Introduction

Two cloaked figures stood guard by a wooden door in the night. The slightly shorter of the two was leaning casually against the stone wall, his brown eyes sliding shut. The other was standing up so straight, it was unnatural. His own eyes were flitting about restlessly.

A sudden movement caught his attention. 'Allan!' he hissed, urgently. 'Wake up!'

Allan shuffled sleepily, saying, 'Will, do you mind? When else am I supposed to get a bit of sleep?'

'There's something watching us,' Will claimed, staring into the darkness. His companion gazed slowly along the range of his vision. He sighed, leaning back against the wall. 'I don't see anyone.'

'You have to keep watching. He'll move in a minute.'

Reluctantly, Allan opened his eyes again. 'I'm telling you, Will, you're having hallu-' He stopped, mid-rebuke, squinting into the darkness. 'Wait...'

'I told you!' Will crowed, as there was a flash of movement to their left.

'Who is it? Allan asked him.

'How should I know?'

There was silence for a moment, and suddenly, the sound of footsteps, soft thought they were, rang across the courtyard.

The door between the two men opened, revealing four figures.

'Robin!' whispered Will at once. 'Someone's watching us.' The man in question cast a worried glance around the square.

The dark-haired Saracen woman behind Robin reached around and tapped Allan on the shoulder. 'Who is it?' she asked, in a heavily accented voice.

'How should we know, Djaq?' Allan shot at her. 'I'm not being funny, but whey should that matter?'

'Could be a guard,' answered the blonde man beside Djaq.

'No, Much,' quelled Robin. 'He's to small to be a guard. And his movements are unhampered by chain mail.'

The largest man strode forward. 'He's carrying something,' he pointed out in a low voice.

Sure enough, the figure stilled long enough for them to see that in his hand was gripped...

'A staff,' Will clarified. At this, Robin dislodged himself from the group and started to approach the figure.

Like a startled deer, the person started sprinting to the city wall.

'Follow him!' Robin called to the others.

I dodged in and out between piles of refuse and firewood, running frantically. I didn't know who my pursuers were but if they were loyal to the Sheriff, I couldn't risk capture. I reached the portcullis, but it was closed.

Cursing my bad luck, I started to climb. From below, I heard a male voice cry, Don't shoot him, just go after him!'

I smiled to myself as I gained the ramparts, reflecting on the inaccuracy of these words. There were few footholds between the stones, so I got as far down as I could, and let myself fall to the ground.

I landed in a crouched position with ease, still clutching my staff, my only weapon at hand. I decided I would swing by my camp to retrieve my bow, arrows, and other belongings, before taking cover in a rather useful cave I had discovered a week past.

Luckily, I had slept the last night very close to Nottingham, so I swung my pack over my shoulder, my quiver of arrows over the other, and scooped up my bow in my right hand.

Not so luckily, my momentary pause brought my pursuers down on me. The first to contest me was a bear-like man. I fended him off by engaging in a duel by staff. After a slight struggle, I knocked him upside the head, and he fell, dazed but not quite unconscious.

Next, I defended myself against the blunt side of an axe, wielded by a young man with uneven black hair. I let my staff fly and it caught him on his undefended left side, knocking him sideways. The one who seemed to be the leader came at me, brandishing a curved bow. I darted behind him and lodged my staff in the back of his knees, causing him to sprawl in the dead leaves. I turned, and met with a horribly familiar face.

Our eyes met, and a flit of recognition crossed his face. Anger flooded through me, and I drew back my staff to strike.

Fear followed recognition across his face. 'You wouldn't... your own...'

His protests came too late, however, and I heaved my staff into his stomach, knocking the wind out of him as he feel. TO my good fortune, his head connected with a tree trunk, rendering him unconscious.

I held my staff in front of my to protect myself from any attack, but I didn't need to bother. The Saracen woman and the other man just stared at me, their weapons hanging uselessly at their sides.

'Anyone else going to impede my progress?' I called in triumph. 'Or are you two acquiring sense?'

When I head a groan, I looked at the ground and saw the bear-like man stirring, shaking his head. I glanced up again, and, seeing that the two's eyes were on the others, I slipped into the darkness of the trees.

I made quick my pace to the cave, but I wasn't thinking about where I was going. How could he, of all people be here? What horrible fortune to meet him in the woods in such a way! I had, of course, been planning to find him, but I did not expect for a moment that he would find me.

Suddenly, I found myself at the mouth of the cave. I scrambled inside, taking a deep breath. The remnants of my fire last week were scattered blackly across the floor, spread when I kicked them about in an attempt to cover up my presence. I made my way to the back wall of the space, and sat down, leaning against it. I opened my pack and drew out a flint. I quickly and expertly started a fire with spare kindling I dug out of the very bottom of my pack.

When the spark had safely caught, I closed my eyes. But as soon as the dark had engulfed my mind, Allan's face burst into my thoughts. I opened my eyes again with a snap. I wouldn't fall asleep, that was all.

In an effort to keep myself awake, I rifled through the contents of my bag. There was my change of clothes; a pair of leggings the same as the pair I was wearing now, and a tunic of deep crimson, a different cloth than my current forest green one. The one that matched my eyes. I smiled to myself as I folded my spare clothes and laid them aside.

I next pulled out a small flask, half-full of water. I laid that on my clothes after taking a deep swig. I reached into the bag once more and felt a chain of cold metal. I pulled and revealed a necklace. One with a garnet pendant. My mother's. The only thing of value in our family. We were only lucky that Allan or Tom didn't steal it. They'd taken everything else.

I fingered the necklace, and, impulsively, put it around my neck. For good measure, I slipped my small looking glass out of my bag and admired the look of the necklace against my neck from every angle. Then, I guided the reflection to my eyes, and saw forest-green eyes staring back at me. I smiled softly, but hardened almost at once. If my esteemed father had seen me just then, he'd have said, 'Gwen, don't be so like your mother.' He thought my mother was too feminine and soft to work on a farm, but we did, and so my mother complained mitterly. She could have accepted the hand of a noble. But instead, she thought she married for love. Maybe that's why she insisted on being so feminine. She knew it annoyed my father.

I tucked the necklace under my tunic, laughing slightly. I drew the last item from my bag- a chunk of bread stolen from Nottingham kitchen only this morning. I took a bite between my teeth and ripped it off, tasting a slightly stale flavor. I swallowed with a grimace. How could they give such as this to living people?

I threw the remaining bread from me, hearing it roll into dark corner. I also heard rats squeaking in displeasure at the disturbance of their sleep.

I repacked my sack with care, trying to think about everything but Allan. Until I heard movement outside.

I stilled, hardly daring to breathe. I heard voices. Agitated voices.

'Who was that?' I heard someone ask. 'He was...'

Someone cut him off. 'Allan, what did you mean? Your own... what?' This voice had a particularly pleasant lilt to it. Still, I knew these to be the people I had just scraped with.

'I could have imagined it. But I thought it was... someone I knew.' That was the voice I had both wanted and not wanted to hear.

'Who?' asked a woman's voice. The Saracen woman, I recalled.

The voices were coming closer, and a stab of panic hit me. What if they were coming to the cave? Could I have left traces? No, I answered myself, the ground was dry, I could not have left footprints. But surely... they wouldn't come here, would they?

'I hate this bloody cave!' a different voice burst out. 'Rats, dark corners, and more rats! I hate it!'

'You were outvoted,' stated Allan's voice.

I got gingerly to my feet, wrapping my fingers around my staff as I rose.

I walked forward silently, and six figures came in to view.

'Stay away from this place!' I snarled, my voice low. 'You're not welcome here.'

Allan strode forward, looking strained. 'We seem to be running into each other a lot this evening,' he said in a tense voice.

'That's unfortunate for you,' I snapped, and I clubbed him over the head with my staff.

The Saracen woman winced as he slumped to the ground.

'What on earth...' marveled the blonde man.

'What did Allan mean?' cut in the leader, his lilting voice washing over me in waves. 'Your own... what?' he said again.

I looked at the unconscious figure at my feet, and laughed humorlessly. 'He thought I'd spare him any pain,' I began, shaking my head. 'Even though he gave my family enough grief and regret to last six lifetimes.'

'Your own what?' repeated the one with black hair; the one who had wielded the axe.

'He thought I'd leave him be because...' I gazed into the familiar face. 'Because this menace to society, this lump or cow dirt...' I kicked his limp arm softly. 'He's my brother.'