Shadows within Shadows
Robin followed the worn track to Nottingham. From habit he kept to the edge, ready to dart into the trees if needed. Only the moon riding full in the sky lit his way, and he felt himself glad that he would soon see Marian again.
The forest had always been his home, and he sang to himself gaily as he made his way, feeling the reassuring weight of his quiver of arrows at each step. It was a perfect night for deer.
After a mile or so, he slowed his step, as a strange feeling came over him, banishing all thoughts of love and better days from his mind.
He had never feared the forest, and he had no reason to fear it, yet tonight he did, and could not say why. No nightingales sang in the trees, and no crickets chirped in the darkness. The forest began to feel unknown to him – he sensed danger was near, and swung up into a birch tree to wait. Even the very wind, it seems, was stilled for that moment.
A figure was moving silently down the track towards him, The figure was as black as the silhouettes of the trees. As it glided closer and closer, Robin felt the hairs on the back of his neck stiffen. In all his life he had been afraid of no man or superstition, but this form, silent and tall and thin as it was seemed to have stepped out of his darkest dreams.
A Monk, it was, as the moonlight shone upon it, with full hood, and its arms met in front of it under great sleeves. It drifted onwards, alone, silent, and then stopped under the tree where Robin hid.
Robin reached back, his fingers grasping the feather of an arrow flight, even though he had never killed a holy man, and had no reason to, he only knew that this man did not belong in the forest, and perhaps not even upon the earth itself.
Time passed and nothing moved, not the Monk, Robin himself, or the branches of the trees in which he hid.
The Monk knew he was there, of that he was sure, and meant him some ill intent. No words were spoken but the Monk radiated malignity all the same.
"What Devil's work is this?" Robin wondered. "Why is my tongue tied and my arm frozen thus? I have been enchanted."
Whispered words drifted up from the base of the tree, in a crackling tone, like that of someone very old.
"Shoot thy Arrow, Child of the Forest. Thy Arrows cannot harm me."
With that, the figure moved on, and Robin found his courage again. He lowered himself down to see the monk, only a few steps away, become as indistinct as smoke. Then an icy breeze passed through him, and the monk simply melted away into nothing.
Robin crossed himself, knowing not what else to do, and it was a while before he felt ready to continue onwards towards Nottingham.