Author's Note: Not that I don't have many other stories to write, but this has been sitting around for a few months now, and I thought what the heck, might as well publish it.
Disclaimer: I own only my OC's and my plotline, everything else belongs to their respective owners
Summary: What's a young noblewoman to do when she's been disgraced and thrown out of her home? Meet Johanna, a spunky, young former-heiress with no real knowledge of how to live beyond castle walls and a mouth that often gets her into trouble. Begins after season 2, Carter's not dead, Marion might be though I haven't decided yet.
Chapter One: Forest-Life Isn't For Everyone
The sun shown merrily down on Sherwood forest, peeking through gaps in the lush, spring leaves, and generating a gentle, toasting, warmth. Birds twittered happily as they flitted through the branches of tall trees, squirrels chattered angrily while they scampered about on the leaf-covered forest floor. All about the great wood a peaceful feeling spread with the sunlight, accompanied by other small sounds, such as the gentle buzzing of bees searching for the flowers that released a pleasant aroma into the air. It seemed as though the entire wood was happy and content, all save for one sorry creature struggling up a steep hill.
No, she was not happy. Miserable, cold, and wet would be a more appropriate description. She had lost her cloak not an hour before after taking an unwanted swim in the river. Her burlap sack, once so full of food she had complained about the weight, was nearly empty, and she had resigned herself to small rations, the constant ache in her belly a reminder of her condition. Her sodden clothes clung uncomfortably to her body and squelched as she walked.
Her foot slipped as she half-crawled up the slope, and she was sent tumbling down the incline, landing in a slightly soggy pile of leaves and dirt.
She sat up and shook away some of the grimy strands of hair that had fallen into her face, and then leaned back and shouted to the heavens. "Is this not enough? I said I was sorry!"
There was, of course, no reply from the cloudless blue expanse. She half-heartedly hit the ground beside her, sending a spray of soil and partially decayed foliage into the air, before pulling herself to her feet and starting once more up the incline.
Three attempts later, with a new, muddy coating from the falls, she finally made it to the swell of the hill, sweat dripping down her face, creating a gruesome painting of clear trails on the dirty skin.
She was breathing heavily, quite ready to collapse but she trudged on. The longbow at her back dug uncomfortably into her shoulders, and the quiver bounced with every step, arrows rattling with each shift of her body.
And then she came upon a road. The Old Forest Road that wound its way through the middle of Sherwood, where robbers stopped nobles and peasants alike, taking their coins and belongings and then killing the victims.
She had never traveled it before, not this deep into the woods; always before she had taken the longer road around Sherwood, preferring a lengthier journey to a more dangerous one. Now she decided to take the chance rather than struggling through who knew how many miles of coarse underbrush, cold streams, and bad footing.
The road was beaten down from use, deep ruts on both sides from carriage and wagon wheels. It stretched around a bend and out of sight, the growth on either side obstructing the view, though it was bound to thin out eventually.
She timidly put a foot onto the hard ground, peering cautiously in both ways down the road before stepping fully onto the path. Not seeing anyone, she proceeded in the direction she had been walking for the past week.
She continued thusly for nearly an hour, relaxing enough to lessen the stiffness in her shoulders and focus on the road in front of her, rather than turning her head behind her and to the sides every few minutes. The warmth from the sun had dried her sopping clothes, as well as the mud on her face and arms, which cracked and itched.
She was beginning to enjoy herself when the sounds of hooves pounding the beaten dirt and armor jingling sent a shock to her brain and had her scrambling for the thick brambles on the side of the road, acquiring new scratches in the process. She threw herself over the lip of a small hill that rose a bit above the road and peered over the edge at the now empty road, waiting for the appearance of the riders.
The blood grew cold in her veins as the riders came into view. It was the sheriff, and with him the despicable Guy of Gisbourne and a squad of ten guards. Her heart nearly stopped as a saddle bag loosed itself from the sheriff's saddle and went plummeting to the ground a mere 5 yards from where she was crouched. The sheriff reigned in his stallion and backtracked to where the large leather bag, filled with coins from the sound of it, lay in the road.
"Gisbourne! My bag, fetch it!" He shouted at the black-leather clad man, whose equally dark hair gave his gaunt face a sallow appearance.
"Of course, my lord." Gisbourne ground out from between gritted teeth as he swung himself off his large ebony horse and strode slowly toward where the plump bag sat.
As soundlessly as she could, the girl pulled her yew-bow from her back and retrieved one of the goose-feathered arrows that filled her quiver. She notched the arrow to the sinew string and licked her dry lips. This was her chance; here was the sheriff, sitting languidly on his steed, right in front of her. She could kill him, end the suffering of the common people, do what the infamous Robin Hood had yet been able to do. She pulled the string taunt, resting her hand at the corner of her mouth and staring down the wooden shaft, carefully lining it up with the sheriff's chest. Just as she was about the release the arrow, an intense force knocked into her and sent her rolling down the slight incline, the arrow flying harmlessly past its mark.
Before she could re-gather her wits a heavy weight held her down and a large, calloused hand covered her mouth.
"Outlaws! They're after my money! Move it you useless oafs!" The sheriff could be heard screaming to his men, followed by the sound of galloping horses.
The girl struggled in the strong grip of her captor, but her efforts had no effect on the man above her whose eyes were still carefully watching the road, waiting to see if the sheriff and all his men had truly left. She couldn't see much of him, just his short, blond hair that was sticking up a bit and his frowning, clean-shaven face as he looked back down at her after a moment, his light blue eyes widening as she glared up at him.
He had entered Sherwood Forest two days before, heading towards Nottingham at a swift, yet relaxed pace. It had been a long time since he had properly enjoyed a walk in the woods.
As he approached the Old Forest Road, which would most assuredly lead him to those he sought, he observed a young boy scrambling for the bushes and hiding on the near side of a small hillock, the sound of approaching hoof beats explaining the hasty retreat.
Having no wish to be waylaid in his journey, the man continued on, moving more stealthily once he heard the sheriff's nasally voice breach the previous calm of the forest. It was then that the boy removed the bow from his back, along with an arrow.
He was already rushing silently towards the idiotic youth as the boy took aim, much too slowly to be an experienced archer. He barreled into the surprised boy right as he was releasing the projectile, fortunately sending it off course.
The man found himself rolling down the small slope, and taking the boy with him. At the bottom he rolled over, holding the now struggling boy's arms and legs down with his body and clapping a hand over the boy's mouth to keep him from alerting the guards just beyond.
Only when they were gone did he glance down at the weakly struggling boy, and get one of the biggest surprises of his life. It wasn't a boy.
In his defense, even up close his eyes were arguing with his brain. Though her face was feminine she could have easily passed as an adolescent boy. Her stringy dark hair, which was filled with an assortment of leaves, mud, and tangles, was sloppily cut and barely hung past her ears. Her face was completely covered in mud with cracked areas and little streaks where sweat had fallen before it had dried. Her apparel, which consisted of an undershirt, a short tunic, breeches, and boots that were most likely too big for her looked, and smelled, as though she had been wearing them for several weeks; they were splattered in mud and looked as though they had been soaked a couple of times. It was lucky it was summer, else wise she probably would have frozen to death.
She moved again, glaring up at him with grey eyes, a firm frown on her face as he refused to move.
"Forgive me, miss." He said, moving off her but still holding her upper body down by her arms when she tried to get up, probably planning on running.
"Let me go!" She snarled kicking with her legs, which he easily evaded. "Why did you mess up my shot? I could have killed him! Do you not know what an evil creature he is?"
"Unfortunately I do know." The man said icily. "But you do not know what would have been the consequences of your actions."
"We would get a new sheriff, anyone is better than him!"
"No, miss. Prince John has decreed that if Vaisey is killed he will send his army and destroy all of Nottingham."
She stopped struggling and stared up at him with wide eyes, the skin visible under the layer of mud paling. "Oh." Was all she could say.
"Yes, 'oh'. Now, care to explain why I find a young girl such as yourself wandering around in the woods like a ruffian and shooting sheriffs? You do not look as though you are an outlaw."
"I'm not that young." She snapped indignantly, sneering at the man as he raised an eyebrow. "I happen to be eighteen, thank you."
"Then why is an eighteen year-old girl acting as you are instead of sitting at home with her husband?"
"I am not married, and I am an outlaw, or as bad-off as an outlaw at any rate." She grumbled falling back against the ground. "I have been disgraced and I have no where to go."
The man merely glanced down at her before asking: "And what did you do to be so disgraced?"
She didn't reply.
He shrugged and stood, offering a hand to her as she lay still.
She tentatively took his hand, shrieking in shock when instead of pulling her up and letting go he retained his grasp and rested his other hand on her waist, throwing her over his broad shoulder in one, swift movement before moving on in the direction he had been walking previously.
"What are you doing? Let me down!" She cried, wriggling as his shoulder dug into her stomach and beating his back with her fists.
"Sorry miss, but I think some friends of mine may be able to help you." He stopped walking. "Or would you rather try to find your way through the forest without any food and hope that some kind person will take you in, looking like you do?"
She stopped struggling. "Can I trust you?" She asked timidly, trying to turn her head to look at him.
He began walking once more. "Yes, you can. I'm Carter, in case you were wondering."
She slumped against his back in defeat. "Johanna."
Johanna wasn't sure how long the man, Carter, had been walking. She had dozed off a few times, miraculous as it was with the uncomfortable, jolting motion caused by being thrown over his shoulder. Last she remembered the sun had still been fairly high, but now it was visibly sinking behind the trees, casting long shadows onto the forest floor and dipping the wood into a soft shade of twilight.
Her stomach suddenly sounded a tremendous growl of hunger, and she thought she felt Carter chuckle before she was swung back to her feet, expelling a soft 'oof' as she felt the ground under her feet sway and was sent tumbling into the dirt.
"Why have we stopped?" She asked as she tried to rid herself of the dizziness.
"It's nightfall, if you hadn't noticed. Besides, you've been making noises like that for the past hour and I figured you'd be wanting something to eat." Carter said, gathering some wood from the surrounding area and arranging it in a clump for a fire, leaving a good amount to the side for later use.
She watched as he took out some flint and struck it together, eliciting a spark and catching the relatively dry wood on fire, then blowing gently on the tiny flame until it took to the kindling.
Carter sat back on his heels and then glanced at the filthy girl. He reached into his belongings and withdrew a loaf of bread, before splitting it in half and tossing the larger end to her.
Johanna's eyes widened and she reflexively reached out and snatched the bread from the air as it sailed towards her. Suddenly mad with hunger, she crammed the slightly tough loaf into her mouth and tried to eat it as fast as she could, hardly taking a breath the entire time.
She had already consumed nearly the entire loaf when she looked up to see Carter staring at her with a mixture of amusement and awe.
"Whu?" She asked, her mouth still full of bread. Her cheeks flushed in embarrassment when he continued to watch her.
"Forgive me, I did not realize you were that hungry." He said, laughing.
She scowled and turned her back to him, allowing the growing fire to warm her skin, staring moodily into the darkness and mumbling about rude men under her breath. She could still hear Carter's laughter as he finished eating, but she studiously ignored him.
"Here." Johanna started; she hadn't heard him approach and had been drifting off. A long, warm cloth had been placed over her shoulders. The cloak was heavy and a bit dirty, but served its purpose as she tugged it over herself and held it shut.
"What about you?" She asked, finally turning and facing the man, who had returned to his side of the fire, resting against a tree.
"I'll be fine, you need it more than I do. Now get some rest, we still have a ways to go tomorrow."
Johanna observed him for a moment more, than lay down, attempting to find a somewhat comfortable area on the hard ground, keeping the cloak wrapped warmly around her. It was a long time before she fell asleep. An owl was hooting in a nearby tree, crickets were chirping, and there was a continuous noise from a stream she hadn't noticed before. Everywhere she tried to lie there was a root sticking up, or rocks, or sticks, or some other obstruction. The ground was too firm, and she was chilled, even with the cloak. She couldn't hear Carter, so she assumed he was asleep, but didn't turn around to check, just in case.
"Would you just go to sleep already?" His voice, a bit gruff with drowsiness broke the silence between them. "I can't listen for people if your tossing and turning drowns out their footsteps."
She rolled onto her back and stopped her movements, staring up at the not quite black sky, where little pinpricks of light dotted the inky expanse and created unlimited paths and pictures. Slowly she drifted off to sleep, the fire popping quietly as it burned down, leaving behind a swath of glowing embers. Carter remained against the tree, dozing lightly and keeping one eye, and an ear, open in case of danger. The thickness of night settled over Sherwood, and the forest slept.