I didn’t go far, ’course. I wheeled back through the woods and came up on Mistress Cooper’s house. Seeing a light go out, I looked in the window and started swearing.

Mistress Cooper were there with Amy. The others weren’t; they must have gone on to Worksop already. They had a bundle on the ground, and I reckoned they must have been packing up a few more things. I climbed the thatch, hanging on the ridge of the roof to watch over the door. I still had three knives on me; if they came to bother Amy or any other Cooper, they’d have me to deal with.

My heart beat like the drum of a Scot, hard and even. I had that animal’s blood on my face, and I tried to wipe it off. The hand that I punched him with were bleeding and hurt—I never punch people. I just cut them. Bastard broke my knife.

It were pitch-black and more than an hour before I moved, and then only when I saw John walking through town, his eyes casting over the Cooper home.

I gave three short whistles and he stopped, looking up into the trees. He lowered his gaze a little and squinted at the roof. Even he couldn’t see me. I dropped from the roof and went around the side of the house.

“Christ Almighty,” he said, grabbing my face and twisting it. “What happened?”

Swiping at the blood again, I pushed his arm off me. “It’s not my blood. The sheriff’s men went after Amy Cooper.”

“Why wasn’t she in Worksop? I thought the whole family went over earlier.”

“I ain’t a mind reader, John,” I snarled.

“Is she hurt?”

I nodded. “He smacked her up a bit. She were terrified. She and her mam are here. We can’t move them till dark, and even then we best use the forest.”

Swears jumped from his mouth. “All they had to do was listen to us and no one would have been the wiser to them in Worksop. And who the hell hurts a little girl?” He shook his head fierce and crossed his arms over his big chest. “Are you hurt?”

“He broke my knife,” I told him, showing him the hilt with the jagged remnant.

“I’ll fix it for you.” As he picked it up, he brushed my knuckles. I hissed.

He grabbed my hand and tried to see it in the dim light. “What did you do, punch him out?”

I pulled my hand away from him. “Yes.”

“You busted up your hand pretty good. You might have broken it.”

“It ain’t broken.”

He took my hand again, pocketing the remains of my knife to push his thumbs over my hand, working each finger in turn and testing the bones. It hurt, but I grit my teeth. “Not broken.”

“Told you.”

“Get over to Tuck’s and have Robin clean you up. I’ll keep watch.”

I shook my head. “I’ll stay.”

“Scar, you know I lost my little sister, right?”

I swallowed. I did know that. A little sister and little brother and his parents in a fire. He never told me that, though, so I weren’t sure if I should fess to knowing it. “Yeah.”

“So, they aren’t going to lay a finger on that little girl while I’m standing in front of this house, you understand?”

“If they come back with more?”

His eyes glinted even in the dark. “I’m hoping they will.”

“I’ll be back soon with Rob.”

He nodded.

I jogged over to the inn. My head hurt and, with the anger gone, I were starting to feel a little dizzy. I went in the back door to the side room, checking that Rob and Much were there before edging into the doorway. “Rob,” I said soft.

He looked up, and his face changed. “Go downstairs. Much, you stay here.”

Much looked up at me and swallowed. “Jesus, you all right, Scar?”

“Fine, Much.” I smiled at him, and he smiled back. John and Rob, they were the same sort. They thought it were up to them to save the rest of us, and most people looked at them and agreed. People pushed me and Much aside. They thought I couldn’t never do nothing, and they thought Much needed to be coddled on account of his bad arm. “Amy and Mistress are stuck in the Cooper house. Need you to figure a way to get them to Worksop.”

Much nodded. “We’re sending them on to Dover tonight anyway. My aunt can get them work there. Rob, can I go over there now?” he asked.

I scowled. “It ain’t like you need his permission, Much.”

Much’s mouth tucked under, and I felt bad.

“Downstairs, Scar. We need to take care of whatever is cut under all that blood,” Rob said sharp.

I nodded, going down the back stair to the underground storeroom. It were cold down there, and I knew why Rob sent me. Tuck had a big water supply he kept in the cold ground, and I fished the rocks out of it and dried them off. I held one to the side of my head. It felt like ice against the pain.

Rob came down with a candle and I looked at my other hand, the one with the busted knuckles. They were torn open and already swollen. I scowled. My aim would be off.

Rob didn’t say anything. He kept trying to swallow like something were stuck in his pipes while he pressed another rock to my hand. I hissed at the contact. He took a cloth and began to clean off the blood in little dabbing motions.

“It’s not mine,” I told him quick, taking the cloth and wiping the blood off, rubbing at the dried bits even as it scraped at my cuts.

“Some of it is,” he said, his voice low. “Can I take off your hat?”

I bit my lip, chewing on it a moment. Swallowing a breath, I looked down and reached up and pushed it off, pulling my long hair to the side.