Free Shadows of Sherwood by Kekla Magoon

standing in a ring around the gathered people. There would be no easy way out of the square. They were blocking every exit!
    â€œIt is only a matter of time,” Mallet said. “Surrender and there will be leniency. Fail to surrender, and . . .”
    A scuffle began at the edge of the stage. The crowd surged and leaned, all trying to get a better view. MPs dragged a woman onstage. She wore a feathery green dress over brown tights.
    â€œNyna Campbell,” the sheriff shouted. The woman’s wanted poster flashed up, with a red stripe across the bottom of her picture: “Apprehended.”
    Nyna Campbell stretched and strained against the MPs’ grip. “My blood, my breath, my bone,” she cried, all manner of pain in the hollows of her voice. “Forever yours, Sherwood. The rebellion lives on—”
    Mallet sidestepped toward the woman and slashed out with an elbow to her throat, cutting off her call. Nyna Campbell’s head dropped forward and she fell still and silent. A low trill rose up from the crowd, from all corners. People rolling their voices together, wordlessly.
    â€œSilence.” The sheriff motioned with her hand and the MPs bound and gagged the woman more tightly, then carried her back out of sight.
    â€œFugitives, beware! We will find you.” Mallet continued, “Maybe even right here today.” She made a threatening, stalking journey across the front of the stage, pointing into the crowd. “All citizens of Sherwood
will
abide by the law.” She spread her arms to indicate her corps of military police. “We are here to ensure cooperation and a smooth transition to our new way of life.” The sinister edge to her voice was less than comforting.
    â€œWe should go,” Laurel said. She made a snaking motion with her hand, as if to indicate sneaking through the crowd.
There’s always a way out if you’re small
, she’d told Robyn. Well, Robyn wasn’t quite as small.
    â€œThe MPs are everywhere,” Robyn whispered back.
    Mallet barked an order, Robyn caught the word “fugitive”—and the MPs around her leaped into action.
    â€œUh-oh,” Laurel said. She gripped Robyn’s hand tighter as two MPs began charging through the crowd, headed straight toward them.
    Â 
    CHAPTER FIFTEEN
    The Sheriff of Sherwood
    Robyn was sure the MPs were about to carry her and Laurel away. Many people stood in the way—at first. As MPs smacked more and more people aside, the crowd naturally parted to let the officers storm through. Robyn knew: they were goners for sure.
    The big man froze behind them. Robyn felt his breath through the back of her T-shirt as he ducked his head behind her. His hand disappeared from her waist. Robyn and Laurel wobbled, stumbling off the large pack as the MPs swirled a vortex around them.
    â€œNo,” Laurel wailed.
    But the MPs converged behind them and grabbed the large man instead. His eyes displayed a mix of fear and resignation as they yanked him forward. Twisting backward, he stared directly at Robyn, catching her eye. Then he dropped his gaze meaningfully to the backpack, and looked back at her. When he repeated the glance asecond time, Robyn felt herself nod. Yes, she would keep it for him.
    The MPs carried the scared man toward the stage. The gap in the crowd eased shut, but Robyn had to see what was happening. At the risk of exposing herself, she pushed through after him. “Watch the bag,” she called to Laurel over her shoulder.
    Onstage, Mallet called up yet another wanted poster. “Fugitive Floyd Bridger!” she declared. “Fugitive no more.”
    The MPs held him in front of the stage.
What had he done for the rebellion?
Robyn wondered.
    â€œYou should be ashamed,” Mallet told Bridger. “Using children as a shield.”
    The MPs prepared to chain the large man’s hands and feet together with a collection of restraints shaped like the letter
I
.