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With a gasp, I went down, body shielding it, skinning my hands again so I wouldn’t smash the skull.
The nobleboy growled behind me. “Little bitch!”
Just like my father calls me.
Fear rifled through me. He crawled like an animal toward me, his blond locks disheveled now and falling over his reddened face, veins protruding in his neck.
He was in pain, no longer looking like the suave squire from before. I tried to scramble back like a crab, on my elbows and forearms.
He groped and grabbed at me, crawling to me to put his weight down so he could force me into submission.
“No!” I squealed, and kicked wildly. My first kick smacked into his chin, snapping his head back.
But then he caught my boot on the next kick and twisted my ankle, forcing me onto my belly with a cry of pain.
I inched forward, inadvertently sending the skull rolling down a gentle slope toward the creek.
I reached out for it, realizing it was going to keep rolling and disappear into the brook and I’d never see Robert again.
Tears fell from my eyes as Peter Fisher grabbed the waistband of my pants and ripped down, forcing my ass free in the morning cold.
My hand futilely reached for the skull.
“You’ll never see me again if you leave here.” Robert’s promise.
“Just give up, you little minx! What’s so bad, eh? You were going to do the same thing with those three gutter-rats! Give in!”
When Peter’s awful hands dug into the flesh of my ass, trying to spread me apart so he could force himself on me, a burst of something deep inside ignited my spirit.
I surged forward with a frenzied yell, voice cracking, going raw, even as my pants dragged down to my knees.
My hand found purchase at the last second, and I gripped tight. Over my shoulder, I saw the nobleboy was too busy fumbling with his pants, finding his opportunity, and wasn’t looking at my face.
Gritting my teeth together, I spun, flopping from belly to side—
And swung Robert’s skull with me at a devilish arc.
The skull smashed into the side of Peter Fisher’s head with a sick crack and shattered into pieces.
Bone fragments exploded into dust and blew outward in every direction. I screwed my eyes shut so I wouldn’t get any in my eyes.
Peter Fisher wasn’t so lucky.
He let out a bloodcurdling howl, hands jumping from the pale flesh of my hips to his head. Blood seeped between his fingers.
I gasped and crawled back on my palms, my mouth falling open. I swiftly yanked my pants up past my hips and staggered to my feet, blood pumping in my veins.
He fell to his side and writhed, screaming wildly, smearing blood all over himself. I noticed a sharp splinter of bone jutting out of his eye. Pus and blood seeped out of the wound, and bile rose in my throat.
“Ahhh y-you fucking bitch! My eye! Help me, you awful cunt!” He flailed on the ground, billowing dirt into the air.
Terrified, I spun and ran. Out of the clearing and out of Sherwood Forest. Never looking back.
Earlier, I had run to the forest in tears, and now I ran from the forest in tears.
My spinning mind came to myriad conclusions as I sprinted until my lungs burned and my throat constricted. I’ll never see you again if I leave here, brother. You were right.
But he wasn’t right for the reason I’d imagined.
