Thank you all for your reviews, hope you like the new chapter! Which as I just have to tell you cos I'm weird that way is the first thing I've posted since I turned seventeen yesterday-yes, just had to get that out there. Anyway, enjoy!

Chapter 3:

John Crawford was one of the few people in the world who knew about Will Scarlett's true heritage. He had once lived in Will's village, and having been always a suspicious man who never allowed any scrap of information to pass him by, he had noticed and put two and two together when Will and his mother had returned secretive and furious from the Locksley manor. He was not the only one, certainly. But he also knew that by now Robin of Locksley was aware of his young half-brother, and thanks to a brief stint spying on their camp in the forest, knew also that Will was one of the people Robin cared about most in the world.

Which was enough for him. It was Robin upon whom he wanted to avenge himself, and there was no better way to do it than to begin by killing his young brother, slowly and gleefully, in front of him, before moving onto his other loved ones.

He had reached the forest camp once more and chosen a spot to hide and wait for the chance to take Will Scarlett-listening. It was only then that he had become aware that Will was no longer within the camp at all, but that he had apparently run off and that Robin had in fact gone after him. On hearing this Crawford's face had twisted into a leer of sadistic satisfaction-this was perfect. Will would be alone in the forest, vulnerable and isolated, and just waiting for someone to attack him. He might even be able to get hold of Robin at the same time, and that would just be such ideal timing. He was certain in that moment of realisation that if there was a God, he was undoubtedly on his side.

He loved hurting children. Causing anyone pain was his greatest source of pleasure, but the younger they were the more intense the thrill he would experience within. Certainly, Will was not exactly a child, but he was barely a man, and Robin cared about him, and that was enough for Crawford. He was going to enjoy this conquest more than any before.

….

Robin was at a loose end-he could find neither hide nor hair of Will, after searching for several days. He had gone first to Lord Chevron, though not really expecting Will to have gone there-he had been desperate. The knight had listened to him courteously, then replied: "I have seen no sign of this boy myself, but my son did mention seeing a figure watching the manor a few days ago, who fled into the woods when he called out to him."

"Thank you," Robin said fervently. "Did he say which way he went?"

Chevron considered. "East, I believe. Three days ago. Though there is no proof that it was the boy you seek."

"It's enough," Robin said. "Thank you." Chevron shot him an indulgent smile, then shook his head a little.

"What I don't understand is why are you so worried, Robin. He is just a peasant, after all."

"He is my brother," Robin had said, a little stiffly, surprised.

Chevron had not looked impressed. "Maybe so, but still just a peasant like all the rest of them. Is he really worth all this, Robin?"

Robin had left him without another word-if he had allowed himself to speak he was sure he would have said something he would seriously regret later. Sometimes he was inclined to think Will had been right about nobles all along-all nobles, including himself. At any rate, since then he had been moving through Sherwood Forest for many days now-he had brought warm clothing and food supplies, and the actual journey was no difficulty for him. It was just that he knew so well that Will had none of the same.

There was nothing he could do except continue walking East, asking anyone he met-and there were few of them, out here in the wilderness-for news of his brother, searching in vain for tracks. But Will was too good a woodsman for him, and had hidden his passage well. It was as if he had just disappeared into the forest like smoke on the wind.

Robin found it a struggle to keep believing that everything would be all right. With every day that passed without him finding Will he felt the flame of his hopes die that little bit more-he feared that one morning he would wake up to find them crumbled away completely into ash.

Will was sleeping slumped and motionless at the bole of a tree, asleep, when he first realised that he was being followed. He jerked into wakefulness, startled by an indefinable noise somewhere not far away and did not move, eyes tight shut, listening hard. He was aware of freezing cold, forcing his body not to shiver, the wind whistling between the branches of the trees. Nothing more. Maybe I imagined it, he thought-then again. Hoofbeats. The sound travelled far, vibrating through the trunk of the tree, and that was the only thing that saved him. Someone was nearby, he realised, maybe no more than a few hundred metres, on horseback. And anyone who rode by night through Sherwood Forest was either desperate or insane, neither of which much reassured Will. Silently he got to his feet, gathering the damp folds of his cloak in his arms to keep them from trailing on the ground and making any noise and turned towards the direction of the hoofbeats-best to find out who it was, just in case. He began to move, almost gliding through the shadows, watching for twigs he could step on or branches he could trip over-after some time he became aware of a strange sound.

Singing.

He could not make out the words-just a sort of low, tuneless singing in the darkness. He was beginning to be afraid-it was like some sort of nightmare, or a ghost story to scare the gullible village children, a phantom rider who could only be detected by the sound of his eerie singing. Once you heard the song of the ghost you were lost…he shook his head violently to rid it of such horrible imaginings. That was what the night did to you-made anything possible. And he was not a child any more and should keep his wits about him.

He crouched low to the earth, half-concealed behind a bush, invisible in the moonlight, just in time to see the horse itself come trotting past. It was a tall beast, coat a sleek chestnut colour-at least Will thought so, though it was difficult to see in the darkness. But already open sores marred its back and froth bubbled at its lips, as if it were ridden by a demon. Will could in fact make out very little of the rider himself-he could see the outline of a bulky, muscular man, a cloak with its hood thrown back, hear the tuneless singing far more loudly-aside from this the rider was undistinguishable from the night. Will almost stopped breathing-he could smell blood and death so strongly it almost made him retch. What if it was the devil he had come across here? What if it was not just a story? What if…

"Dance down to hell, dance and don't look back, old master Crawford is coming home at last…"

Will pressed himself into the earth, terror so intense within him he had to fight not to scream. It's no devil, he told himself firmly, desperately. Don't be so stupid. You're no child. Just some drunk farmer taken a wrong turning somewhere. Get a grip on yourself, Will Scarlett-but out here in the darkness and secrecy of the night, the stench of death choking him and that twisted song oozing from a body that had never heard of melody it was all too easy to believe in the horror stories of his childhood. He lay motionless on the ground, barely breathing, until long after the horse and rider had passed him by, his heart thudding in his ears. He was beginning to wish he had never left camp, like the coward I am, he thought bitterly.

Things did not improve with the daylight. Will had been unable to sleep again after his nightmare encounter with the singing rider the night before, and had continued walking long before the sun had risen. He was so cold he was no longer even feeling it, and he was starting to be afraid that he had a slight fever, as well. Nausea roiled in his stomach and his head felt heavy and confused. He could not afford to get sick now, so far from civilisation, all alone…

At that moment he heard a terrific thundering noise and whirled round to see an enormous chestnut horse plunging straight towards him, cloaked rider on its back laughing maniacally. Will yelled and flung himself aside, horror-stricken-it was undoubtedly the man from the night before, and somehow Will had never heard him sneak up on him. He must be more exhausted than he had thought…

"Stop!" he shouted. "Stop, what are you doing!"

The man did not reply, only turned his horse for another charge. Will could see his face now, the leering, snaggle-toothed mouth; the nose that looked as if it had been broken far too many times; the greasy strips of dark hair hanging about the ears; the bloodshot, insane pinpricks of eyes. He did not hesitate-he wheeled round and ran. The rider gave another cackling laugh and charged straight after him into the trees.

Will had never run so fast in his life. He pelted through the undergrowth, swerving around trees, leaping over small bushes, darting around corners and flinging himself down gullies in a vain attempt to lose his crazed pursuer. Once he fell hard and his ankle twisted sickeningly beneath him but he did not even register the fall or the pain before he was up again and running on-his breath knifed through his chest, he was stumbling, crawling now as much as running, and always the thundering hooves came on and on behind him, the laughter shattering his sanity, his courage. He could barely see for the sweat-matted hair falling into his eyes, barely breathe. He dared not glance behind him but knew already that the madman was gaining on him, that he was only metres behind, that all that had saved him this long was his agility and easy manoeuvring on foot. He stumbled again and felt a hand catch at his cloak-he heard himself scream as he leaped away. And then he was going too fast to stop, helpless to slow his fall-he had run straight out over the edge of a cliff and he was falling fast and helplessly-

He struck icy water with a crash that jarred his entire body and went under. Immediately he was flailing for the surface, coughing, choking, slashing through the freezing water. His head broke through into the air and he gasped in great lungfuls of air, kicking with his fading strength through the current. He forced his exhausted, leaden body to the side of the river and clung to a branch jutting over it, head spinning, chest searing with pain, for now too tired to climb out. At the top of the cliff, so far above it dizzied him, he could see the figure of a horse and a cloaked rider peering over. Hopefully they would think he was dead…

Will dragged himself over the muddy bank, his body shivering violently with cold. He needed to get a fire going somehow and dry off or he would not make it through the next night…he could not bear to think on what had just happened. Why would that madman chase him? What had he wanted? And would he try again? The questions hurt his head-he felt limp and cold and sick of it all. He cursed his own stupidity in running away so ill-prepared-he had brought no flints to light a fire, no warm clothing, no food. If he died out here it would be entirely his own fault.

Like a wounded animal he staggered into the shelter of the trees, falling into the mud in a small clearing, hunching his body over in a vain attempt to conserve what little body heat he had left, trying to quell his uncontrollable shivering. I have to get up, he thought dizzily. I have to move around or I'll die of cold. I have to go…but he did not move, certain that if he did his head would really explode. After a long, long while he tried to change position, stretching his cramped limbs, and immediately his stomach lurched and he retched emptily. He realised that he was sweating, though he was still so cold he could not feel his hands. What's wrong with me? he thought with a kind of detached fear, and then remembered-he must have been right. He was getting a fever, at the worst possible moment. And out here alone and unprepared, possibly pursued by a stinking, crazy horseman, he had no idea what he was going to do about it.

I'm really not being very nice to Will, am I…hope you liked this chapter, please please review and tell me what you think!