Sherwood (21 page)

“
Miss
McBride,” Little John, said reluctantly as he turned to face
her.

“
Don't call
me that,” Harlow warned, narrowing her eyes at him before turning
to the door and jerking it open, and letting it hang on it's hinges
as Little John walked behind her.

She walked to her cabin and
gathered her things, Little John standing just inside the door
frame. Harlow hated that she was doing this, but opted that doing
what was said of her would lower Robin's alertness of
her.

“
So, you've
been sleeping in this cabin with eleven other men for almost a full
year?” Little John asked, looking around the messy cabin. Clothing
had been strewn everywhere and it smelled like sweat and
metal.

Harlow nodded.
“Aye.”

“
How did no
one find out?” Little John asked, more to himself,
incredulously.

“
Someone
did
find out,” Harlow
said, picking up her blanket and rolling it tightly before shoving
it into her bag, “and he's halfway to death by now.”

“
Aye,” Little
John said, “but that was only after you both found yourselves in a
precarious situation.” He wandered to where Harlow knelt and picked
up a renegade blade, stabbing it into the windowsill and leaving it
out of anyone's way.

“
Aye,” Harlow
nodded, thinking back, “aye, it was.” She slung her bag onto her
back and turned to face him.

Little John nodded, seeing
that she was ready, and lead her out of the building and toward a
vacant cabin on the other end of the town center and
market.

As she approached the
cabin, she pulled her hat back on and tucked all of her strands of
hair into the brim. Little John turned just as she secured the hat
and looked at her oddly. “Well,” he said, waving a hand in the
direction of the cabin porch and door. “Here you are.”

Harlow nodded, unhappy
about the situation. She took two steps up the porch, looking down
as she did so, debating with herself how far she'd get if she ran
at this very moment. She concluded she'd get about six feet before
being dragged back.

Realizing and temporarily
accepting defeat, she turned back to the man behind her. “John,”
She called his name. “You and my father are good
friends?”

“
Aye, we are.
Why is it you ask?” He folded his hands together and took a step
closer to the porch, resting one hand on his hip and the other on
the railing.

“
Did he tell
you anything about my mother?” Harlow asked, keeping her voice low
and even, as to not receive any attention.

Little John looked slightly
taken aback. He shifted nervously. “He doesn't talk about her
often, but he has mentioned a few things.”

Harlow nodded, clutching
her bag tighter with one hand as she stood. “I can't go to
Barnsdale.” She said, looking at him, for the first time, with a
gentle, pleading expression. “If you know anything about my mother,
then you'll understand what I must do.”

She noticed the shock
written on his face when she'd spoken. Determining that it was time
to plan, she turned and entered the cabin, closing the door quietly
behind her. Immediately, she threw down her bag and started pulling
out maps that she'd taken from home upon her departure.

She would be going through
with her plan.

She'd make it into the
castle.

She'd save
Enders.

Even if it was the last
thing she'd do.

Chapter
Twenty

Darkness fell over the
occupants of Sherwood, engulfing them in the unknown of
night.

Harlow sat, nervously in her cabin,
looking from the door to the window every few seconds. Sure, Little
John would be most definitely on the other side of the door, but
the window didn't feel like a better option.

Harlow stood quietly and peered out
the window. The view was intimidating. Robin Hood's cabin stood
just on the other side of a burning fire, his window in total
harmony with hers, giving him a view of her through his
window.

It wasn't a question of how she wanted
to leave, it was a question of who she'd rather deal with in an
attempt to leave.

Harlow moved to the window overlooking
the front porch of the cabin. She couldn't see him, but she knew
Little John would be waiting for her to make some kind of attempt
at escape.

She opted for the front door,
unwilling to deal with Robin Hood.

Quickly, she walked to the bed, that
she'd placed her bag on. It wasn't heavy, seeing as she'd discarded
all of her irrelevant items, carrying only a few knives and some
necessities.

She spotted the dress Little John had
been ordered to bring her, sitting precariously on the bed. She
gave the fabric a look of distaste before shoving it in her bag and
throwing the bag over her shoulder.

Moving to the door, she turned the
knob softly, trying her best to be as quiet as possible. She'd
taken about three steps out the door, closed the door quietly, and
turned around before noticing Little John looming over her, his
arms folded and staring at her with curiosity-stricken
eyes.

"I think you and I both know you're
not supposed to be leaving this cabin." He said, his eyebrows
raised and bent inward.

Harlow sighed, turning her head away
from him and tugging the hat off of her head in frustration, and
dropping her bag on the porch.

"Go back in," Little John nodded to
the cabin behind her.

Harlow stayed silent for a moment
before she found the courage to speak against him. "No." She said
calmly, looking over his shoulder and toward the world
beyond.

Little John kept one eyebrow raised.
"No?"

Harlow nodded, crossing her
arms as she stared up into his eyes defiantly. "That's
exactly
what I said." She
kept her voice even as she spoke. "I wont go back in this cabin. I
have responsibilities. I have an Outlaw to save and citizens to
lead. I have a corrupt king to overthrow and lives to save," Harlow
said, the sternness in her voice going from authoritarian to
compassionate.

Little John simply stared at
her.

"You know who my mother was," Harlow
said, her eyes focusing on his, reading his every reaction. "You
know who I am. Who would I be if I didn't try to save
him?"

Little John stood still for a few long
seconds, before a smile crept onto his face."I understand what
you're capable of. I simply needed you to hear it from your own
mouth." He told her in a low voice. "You've got until dawn breaks
to run. Robin will be all over Sherwood searching for you after
that point." Little John said, taking a step to the
side.

Harlow nodded.
"Understood."

"Now, you've got an Outlaw to save,
Your Highness."Little John said, still smiling confidently at
her.

She widened her eyes at him, wasting
no time in grabbing her bag and barreling down the steps. "Thank
You," She murmured to him before taking the last step.

"Harlow," Little John called before
she got too far away. She turned around, still taking a few steps
backward. "You're going to make one damn good Queen."

Harlow took two more steps backward
before slowing down for just a second. She felt her stomach drop at
the thought. She didn't want to be Queen. She pushed the thought to
the back of her mind, spinning around and racing off into the
night.

*~*~*

Harlow knew she didn't have time to
spare. Without giving anything much more thought, she vaulted over
random logs and pushed her legs as fast as she could, crunching
renegade branches in her wake.

Throughout the night, she would slow
to a walk and then speed up after she'd caught her breath. She knew
she had several cuts on her face from renegade branches that fell
in her path

Her legs were exhausted and her body
cried for water that she didn't have. She'd been running for hours,
that much she knew. Harlow noticed the sky start to lighten just a
little bit, indicating the rising sun. She felt herself rushing
toward it as if she needed it. The moon light wasn't enough to
light her path, but she knew that when the sun came up, she'd be
hunted like a dog.

She finally slowed down when she came
to a dirt pathway, just as the sun came up over the
horizon.

Seeing the pathway, she went several
yards back into Sherwood forest and shrugged off her bag. She set
down her bag on a log, letting her lungs heave in and out, making
sure to keep as quiet as possible. She rummaged through her things,
finding the small, blue dress that Little John had taken to her
cabin the night before.

She eyed it,
almost
distastefully.

As quickly and quietly as possible,
she discarded her boyish clothes and forced herself into the dress
that seemed to be made for her.

It wasn't comfortable for her, but she
couldn't care less. She looked down, holding the dress' fabric in
her dirty, cut up hands. It was the comparison between her hands
and the fabric that made her realize that the dress was too
clean.

Quickly, she picked up a random branch
and started tattering the clothing. She made one long cut to the
side of her dress, placing another through the fabric on her upper
arm.

Determining that two large holes and
several smaller ones would look legitimate enough, she wiped all of
the blood from her hands and legs on the dress, in areas that
seemed appropriate or that seemed to indicate foul play.

Immediately, she reached down to the
forest floor and drew up a ball of dirt in her hands, smudging and
destroying her dress with it.

She threw herself on the ground as if
she'd fallen, making smudge and dirt spots that looked
serious.

She gave herself one more look over,
taking her boots off and letting her feet drag around in the
mud.

Carefully peeking at each end of the
road, she propelled herself to the other side of the pathway, and
turned her back to the forest, as if stumbling out of the
woods.

She laid in wait for two terrifying
hours before a caravan and two horsemen came trotting down the
pathway. The men in the caravan were merchants, but the men on
horseback were not. They were soldiers.

Calculating the perfect timing, Harlow
threw herself into the pathway just to the side of the horsemen and
caravan.

Their shock and surprise gave Harlow
some confidence.

"Help me, please." She cried, her eyes
dramatically glazing over in dismay.

A soldier immediately hopped off his
horse and ran to her side, taking her arm gently and attempting to
keep her upright. She leaned into the man, disgusted by her own
act, but nevertheless doing what needed to be done.

“
My lady, what has happened
to you?” One of the horsemen asked, his arm trying to keep her
stable.

She looked up from the tops of her
eyelids and stared at him for a moment, her sweat-drenched hair
hanging gently in her eyes.

"Outlaws," She breathed out heavily,
her heart dropping at the very word. "From back west."

Chapter
Twenty-one

Harlow had been sitting in the caravan
for at least an hour. The horsemen had ordered the merchant to make
some room for her. They'd wrapped a piece of clothing around her
shoulders and told her to relax. She'd pretended to fall asleep for
some time, trying to keep her breathing easy and light. If she had
any chance of pulling this off, she had to act as if she had really
been attacked by outlaws. She had to play the role that she gave to
herself.

"What should we do with her?" One of
the horsemen asked the other, assuming she was fast
asleep.

"I'm not sure," the one who'd rushed
to her side voiced, "We could take her to the
monastery."

"They already have the maximum number
of refugees staying there." The other, older horseman
countered.

"I suppose the King will want to see
her. He'd voiced his desire for new maid hands around the castle."
The younger soldier sounded almost bored.

"Yes, but that Outlaw was recently
taken in. She may not be comfortable in the castle." The older one
said.

"What the King wants, the King gets,"
the horseman sighing heavily as he spoke. "She'd never see the
Outlaw anyway. He's being put under heavy security."

The older man huffed. "I'm surprised
they haven't killed him yet."

"He must be important." The younger
man countered as they trotted off. The conversation died slowly, as
the conversation turned from interesting to boring.

Harlow hoped it was determined that
she'd go to the castle, that she'd be hired by the King. She made
herself dead-like, letting the blood and sweat mingle on her skin
to make her look sickly.

As the caravan exited Sherwood
sometime later, Harlow breathed out a sigh of relief, knowing that
the easiest part was over.