shortest thing i've ever done! Just a oneshot, i have no intention of continuing it.
Silence. That was all that was in the Camp that night, all asleep except for two troubled outlaws who were pretending to be. Djaq, the Saracen was sitting at the fire, her troubled mind not being soothed by the warm fire that she endured whilst she sat there. She finally gave up and retired to bed, not noticing a certain figure watch her through the trees…
She got to Will and smiled slightly at him, noticing he was just as troubled as she was. Will offered her his blanket, and she gladly sinked into his warm embrace, curling up besides him and nuzzling her head into his strong chest that was rising and falling gently.
"How is your cheek?" Djaq whispered to Will. She felt him shift nervously a bit.
"Alright, I guess. It is just a bruise.."
A bruise, yes, Djaq thought to herself bitterly as she was drawn closer. A bruise that would always remind her of this day. A bruise that would have depth…meaning to it. A bruise that will make her suffer.
"I can get you some paste…" Djaq started, but stopped by the reassuring smile the carpenter sent her way. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply.
Allan A-Dale watched through the trees, envy flowing through him.
They're fine without you…
He walked off, not caring what he left behind at that moment. Not caring that his friends would suffer that HE would suffer.
Djaq watched Allan go. She closed her eyes again and sighed.
Once a traitor, always a traitor. She thought. You must let him go, Saffiyah. Let him go. Your Allan is dead.
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