I was going to wait a little bit longer before I posted this, but I really want your opinions so far.
All right, guys, here it is: the fourth chapter. Questions will be answered.
The night was so dark that at first she thought that she hadn't awoken at all, but that she was still in that place of perpetual void where she was alone with her fears and dreads. They were a hollow feeling in the pit of her stomach, they turned her mouth bitter, and they filled her with such a sense of urgency that her limbs began to shake with anticipation.
When she had opened her eyes to the black forest, that anticipation had not left her as it usually did. It was still coiled up inside her like a spring and she needed to release the tension or implode.
Slowly and carefully, she pushed herself into a sitting position from the table, causing her head to begin a dull ache that quickly intensified, centered around a point near her left temple. She cautiously reached a hand to the sore spot and gasped when she felt crude stitches holding a gash about an inch and a half long together. She tried to remember what had caused it, but the event escaped her memory.
Still feeling the need to move, to walk, she flung she thin blanket covering her body back and sucked in a breath at the chilly night air. Noiselessly, she swung her feet off the table and shakily slid from it onto her unsteady feet. Her right ankle was slightly sore, as if she had rolled it, but she gingerly put more weight on it until she thought it would hold. Finding that she could hobble, she began walking her odd gait out of the camp and into the forest.
She didn't pay attention to where she was going or how far, she just kept walking, her mind clear. She breathed in the clean, crisp air and a small smile crept across her lips. The sensation felt foreign and she realized that for the first time in a while, she felt completely and utterly safe. With this realization came the revelation that she no longer needed to run, to release the tension of the spring. There was no tension. She was calm and comfortable, enveloped by the shelter of the trees.
Content, she leaned her head back to look at the sky, disappointed to see a cloud cover blocking the stars. She sighed and laid herself down upon the cold ground, closing her eyes and listening to the forest.
"You shouldn't be out here alone."
She jumped up into a defensive crouch instinctively, her eyes darting about her with a feral look and her right hand reached into the small of her back for her dagger before realizing that it wasn't there. A hooded figure emerged quickly from behind the nearest tree with his arms outstretched.
"Whoa, whoa," it said, "It's just me." The figure pushed back his hood to reveal the man that had stood next to her when she had woken before.
Breathing deeply to return her heartbeat to normal, she sat back down on the ground, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. The man walked up to her and sat down on her right side.
With a chuckle, the man said, "Look, I'm not being funny, but you don't know me, do you?"
With a puzzled frown, she said, "I beg your pardon?"
"Well," the man conceded, "You gave poor Much quite a fright back there. Not to mention Robin as well."
Still confused, she said, "I'm afraid that I don't quite understand."
"Knowing who they were, I mean."
"But we'd met before," she said slowly, still not comprehending. "It's not like I'm a stranger."
"That's it though, isn't it? You are to them. They don't remember you," he replied.
Shaking her head, she said, "But I can recall their faces so vividly. How can they not know who I am?"
"Got me," he said with a smile.
He looked at her for a moment, meeting her eyes with his own blue ones as his smile started to fade. Suddenly, he raised his right hand and held it before her. "Allan A Dale," he said.
She placed her hand into his, surprised at the warmth that traveled up her arm and smiled, "I'm—," she paused, frowning slightly. Shrugging, she continued, "Well I'm…"
She began blinking quickly as she searched her brain, willing herself to find the information that she was looking for, letting go of his hand. "My name is…um…it's uh…"
With her left hand, she began to rub her forehead, feeling her name on the tip of her tongue, but not being able to spit it out, like it was locked behind a partition in her mind. Panicked, she began to hyperventilate and shake. An increasing dread welled up from her core and the darkness began to close in, chilling her to the bone.
Warmth quickly filled her as she felt Allan place a strong arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to his body. His right hand cupped her cheek and turned her face toward his, his eyes capturing her own and looking much deeper into her being than they should have been able to. She felt his gaze deep in her heart and that sense of calm she had found only moments earlier returned, quelling her shaking and dousing her dread.
Exhaling a deep breath, she whispered, "I don't remember who I am."
Nodding, Allan spoke softly, "It's all right. You're all right."
"I believe you," her heart said, her breath puffing against his cheek.
Suddenly, they both seemed to realize the intimacy of the moment and their proximity so Allan released her and shifted back, clearing his throat.
"I meant what I said earlier."
She looked at him questioningly and he continued, "About you being out here alone. It's easy to get lost and turned around."
She nodded. "I know. I just needed some air, I suppose."
She stood and dusted off her backside, turning back and walking the way she had come previously. Before she had taken more than three steps, she heard Allan clear his throat again. Turning back, she saw that he hadn't moved. Slowly, he pointed in a different direction than the one she was going. "Camp's back this way," he said, trying to keep a straight face.
Face burning with embarrassment, she gestured for him to take the lead and said, "Course. I knew that. I was just testing that you knew the way back to camp."
He laughed and replied, "Right. And I'm the king's mother."
Smiling, she joked, "I'm afraid that you're not quite pretty enough, Allan A Dale."
He placed a hand over his chest, "I'm wounded. You mean to say that you don't think I'm pretty?"
"I didn't say that, now did I," she walked up to him and chucked him under the chin before walking past him. She spun back and continued, "I just said that you weren't pretty enough."
Allan stood rooted to the spot, watching her walk the direction he had pointed. He didn't know how he felt. On the one hand, his heart was beating so fast that he thought it would fly out of his chest and his stomach was so jittery that he placed a hand over it to try and calm it. He was giddy and knew without a doubt that he was smitten. Now that she was no longer at his side, he felt a pressing need to situate himself near her, yet he had only known her for a few precious hours.
Therein lay his problem. He didn't know where she had come from, what she was running from, or how she had ended up unconscious in Sherwood. He was falling for a girl that he didn't even know, but, more importantly, he was falling for a girl who didn't even know herself.
The following morning, Allan searched Djac out, finding her down near the stream filling several jugs with water.
"Good morning, Allan," she said cheerfully.
"She doesn't remember," Allan said, getting straight to the point.
Frowning, Djac asked, "Excuse me?"
"Her," Allan said, unable to think of another, more suitable name to call her. "She doesn't remember who she is."
Understanding came to Djac's face and she stepped up the bank of the stream to look into Allan's face. "You remember when I said that head injuries could be odd?" she asked. Allan nodded. "My father said that it was not uncommon for his patients to experience partial or, sometimes even total, memory loss after receiving a wound such as hers."
Worried, Allan asked, "Is it permanent?"
"It's hard to say," Djac said, shrugging. "For some, it is permanent. For others, all, or most, of their memories return with time. It cannot be forced, Allan. I'm sorry."
Allan nodded and turned to go, when another thought made him turn back around. "Would her head injury make her think she knew someone that she didn't?" he asked.
"You mean like she did with Much and Robin?" Djac clarified. "It would be possible for some, I suppose, but she spoke their names, didn't she? How would she have known those?" She shook her head, "No, I would say that those are true memories."
"How can she remember Much and Robin, but not herself?"
Again, Djac shrugged. "Maybe she wanted to forget."
Feeling no better now that he had gotten some answers, Allan turned and slowly trudged back to camp.
Hehe. Okay, so maybe I lied and NO questions were answered. Please don't punish me by not reviewing!
On a serious note, what did you think of the Allan/nameless character chemistry? Do you like her or not? Let me know.