Robyn Hood: A Girl's Tale

Author:K. M. Shea
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Take Out The Trash
Published: 2013-02-16T08:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

New Camp

I stumbled out of the tent early the next morning. Most of the Merry Men were sleeping, but I spotted a few of them, awake and alert on the edges of the camp for their daily guard duty.

They saluted me with crisp gestures. I smiled and shook my head as I plopped down on a log next to the fire. Much was a few feet away, cuddled against a tree, snoring loudly as usual.

I quietly made some porridge for myself and motioned for the men who were on guard duty to join me. They did so, perching on rocks and trees as their eyes continued to scan the forest. I noticed that one of them was a newcomer we picked up from yesterday.

“And what is your name?” I politely inquired.

“T-Tom,” he stuttered, royally blushing.

“I’m Robyn. It’s a pleasure to have you in my company,” I said with a broad grin.

“T-thank you!” he stammered, turning a cute shade of flaming sunshine.

“Where do you come from?” I asked as I stood and stretched.

“The village. I was a tanner,” he said with a small smile.

“Your skills will most certainly come in handy here,” I said with a lopsided grin. I paused and narrowed my eyes before swinging around. “Hah, gotcha!” I triumphantly cried as I clamped Crafty’s muzzle in my hands. Crafty gazed at me with tired eyes and slightly frumpy hair. He wasn’t a morning horse.

I paused before rummaging through a sack, unearthing a small apple which I offered to the shrewd creature. He eyed it, flattened his ears, and delicately took it before moving on. As he crunched on his treat he knocked a pot into the unsuspecting Hob, who had just exited his tent.

Crafty chuckled before moving on as Hob rubbed his stinging leg and eyed the wily horse.

“Did you find any suitable locations?” I asked as Hob helped himself to some porridge.

“It depends,” he drawled. “What kind of place are you looking for?”

I had forgotten he hadn’t heard my speech about a new headquarters. “A new hideout. One big enough for over a seventy men,” I said.

Hob spat out his porridge and stared at me as though I had lost my mind. “What?” he asked.

“The Merry Men are growing, quickly. We are bursting at the seams here and Marian has already run out of curtains to make new tents with. We need to relocate to a more permanent housing area,” I said as I watched Crafty slither in our direction.

Hob shook his head. “No place I saw is good enough then. Will Stutely will probably have better luck than me though. He has been living here longer than I have,” he shrugged as Crafty crept up behind him.

“Has he returned?” I asked.

Hob shrugged. “I dunno, I only got back a few hours ago. It’s not very much fun searching Sherwood forest for the Perfect Spot in the middle of the stinking night you know.”

“Look out,” I warned.

“What?” he dumbly asked, remaining rooted to the spot.

Thunk.

“Too late,” I

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