She ran faster than she thought she possibly could. Leaves crunched and twigs snapped as she flew through the forest, and over her heavy breathing she could still hear the cat calls and yelling. They were closer than they had ever been before. This time, she thought, she wouldn't get away.
Arrows flew towards her, two, three at a time, grazing her ankles as she ran. The morning dew on the trees and grass of Sherwood Forest made her slip at every turn. She turned right, then right again. Arrows continued to chase her followed by the voices of the men who wanted her dead. And, as she paused to contemplate her next turn, she felt it. Fire. Shooting up from her thigh then down through her knee, followed by the warmth of blood trickling down. She had no time. She turned left at a huge oak tree and spun round to sit on the other side of it, crawling under a shrub that grew at its roots and curled up in a ball. After a few moments of pep talk, she finally looked down to see the arrow jutting out of the back of her right thigh. The sight was unbearable. She could never look at blood – especially her own – and teamed with the shortness of breath and exhaustion, it was no time at all before she felt herself fading away into a fainting spell. She was startled back to consciousness by the hand that tightly covered her mouth.
"Don't make a sound." The low voice warned. Every muscle tightened up and admitted defeat. Her clear blue eyes slowly looked up to see the man who had crawled in after her, and she was shocked to see he held no anger or victory. Those brown eyes were filled with kindness and pity. She reached up to touch his face, her hand grazing his beard. "Don't take this personally." He whispered as he pulled out a strip of cloth. She opened her mouth to question him, but he quickly covered it again, shaking his head. As he tied the blindfold over her eyes, she knew the only choice was to trust this man.
Gingerly they walked, crushing dead leaves on the ground and kicking over acorns. They had made so many turns she couldn't even keep track of where they had come from. Even if she was from around Sherwood Forest, it would be impossible to retrace these steps. Suddenly, the cloth was pulled off. The sunlight that gleamed through the tree tops stung her pupils and, as they adjusted to the light, she flinched back, triggering intense pain in her leg where the arrow still protruded. But her biggest concerns at the moment were the six unfamiliar faces staring back at her. They stood within what looked to be a room built into the ground of the forest itself, beds and tables inside a hill. The man who had found her placed his hand softly between her shoulder blades. "It's alright now," he said, "you're safe with us."
All stood still save for the man at the back of the room. He put down his bow and walked towards the girl. "Allan, who is this?" he asked, looking at the man next to her. He shook his head.
"I've no clue. I just saw her running through the woods, men shootin at 'er. Figured I had to help." The man then turned his eyes to look at the girl. He put on a warm smile and placed his hands on her shoulders.
"Well," he grinned, "know that you are safe now. You are under the protection of Robin Hood! I am Robin, and this man who saved you is Allan-a-Dale. Who are you?" She gazed at Allan thankfully and then went back to Robin.
"My name is Lydia. I have come from the south – I need to get to Nottingham." Robin nodded and began to speak, but was interrupted by a blond sitting on a table.
"Nottingham! What could you possibly want in Nottingham! Turn round love, there's no good there!"
"Much!" shouted Robin as he glared a warning. "Excuse him… what brings you to the other side of England just to get to Nottingham?" Lydia began to answer but the words morphed into a gasp of pain. The arrow felt as if it was digging deeper. Robin shushed her softly and helped her sit on the ground. "Who did this to you?"
Lydia just shook her head. Everyone within the room stepped closer to her. From the crowd broke a girl, the only girl, with wet cloths and a bottle in her hand. She propped Lydia's leg up on to the top of her knee. "My name is Djaq. I can mend this if you let me." She said, soaking the strips in the fluid from her bottle. Djaq put her left hand on the arrow and grabbed it firmly, cloth in the opposite hand, eyes fixed onto Lydia's. "Tell me, Lydia," she whispered as if it were a secret, "Are you brave?"
"I like to think so." Lydia said unsurely. At that moment Djaq tugged the arrow from her flesh, the tip dragging part of her leg out with it. She shrieked so loudly neighboring birds fluttered in surprise. Blood began to rush out; Djaq quickly tied the wet bandage around her thigh tightly and put on more strips to cut off the circulation. Robin gently stroked her hair and repeated his question: "Who did this to you?"
Lydia leaned back to rest her head on his shoulder. She could feel his toned body through his shirt – his strength was comforting. "I don't know. I just don't know. They have been trying for months…"
"Well," Robin said as he put his arms around her. "You are safe now. We will be sure of that." A rather large man then sat next to Lydia, handing her a bowl of lukewarm stew and a tarnished spoon. She thanked him but still watched him warily. "This is Little John." Robin said softly to her.
"What business do you have in Nottingham?" Little John spoke carefully. His words were so gentle for his size. Lydia stirred the spoon in circles in the bowl but couldn't bring herself to eat – her nerves would never allow it. Slowly she put it down, but never took her eyes off of the food.
"My uncle is there. I hear… I hear he knows the Sheriff, or holds a place in the castle or something. I don't know – I haven't seen him in years. It's just what my father used to say and so I hoped he could help get me protection." Little John then inquired about her father's location. Lydia took in a deep breath, looked up, and sighed heavily. "They killed him. These archers – they took his life and now they are after me."
"Why?" Much suddenly asked, hopping up from the table. "You're what, twenty? What have you possibly done?" Allan-a-Dale then put his hand hard against Much's chest.
"Who said she's guilty of something, eh?"
"I can't imagine," Lydia whispered, "Really. My father, he was a priest. Renounced our family title, moved to the south, and gave away every spare penny we had to the less fortunate. His life was devoted to God." She sat up, and turned to Robin. "If the legends about you I hear are true, and you are Robin of Locksley… he would be so much like you. Then, one day in the middle of service, an arrow shoots through a window and straight….. straight into his heart. Since that day I have been hunted down." Her eyes began to glisten with sorrow and tears.
"I tell you what," Robin said, rubbing her cheek softly with his thumb, "Allan, Will and I will take you to Nottingham and find your uncle. Ensure your safety." Again, Much's voice broke the calm.
"Why should Will go? Why not me?" He shot a glare to Will who in return shrugged his shoulders to Robin. The legendary Hood pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes.
"Right: Much, Allan, and I will take you to Nottingham. But for tonight, you are resting here with us. You are in no shape to travel."
"No, please." Lydia rebutted. "I have to find my uncle." Robin looked to Djaq, who tossed the idea about in her head.
"Well," she thought aloud, "If you keep the wound clean and carry her if it bleeds heavily, I don't see a problem medically."
"So we go now." Lydia said to Robin. He smirked but did not reply. She then turned to Much and slowly stood, struggling and using Little John's help. "Much…. Will you come now?" Much looked for the words, not wanting to cross his master's wishes. Robin laughed and said: "I love your persistence. If you get better and know how to fight, I would love to have you as part of the gang."
"We'll see." She answered laughingly, still unsure of the wonder of this Robin Hood. The stories had bled down to where she lives of his adventures – but surely they were no more than hype. Nonetheless, he would take her to Nottingham. So, as the men prepared some supplies, she begged herself to just stay strong. A simple wound won't allow her to cry in front of Robin Hood.