Disclaimer: I am just barely old enough to get a summer job. So I don't own the BBC.
The days followed routinely. Travel until dark. Sleep through the night. Eat what I had. Buy food in Nottingham. Try to avoid the Sheriff and his guards. Feed Luna what I could find and what she could eat. That was, until we ran out of food and I had to find another way of finding it, that wasn't waiting for an apple to fall on my lap. I had to put my bow to good use.
We traveled into a forest with many trees and many rocks. I looked around; made sure I wasn't seen and changed into my brother's clothes. They were very comfortable, I had then realized and I wondered why I hadn't done this earlier.
I attempted to climb one of the trees, but failed disastrously. I had told Luna to stand and wait for me to return, then went to find a good hunting place. I eventually found a boulder, more like a cliff and climbed around it to the top.
I closed my eyes, took a deep breath, opened my eyes and smiled. I looked around-trees, birds; a terrain hidden by dead leaves, and off, far in the distance was Luna - a bored crow in a world of brown and green.
I stood there, waiting, watching, listening hunting. I imagined myself – a stealthy hunter waiting for the kill. Silence. The only thing audible was my roaring stomach. I was about to give up and move when-
A rustle of leaves-something was moving through the trees. I looked up and slowly readied my bow. Another rustle, but in the same place- I pulled back on my bowstring and let go.
Nothing fell. There was nothing. And I thought there was a squirrel.
"Damn, it broke." I heard someone mutter. I wanted to say "What broke?" but I couldn't risk it. "Another outlaw snapped."
I spoiled someone's plan-an outlaw's plan. But not just any outlaw-a very clever outlaw. Now I had to run.
I ran, unaware that I had just passed Luna. But I didn't care if she followed me. If she galloped in front of me, I would have simply mounted her and galloped off at twice the speed that I could run. But I didn't care. I was practically running for my life. This I had to get used to.
Everything passed in a flash of brown. Until- I tripped on something hard and sharp. I looked down. A pile of grey stones and a wooden cross to my right – this was a grave.
A fresh grave; I was running as if I stole ten pounds from an angry merchant- and I trip on a grave. Of course, I knew this was disrespectful. I crawled up and looked down. The clothes had several tears and a cut just below the knee-not deep enough to require stitching, but would leave a scar. It would need bandaging and I had no clean cloth-but I knew one place that would.
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