Day 2: 8:06:23, Thursday, December 18, 1207

Nick's eyelids snapped open as the sharp morning zephyr pierced his wet nose. His vision was met with the unusual sight of a dirt ceiling, a hollow hill that housed him and his renegade allies. He rubbed his eyes, then held his fists there for a moment, lowering them slowly. The dirt ceiling was still there. He looked to his left, squinting through the dimly lit dust that hovered in the air; Wolford was silently sleeping. He looked to his right. Robin's nose was twitching as his chest swelled and shrank, no noise escaping his muzzle. Nick turned his eyes back up to the dirt and gave a hushed sigh.

"So it wasn't a dream…" he muttered, licking the tips of his teeth in a quick and defeated fashion. He suddenly found himself itching for something to do. Something, anything, besides lie there. He looked around for a source of distraction, but all he could find was what he had on his person, which was a tunic and a rope around his waist. Not much for entertainment.

The sharp sound of a metal pot being struck cracked through the hill and into his ears, making him start and whip his head around foolishly to indicate the source of the disturbance.

"Up and ready, you three!" came Little John's booming voice. "We've got a caravan to rob!"

Nick watched as his companions stirred; Wolford let out a massive yawn.

"Leave me be," he moaned. "Five more bloody minutes, is that too much to ask?"

A flapping noise caught Nick's attention, and he swiveled his head to see Robin shaking his head as he might if he had just been doused with a hose; his ears smacked against his closed eyes, the rust-colored fur on his neck twisted with each movement, and his cheeks made a wet slapping sound that only shaking animals can produce.

"It's not that bad once you get used to it," he said encouragingly. "Come on. The escort won't wait around for us!"

"Yeah, not all of us live on the wrong side of the law, Hood," came the unhappy reply, but Wolford began to stand up nonetheless.

"That's the spirit!" Robin replied as he saw Wolford preparing himself for the ambush. "Let's not waste time. We don't want to be late for the collection!"

"Collection?"

"Collection of funds for the poor, Nicholas. Shall we?" Robin sauntered over to the thin rope and began pulling it; with each movement he made, the hillside revealed the morning sky and the crisp forest smells. Nick raised his paw to shield his eyes from the bright butter-yellow sun that beamed over the grassy English land. "Well, there's something Zootopia doesn't see every day," he said aloud.

"Zootopia?" Robin turned around, a look of puzzlement in his brown eyes.

"What's that now?" came Little John's equally confused voice.

Nick cursed himself; how were they supposed to know about Zootopia? "It's where we come from. Where Robin got...teleported or whatever."

"Ah." Little John clapped Robin on the back. "Some kind of weird futuristic world, eh, Rob?"

"It was...hard to understand." Robin kept unraveling the rope as he talked. "I'm sure Wolford and Nicholas are well accustomed to it, though. Well, let's get you boys accustomed to our world, shall we?" he finished in a happy, positive tone of voice as he climbed out of their haven.

Nick followed suit, scanning the area for any signs of unwanted visitors. Nothing presented itself; satisfied with the results of his search, Nick let his guard down a little, taking in the view of a morningtime Sherwood Forest. The trees, their branches teeming with brown winter leaves, creaked quietly in the early zephyr. A few fallen, dirt-ridden leaves tumbled about here and there with each gentle sigh of the wind. His breath became a cone of steam, evaporating instantly upon contact with the biting, frigid air. He looked back at Robin.

"You get a lot of days like this?"

Robin pondered for only a brief second before shaking his head. "Only during the winter. Otherwise, we get bright, sunny days or lots of rain."

"And which one happens more often, Hood?"

"Bright, sunny days, I'd say."

"Bloody…" Wolford looked like he regretted ever asking the question as he began to mutter.

"Come on, Wolfie," Nick urged, calling Wolford by his less-friendly name. "It'll take like two minutes max to finish the fight."

"Fine. I'll do it. I'm just not happy about it."

"As long as you're gonna do it, that's good enough for me."

"You boys are about to get your first lesson in 13th century robbing. Are you ready?" Little John said, almost jovial.

"Yeah," Nick replied. "So long as it gets us home faster…" he muttered.

Nick peeked over the bush that he and Robin had taken up position behind. Nothing. Not even a weary traveler. He lowered himself back down on his belly, making sure to set his rifle to the side, and gave an impatient sigh.

"Thieving involves a lot of waiting around, then?" he asked.

"Only when it's an important heist. In any other case, we usually just attack with the best strategy we can muster in the small amount of time we have."

Robin readjusted himself; Nick felt the tips of their tails touch, and he twitched his to the left, out of Robin's reach, just as a precaution.

"So the night before an important haul comes in, and you have enough time to map out an acceptable plan?"

"Just barely. I think Little John was planning on doing it by himself. I'm just glad I came back in time to assist him."

"How much gold you think they'll have?"

"Enough to feed the whole of Nottingham for two weeks, I believe."

"Holy sh...that's a lot of money."

"Indeed." Robin's voice had a bitter edge growing on it. "And Prince John wants it all. But not if I have anything to say about it."

"Good thing you do. Otherwise, Wolford and I would have to do this on our own."

Robin gave a grunt of agreement. Nick glanced over at him. His face was set; his jaw was set, his eyes were intense, burning with an anger that Nick had never seen. But there was more that came forth in his eyes — perhaps a slight tinge of fear, of precaution? Robin's snarl seemed to fall the slightest bit, then come back, then slip a little again. Was he expecting something to happen to him? His eyes snapped to meet Nick's gaze, and the latter immediately felt like the submissive male.

"Something wrong?" Robin asked, his tone gentle but his muzzle furious.

"N—no." Nick faltered, turning his eyes back to the shrub-blocked road. He lay there in silence, waiting impatiently, uncomfortably.

Then he heard it. Marching footsteps. And rattling metal. And the clanking of lots and lots of money. The caravan had arrived. He felt adrenaline rush through him, bidding him to charge out and assault the guards and corrupt merchants. He suppressed the urge to attack, calming himself just enough to keep his instincts at bay. His gaze shifted immediately back to Robin, whose eyes replied with a cool, collected stare before focusing on the path.

A single, steel-plated boot came into view, glinting in the midmorning sunlight. The leg that owned it threw itself into Nick's line of sight, followed by the menacingly shining full plate armor of a burly black bear. He had no helmet, but his scarred muzzle seemed too intimidating to cover up at any rate; one eye had been completely removed from his skull, a primal eye patch doing a poor job of covering the wound. A glistening greatsword was sheathed and slung over his back, its steel hilt reflecting the light almost majestically. He was followed by two lanky greyhounds in chain mail armor, each holding longbows that threatened to tower over their owners.

The chest of gold came into view; carted by four rhinoceros, the wooden crate sported golden trims with meticulously chiseled carvings, and the lock that secured it looked as if it weighed more than the gold itself. One of the rhinoceros had a key ring on his waist, outfitted with about ten different keys. Nick pointed out the assortment of lock openers to Robin.

"Probably trying to make it harder for assailants to hijack the cargo," he said.

All he got in response was a nod.

Nick looked back to see what lay behind the chest. Two more archers were all that followed. "So what's the plan?"

"Little John will take the big fellow, we'll lure the archers and guards away from their posts, and your wolf friend will steal the chest."

Nick mulled it over in his head, and became unhappy with the results he foresaw. "You make it sound so easy."

"What?" Robin whispered. "Little John and I have fought more guards by ourselves, and we're still alive. Cheer up!" He nudged Nick on the shoulder with his fist. "We'll be fine."

Nick saw movement in the bushes on the opposite side of the path. "Oh, here comes Little John."

The great brown bear shuffled out and threw himself in between the escort and Nottingham, his great belly quivering a little as he landed.

"Sorry, boys," he said with a smile. "This is the poor's bounty now."

The guards all drew their weapons. Nick got up on instinct.

"He needs hel—"

No sooner had he pushed his chest off the ground than Robin's paw shot up and pulled him flat onto the earth with a small thump. Nick felt his rib cage depress for a second.

"Ow," he complained.

"Little John will be fine," Robin said. "I already told you."

The black bear moved; Nick was gripped by apprehension once more, but it waned a little as he realized the bear was holding his paw up in a gesture for the guards to stand at ease. All of the swords returned to their owners' hips, the arrows to their quivers as the menacing, scarred bruin lowered his paw and stared at John, the look of death and bloodlust in his eye.

"Do you know who I am?" The bear's voice made the earth beneath Nick's chest tremble. The fox covered his paws with his ears, fighting the urge to whimper. He couldn't hear John's response; the gravelly echoes of the black bear's voice still rang like funeral bells in his hypersensitive ears.

"I have slain more foes than you could possibly imagine. I have endured more battles than King Richard himself. And I have hungered for the blood of Robin Hood since he returned to Nottingham." He unsheathed his greatsword and pointed it at Little John, pure black, laden with scratches and encrusted with gore. "Tell him that I will speak with him shortly, and that his death swift approaches."

"No need, Johnny!" Nick's ears were split once again, this time by his ally; Robin leaped out of the bush and blocked his view of the fight. "I'm right here."

"Damn it, Robin, this wasn't the plan…" Nick hissed to himself.

"Bloody hell, we've got ourselves a party." He heard Wolford make himself known; now he was the only one still in hiding. Nick instinctively tightened his grip on the rifle.

Hide, or fight?

"Both," he growled, answering his brain; squinting down the somewhat askew sights of his rifle, he moved his line of sight past Robin's hindquarters and focused on the leg of an archer.

The squeeze of the trigger happened in an instant, the butt of the rifle ripped into Nick's shoulder faster than he could react, and the bush rustled as a flash burst forth from the barrel of the weapon. The archer's leg was jerked out from under him before he had time to scream in pain, forcing him to the dirt path in an instantaneous, silent stupor.

The rest of the escort looked around wildly.

"Where is it?" one yelled.

"What was that?!" shouted another.

Nick watched Robin clear himself from the line of fire, expertly keeping the enemy distracted from the bush of death.

The guards were in disarray. The black bear, however, was undaunted; he chuckled evilly. "Well, well. Robin Hood, a wizard." He shook his head slowly. "I would never have thought."

"No." Robin's voice shivered with anger. "Never. Never witchcraft. I worship the only God that truly exists."

"Yes, but what will Nottingham think of you when the rumor spreads of your…" The bear's eye lit up with pleasure and anticipation. "Devil worship?"

Nick shot at another guard who was unlucky enough to be caught in the metal crosshairs of unborn weaponry. The bullet spattered red liquid across the rhino's chest as he staggered backwards from the rifle's stopping power, crashing into the chest of gold and sending it jingling to the ground with a massive thudding noise. The other three rhinos struggled to keep the chest aloft, compensating for the weight their unconscious comrade was just carrying.

Nick rose up, easing his grip on the trigger, and held the rifle in a loose, yet firm, grip.

"Not devil worship," he said simply, stepping into the road. "Just backup and some superior technology." He leveled his own weapon and jammed the butt of the rifle into his shoulder once more, watching another archer fall to the ground.

The bear's gaze moved slowly over to the triad of his fallen allies; he chuckled as he looked back at Nick, and the latter suddenly felt the urge to run away from him. Where he ran didn't matter, just so long as he was as far away from this evil incarnate as possible.

"Well, well, well," he crooned. "Very impressive. Efficient, too. But I prefer weapons that don't eliminate your enemies from a distance. It takes the pleasure out of killing the lesser. You've gone soft since the Crusades, dearest Robin."

Robin gave a snort of anger, his eyes narrowing; Nick's sense of danger was heightened, and he felt the trigger gently pushing against his finger once more as he stared at the great bear, waiting for a sign of attack.

"I would rather die a weak fox than bathe in the blood of innocent animals."

"Your compassion sheaths your sword when it ought to be drawn, Locksley."

"Compassion is no weakness."

"Then why, when you ordered your men to spare the lives of the saracens, did all but your best friend lose their heartbeats?"

Nick shot his eyes over to Robin, who looked as if he had been stabbed in the side with the bear's bloody, fearful greatsword. The latter appeared to set his jaw as he took a great, shaking sigh.

"H—How do you know about that?" he

"Indeed," the bear chuckled from his scratched, scarred throat. "Now, I shall be taking you into Nottingham, where you will be thrown in jail and executed. In fact, I may convince Prince John to give me the executioner's mask."

"If it's a fight you want, it's a fight you'll bloody get, you goremongering psychopath."

"Oh, come now, my dear lupine friend. We must not resort to calling each other names." The bear took up a ready stance. "Let us have at it, then."

Nick raised his gun and pumped a bullet into the arm of a third archer, locking onto the deltoid with pinpoint accuracy. He quickly spun and hit the remaining archer in the head. Fake blood spattered as the lanky greyhound toppled into a muzzle plant in the dusty trail. The three rhinoceros who once were protected by archers now looked at Nick like he was the Devil. The bear, though, merely shrugged a little.

"If you're a true and honest fox, you'll fight with a blade, not that," he growled.

"Let me handle this," Robin commanded, an air of valiance about him as he unsheathed his own sword. " A fight, then. But...if I win, you let us go."

"Fair enough. Though If I emerge the victor, you submit, and I take you with me to Nottingham's dungeons."

"Shall we?"

"Indeed, we shall."

Nick saw the humongous chunk of edged steel fly towards him, and he bent backwards to avoid having his muzzle ripped in two at the jaw. The wind around his nose whistled, and he felt the force behind the weapon blowing violently against his cheek. He came back up just in time to see Robin meet the bear's force with frightening ferocity, apparently undaunted by the gigantic foe.

"Commendable," the bear smirked maliciously. "But hardly your best."

Robin gave a primal growl.

"I left death in the Holy Land," he retorted.

"And yet you are the reason why Prince John hangs villagers. Those who support you in Nottingham are soon executed for helping an enemy of the state."

Robin broke free of the deadlock, spinning around and bringing his sword down upon the bear just as the latter swung his massive sword up. Sparks clashed against each other, projecting echoes of struggle onto the combatants' muzzles.

"Untimely executions by a corrupted leader will be atoned for, but greed and profit have no place in law!" Robin shouted.

Nick could only watch as the bear tilted his greatsword, forcing Robin to bring his own sword down towards the ground. As soon as his opponent had lost his balance, the shining hilt of the greatsword was jabbed up into the fox's chin. Robin yelped, staggering back and visibly losing his grip on the sword. The bear leaped, his sword arm drawn back as if his weapon was a spear. Nick reacted on impulse; the rifle was snapped into his shoulder and trained on the bear, firing off a well-placed shot at the bear's neck before the shooter had time to register what had happened.

Robin dive-rolled out of the way of the fuzzy new doorstop, clearing himself from danger. The once-mighty bear crashed into the ground, jiggling a bit as he landed with a force that may as well have been an earthquake. Nick felt an immense sense of pride; he cracked a smile and nodded approvingly, holding the rifle with one paw and placing the other paw on his hip.

"What was that?!" Robin cried out.

Nick looked around; the other rhinoceros had fled, probably with their tails between their legs. "What?" he asked. "We've got the gold, and no one's hurt!"

"You may have little chivalry in your world, Nicholas, but never, ever disrupt a duel!" Robin pointed his sword threateningly at Nick as he talked, and the latter raised his weapon in response, heart pounding. The miffed vulpine seemed to calm himself, some of the tension leaving his muzzle.

Little John stepped in. "When you enter a fight against another animal, Nick, you must honor the nature of mano-a-mano combat. If one side interferes with the other in any way, the offender must accept defeat."

Robin cast a look at the fallen bear. "You didn't honor the duel, Nicholas. Now I have no choice but to be captured and transported back to Nottingham."

"Or not, mate."

Nick looked over at Wolford with an arched eyebrow. "Yeah? How so?"

"Well, we could— just— run— away," Wolford replied in a voice that feigned both hesitancy and uncertainty.

"Did you not hear what I just said? I am bound to the honor of the duel. There can be no alternative; I must adhere to the conditions he set."

Nick spoke before he thought. "And so do I."

It was Robin's turn to give an inquisitive look. "What?"

"I shot Tweedle-Dum. I'm the one who broke the rules. If anything, I should have to pay the price."

"Absolutely not. The dungeons are no place for you."

"I can handle it, trust me. I've seen the other side of a jail cell a few times."

"Wilde, I'm with Hood on this one. Let him take the blame for this."

"No. In case you forgot, Wolford, the whole reason we're here is to make sure he—" Nick indicated Robin. "—doesn't get offed."

"Fine, Nicholas." Robin nodded his head. "You can go in my stead."

"Thank you."

"But...I refuse to let you go it alone. Which is why I'm going with you."

Nick threw his paws up in exasperation. "What did I just finish saying?"

"I'm more than capable of handling myself in the dungeons. You, though, have never seen a single stone of it. Consider me your personal guardian."

"So it's up to me and John to bust you two out?" The way Wolford said it, it was more of a statement than a question.

"I look forward to the challenge, my canine friend," Little John replied with a smile. "Mix and mingle, why not? Nick spends time with Robin, I spend time with you. You know...get to know each other better," he finished in a matter-of-fact voice.

"Fair enough," Nick sighed, turning to Robin. "Let's go turn ourselves in."