AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The “witch’s cabin” was set deep in the woods under an earthy hillside. The cabin itself looked like ruins from antiquity, rotted, cracked, and twisted with vines and roots from the tree that grew in the middle of it.
I didn’t have long to explore our new base because Friar Tuck and I left camp before the sun had even peeked over the horizon. The rest of the men—save the night watchmen—were asleep.
Will, John, and Alan did not say goodbye to me before we left, which made me sad.
“They expect you to return.” Tuck noticed my dejection as the carriage rolled onto the dirt trail. “They aren’t sentimental types. At least they don’t want to appear to be. They’d rather save all that nonsense.”
“Yes, well, even hard men can be soft for the girl they like,” I muttered, staring at the receding camp. I sat on the front bench with Tuck, exposed to the elements. He held the reins of the two horses pulling us along.
“These men are soft for no one, unfortunately.”
I glowered. “Then you don’t know Little John half as well as you think.”
That quieted him. We stayed silent for most the trip to Nottingham, which took less than a handful of hours.
I noticed familiar landmarks on the way in, and perked up in my seat. An oak tree I had always called the Jolly Ogre because of the way its trunk seemed to smile at you. The three flat stones—the Old Wise Trio—perfectly balanced on one another next to the snaking bend of the River Trent that signified the northeastern area of town and ran through the center of it.
A chilly midmorning gave way to a gray afternoon as our cart wheeled toward the narrow gate. It was the smallest gate into Nottingham, yet Friar Tuck still stopped the carriage and ordered me into the bay.
“You might be an outlaw,” he explained when I voiced complaint. “Better safe than sorry.”
“It wasn’t me who killed Peter Fisher,” I hissed.
“But you maimed him, lass. I have a sneaking suspicion you were criminalized well before Will and John took matters into their own hands.”
“I didn’t ask them to do that.”
“And still . . .” He trailed off.
With a huff, I hopped into the cart. Then I poked my head out as Tuck whistled to the steeds and we started moving. “What makes you any different?!” I called out, incredulous. Friar Tuck was twice-over the outlaw I was.
He shot me a smile over his shoulder. “Connections, dear girl. I’m a man of the cloth, after all.”
“Excommunicated!” I wailed, before pulling my head into the cart and sitting there in sullen silence.
I crossed my arms haughtily, and thought of the night before. Will Scarlet had debased me on this very seating bench. God had it been raucous. I’d slept with two of the Merry Men now. The others were surely starting to think me a whore. They all must have heard my ceaseless moans, deep in the night.
The thought flushed my cheeks. I lowered my chin, trying to hide from myself, and the carriage hopped as we rolled over a misplaced cobblestone.
Wincing, I opened my mouth to complain to Tuck, but then thought better of it when I saw where we were by peeking out the window of the carriage.
We were well into Nottingham proper. My whimsical teasing and whining fluttered away as a sorrowful feeling washed over me like a cloak of darkness.
My home. Finally, I was back. It didn’t bring me any joyful thoughts. It made me nervous, thinking about what awaited me. Would Father and Mama be pleased to see me?
The thought of Father’s fist crashing into my stomach made me recoil and grimace. At least the bruise on my face had faded, but that only gave me a fresh canvas for him to plant a new one on.
Wilford was south of here, on the other side of the river. The city bustled this early in the morning. Much as I wished to take in the sights out the window, I resisted.
I had a mission. Getting caught sightseeing before I even made it to Wilford would be awful—in case Friar Tuck was right and I really was an outlaw in my own hometown.
If I was, my future looked bleak. What did that say about me? Where would I go if the Merry Men got bored of me or were hunted down like animals by Guy of Gisborne? Could I sustain this life on the run with them?
More importantly, what was I going to say to them—my parents? I hadn’t planned this out at all.
A part of me wanted to investigate and spy through a window of our estate, to make sure everything was okay. But another part of me wanted to barge in, regale them with my adventures in Sherwood Forest, and hold them tight. To apologize to Father for stowing away on the carriage in the first place and causing this whole mess.
Despite Little John’s words about Sir Guy chasing him for years, I had a feeling the Sheriff’s lackey was searching for me, not him. It gave me a sense of dread, for obvious reasons, and also a sense of hope—that Father had seen it fitting to hire a search party.
