Ula let out a long sigh that seemed to come from the depths of her. “You know, when I was a girl, the Merry Men brought hope. Our doors were always open to you. Now … we find ourselves wishing we’d closed the shutters and turned the locks, before it was too late. The harder you hit, the harder the Sheriff strikes back, and then we all suffer.” “But we’re still fighting for the people of the wood,” Mariel said, hearing how ineffectual and childish this sounded in the face of so much grief. There was still soot under her fingernails and in the creases of her palms, and she almost wanted to hold
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