Shadows of Sherwood by Kekla Magoon

use the rope. Robyn moved forward, took the girl’s hands, and held her, easing her down toward the ground. Their hands remained clasped until Robyn’s waist was bent over the open vent, and Laurel’s legs dangled a few feet from the ground. Robyn then took the sheer one-story drop easily. No worse than sticking a landing after a vault, she figured.
    Well, it was a little worse, landing on pavement instead of floor pads. She felt the impact in her knees, but not too badly.
    As soon as her feet touched down, she started running. Laurel had a dozen yards’ head start. Robyn followed her path, marked by tiny bloody heel prints.
    The jail had no fence, on account of being basically an exitless concrete box. They crossed a large patch of gravellypavement, making for the nearest wall they could hide behind.
    Within moments, the building was out of sight, though not out of mind. Guards could still be coming after. The girls zigzagged around two corners and into a narrow alley. Robyn, with her long-legged stride, caught up to Laurel and touched her shoulder.
    â€œStop, stop,” she said. “You’re bleeding.”
    â€œWe can’t stop,” Laurel said, stopping anyway. She tucked into the gap between a Dumpster and a drainpipe. The space smelled like rotting trash and wet cardboard.
    â€œBut—”
    â€œIt doesn’t hurt that bad,” the small girl insisted.
    Robyn still had their cords bound around her hand. She cast them aside among other refuse in the alley. “It’s leaving a trail,” she said. She knelt and touched the girl’s ankle. Laurel obediently bent her knee, raising her foot like a horse getting her hooves checked.
    Robyn used her tattered shirt hem to blot at the lines of blood. The slats had left thin slashes across Laurel’s calloused feet.
    â€œHow’d you know about those vents?” Robyn asked, still breathless.
    â€œI didn’t,” Laurel said. “But there’s always a way out if you’re small. We have to go now.”
    Robyn shook her head, amazed. “You didn’t have a plan?”
    â€œI guess I just expect things to work out. And they usually do.”
    â€œThings don’t always work out.” Robyn reminded her. “I mean, you were just in jail.”
    Laurel grinned, displaying her pretty teeth. “And now I’m not. Let’s get out of here.”
    â€œStay on your toes.”
    Laurel shot her an amused look. “Like you have to tell me.” She skittered down the alley. Robyn laughed and followed Laurel’s lead, assuming the girl had a destination in mind. It was her neighborhood, after all.
    Following was nice, actually. It let Robyn push away the nagging truth. She didn’t have anywhere to go. At least not until she figured out which way was up on Dad’s map. Without Laurel, Robyn wouldn’t have the first clue where to run. And Robyn was used to being sure of things.
    I just expect things to work out. And they usually do
, Laurel had said. Maybe Robyn could try Laurel’s way of thinking.
I expect that my parents are still alive, somehow
, she thought.
I expect to find out what happened to them. I expect that we’ll all get to go home again. Together.
    Â 
    CHAPTER TWELVE
    Escape through Sherwood
    After running what felt like a mile, Laurel slowed to a walk. The wide, grid-like streets turned narrower and more twisty. The apartment buildings they passed stood short and square with concrete walls and plain windows. There were also some houses, small and built of wood, and mostly fallen into disrepair. Looking around, Robyn wondered if the worn-looking old brick homes she’d passed on the way to the jail represented the nicer section of Sherwood. She now realized there was a difference between old and worn, and truly dilapidated.
    A parade of tiny schoolchildren passed them. Kindergartners, maybe, carrying backpacks and lunch boxes. Laurel waved at them.