He was in the water again and the world was blurry and dark.

“That was fancy,” his better was saying, trying to swing his staff behind his own back, but his arms were stubby and his body quite the obstacle. Instead he settled for waving it around childishly, entertaining himself, mocking Robin, “You a court jester?”

“You have no idea,” Robin coughed, and why he was on his feet again he wasn’t sure. He picked his branch up, fighting the massive pain across his chest. He breathed, then again, stretching his ribs. The pain was there but nothing felt broken.

“Alright, let’s go again.”

Little raised his eyebrows and laughed, so Robin laughed, and then they both laughed harder, and when Little attacked it was the same lunge he’d used before. Robin feigned hard away and slapped his branch up and quick onto John’s knuckles, then fast around to bury the south end into his exposed armpit. As the massive quarterstaff fell to the water, Robin pushed the middle of his branch up, up fast and hard into Little’s nose, which gave way, blood popping out each side. Little’s lumbering weight toppled backward into the river with a crack and a heavy splash, and Robin was quick to follow. He raised his weapon, wanting to smash it down again, to give back some of what he’d taken.

But Little’s battered face was wrought with blood and defeat, his hands out in surrender. The water rushed over his shoulders and into his mouth.

Robin’s muscles tensed.

Edmond would keep swinging. Beat him bloody.

He blinked it away, and let the branch dangle loosely from his hand.

His head was buzzing, his right eye was swollen though he didn’t remember taking the injury. But even with water still clearing from his ears, he realized there was another noise in the melee. Sharp steel touched his back, just so, between the plates in the leather, just hard enough to keep him off balance.

“Let’s be perfectly clear on what’s about to happen,” the recovered Will breathed through his words. “I’m going to tell you to surrender, and you’re going to turn and attack me, because you think you’re that fellow who always outsmarts his enemies. But you’re not that fellow, see? I’m that fellow. I’ll sink one knife through your ribs and the other where your neck meets your shoulder, then I’ll wash your blood off my blades in the river, have a very nice lunch, and forget about you and my morning entirely.”

Robin couldn’t see behind him, couldn’t tell if the knife was in Will’s left or right hand. If he picked correctly he could turn quickly enough. If he picked poorly it would go just as described.