!" she flatly refused. Djaq did not understand her friend. Morgan was the type to rush into battle, or anything for that matter, without thinking about herself. Just the other week, she'd stepped in front of Little John and gotten a sword in the arm. Compared to that, this wound was nothing. Djaq winced. Well, it was nothing, but it was certainly less severe. The girl was just being unreasonable.

"What is she doing?" Little John asked. Morgan carefully walked onto the branch, moving until she hit a spot where it had become entangled with the branch of another tree. She tested the new branch and walked onto it, working her way from tree to tree. Will laughed. Like a squirrel.


Morgan kept moving until she could see the edge of the forest. She climbed down from the tree she was in, running as soon as she hit the forest floor. She was going to Locksley. She went around, sneaking into the village, hiding behind cottages until she reached Allan's. He was home, taking a nap. Morgan thanked God that it was a Sunday and crept in through the window.

"Allan," she whispered, giving him a nudge. His eyes snapped as he sat up. He looked sleepily at Morgan.

"What are you doing?" he asked, concerned. "It's the middle of the day!"

"Robin shot me," she explained, "And Djaq was trying to get the arrow out, only it hurts."

"Robin did what?" There was an angry edge to Allan's voice, but Morgan dove into further explanation.

"He was trying to shoot a deer, and it moved. That's not the point," she mumbled. Allan looked her over. She looked fine.

"Where did he shoot you?" he asked. Morgan sighed.

"Don't laugh," she muttered, turning around. Despite her warning, Allan cracked up. "Don't laugh, Allan! Didn't I just say that?" Taking in Morgan's agitated tone, Allan suppressed his laughter.

"It's okay, Morgan. Plenty of people have been shot before," he tried to be encouraging, but he couldn't resist a small joke, "Just never in the bum." Before Morgan could turn and yell at him, he gripped the arrow in his hand and tugged it, pulling it out. Knowing Djaq, Allan guessed that she had tried to explain to Morgan what she was going to do, which in turn caused Morgan to panic. It was simply solved. No waiting around, no time to panic.

Morgan clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling her cry of pain. Allan stood, tossing the arrow to the side. He grabbed a clean piece of cloth from beside his wash basin, pointing at his bed.

"Lay down. We need to clean the wound out, or you'll get an infection." His voice left no room for questions. Morgan laid down, grumbling under her breath, moving her trousers down just enough to expose the wound. Allan cleaned and bandaged the injury.

"Thank you, Allan," Morgan muttered, pulling her trousers back up, completely red in the face.

"No problem. You want me to kiss it better?" he responded, giving his trademark grin, taking the elbow to the chest in stride.


The end! I randomly wrote this at some bizzare hour of the early morning. It's not mean to make any sense; it's mostly an excuse for me to write an Allan/Morgan moment. XD

Hope you guys enjoyed it.