Marian woke to the sounds of giggling children outside her small hut. She smiled groggily, stretching her arms out wide, and kicked the woolen blanket aside with her feet. Her mongrel dog, Zev, sat on his haunches, looking up at the door and wagged his tail in anticipation. The laughter grew louder as Marian shoved her feet into her worn boots.
"Marian, I can't hold them any longer," her friend said, obviously straining against the tiny bodies. Marian threw open the door and was immediately knocked over by several children with flowers in their hands. She laughed, tickling the youngsters until they all fell away from her, and she looked up at the girl leaning against the doorway.
"Marian," she greeted, holding out a hand to heave her up. Marian took the warm hand and smiled at her friend Nan, "Nice pack of ruffians tha has got thyself."
"We're not ruffimums," a small boy said. Nan laughed, shaking her long blond hair in the sunlight, "Right thou art, Tom, we've come to crown the queen."
"Crown the queen! Crown the queen!" they cheered, making the dog bark and dance around.
"Gotta catch me first!" Marian dared, and ran out of the small hut into the forest.
Marian stood in a circle of sweetly singing children, in the clearing where there was so much turmoil only months before. A large bonfire was burning brightly, sending a soft dancing glow on the gathered groups. The moon shown a healthy yellow, looking as round and full as a swollen belly and Marian knew that this boded good fortune.
"All the names I know from nurse,
Gardener's garters, Shepherds purse,
Bachelor's buttons, Lady's smock,
And the Lady's Hollylock.
"Fairy places, fairy things,
Fairy woods where the wild bee wings,
Tiny trees for tiny dames-
These must all be fairy names!
"Tiny woods below whose boughs
Shady fairies weave a house;
Tiny treetops, rose or thyme,
Where the braver fairies climb!
"Fair are richer people's trees,
but the fairest woods are these;
Where, if I were not so small,
I should live for good and all."
They sang, coming in close to Marian, and she bent down to let them crown her with a circlet made of woven rose blossoms. A cheer surged up from the large crowd and that symbolized the beginning of the celebration. Traveling minstrels had come to join in their carnival, and began to strum their lutes.
Nan grabbed her hand and pulled her into a fast-paced dance, hooking arms with young men and women as they carelessly jigged to the tune. Marian twirled around in insane ecstasy, her cheeks glistened with joy and happiness. As she skipped around the bonfire, hand in hand with other young people, she caught sight of five strangers standing by the dark treeline of the clearing.
She tore Nan from the whirling line and pointed them out to her.
"Aw, Marian," she shrugged, "Give 'em no worry, they're just travelers, they'll have some mead and then leave."
"I guess," Marian said and was picked up in another galloping dance and wasn't able to get a better look at the figures.
As queen of the May, Marian was to oversee the games and plays. She watched a few jugglers, and joined in on a coupling dance. Everyone was amazed by Nan's storytelling, for she told of the old days of Good King Arthur and his Teacher Merlin.
Marian watched them all dance from a distance as she sipped mead from a worn wooden cup. She watched as Nan began to dance with a skinny young lad, and failed to stifle a laugh when he clumsily stepped on her feet.
"Where's Alan?" Robert asked, looking around for the little urchin.
"O'er there, I t'ink," John answered, taking a swig of his beer, and pointed past the fire. Robert spied him, twirling awkwardly with a young maid. He began to make a joke at his expense when he caught a sight of a mysterious woman, standing solitarily at the forests edge. He watched as she swayed to the music, her slim arms moving as if to copy the dancers.
"Who's the girl?" he whispered, strangely stunned.
"I dunno, bu' she's somethin' ain't she?"
"I'll say," he replied, running his fingers through his hair. He remembered that cold night that he came upon that dirty, mangy girl in the trap, and how he brought her here. He knew in his heart that the wound had been fatal, and that the winter had been too harsh, and he believed her to be dead. Fingering her emerald ring on his pinkie finger, he felt a twinge of remorse for the poor girl.
Robert found himself startled out of the wintry reverie to notice that the woman was staring back at him across the clearing. She stood there, frozen like a fawn, her eyes seeming to pierce through him markedly; dangerous, yet alluring.
He took his eyes off her for a second to glance at Scarlet and Much, who were in a heated debate with some other forest folk over the King's ransom. As he returned his gaze back to the mysterious woman dressed in green, he found that she had run off silently into the darkness of the forest.
The appearance of these strangers frightened Marian to no end. Although Barnesdale was her home now, she never felt truly safe from danger, the dangerous circumstances from which she had fled many years ago. The Wastes were a queer place to reside, their depths near unfathomable, and the tall, reaching branches of the strong trees whispered to her that she was safe in the protection of the foreboding wilderness that surrounded her. Yet, a feeling of unease swept over her as she turned to her empty hut.
She pushed open the wooden door slowly, and saw the bloodied mess of what was left of her dog, Zev. His chest was cut open, spilling his innards, his tongue lolled out of his open mouth, as if he were killed mid-bark. Her gaze lifted to the back wall, where a crest looking like a maple leaf was painted on the back wall. She gingerly stepped over the dog and touched the splintered wood. Her fingers came back sticky with red crimson blood.
He had found her.