Chapter 8
Robin crouched in the shadows of his camp, watching the members of his gang sleep, unaware of his presence. He missed this familiar sight more than he ever thought he would; ever thought he was capable of. When he went through that dark stage after Marian's death, he had neglected his friends in order to take care of himself. He had tried to make it up to them ever since Friar Tuck directed him back onto the right path, yet he always had this nagging sensation that how he had acted could never be forgiven.
You always had to remember to take your heart out of the equation when you were in the midsts of a war and Robin had forgotten that that day.
As quietly as he could be, Robin snuck into the camp and crouched down again in silence as he heard someone stir in their sleep. Though he would love to reveal his presence, Robin knew that he couldn't or he would put all of their lives at risk. As Robin peeked around the small table that he was crouched behind, he saw that the one who had stirred in their sleep was none other than Much.
"Ah Much," thought Robin, looking at his companion with fondness. "I wish you could know that I was alive."
When Much stopped stirring in his sleep, Robin crept out into the center of the camp to enact his plan. He had to let his gang know what was about to happen in Nottingham. If he couldn't go to Nottingham at the present moment to put an end to matters, at least they could. He crept up to Much and leaned over his head, whispering into his ear, "Much, can you hear me?"
"Yes Master," replied Much groggily.
"I need you to listen to me very carefully," started Robin. "Prince John is heading toward Nottingham. I need you and the rest of the gang to stop his coming rage."
Much just grumbled sleepily in consent; rolling over onto his side; his back now to Robin.
"And Much, I want you to know that I appreciate you. I should have expressed that more," said Robin, tears welling up in the corners of his eyes. "You're like my brother and, no matter what transpires, you always will be."
Again Much just grumbled. Robin wiped away the silent tears that were running down his face with the back of his hand and started to walk away from Much. Before he exited the camp, he turned to look at Much one last time and whispered, "Good-bye Much."
After that, Robin ran off into the trees back toward Tyrell's camp. Moments after the forest consumed Robin, Much bolted awake in bed; sweat running down his face in rivers as he yelled out, "Master!"
Much's sudden exclamation in the dead of night woke up everyone in camp. Friar Tuck was the first one over to Much's bedside. He placed his hands firmly on Much's shoulders and helped him to lay back down.
"Much, you were dreaming. It's okay," said Friar Tuck, trying to sooth Much.
"But...but...," stammered Much. "He talked to me."
"Much, you're just tired. You dreamt the whole thing," said Frair Tuck.
"But it felt like he were actually here," commented Much looking at Friar Tuck with wide eyes.
"What's going on?" asked Little John as he walked over; trying to rub the sleep out of his eyes. "What's wrong, Much?"
Kate stood a little ways behind Little John, staring at Much uneasily; not sure how to feel about him after his sudden outburst.
"Much, is everything alright?" piped up Kate from her position behind Little John.
As Much lay on his back on the bed, he looked at all their faces in turn, trying to keep his heart beat steady as he said, "Robin spoke to me."
None of them responded except Friar Tuck who repeated, "You were just dreaming."
"What did he say?" asked Kate in a deathly whisper; her heart beating in her chest at a hundred miles an hour.
"He told me that Prince John is headed toward Nottingham," said Much in fear.
None of them responded for a second. None of them were sure how to.
Far off in the forest, Robin was leaning against a tree, weeping silent tears; trying to exchange the pain behind him for the pain that he knew would lie ahead.
Sometimes you had to hurt yourself to protect the ones you love.