Alright. That stung. It was true, but a little uncalled for. Will snarled and clenched a hand around one of the hilts of his knife. John had always been one of the more benevolent towards Will, among the Merry Men. He was sure it was part his good relationship with Fanny, part how he refrained from beating Wulf up when he pushed his tongue a little too far. But Locksley had John even calling him pissy. Suppressing a scream–too embarrassing to let everyone know that one little comment was digging so deep under his skin–he ripped his knife from the folds of his tunic and hurled it at a tree. In the dark, it looked like it had stuck perfectly between two bumps of bark. He stopped and stared at it as hard as he could, pretending that it had and that those two bumps were the eyes of Robin of Locksley. It was all he would deserve, the selfish, greedy bastard.
There was only one place that could calm him down, so he went there. The dark river roared at him, laughing at his weaknesses and inviting him to jump in and never resurface. Ever since he'd met Echo, he had loved rivers, because ishe/i had loved rivers. Everyone had always assumed that his long hours of brooding by the water was just him stewing over this or that, and he was fine with that, but he knew much better. It was the memories that made him brood. The time she'd almost broken his nose, their first meeting, their first horse ride together with her holding tight ti his waste. They should have made him smile, but instead they made him want to scream and cry and ibreak things./i He wanted her back.
It was all because of Locksley. First, his petty little tantrums had driven their–his!–father to discard Will's mother. Than, years later, he hadn't bothered to try and help when he had seen the two younger gutter-urchins being barraged by a group of his noble friends. Snorting like a bull in an effort to keep his frustrated yells away, Will picked up another sizable rock into the froth of the river. All Locksley's fault. Another rock flew into the water. He didn't save either of the people Will loved. A third rock, much larger than the others, splashed into the river with a sucking sound. There were no more rocks within grabbing distance, and Will was afraid if he moved he would go straight back to the fire and kill Robin then and there. Brother indeed.
"Echo!" he cried it just loud enough so that its sound would bounce off the trees and the small walls of the canyon the river was carving. "Echo!" Slightly louder this time. His voice, frustrated, upset, furious, echoed back much weaker. God, he missed her.
