Author Notes: Thanks for the great feedback. I really appreciate it! Hope you like the new chapter.

Chapter 1: The Reflection of Blood

Will trailed absently at the back of the group, preferring to take the responsibility to lead the horses rather than listen to John and him talk and laugh at the front. Silently, Will did what he did best. He stood apart and aside, watching and observing, recording reactions and comments to determine where everyone would stand in regards to the nobleman. He used the calmness of the animals either side of him to settle his own mind; hate and fear swirling in a maelstrom around him.

The dark man from the south – Azeem, Will thought he was called – trailed at the back a few steps ahead of him, watching the nobleman's every move like a falcon, but doing it in such a way that it was almost imperceptible. Every now and again, the painted man would turn to regard Will for a second, as if he knew. It was irrational, Will knew that, of course he did, but he could not help himself when each time those dark, wise eyes met with his; he had to cast his eyes to the floor.

It wasn't fair. Will almost smiled when he heard himself sound like a petulant child, but it was honestly what he felt. For the last year, ever since he had been officially named an outlaw – not that he had been out of the law before that of course – he had finally felt as if he belonged. No longer was he a bastard child to be pitied on the edge of the village, he was the same as everyone else. Just persecuted men hiding in a forest. Now that man was here, and Will knew everything would change. Everything Robin of Locksley touched turned to ash for Will Scarlett; it would only be a matter of time.

The fire skipped and danced, flickering it's light playfully over the faces of the men. Will sat with his back against a tree at the edge of the laughing men. It was instinct; he didn't feel comfortable leaving his back exposed. Again, a stupid childish notion, but Will couldn't help it. Robin made him nervous. He made him feel out of control of his own feelings and actions.

Will blinked – he had allowed his mind to drift. Catching what Robin was saying about their ghosts of Sherwood, he felt his anger burst out in a voice too reasoned to be his own, "They've worked so far. Do you have a better idea?"

"You could always fight back." Robin flicked a piece of woodland detritus into the fire, but all Will could do was stare in shock. Was he actually being serious? Did he want to kill everyone Will had ever known? Or worse, did he think he could find a place amongst peasants?

Will felt a lump build in his throat, which he swallowed viciously down, "What does the rich son of a devil worshipper care about a bunch of outlaw peasants?"

The blind old man started howling something, but Will's eyes remained fixed on Locksley, who turned calmly to regard him and the others in the circle, "My father was no devil worshipper. And I'll have words with any man who says otherwise. But he's right. I was a rich man's son. But when I killed the Sheriff's men, I became an outlaw like you."

Anger boiled in Will as he stood up, his voice laced with venom, "You are nothing like us!" He stormed away, the sudden claustrophobic atmosphere in the camp becoming unbearable. Dimly he heard John laugh it all off, but he could feel Robin's eyes burning into his back.

Everything was a blur as Will moved through camp, trying to find air to breathe. He finally came to the secluded waterfall and pool that lay a little way out of their way. He punched a tree, and felt mildly better. Or at least, the physical pain of his hand helped to overcome everything else for a moment. Softly, Will moved to the edge of the languidly rippling pool, and stared down at his distorted reflection. The unnameable pressure in his throat returned, and he kicked his reflection to scatter into watery ribbons, "You are nothing like me!" He spat out, before sitting heavily at the bank, feeling a marginal amount of catharsis as he managed to vent his feelings.

He didn't know how long he sat watching the night sky give the moon and the stars to its reflection in the pool, but with a jolt, Will found himself being nudged awake by a booted foot. He had fallen asleep curled on his side on the bank. One foot was half draped in the water, and with a grimace he found it to be numb and stiff. Looking up, he found himself face to face with the painted Moor of Locksley's. A hand was offered to him, which he took. "Thank you." Will murmured uncertainly, before scrambling back up the bank in the direction of the camp.

Azeem shook his head. There was something odd about that boy, make no mistake. He had come looking for some peace and quiet before sunrise and his morning prayers. Instead, it seemed, he had found a mystery. No matter. He was patient.

Will looked up at the sound of hooves hammering their way into camp. Robin, who had disappeared earlier that morning, had arrived on a white horse and deposited a sack on the ground. By the looks of it, he was getting a sharp lecture from Azeem. Then Will blinked, getting a closer look at the creature. No. No, he did not just… "Wonderful! You've stolen the Sheriff's horse?"

"You've stirred up a bloody hornet's nest now!" John growled.

Robin jumped across the carcass of a fallen tree, Will followed, determined not to let this drop, "You fool! You've started a war!"

"We're already at war!" Robin stooped to give Duncan some bread, "And I say we strike back at the very man who would take our homes, and hunt our children."

"We? You planning to join us then mate?" John asked.

"No, to lead you." Robin answered simply.

Will felt as if he had been punched in the stomach. The world dimmed out as everything kept moving but stood still at the same time. He couldn't obey this man. He wouldn't.

To Be Continued…

Author Notes: Please review!