Someone swings onto the deck from a nearby tree. It’s an older boy in peasant’s clothes and muddy boots, with an quiver of arrows on his back. “Who’s ready for an adventure? Hey there, Cordy!” He slaps the boy on the back, then spots me. He holds out his hand and I shake it, feeling the calluses on his palm through my costume. “Robin Hood, dear Lady Devin. It’s lovely to meet you.”

Sasha gasps. “The Robin Hood?”

He bows. “In the flesh, my lady.”

Heath steps forward. “Heathcliff White.” He shakes Robin’s hand. “It’s an honor to meet you, sir.”

“Likewise, young royal rebel!” Robin says with a laugh. “Now, can we please proceed? Red said we need to move quickly, and being nimble is what I’m best at.”

Robin pulls the rope toward him, and it snaps back firmly, making a tight hold. “Red was tied up today, which is why I’m here. Got a call from that Gilly girl she’s been working with again. They’re trying to track Rumpelstiltskin. Something about a vendetta against Fairy Tale Reform School.” Robin takes in our ogre costumes. “Surprised you lot didn’t wind up there after tangoing with Olivina. I, myself, was sentenced there for thieving, but I was pardoned by Professor Wolfington.”

“No banishment?” Logan asks. “How come we didn’t get that choice?”

He shrugs. “I was already a king so…”

“King of thieves,” Prue reminds him. “I read all about it! It’s a self-made title. It didn’t really count, and Olivina eventually realized you fudged your royal papers for admission to RA.”

Robin runs a hand through his thick brown hair. “Yeah, well, it was fun while it lasted. The trouble Red and I got into for messing with Hazel Crooksen’s scrolls though!” He holds his stomach and belly laughs.

“She always called you a simple trickster,” Tara says wryly.

“Some might dismiss me as that.” He winks at me, and I blush. Heath coughs. “Others would call me charming and roguish. Hospitable, even.”

“I’m already all those things. Why aren’t I leading us into blog headquarters?” Heath grumbles.

A beeping sound emanates from both a medal on Robin’s chest plate and Prue’s crow’s nest.

“Time’s a-wasting. Let’s fly.” Robin pulls a small red arrow out of his quiver, places it in his bow, and aims at the tree he came from only moments before. He fires and a rope shoots out behind the arrow. I listen carefully to hear it hit its target, but there is no sound. The arrow and rope seem to keep going, bobbing and weaving through the trees. A second later, I feel something brush against my head and look up. Robin is clutching the rope and flying through the forest behind the arrow.

Sasha puts her hands on her hips. “Hey! You forgot us!”

“No, he didn’t.” Tara grabs a quiver from a rack on the wall, shoots an arrow, and grabs onto the rope that trails behind it, looking smug as her rope pulls her out of our line of sight and into the trees.