just a head's up; 1) this is my very first RH fic and idk if it'll be my last..?, and 2) i'm editing a few chapters in this, just to let you know... so with that, enjoy.
disclaimer: i don't own BBC Robin Hood; Ella the Raven belongs to me.

~i~
Like a Flame

Stepping back into the moon's light, the man afforded a disbelieving half chuckle, "You're joking, you must be…"

The woman's slender fingers flexed on her knife's handle as she said nothing and instead lunged with a practiced and swift horizontal slash.

He dropped to his knees as crimson slowly began to leak from the thin and deep gash in his throat; his brown eyes blearily looked up at her. "B-Bella…"

"I am sorry, William." Tears began to sting at her darkened blue irises, before she closed them tight as she kicked at his chest so he fell back onto the cold floor. Without another look back at the dead man, she left the room at a sprint.

I} Several years later {I

You couldn't negotiate in a better place, if you asked him.

The black-clad man had been sent to see if the allegedly-good hopeful was worth the time and trouble of his journeying beyond the borders of Nottingham and to a small pub just outside the town of Lincoln. Granted he had aspired to be doing something more interesting than wait around for some fool… His patience was thin enough as it was.

"Judging by your overall dark demeanor in a lively place like this, you must be the man who's in charge." A voice said from the bar, causing the man to raise a brow. The owner of the voice sifted through the small crowd of patrons to approach his table not far from the bar with a mug of ale on hand.

The man gauged the thin frame of the person whose dark green cloak covered their head with a long hood. He scoffed slightly, folding his arms at his chest. "You must be the one, then. That hooded look draws attention in small places like this." He replied, nodding slightly to the chair before him as they sat down at his table.

"Right, like you obviously don't stand out, looking like the bloody undertaker." The hopeful scoffed back, taking a generous sip of their almost-finished ale.

"Mind your tongue, boy. You have yet to know who you speak to… If you value your life, that is." Shame the fool wasn't a woman; he would have thought that was witty.

The hopeful tipped their head up a little, the shade of their hood not showing the curled lip beneath the shade. "I know who you are… Any serf this far north of London knows of the infamous Sir Guy of Gisborne." It was difficult to mistake someone so well disliked, after all. Downing the last sips of ale, the hopeful placed the mug on the table. "It is a pleasure to meet the man behind the rumors."

The man smirked at the change in tone, leaning forward a bit on his elbows, cold blue eyes showing his curiosity. "I would like to learn the name of one like you." He did not ask as his lowered tone didn't show the niceties of a question.

If you want the job, best introduce yourself, no? The hopeful wondered, internally scowling. Outwardly, a sigh passed her lips as the hooded stranger drew back a little to lower her hood, revealing a woman.

She didn't look to be much older than her early thirties, still a maiden in her prime. While he expected her hair to be long and kept back somehow, it wasn't. It was shoulder length and was dark black; her eyes were a light hue of blue, like ice. It was no wonder she wore a hood.

"My name is Ella." The woman introduced in a calm voice.

an: hope you guys enjoyed, and again, constructive criticism is welcome, just nothing uberly harsh. thanks! :)