Okay, y'all. This is my first fanfiction, and I'm not sure I'm content with the quality so far, but I will do my best. I think this is going to be about 8 chapters long, plus this prologue and an epilogue. I welcome both praise and critisim, so you have no excuse not to review!

Also, I have taken liberties with the placement of Wilthrope. It is a real town in Yorkshire, but I don't know if it existed at this time or about it's proximity to Sherwood.

And I wasn't sure about the rating, but there will be mention of unconsensual sex and some violence. I don't think anything too graphic though.

Prologue

The setting sun lit the green of Wilthrope village as it sank low on the horizon. At the center of the square, a girl with a slightly swollen belly stood tied to a post, her eyes shut tightly. A crowd surrounded her, dressed as she was in peasants' clothing, both men and women armed with rocks and fury. The sunset sent shadows across their faces, and the effect was frightful – vicious eyes glinting out of the darkness. Their enmity could be heard, as well; jeers and cruel taunts filled the air. These people were ready. When signaled, they would bring death to this immoral girl, this parasite on their community. They would do it gladly, with no reservations in their hearts.

A man stepped forward, and the jeering of the crowd died to a malicious murmur. Though he was dressed as roughly as the others, the man carried an air of natural authority about him; he was their clearly their leader. When he spoke, even the murmur died, and the people listened to his words attentively.

"Before you stands a girl who has turned from God and sided with the Devil. She is, as you all can see, with child, though yet unmarried, and not intended. In her dwells wickedness, corruption, and sin. This wickedness, this depravity must not be tolerated. She will spread her wantonness to your daughters and sisters. Her sin and corruption will be our down fall. We must prove before the Lord that we will not allow the Devil to live among us! We must rid the village of this slattern, and free ourselves from sin!"

The villagers shouted their approval, every word having been drunken in and accepted. As their attention turned back towards their victim, the man strode towards a pile of rocks that had been collected earlier, and picked up a stone. The crowd cheered him on, eager to begin the cleansing. He hurled the rock at the girl, striking the side of her face. The others followed in suit, their stones flying along with their insults. But before execution was finished, or even nearly so, a call of a different nature sounded out above the abuse and taunting.

"Fire! Fire at the Weavers' house!" The warning came from a teenaged boy, who stood panting, stooped over with his hands on his knees. The people were torn – they must rid their village of the girl, but fire was a very dangerous thing. If left unchecked, it would spread throughout the entire village. Their own houses could be in danger. Any of them could be the ones left homeless and destitute, but they wanted the be rid to the sin. They looked towards their leader for direction.

"We will tend to the fire. This harlot can be dealt with later." His words decided matters. The crowd rushed to gather buckets and shovels, anything to prevent the fire from spreading. The girl was left, forgotten for a time in the panic.

Leena rested her head against the pole she was tied to, blood dripping down her face. Her eyes were closed, and she appeared tranquil, but despite her numerous wounds, she was working franticly to escape. She had to get her hands untied before the villagers returned. If she didn't, she would be killed. The people were crazed with fear and the words of Matthew Harper, the man who led them.

Tears pooled behind her shut eyelids at the thought of her executioners. These were the people she had grown up. They were her neighbors, and some her friends, and they had turned against her for a crime she had not committed, condemning though the evidence was. But she could not fault them too much. She had not told them what had truly happened, but merely denied the accusations, and asked that they believe her with no story to prove her guiltless. But still, that they would allow the words of Matthew Harper to reach into the hearts so, and poison them against her! She was not sure that his arrival in the village shortly after the incident was entirely a coincidence.

But now her hands were free, and she pulled away from the post. Glancing back over her shoulder, wary that someone might check on her even in the midst of the pandemonium, she ran, stumbling, to the safety of Sherwood forest.

The safety of the forest. The idea was laughable. To be safe, here! Amidst the wild beasts and bandits! Already she was uncertain of her bearings, the tall trees and wild undergrowth unfamiliar to her. She had never entered the forest. She had never had a need. This was something entirely unknown to her.

But so was the hatred of her neighbors, and besides, she was armed. Two knives were hidden beneath her skirts, a precaution she had taken when the words of Matthew Harper had begun to take hold. She was confident in her ability to protect herself, from wild animals at least. The outlaws she was less sure of, but then, it was Robin Hood who was said to live in these woods.

Robin Hood. The champion of the poor, protector of the weak, former Lord of Locksley and Earl of Huntington. If she were to meet him, she would be safe. But then she laughed to herself. If she was to meet outlaws here, she would expect the worse – after all, Robin Hood was likely not the only one to wonder this forest. Others might too. Perhaps she had made a mistake doing this. It was quite possible that the outlaws she might meet would be far less inclined to care about innocence than the notorious Robin Hood.

But the people back home hadn't cared about innocence either, and she was better off risking bandits and bears than the stoning her neighbors intended for her. Death there was certain. Death here was only probable. The difference was infinite.

The difference was her life.

And so she ran on, through the woods, farther and farther, through the darkness. The sun was completely set now, and the trees blotted out the meager light of the stars. But she ran on, ignoring the pain from the injuries the villagers' stones had left, pushing past it, eager to distance herself from the ones who had wronged her.

She would have done better listen to the warning of her body. As the moon rose, she collapsed.

So, I've got my fingers crossed and hope you like it!

Review please!