Never one for idleness past dark, Marian gathered her mask and arrows.
She needed a real outfit, but the small saving wasn't enough yet.
She made due with what she could filch before donation. The breeches were patched, the long strap of leather mask, the hooded shirt had straps around her arms in places to keep the extra fabric from billowing or catching and the boots one size too large with a hole in each.
Stopping at her fathers cracked door she listened to gentle breathing. Her finger tips graced the wood without moving it, then she turned to go with quiet footfalls.
He'd never know just how much she did this because of and for him.
She hadn't expected the last man.
Singling out the first two, knocking one down and out with an errant arrow. When the poor man they'd been hounding made it into the clear, she cheered her victory with the smallest sound.
Which had led to the running now.
Thought the darkness. Through the bramble. Looking through black endless for a tree big enough or a hole deep enough.
Foot steps gaining on her.
And she prayed. Heart thudding, lungs aching, legs screaming.
To her mother, to Mary. For help, for hope, for salvation, and rescue.
When the water crashed all around her being tears flooded her eyes shamelessly, even as she couldn't remember why she was crying.