Sherwood (4 page)

Harlow felt
Enders' eyes on her. She turned her head to face him slightly. He
looked at her in shock as he stumbled over his words to explain
himself.

“
I agree that
Robin Hood would be a very much more interesting instructor.”
Harlow covered for him, not wanting to ask why he'd decided to
move.

“
Yeah,” Enders
said, looking down for a moment, “His tales are inspiring. The
bards sing of his deeds all through the country. He is are beyond
admirable.”

They fell silent
for several seconds as the two followed the crowd. It didn't seem
to Harlow that Enders was suspicious of her.

'
This wont end
well,'
she thought, turning an
eye on him in her periphery. Harlow kept the thought in the back of
her mind that if the two had become friends, like what seemed to be
going on, he would be offended by her lie.

“
So, you saw I
moved and followed me?” Enders asked, raising an eyebrow at her as
he turned his eyes on her. Harlow noticed the way his brown hair
bounced just a bit with his walking.

Harlow nodded.
“I've always been too nosey for my own good.” She confided,
shrugging nonchalantly, trying not to smile at him. She felt as if
she'd smiled too often since she'd arrived.

“
Seems like I
would rather not have you on the battlefield with me.” Enders joked
with a small chuckle.

Harlow snorted,
mentally congratulating herself for the unladylike gesture. “The
battlefield is a totally different setting, my friend.”

Enders kept a
skeptical eye on her for a moment before turning toward the moving
crowd. “Ya know,” He started, glancing down at the sword on his
hip. “I think we'll make a fine team.”

Harlow let a
small smile plague her lips, a small fluttering creeping into her
heart and expanding in her stomach.

She had to remind
herself that in Sherwood City, she was a man, protecting her father
from an ill-conceived fate.

With that notion
in mind, she pushed her legs forward, keeping her pace steady, as
she forced herself to not become totally and hopelessly enamoured
by the man next to her.

She should've
known that would never have worked.

Chapter
Five

Harlow held three throwing
knives in her left hand, her right hand keeping one throwing blade
at eye-level with herself and aiming down-sight at the
tree.

Harlow exhaled slowly, a
bead of sweat making it's way down the side of her face as she kept
her posture. She felt her shirt's wet collar on the skin of her
neck. Robin had had the men out there for almost four hours now,
working on their stance, aim, and posture.

Some of the recruits,
including Harlow, had managed to get Robin's permission to throw
knives instead of practicing archery. She stood in line, alongside
several outlaws, some holding bows with arrows ready to fire,
others holding throwing knives, ready to propel the small blades
forward.

Harlow stood in position,
on her right a large man by the name of Reggie. On her left,
however, was Enders, who held his bow at eye-level, waiting for the
signal to fire his arrow into the tree.

Harlow noticed his eyes
were droopy and his face was tired. He looked like he would fall
over any second now, but he stayed put, his back straight and his
eyes focused.

It was clear that he
refused to give up until the bitter end.

“
Fire!” Robin
shouted, verbally letting loose a frenzy of arrows and knives into
the air.

Harlow let her fingers slip
away from the blade she'd held in her grasp, letting it fly like
the others.

Her blade did not hit the
target.

In fact, her knife landed
no where near the target. It, instead, curved to the left, landing
just after the tree bearing the target on it.

She shook her head as she
looked down. She wasn't used to this amount of training. Not to
mention her lack of focus since meeting Enders. She'd been able to
forget his presence next to her for the first hour of training, but
not since then.

And her shots during the
first hour were unmistakably great. Although, Robin didn't seem to
care.

Now, her heart raced with
every shot. She felt like eyes were on her. She felt the undying
need to impress. To bring respect to her father's name and
legacy.

Robin shook his head as he
made his way toward the left side of the tree, a frustrated look in
his eyes. He bent over, picking up a renegade blade from the
grass.

Harlow's renegade
blade.

He held the knife up
slightly, scanning the men's faces. “Who threw this?” His voice
sounded with what sounded like animosity.

Harlow fell silent, her
heart pounding hard. She didn't want to answer, but she knew she
had no choice.

“
Well?!” Robin
yelled, looking the crowd over, making sure to scan all of the
faces.

Harlow looked back and
forth, seeing all the confused, maybe even scared, faces. She
breathed in silently, before reluctantly speaking up. “I
did.”

Robin's eyes zeroed in on
her, keeping angry eyes on her. “You?” He asked stepping closer,
looking her over. “What's your name?”

Harlow kept her eyes
steady, although she was worried her anxiousness might show. “Henry
McBride.” She tried to keep her voice as manly as she
could.

Robin looked taken aback
for a moment. “McBride? You're Harrison's son?”

Harlow kept eye contact
with the man.

What was the worst he could
do? Schedule her clean-up duty? Order that she practice all night?
With some restored confidence, she spoke: “Aye. Harrison McBride is
my father.”

Robin nodded. “And this is
how you throw a blade?” He asked, verbally provoking her, his voice
doused in quiet frustration.

Harlow felt shocked for a
moment, but only a moment, before a surge of anger over took her
and made her blood boil.

Robin turned his back on the men and
walked toward the target tree, facing the crowd of recruits after
several paces. He still held her blade between his index finger and
thumb. “We are at a historical impasse, gentlemen!” He announced,
looking over the men.

Harlow had
her eyes on him as her anger built.
He hadn't provided any example for archery. He hadn't
thrown any knives.
Who was he
to criticize any body's skill?

Robin turned his eyes on
the small piece of metal in his hand, a look of pure disdain on his
face as he did so. “And you completely miss the target?” He took
several steps back toward Harlow, who still watched him, her lips
pursed, her eyes filled with a certain kind of rage.

“
Your father
would be disappointed, don't you think so, Henry?” Robin asked, a
hint of sarcasm in his voice.

The more she thought on his
words, the more angry she got, the more it built up in her mind,
the more she was influenced by impulse rather than
logic.

Robin turned his back on
her and stepped toward the target again, examining the shots. He
placed his hands on his hips in a somehow masculine way. “Next
time, men, try to focus on the target!”

Harlow took in a deep
breath, holding it in her lungs for as long as she could handle
before letting it out. The anger continued to build up in her and
her breathing was the last pathetic attempt she could give to make
the anger subside.

She opened her eyes, and
before she could really understand what was happening, she heard
it: the whizzing of an arrow as it flew through the air. She caught
it in her sights, following it's path.

It raced through the air,
catching the loose fabric of Robin's sleeve, sending the man
forward a few feet as the sound of ripping fabric filled the
air.

Every recruit in line next
to her turned to face the person who shot the arrow. It was from
her left side. She dropped her jaw at the sight of an enraged
Enders standing beside her.

Enders had rage written all
over his face, with his eyes squinted, almost as if warning and
provoking Robin Hood. His hair hung gently in his eyes, dripping
with sweat. His bow hung almost limply in his right hand which had
retreated back to his side.

Robin turned around, facing
the recruits, looking down at his sleeve. His eyes examined the
hole that now graced his shirt, widened in shock.

Robin turned back, looking
to the target tree and seeing a newly added arrow in the center of
the paint. Robin turned his back to the tree, facing the recruits,
and after a short second of astonishment, he smiled.

He eyed the bow that hung
in Enders' hand and noticed that his breathing was angry and
heavy.

“
What's your
name, recruit?” Robin asked, stepping forward, an excited smile on
his lips.

“
Enders
Hode.” Enders said after a moment of silence. He raised one arm to
wipe the sweat from his forehead.

Robin nodded,
still smiling like a child. “Enders Hode.” He took a few steps back
and looked to the rest of the recruits. “Now,” he paused, looking
to the crowd around them, “
That
” He emphasized,
pointing to Enders, “is what Sherwood Forest needs.”

Everyone still stood in
astonishment at the bizarre series of events.

Enders felt Harlow's eyes
on him, but he kept his focus and looked ahead, studying the
target.

“
Weapons up
everybody!” Robin shouted, stepping backward toward the side of the
tree.

Harlow sighed, taking the
next knife from her palm and holding it at eye level.

She could have sworn she
felt Enders look at her once before Robin's voice rang
out.

“
Fire!”

*~*~*

Night came, engulfing the
camp in darkness. Nobody lit any torches or started any fires. That
was one of the first lessons they'd learned at camp: No fires at
night. It was precautionary, in case any of the King's men were
scoping out the area.

Harlow slipped quietly into
the cabin where twelve other men made themselves at home. A group
to the right made a considerable amount of noise as they joked
about their day. Harlow noticed Enders in the bunch. She averted
her eyes immediately, trying to avoid him.

Instead, she scanned the
room. She found a small cot in the corner of the room, seemingly
farther away from everyone else.

Perfect.

She walked to the cot, a
mattress on the hardwood floor, and dropped her bag onto it. She
placed her weapons up against the wall next to her and sat
down.

She ruffled through her
bag, looking at her things, making sure she had everything. She
hadn't brought much, seeing as most of her things were far too
feminine. She had, however, managed to make off with some of her
more precious items that wouldn't give her away.

She looked around the room
again, examining the proximity of each cot to the next. She had a
cot to the far side, which no one had taken; she found it odd, but
decided not to question it. She felt curious as to way no one else
claimed the spot. She supposed they may have felt more comfortable
with other people in their close proximity.

After she ruffled through
her bag, she plopped it onto the floor next to her, and stretched
out on the cot. She felt comfortable, even with her under-wrapping
firmly in place, keeping her chest looking flat. But, she was so
tired it hadn't bothered her.

Her eyes fluttered as she
tried to think of ways to conceal herself while feeling comfortable
at the same time. She concluded it wasn't very possible.

“
Henry?”
Harlow stirred slightly before jumping up, one hand going for her
weaponry, the other propping herself up.

“
Whoa!”
Enders' exclaimed, putting his hands up defensively, his eyes wider
than usual.

Harlow let out a breath of
relief and calmed down, retracting her arm from the weaponry and
rubbing her face. “Sorry.” She said simply, giving him a weak
smile.

“
A little
defensive, I see.” He said, sitting down next to her cot and
crossing his legs.

Harlow snorted. “Yeah,
well, only when I sleep.”

Enders nodded. “I'd
say.”

Silence fell over the two,
as Harlow ran things through her mind. Was her hat still on? Was
her hair poking out? Did she look too feminine in her
sleep?

“
How ya'
holding up?” Enders asked, catching Harlow's attention and bringing
her back to reality.

Harlow nodded and looked at
him. “I'm fine.” She furrowed her eyebrow at him, noticing the
group of men in the corner, still being loud and disruptive. “How
are you?”

Enders' shrugged, looking
away from her. “Fine.” The two sat in silence for a moment. “You
looked really distracted during training.”

Harlow nodded. “Did I
really?”