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My boots splashed into a muddy puddle. I frowned as mud caked them. My arms ached from being yanked along by the rope binding my wrists together.
Was this what it felt like to be a slave? I’d only been in dire straits for an hour, and I already felt like breaking.
“Don’t do it, sister. Stay strong.”
Robert’s words gave me reassurance.
The curly-haired swordsman chuckled when he looked over his shoulder and saw me inspecting my muddy boots. He looked ridiculous with the yellow bonnet tied around his head. “You aren’t like most mollycoddled lordlings, are you?”
I said nothing. I wouldn’t give this cretin the satisfaction of seeing me wilt, beg, or shout in frustration. I was curious how he came to that conclusion, however. I glared, trying to urge the question into my eyes.
His chin dipped. “Noticed the grass threading your boot treads earlier. Dusty and grimy, even before stepping into that slop.” He abruptly yanked the rope, forcing my legs to wheel and stumble to keep up. “We’ve got an explorer on our hands, lads!”
The rest of the gang chuckled lightly. Six other men surrounded us. Two of them wheeled the linen carriage behind us. A few crept through the woods to my sides and behind, staying mostly quiet.
The massive hunter at the front, whom they had bafflingly called Little John, appeared to be the leader and eldest of the bunch.
The portly fellow they called Friar Tuck seemed a close friend of Little John’s. Though clean-shaven, he could have been the same age as the grizzled hunter. His title was certainly an ornamental delusion, given his chosen, godless occupation.
And Will—or as someone referred to him as Scarlet, assumedly because of that red sash he wore around his neck—was the youngest of the bunch. Perhaps he had the most to prove, which might’ve explained why he seemed so sadistic and wanted to immediately kill me.
Then again, I had thrown a dagger into his side, which wasn’t a good way to make friends. He hadn’t complained about that little incident after the initial outburst. The young man didn’t even walk with a limp or hold the bleeding wound, as if all he needed to do was pretend it wasn’t there and he could ignore it.
As we aimlessly wandered through the forest, ducking under low-hanging branches and dipping around thick boles, hopping over babbling creeks and slick stones, I wondered if this Will Scarlet character could have been the son of someone in the gang.
My imagination started coming up with silly stories and tales that led these men to the destitute positions they were in now.
Will Scarlet, for instance, had been born a prince. It explained his love for my mother’s fabrics, and the silly way he wrapped that yellow cloth around his head. Somewhere along the way, things had gone wrong for the noble prince, and now he was capable of cutting a man’s arms off and watching him convulse and bleed out, while jesting with his comrades a few minutes later.
I got tired of my game after that memory flashed back and made me shudder. I had to remember these were real people, real stakes. I likely wouldn’t make it out of this situation alive. I couldn’t afford to live in my fantasy world anymore.
I should have been much more terrified than I was.
“So, my little explorer, what have you been searching for?” Will Scarlet asked me, pulling me alongside him.
Grinding my teeth together, I averted my gaze so he couldn’t see past the crease of my hood from his profile vantage.
Will opened his mouth to speak again—
“Don’t speak to him, you mongrel,” Uncle Gregory rasped from behind us. He limped at a distance, rope held by a beefy young man.
Will flared his perfect nose and spun. He dragged me with him as he went to take his rage out on Uncle Gregory. My heart skipped a beat when the young man raised his fist to hit my uncle.
But Gregory didn’t flinch. He stared down the thuggish youth, frowning. “Direct your questions to me, boy. And your ire.”
Will’s fear tactics fell flat. It made me smile, which I quickly shuttered once Will saw the hint of a smirk on Gregory’s eyes from us locking gazes.
My captor twirled on me and I flinched, ready for him to hit me instead of my uncle.
My brattiness had always gotten in my way. That’s what my father told me.
Will Scarlet surprised me. He didn’t raise his fist. His eyes flashed softer, brow arching. “You’re too pretty to hit,” he murmured, as if frustrated with himself. He stormed off, bringing me with him.
“Thank you,” I mouthed out to Gregory, before I was turned and tugged in the opposite direction.
We crested a hill, and Little John stood at the top, using his hefty quarterstaff as a walking stick. “We’re here,” he said to the group.
My thighs and ass burned as I climbed the steep incline, made more difficult by not being able to use my hands for balance. Truth was, Will Scarlet might have called me his “little explorer,” but I was not acclimated to this much hard walking and climbing.
