Much woke up. Despite the chill and damp of the ground on an April morning in England, he loved lying there. His leader, of course, was wide awake. Much groaned as he watched Robin scatter the stones from the fire they'd had the night before. This meant they'd be moving out before breakfast. Wondering why, he tried to convince his eyes to stay shut and sleep, but they refused. He groaned again and thrashed his deerskin cover out of the way. Robin looked over, smiling.
"Glad to see you've finally admitted to being awake," he said softly. "Get ready to go. Try not to wake the others just yet with your battle againstthe covers." Much scowled and haphazardly folded the heavy material. Stuffing it in a large bag, he slumped against a tree and yawned. A little gray crept into the black of the forest.
"Ah. Dawn. Time to get everyone up," Robin muttered. With that, he made an odd little chirp. A wren chirped back. Some other bird, Much didn't know what, made a squawk. Within seconds, a lively competition between finch and thrush had begun. One or two of the outlaws groggily arose. The rest went on snoring.
"Everybody up! Awake and arise! Come on, you lazy lapdogs!" Robin said, not too loudly. One or two more sat up and stretched. Robin grinned nervously at Much. Bravely, he stepped towards the biggest sleeping outlaw. He tapped it, leaping backward to avoid a large flopping arm. He grabbed the arm and tugged it. With a growl, the person connected to the arm rolled in Robin's direction. Robin continued to pull on the arm, even managing to drag the body out from under the giant deer hide it had been bundled in. When it feltmoist earth, it finally gave in and got up. Little John stood, still half-asleep. Much applauded quietly.
"And on to the next," Robin sighed.
A while later, everyone had attained at least an appearance of being awake. None were making much noise, taking their cue from Robin. The camp looked un-camped in, and the deerskins were in a big green sack. Grumbling about lack of breakfast, all nine of them were gathered around Robin, in various sleepy poses.
"I know you all want some food, and you'll have it," Robin began. This alerted most of them. "But not until we get at least two miles away." That sent a moan through the small group. "Understood. Before dawn, I got word of ten mounted men of the Sheriff coming this way. I don't really want to risk a fight, so we'll meet up at Wat's Grove. Little John, if you wouldn't mind getting the blankets, Scarlet, the cooking gear, and I'll bring along the extra weapons. The rest of you, hurry. Don't leave a trail, and don't wait. Bye!" The band usually separated when they were going anywhere. Three men, carrying the extra necessities, went a bit slower, because of heavy supplies. The others, not as burdened, could move faster. Not only did this allow one group to arrive early and set up camp a little, it meant not everyone was together if they ran into trouble, which meant the safe group could go and help out the others. In any case, off the men went, holding their longbows and trying to run quietly. Much glanced back. Robin handed Little John the bag of covers, strapping the three swords to his own back and somehow holding five staffs in each hand. Fletching materials were already in a bag that he swung over one shoulder. Scarlet held the cauldron, which also contained the weapons Robin couldn't manage.
"They're going the short way, north through the middle. We're going to follow, but circle around here once or twice to be sure there's no evidence. We'll probably not go the exact same way they do, since they don't have these things to worry about," Robin told Will and Little John. Much looked ahead again, noticed that he was a ways behind everyone else, and ran to catch up.
An hour and a half later, Robin, Little John, and Scarlet walked into Wat's Grove.
"Took you long enough," David of Doncaster grumbled. "We've been waiting at least an hour for our breakfast." Little John smacked him and put the bag of blankets in one of the oaks.
"I'll have you know I've been waiting for breakfast, too, and I've been traveling longer than you today. I think I could stand even Robin's cooking," Scarlet said. The chief outlaw grinned lopsidedly and leaned the staffs against the same tree. The swords, he hung from a lower branch. Scarlet had been pulling random weapons and tools out of his huge pot—a ladle, a shovel, a hammer, a curved sword, some other things.
"I set up the fire!" Much piped up.
"It's that little twelve-year-old twerp Much. How did he even keep up?" Little John murmured. Much ignored that.
"He's not twelve, he's fifteen. And being young doesn't make him totally incapable. He wouldn't be in the band if he were," Robin said. Little John nodded reluctantly. It was true that Robin was very selective in those he allowed into his group. So far there were only nine, besides him, and it had been six months. Of course, people had tried to join. Especially during the winter, when food was scarce, men, even whole families would escape their masters and come to Sherwood in hopes of a better life. Robin usually let them stay a few days, sending them back with a pouch of money and one of the band to ensure a safe return. That man also generally subdued the master some. Much, who'd been standing by the fire, admiring it and thinking, ran up to them.
"Hey Mister Little John? While breakfast's cooking can you help me with my staff stuff? I heard you even beat Robin Hood!" At that moment he noticed his leader standing beside Little John and trying not to laugh. Much looked slightly embarrassed.
"It's true. It didn't take him long to send me into the river. There's no one better you could learn from," Robin said. Much now looked relieved that Robin Hood wasn't mad at him.
"Robin never tells everything, though," Little John interrupted. Robin gave him a warning look, perhaps so he wouldn't say he didn't want to teach Much, perhaps to keep him from letting slip something else. "What he's neglected to mention this time is that first, that fight wasn't quick, and second, I've never beat him since. Besides, he's closer to your height so he would be a better teacher." Robin shook his head.
"Sorry, I'm busy," he said. "And what Little John has neglected to mention is that no one but me can beat him. And I don't count. Plus, it'll take me hours to make your breakfast edible."
Much grinned and looked hopefully at Little John. Little John glared down at him, scowling. "Not only do I have to live through Robin's cooking, I have to put up with him," Little John muttered to himself. He sighed. "Fine. Come over here. Grab a staff. No, that's too big. Get a smaller one. That one is mine. Give it to me. First, you hold it. Not like that! And you hold it still."
Every one but the frustrated cook was watching Little John and Much, trying not to laugh. "Well, you got the holding part down. Mostly. Anyway, try to look like you know how to use a staff. Now you just look like an idiot."
"Breakfast is ready!" Robin called. Everyone cheered, until they remembered it had been Robin's turn to make breakfast. Then they lined up slowly by the pot. Will Scarlet was first. His face had a strange twist to it as he examined the glop Robin had ladled onto his 'plate' of bark. He stuck his finger in it and licked it.
"Could be worse. Has been." He licked up more, not seeming to think it too disgusting. The others did the same.
"It's not bad, for Robin. What'd you put in it?" Little John asked. When he noticed Robin's smile, he hastily decided he'd rather be ignorant. Much chattered about staffs all through breakfast, not appearing to care if his food looked like fungus. In a few minutes everyone was done, and Robin seemed very relieved no one had gotten sick.