Hood

Robin saved me when I thought I was beyond it. When I thought I was beyond anything. I was only alive before him, not really living. The Merry Men have given me a purpose I didn't think I deserved. May you have tricked your way through the pearly gates, Robin." -Adam

I see your manners have not improved with time." He crooked one side of his mouth into a grin. "Time was never a factor in my manners.

I cannot return," she said, sadness weighing down each word. "I am sorry." "We need you, Isabelle," Adam said, his voice rough. "We need your clever brain and your wicked shot and your passion for helping people." "You are talking about Robin," she whispered. "No, I'm not," he said forcefully. "I'm talking about you. The girl that stood up to a camp of outlaws and challenged for her place among them. The girl who took on the most powerful man in the country and beat him. The girl who stared down a soldier of the king to protect innocent people. We've got our hands full helping the rebel barons and protecting the people of Sherwood. No one knows about Robin's death besides the Men, and we can't let anyone find out. The people need something to believe in now more then ever. We need Robin Hood to live on, even if the man himself is gone. But I'm too tall and Little's a terrible shot. Helena's the only one with a bow arm good enough to pretend to be Robin, and she won't let any of us hear the end of it. We need you." He cleared his throat. "I need you.

You have the blood of kings and rebels within you, love. Let it rise to meet the call.

Find the place that calls your heart.

We go on not because we have to, but because we want to. We live the life we would have wanted for them.

Father, no!" Isabelle cried. "It's a trap. You must get out of here now!" "Darling, of course it's a trap," Robin said. "These sort of gatherings always are.

What use have I for gold? The earth is my floor, the heavens my roof. The Merry Men my company. What more do I need what gold would buy?

The wind, my good friend, the wind calls and I am but her slave to answer.

My mother once said a man should measure his worth not by the women he has tamed, but by the ones he has let run free.

Clearing tables? We're bloody outlaws, not maids. Next you know he'll be asking us to wash our own laundry. Then what would my mum do?

I'm going to release you now," the boy said slowly, carefully, as if speaking to a small child or a wild animal. "You're not going to scream, you're not going to make any sudden movements, and if you bite me again, I'll bite you back. Understand?