A cold wind blew a light dust of snow over the rider's path. The hood of his warm cloak was pulled low, hiding his intense azure eyes, and the livid white scar that marred his cheek. His hands were gloved, holding on tightly to the leather reigns of his black stallion. The bright moon guided him as he rode the horse through the forest.
A strong wooden bow was strapped firmly to his back, along with a quiver of silver-feathered arrows. He touched it absently to make sure it was still there. A sigh emitted from the rider, and he looked over his shoulder, searching the trees for any hidden danger. A sudden cry pierced the silent night, making the horse rear and buck at it's passenger.
"Shh," the rider said, laying a hand on it's shoulder, "Quiet now, 'twas naught but a hare." The horse calmed a bit, but it's large eyes darted wildly from side to side in anxiety. The cry came again, only deeper this time, sounding more like a moan. The rider dismounted his horse, drew his bow and nocked an arrow, wondering whether or not to investigate. The cry was haunting, and it frightened him. It could be one of the forest spirits that was known to haunt the woods.
But the rider knew better.
He left his mount, and dove into the trees silently, ready for anything. Anything but what he came upon.
A dark figure huddled close to the ground and shook like it was overcome with a deathly fever. In front of it, on the ground lay a dead deer, it's tongue lolled out, an arrow wound in it's neck proved it's death. The rider took a step forward, crunching some snow beneath his heavy boot. The dark figure jumped at the sudden noise and turned to him, arms circled around the deer.
"'Tis not I who is to blame for my crime, 'tis the laws that hinder us!" The rider was taken aback, for this figure was nothing but a young woman. Dark brown strands of hair fell into her face as she shifted, so that he could see that her ankle was caught in a fierce iron mantrap that were placed throughout the forest. Crimson blood dribbled dangerously from the wound. He heard a hunting call in the distance.
"I am no man of the law," he said, and the girl peered at him suspiciously in the dim light.
"No man of the Sheriff's?" she asked.
"He is no lord of mine," he said through clenched teeth. The horn trumpeted again, and the girl turned her head fitfully towards the sound.
"I have put thee in great danger, tha must go, quick," she said, shooing him away with her hands.
"I shall not leave thee," he said, determined.
"Art thou deaf? I said run, fool!" she said, spit flying from her lips.
"No," he said, crouching low over the iron trap that bit harshly into her leg.
"Bring this to the children of Barnsdale, stranger," said the young woman, nudging to the deer, "If I refuse to be saved, do not refuse the children this." He shook his head, his eyes wide. The Barnsdale Wastes were north of Sherwood Forest, filled with strange, awkward independent people, and a day's journey from here. He was amazed at how far she had traveled. Her eyes searched his, "Please."
"I- "
"Please," she said again, taking up is hands and holding them in hers. For a faint second, the rider thought he saw a shimmer of some unnamable tremor, a shifting disturbanceof some kind. It lingered for a moment and then dissolved, and he shook the feeling away, nodding his head. She closed her eyes in approval, then watched him heft the deer over his shoulders and stand.
"For the children of Barnsdale," he said, and disappeared into the dark forest.
Then she was left alone.
A strong wooden bow was strapped firmly to his back, along with a quiver of silver-feathered arrows. He touched it absently to make sure it was still there. A sigh emitted from the rider, and he looked over his shoulder, searching the trees for any hidden danger. A sudden cry pierced the silent night, making the horse rear and buck at it's passenger.
"Shh," the rider said, laying a hand on it's shoulder, "Quiet now, 'twas naught but a hare." The horse calmed a bit, but it's large eyes darted wildly from side to side in anxiety. The cry came again, only deeper this time, sounding more like a moan. The rider dismounted his horse, drew his bow and nocked an arrow, wondering whether or not to investigate. The cry was haunting, and it frightened him. It could be one of the forest spirits that was known to haunt the woods.
But the rider knew better.
He left his mount, and dove into the trees silently, ready for anything. Anything but what he came upon.
A dark figure huddled close to the ground and shook like it was overcome with a deathly fever. In front of it, on the ground lay a dead deer, it's tongue lolled out, an arrow wound in it's neck proved it's death. The rider took a step forward, crunching some snow beneath his heavy boot. The dark figure jumped at the sudden noise and turned to him, arms circled around the deer.
"'Tis not I who is to blame for my crime, 'tis the laws that hinder us!" The rider was taken aback, for this figure was nothing but a young woman. Dark brown strands of hair fell into her face as she shifted, so that he could see that her ankle was caught in a fierce iron mantrap that were placed throughout the forest. Crimson blood dribbled dangerously from the wound. He heard a hunting call in the distance.
"I am no man of the law," he said, and the girl peered at him suspiciously in the dim light.
"No man of the Sheriff's?" she asked.
"He is no lord of mine," he said through clenched teeth. The horn trumpeted again, and the girl turned her head fitfully towards the sound.
"I have put thee in great danger, tha must go, quick," she said, shooing him away with her hands.
"I shall not leave thee," he said, determined.
"Art thou deaf? I said run, fool!" she said, spit flying from her lips.
"No," he said, crouching low over the iron trap that bit harshly into her leg.
"Bring this to the children of Barnsdale, stranger," said the young woman, nudging to the deer, "If I refuse to be saved, do not refuse the children this." He shook his head, his eyes wide. The Barnsdale Wastes were north of Sherwood Forest, filled with strange, awkward independent people, and a day's journey from here. He was amazed at how far she had traveled. Her eyes searched his, "Please."
"I- "
"Please," she said again, taking up is hands and holding them in hers. For a faint second, the rider thought he saw a shimmer of some unnamable tremor, a shifting disturbanceof some kind. It lingered for a moment and then dissolved, and he shook the feeling away, nodding his head. She closed her eyes in approval, then watched him heft the deer over his shoulders and stand.
"For the children of Barnsdale," he said, and disappeared into the dark forest.
Then she was left alone.