Tree Tag

"Can we play a game?" a little boy of seven asked. He was looking at his older brother, a brown haired lad of eleven. The older boy looked at his little pest - I mean brother… "Your too little to play with me."

"Nu-ah!" the littlest one said with pure vehemence. "I am too big enough to play with you! 'Sides you don't have anyone else to play with."

The elder child screwed up his face in response, "You'll get hurt. When you break your legs don't come running to me."

To any onlooker they were as different as night and day. The smallest had much darker hair than his brother, practically black - while the older youth had dark brown, the former's straight the latter's curled. Their personalities were different as well, the older boy was much more cautious - sneaky if you would, while the youngest was unquestionably gung-ho - not caring what type of scrape he got himself into, because he knew that his elder brother would always get him out.

The little fellow perked up, "Is that a yes then?"

Sighing, the older boy nodded his head - how did he always get talked into this? "But I'm warning you," the eleven year old retorted, shaking his finger at the boy of seven. "If you get hurt, you don't tell Mother and you don't blame me. Got it?"

Clapping his hands in glee, the younger of the twain gave his brother a hug, practically knocking him over, "Thank you Allan!"

Allan A Dale smiled into his little brother's mussed up hair, then caught himself and gently pushed Tom away, "That's alright. No need to get all sappy about it. Your gonna get hurt though, don't say I didn't warn yah…"

Tom trailed after Allan, as they deviated off the main path and into the forest. Once out of sight of the meager shanty their family lived in, Allan began to run. Tom raced after him, calling for him to slow down. The older boy obliged his sibling, realizing that Tom couldn't run as fast - having littler legs. Chest heaving, Tom leaned against a tree to catch his breath, "Your gonna get in trouble, Allan."

"And what for?" Allan pushed his face into his brother's, attempting to be as menacing as possible.

Still panting, Tom said, unflinching, "You was runnin with your hands in your pockets! Mother said she was gonna whoop you next time she saw yah."

"Well, not to be funny, Tom, but she didn't see me. And I know that even you have the brains enough to keep your mouth shut about it. 'Else wise I am gonna have to take yah home."

"No Allan! I promise I'll be quiet! I won't breath a word."

"Oh, alright then. Come on," Allan motioned his brother with a wave of his hand and continued on his trek.

About a quarter of an hour passed before they came to their 'destination.' Tom looked around and stared at Allan like the other boy was addled, "Where are we?"

Allan smiled down at him. "In the woods," the older youth stated with obvious superiority.

Tom glared, "I can see that, but why?"

"We, my dear friend, are going to climb that there tree."

Tom blinked in surprise, "What for?"

Before replying, Allan approached the tree and gripped a low branch, pulling himself up on it slightly to check the sturdiness. "Well Tom, we are going to play a new game," he said dropping down from the limb.

Getting exasperated from Allan's lack of explanation, Tom pried further, "What kind of game?"

Allan grabbed hold of the bough again and pulled himself up to the next branch, swinging his leg to the right and hooking onto another limb. "A fun game," he grunted, managing to pull the rest of his body onto the limb. He sat and wiped his brow with a dirty sleeve, grinning down at Tom.

In a sudden moment of anger, Tom raced over and grabbed onto the branch that Allan had just released. He tried to draw his body up but was only able to succeed in clawing at the trunk with his feet. Tom's older brother heaved a audible sigh and snatched at the back of his sibling's shirt.

Allan hauled Tom up to the branch that he was seated upon, "Stop squirming! I got yah. Oomph, why don't you lay off the venison for awhile?"

Turning his head Allan hid the smile that crept upon his lips as he heard Tom mutter that he would if they had any. Touching the trunk to balance himself, the older lad stood up shakily, "Alright! Next branch."

Tom groaned but followed dutifully, mumbling distaste all the way. "How far are we going to climb?" Tom panted, his right hand slipping off a small branch. He let out a gasp as his breath caught in his throat, fortunately he snatched another available limb and held on, his eyes wild. Tom's tongue was dryer than cracked autumn leaves and he stuck it out of his mouth and pulled it back inside in hopes of convincing his mouth to salivate.

Still clambering up the tree, branch after branch, Allan glanced back at his little brother - oblivious that the game had nearly gone awry, "We're going to the top. Comm'on, almost there."

Nervously, Tom took hold of the same branch that had almost sent him careening moments ago. He wrapped his fingers around it - he didn't slip. Tom looked to the heavens, though they happened to be obscured by several tree limbs in full bloom, "Thank yah God, for not letting me fall. Wouldn't 'ave wanted to left yah a big ole' splat mess to wipe up. And 'sides - I don't think that the devil likes little 'uns, so you would have been stuck with me and you can't even imagine what trouble I would get into. Amen." This ungodly reverence being completed, Tom began to follow in Allan's footsteps once again - keeping his fingers tight around the boughs.

"We're there!" Allan shouted triumphantly dragging himself up to one last branch and standing.

Tom grabbed the last branch by his brother's bare feet, and hauled himself up next to Allan. Standing up awkwardly, Tom clung to Allan's shirt for support. The latter shook him off as soon as Tom had his balance. "Don't do that again," Allan growled. "You could 'ave caused me to fall. Not to be funny, but I don't think either of us would have been happy."

Tom didn't like the feeling of not being in control of any situation. And standing here, in this thick cluster of boughs, he didn't feel in control. Allan usually let him have his own way, but this time his elder brother was making certain that he kept the situation in his power - causing Tom much aggravation.

"Allannnn," the younger boy whined. "What are we doin up here?"

Allan's smile engulfed his whole face, "We, Tom, are going to play…" He let the words hang in the air to give Tom anticipation, "Tree Tag!"

Tom blinked, startled by Allan's exuberance, "Tree Tag? What's that?"

Laying a hand upon his little brother's shoulder, Allan began to explain as if he were speaking to a toddler - irking Tom yet again, "Tree Tag, is tag that you play in the trees. Alright?"

"Is that it?" Tom asked dubiously.

"That's it," Allan stated simply with a shrug of his shoulders.

The youngest brother took a moments pause to reflect upon this new game - by the time he was done he had decided that it sounded rather fun. "I'll go first!" Tom shouted, his excitement apparent.

"Wrong," Allan said with a twang, placing a finger to his brother's lips to prevent the lad from bringing every villager there was. "I thought of it, I go first."

Tom slumped his shoulders angrily. Allan held up a finger, "But, I will give you a head start. Scamper off - I'll be behind you…"

In a flash, Tom was bounding from branch to branch in an effort to escape the terror that was Allan. The older boy grimaced, that mite was going to get himself killed one of these days by just leaping into things like that.

Tom's heart was racing and his brother hadn't even begun chasing him. He took a fleeting look over his shoulder, causing him to stumble. He fell forwards and latched onto the branch he was formerly standing upon. Gripping it in a large hug, Tom screwed his eyes shut but was comforted by the fact that the air wasn't gushing past him. Tom could hear Allan gasp loudly as his own arms and legs entwined the rough limb. Chuckling slightly, more out of fear than amusement, the little fellow stood back up. "I'm fine!" he called to the relieved ears of his senior.

Allan rubbed his knitted brow, exhaling deeply - Why him? The older youth gingerly began to leap onto the large limbs of the old tree, his tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration. He was going to get Tom, of that he was certain.

Tom hopped upon one particular bough and it made a loud disturbing cracking sound. The younger boy didn't notice it but his brother sure did and it stopped him dead in his tracks. Allan listened intently for any more 'snaps,' fortunately he didn't hear any. Attempting to regain some of the momentum he lost, Allan scurried after Tom - sidestepping the questionable branch.

Being careful had its drawbacks for Allan, because he wasn't able to move as fast as his younger sibling - who had no fear whatsoever of falling. The way Tom staggered about on the branches, however, also had its disadvantages. Tom was sure on his feet but his feet were not sure on him - overconfidence would be his downfall if he didn't watch his step.

It was Tom's faltering feet that enabled Allan to catch up with him. In one swift movement, Allan swiped his hand across the younger lad's faded brown shirt. Tom yelped at the surprise of the touch, he faltered and balked at the action. Allan, seizing the opportunity of Tom's astonishment, darted away before his sibling could recover his senses.

Tom jumped after Allan, causing the entire tree to shake - he wasn't letting him off that easy… "I'll get you Allan!"

Laughter filling his voice, Allan replied, "Oi, I doubt that mate."

Tom made a noise like an enraged skunk (Allan would prefer if you didn't ask how he knew what an enraged skunk sounded like) and lit off after him at a dangerous pace.

Without warning Allan practically fell forwards, but used his outstretched hands to halt his stumble. "Bloody He-" Allan stopped and finished the last part of the word silently - no need to let Tom hear that kind of language. He grimaced as he peered downwards, his foot was entangled in several branches.

Allan pulled his foot upwards in an attempt to free it, however the bark tore at his bare flesh - impeding his progress. With one last mighty yank, Allan wrenched his foot loose. He tottered during the aftermath of the action and had only just regained his balance when…

It was the suddenness of the act that caused the older boy to holler, but it was the force that caused him to tumble. Tom had 'caught' him. Allan saw everything happen before it actually did - he saw the rough shove, the way he lurched backwards, the edge of the leaf canopy, and the open sky - he didn't even have a chance to scream again.

The next instant he was falling, his arms wafting through the air like a fledgling. Allan watched as outstretched branches whizzed past him, their arms longing to snap his back in two. All he could do was pray fervently that he didn't smack into one, being a real cripple was not on his itinerary of pitiable tricks and scams. To Allan, the feeling of weightlessness was a sickening feeling and, despite his desire for it to end, knew that when it did he probably would regret it.

After what felt like an eternity, Allan made connection with the ground. He lay flat on his back, the loud sound of his body meeting the dirt still rang in his ears. Allan didn't want to open his eyes for fear he would see the flames coming to engulf him for having tricked that other boy out of his pastry - among other things…

When he did blink, the entire world looked white, fuzzy, and bright. Oh, no! He was dead! Allan moved his hand to rub his eyes, and a thought hit him: If I'm dead, why does my arm hurt so bad?

Gingerly, he massaged his eyelids, clearing up the white and fuzzy part of his vision. That didn't explain the bright- Oh, he was staring at the sun.

Groaning and grunting in agony, Allan rolled over onto his side. He could faintly hear Tom calling to him, "Allan! Allan, are you killed?"

Twisting his head, Allan saw Tom quickly make his way down to the forest floor. The younger sibling dangled off the last branch, before dropping next to his brother. Tom shook Allan violently in order to assess his condition, killed or mostly killed.

"Don't touch me!" Allan snapped. "I can't breath right, let me be."

The littler boy danced from foot to foot in anxiety, "Pull your knees t' your chest. Pa, said to do that when yah get the air knocked out from yah."

Allan did as suggested, and Tom smiled nervously, "See. Your not going to die are you?"

"No," the elder of the twain grumbled. "I ain't gonna die."

Tom bent down and sat on the balls of his feet. The leaves he crunch in the process caused Allan's head to ache more at the sound. Lowering his voice to a bare whisper, Tom spoke to his brother, "Your not going to tell, are yah?"

Allan muttered a pained 'No,' much to his sibling's relief. The two boys stayed under the hazardous tree for a long while, giving Allan ample time to recover. Then they slowly made their way back to the house, each step bringing a spark of pain into all areas of Allan's person.

Walking into their home, they found their Mother cutting up a variety of vegetables for the vegetable stew - not an unusual sight. Smiling, the young woman turned to face her two boys. She was young not even in her thirties, with brown curling hair and bright blue eyes. She was always smiling even though life was hard for her and her family. Her husband, Tomas, being unable to find work, was reduced to poaching and even at that meat was scarce. Tomas' lack of employment, was in fact paying for the sins of his own father - a common thief. Paying for his sires crimes, however, turned himself into a pickpocket because of the rejection of the rest of the community.

While she smiled at her sons, Allan sheepishly grinned back at her. His Mother, Alina's, smile faded quickly as she looked at him, "What happened to your face!"

As a reflex, Allan ran both hands over his head - frantically thinking of an excuse for any blood or bruises. "I, uh-uh-I…" he trailed off anxiously, any and all explanations fleeing his mind.

Angrily, Alina continued her loud earsplitting tirade, "You, you! Allan Michael A Dale! You have been running with your hands in your pockets again!"

Eyes wide, Allan looked at her, "What gives you that idea?"

Hands on her hips his Mother glared down at her eleven year old, "Your tooth. It's chipped! It wasn't like that when you left this afternoon."

Her oldest son, ran his tongue along his front teeth -yep, there was definitely a chip broken off. His Mother raised her hand to smack him, but lowered it, "I think, you have learned your lesson well enough. Don't you?"

Allan nodded his head vigorously in agreement, Don't worry, I'll never trust Tom to play Tree Tag again…

A/N Well I hoped that you liked Allan's story - it was my first one about him. Please make my day and click on the "review" button and tell me what you thought! I really don't want to beg, but if I get desperate I will. Anywho, thanks for reading! Also the words italicized are how the boys would be speaking - I know they are out of context and spelled wrong but hey, do you think Allan and Tom care about grammar? And, as I am certain you already know, I don't own Robin Hood BBC - but would enjoy discussing time travel with H. G. Wells…