Sherwood

by S. E. Roberts

  “So,” She started, looking ahead, before examining her bow in her hands. “I was fairly certain that about a minute ago we were in Group A.”

  Harlow felt Enders' eyes on her. She turned her head to face him slightly. He looked at her in shock as he stumbled over his words to explain himself.

  “I agree that Robin Hood would be a very much more interesting instructor.” Harlow covered for him, not wanting to ask why he'd decided to move.

  “Yeah,” Enders said, looking down for a moment, “His tales are inspiring. The bards sing of his deeds all through the country. He is are beyond admirable.”

  They fell silent for several seconds as the two followed the crowd. It didn't seem to Harlow that Enders was suspicious of her.

  'This wont end well,' she thought, turning an eye on him in her periphery. Harlow kept the thought in the back of her mind that if the two had become friends, like what seemed to be going on, he would be offended by her lie.

  “So, you saw I moved and followed me?” Enders asked, raising an eyebrow at her as he turned his eyes on her. Harlow noticed the way his brown hair bounced just a bit with his walking.

  Harlow nodded. “I've always been too nosey for my own good.” She confided, shrugging nonchalantly, trying not to smile at him. She felt as if she'd smiled too often since she'd arrived.

  “Seems like I would rather not have you on the battlefield with me.” Enders joked with a small chuckle.

  Harlow snorted, mentally congratulating herself for the unladylike gesture. “The battlefield is a totally different setting, my friend.”

  Enders kept a skeptical eye on her for a moment before turning toward the moving crowd. “Ya know,” He started, glancing down at the sword on his hip. “I think we'll make a fine team.”

  Harlow let a small smile plague her lips, a small fluttering creeping into her heart and expanding in her stomach.

  She had to remind herself that in Sherwood City, she was a man, protecting her father from an ill-conceived fate.

  With that notion in mind, she pushed her legs forward, keeping her pace steady, as she forced herself to not become totally and hopelessly enamoured by the man next to her.

  She should've known that would never have worked.

  Chapter Five

  Harlow held three throwing knives in her left hand, her right hand keeping one throwing blade at eye-level with herself and aiming down-sight at the tree.

  Harlow exhaled slowly, a bead of sweat making it's way down the side of her face as she kept her posture. She felt her shirt's wet collar on the skin of her neck. Robin had had the men out there for almost four hours now, working on their stance, aim, and posture.

  Some of the recruits, including Harlow, had managed to get Robin's permission to throw knives instead of practicing archery. She stood in line, alongside several outlaws, some holding bows with arrows ready to fire, others holding throwing knives, ready to propel the small blades forward.

  Harlow stood in position, on her right a large man by the name of Reggie. On her left, however, was Enders, who held his bow at eye-level, waiting for the signal to fire his arrow into the tree.

  Harlow noticed his eyes were droopy and his face was tired. He looked like he would fall over any second now, but he stayed put, his back straight and his eyes focused.

  It was clear that he refused to give up until the bitter end.

  “Fire!” Robin shouted, verbally letting loose a frenzy of arrows and knives into the air.

  Harlow let her fingers slip away from the blade she'd held in her grasp, letting it fly like the others.

  Her blade did not hit the target.

  In fact, her knife landed no where near the target. It, instead, curved to the left, landing just after the tree bearing the target on it.

  She shook her head as she looked down. She wasn't used to this amount of training. Not to mention her lack of focus since meeting Enders. She'd been able to forget his presence next to her for the first hour of training, but not since then.

  And her shots during the first hour were unmistakably great. Although, Robin didn't seem to care.

  Now, her heart raced with every shot. She felt like eyes were on her. She felt the undying need to impress. To bring respect to her father's name and legacy.

  Robin shook his head as he made his way toward the left side of the tree, a frustrated look in his eyes. He bent over, picking up a renegade blade from the grass.

  Harlow's renegade blade.

  He held the knife up slightly, scanning the men's faces. “Who threw this?” His voice sounded with what sounded like animosity.

  Harlow fell silent, her heart pounding hard. She didn't want to answer, but she knew she had no choice.

  “Well?!” Robin yelled, looking the crowd over, making sure to scan all of the faces.

  Harlow looked back and forth, seeing all the confused, maybe even scared, faces. She breathed in silently, before reluctantly speaking up. “I did.”

  Robin's eyes zeroed in on her, keeping angry eyes on her. “You?” He asked stepping closer, looking her over. “What's your name?”

  Harlow kept her eyes steady, although she was worried her anxiousness might show. “Henry McBride.” She tried to keep her voice as manly as she could.

  Robin looked taken aback for a moment. “McBride? You're Harrison's son?”

  Harlow kept eye contact with the man.

  What was the worst he could do? Schedule her clean-up duty? Order that she practice all night? With some restored confidence, she spoke: “Aye. Harrison McBride is my father.”

  Robin nodded. “And this is how you throw a blade?” He asked, verbally provoking her, his voice doused in quiet frustration.

  Harlow felt shocked for a moment, but only a moment, before a surge of anger over took her and made her blood boil.

  Robin turned his back on the men and walked toward the target tree, facing the crowd of recruits after several paces. He still held her blade between his index finger and thumb. “We are at a historical impasse, gentlemen!” He announced, looking over the men.

  Harlow had her eyes on him as her anger built. He hadn't provided any example for archery. He hadn't thrown any knives. Who was he to criticize any body's skill?

  Robin turned his eyes on the small piece of metal in his hand, a look of pure disdain on his face as he did so. “And you completely miss the target?” He took several steps back toward Harlow, who still watched him, her lips pursed, her eyes filled with a certain kind of rage.

  “Your father would be disappointed, don't you think so, Henry?” Robin asked, a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

  The more she thought on his words, the more angry she got, the more it built up in her mind, the more she was influenced by impulse rather than logic.

  Robin turned his back on her and stepped toward the target again, examining the shots. He placed his hands on his hips in a somehow masculine way. “Next time, men, try to focus on the target!”

  Harlow took in a deep breath, holding it in her lungs for as long as she could handle before letting it out. The anger continued to build up in her and her breathing was the last pathetic attempt she could give to make the anger subside.

  She opened her eyes, and before she could really understand what was happening, she heard it: the whizzing of an arrow as it flew through the air. She caught it in her sights, following it's path.

  It raced through the air, catching the loose fabric of Robin's sleeve, sending the man forward a few feet as the sound of ripping fabric filled the air.

  Every recruit in line next to her turned to face the person who shot the arrow. It was from her left side. She dropped her jaw at the sight of an enraged Enders standing beside her.

  Enders had rage written all over his face, with his eyes squinted, almost as if warning and provoking Robin Hood. His hair hung gently in his eyes, dripping with sweat. His bow hung almost limply in his right hand which had retreated back to his side.

  Robin turned around, facing the recru
its, looking down at his sleeve. His eyes examined the hole that now graced his shirt, widened in shock.

  Robin turned back, looking to the target tree and seeing a newly added arrow in the center of the paint. Robin turned his back to the tree, facing the recruits, and after a short second of astonishment, he smiled.

  He eyed the bow that hung in Enders' hand and noticed that his breathing was angry and heavy.

  “What's your name, recruit?” Robin asked, stepping forward, an excited smile on his lips.

  “Enders Hode.” Enders said after a moment of silence. He raised one arm to wipe the sweat from his forehead.

  Robin nodded, still smiling like a child. “Enders Hode.” He took a few steps back and looked to the rest of the recruits. “Now,” he paused, looking to the crowd around them, “That” He emphasized, pointing to Enders, “is what Sherwood Forest needs.”

  Everyone still stood in astonishment at the bizarre series of events.

  Enders felt Harlow's eyes on him, but he kept his focus and looked ahead, studying the target.

  “Weapons up everybody!” Robin shouted, stepping backward toward the side of the tree.

  Harlow sighed, taking the next knife from her palm and holding it at eye level.

  She could have sworn she felt Enders look at her once before Robin's voice rang out.

  “Fire!”

  *~*~*

  Night came, engulfing the camp in darkness. Nobody lit any torches or started any fires. That was one of the first lessons they'd learned at camp: No fires at night. It was precautionary, in case any of the King's men were scoping out the area.

  Harlow slipped quietly into the cabin where twelve other men made themselves at home. A group to the right made a considerable amount of noise as they joked about their day. Harlow noticed Enders in the bunch. She averted her eyes immediately, trying to avoid him.

  Instead, she scanned the room. She found a small cot in the corner of the room, seemingly farther away from everyone else.

  Perfect.

  She walked to the cot, a mattress on the hardwood floor, and dropped her bag onto it. She placed her weapons up against the wall next to her and sat down.

  She ruffled through her bag, looking at her things, making sure she had everything. She hadn't brought much, seeing as most of her things were far too feminine. She had, however, managed to make off with some of her more precious items that wouldn't give her away.

  She looked around the room again, examining the proximity of each cot to the next. She had a cot to the far side, which no one had taken; she found it odd, but decided not to question it. She felt curious as to way no one else claimed the spot. She supposed they may have felt more comfortable with other people in their close proximity.

  After she ruffled through her bag, she plopped it onto the floor next to her, and stretched out on the cot. She felt comfortable, even with her under-wrapping firmly in place, keeping her chest looking flat. But, she was so tired it hadn't bothered her.

  Her eyes fluttered as she tried to think of ways to conceal herself while feeling comfortable at the same time. She concluded it wasn't very possible.

  “Henry?” Harlow stirred slightly before jumping up, one hand going for her weaponry, the other propping herself up.

  “Whoa!” Enders' exclaimed, putting his hands up defensively, his eyes wider than usual.

  Harlow let out a breath of relief and calmed down, retracting her arm from the weaponry and rubbing her face. “Sorry.” She said simply, giving him a weak smile.

  “A little defensive, I see.” He said, sitting down next to her cot and crossing his legs.

  Harlow snorted. “Yeah, well, only when I sleep.”

  Enders nodded. “I'd say.”

  Silence fell over the two, as Harlow ran things through her mind. Was her hat still on? Was her hair poking out? Did she look too feminine in her sleep?

  “How ya' holding up?” Enders asked, catching Harlow's attention and bringing her back to reality.

  Harlow nodded and looked at him. “I'm fine.” She furrowed her eyebrow at him, noticing the group of men in the corner, still being loud and disruptive. “How are you?”

  Enders' shrugged, looking away from her. “Fine.” The two sat in silence for a moment. “You looked really distracted during training.”

  Harlow nodded. “Did I really?”

  Enders smiled a bit. “Yeah. You really did.”

  Harlow smiled at her hands in her lap, before looking at him. “Well, I'm fine, man. Thanks for the concern.”

  Enders sighed and moved slightly, to stand up. “Alright, I'll let you get to sleep then.”

  Harlow nodded, offering a slight smile, moving to lay back down.

  “But, um,” He said, before she laid back down. “I'm sorry about Robin Hood. He was being melodramatic. You're really good with those throwing knives.”

  Harlow furrowed her eyebrows at him. “Thank you.” Harlow said, smiling at him.

  Enders nodded at her, feeling discontent with the situation. To Harlow, it seemed he felt responsible, although she couldn't figure out why. “Well, goodnight.” He said as he stood up and walked across the room to his cot.

  Harlow gave him one last nod as he walked away. She furrowed her eyebrows as she laid down, but exhaustion took over her and she was asleep before Enders made it to his own cot.

  *~*~*

  “Hold your sword steady, Henry. You'll take the offensive stance.” Robin exclaimed as he walked in between groups of recruits. Circles were made with wooden blocks to create several small rings for training. Robin weaved behind Harlow, on the other side of the circle as he examined her fighting.

  It had been four days since Enders sent an arrow through Robin's shirt.

  Naturally, Robin had been keeping a close eye at him, making sure he was stable and trustworthy. Robin had told the recruits a day or so ago that in the forest that you must trust the people around you, that if you couldn't trust them, you may as well be fighting a war on your own.

  Harlow noticed his eyes on Enders every time the two were training, but by extension, Robin would keep a close eye on her as well, often times congratulating her on her stances and technique.

  “Enders, you try to block and maneuver. This is your defensive stance.” Robin continued his exclamations.

  Enders paused for a moment after Robin passed and wiped the sweat off his forehead. He tilted his head and looked at Harlow.

  Harlow smiled a little bit and shrugged.

  Robin turned to all the other groups. “Follow this pattern, all of you! One person takes the offensive, the other takes the defensive!” He shouted so everyone could hear.

  Robin placed everyone in partners of two, setting each group up based on their level of expertise in swordplay, placing inexperienced people with similarly inexperienced people and so on.

  He stepped back after a few more explanatory words, making sure he could see everyone. “Everybody ready?!” He shouted. A few Aye's rang out in the forest. “Start!”

  Harlow looked at Enders, holding her sword at her side, the tip digging into the ground. “You ready to lose, Hode?”

  Enders smiled at her sarcastically. “Not gonna happen, McBride.”

  Harlow chuckled a bit, keeping him off guard before swinging her stick at him.

  Enders was quick, throwing up his own stick to deflect the strike. The two pieces of carved wood collided, causing an intense vibration to crawl down her arms. “That's cheap, McBride.”

  Harlow grinned, trying to cover up the slight thumping of her heart at the sight of his hair swinging attractively just above his eyes, and the way he smiled mischievously at her.

  *~*~*

  Harlow let out a loud 'Oof,' as her shoulder collided with the dirt. It didn't hurt at first, but it frustrated her. She rolled her eyes and lifted herself up to see Enders standing victoriously on the other end of the circle. A smug grin plagued his lips, as he leaned against his wooden sword which protruded from the ground. “Had
enough?” He asked, lifting the stick and directing his attention to the wooden material in his hand.

  Harlow gritted her teeth, rubbing her shoulder. “Not quite.” She hissed, lifting her stick and preparing for battle.

  Enders lifted an eyebrow, tapping the side of his lip twice, motioning for her to touch her own.

  Harlow paused for a moment to check herself. Enders was right, she was bleeding from the inside of her cheek. It had been seeping out of her mouth as she narrowed her eyes at Enders.

  He didn't look worried at her blood. Instead, he looked even more confident. “You should probably stop for now.”

  Harlow raised an eyebrow, although angrily. “I'm fine, Hode. Are you getting too tired to keep it up?”

  Enders let out a small chuckle. “No, no. Simply tired of winning, that's all.” He grinned at her, confidently checking his nails.

  Harlow gritted her teeth again, adrenaline rushing through her veins. She started to feel more awake. Her blood boiled with anger, with frustration, with hatred, and with the power of a thousand horses. She couldn't take his arrogance any longer.

  Harlow quickly raised her wooden weapon and charged at him, faking him out on his left and rushing to his right. She jabbed him quickly, making him grip his left side. Then she rushed over and slammed the whole side of her weapon into his stomach. He let out a loud, painful noise before he doubled over quickly.

  While he was vulnerable, Harlow took the blunt end of the wooden stick and let it come down hard on his upper back, causing him to fall over onto the dirt.

  She angrily sauntered over to where he lay and placed the wood on his side, pushing him onto his back. He breathed heavily, blood dripping down the side of his mouth as well. He looked up at her with angry eyes.

  She placed her foot just below his throat, and when he moved to stand up, she pressed down harder to keep him from getting up. She looked down at him angrily, keeping her foot pressed down on his chest while she moved the tip of her carved stick to his neck. Harlow paused for a moment, his intense eyes glaring at her, and hers returning the glare. “Is that really all you've got, Hode?” She asked him, an eyebrow raised, and frustration still in her eyes.