Sherwood (2 page)

Harlow raised a
hand to her scalp, feeling for any cuts or blood that may be
present because of the tree. "Harlow." She answered, still feeling
her scalp with one hand and trying to keep her face covered with
the other as she looked down at her feet.

Silence sat
between them for a few seconds as Harlow felt her skin, making sure
the tree hadn't done any serious damage.

"What are you
doing in Sherwood Forest?" Enders asked, his eyebrows scrunched
together in a flurry of curiosity and concern.

Harlow looked at
him curiously for a moment before finding no obvious threat in him.
"I was trying to find a trail to take a walk on." She lied, keeping
her eyes down a little longer, before pulling her hood over her
head and letting her eyes rest on his.

Enders was taken
aback only momentarily, before he turned to a survey the area. "No
offense, but a walk in Sherwood forest could get you killed." He
smiled at her, although there was some concern still plaguing in
his face.

Harlow nodded. "I
understand that." She looked back toward the ground, pretending to
be preoccupied with her hair so that he couldn't catch a good look
at her face.

Enders looked
around, but after a second rested his eyes on hers again. "There
are men all over this forest, so be careful as you wander home." He
warned, his brown eyes showing every emotion running through
him.

Harlow nodded. "I
will try." She kept her voice as low she could, trying to disguise
herself in case she had another run in with him.

Enders backed
away with a smile. "Be careful of those trees." He warned with a
smile. “It was nice meeting you, Harlow.” He said, as he took steps
backward into the darkness.

Harlow was unsure
when exactly he'd turned and ran, but she heard his footsteps get
further and further away, assuring her that he was gone. She sighed
and turned to the opposite direction. She let herself deflate,
feeling relieved that Enders wasn't a soldier or an evil
man.

She took a ribbon
off of her wrist and tied it to the tree at her right, using it as
a marker. She used another ribbon to tie up her hair and make
herself look a little more boyish. As a safety measure, she pulled
out her work hat, pushing it down over her hair. She knew that it
fit her rather well, being a brownish color that matched her
hair.

She walked toward
a small river she had passed on her way to the city, and bent down
to drink some water and to soothe her dry throat. The sun would be
coming up soon, and she would have to make it Sherwood City before
her father would wake at sunrise.

She ditched the
cloak she had, tattering it and hanging it on a tree, making it
seem old and useless.

From this moment
on, she knew she would be an Outlaw in Sherwood, a soldier and a
warrior.

She stood up and
walked back the way she came, passing the ribbon and then entering
a new life.

*~*~*

It took a lot of
energy and force to find the forest, hidden in a clearing. Its
archer-trained guards almost shooting a calvary of arrows at her
for trespassing on their land.

"State your
business!" An angry shout rang out in the forest.

Harlow looked
around awkwardly, trying to find the source of the voice. "My name
is…" she paused, trying to think of a good cover name. "Henry
Mcbride." She shouted out in the best manly voice she could muster.
"I've come in place of my father, Harrison Mcbride."

Silence presided
over the clearing for several long seconds before a loud voice
boomed from another direction: "Lift the gate!"

Harlow, who was
now apparently Henry Mcbride, stayed silent for several seconds
waiting for an open gate.

A giant
camouflage gate lifted open, showing a city built amongst trees,
thriving on the food they've managed to grow themselves and in
trees they've seen grow over the years. In front of her was a giant
city with ladders leading up tall trees and all kinds of cabins
littered around the campsite. On her right, she saw a series of
cabins that led down to a lake with a small pier. On her left where
giant ladders leading up old oak trees that have undoubtedly been
growing for decades, maybe even centuries. Straight ahead, a ramp
lead downwards to a congregation of people dressed in green and
black, bows and arrows strung across their backs. She was most
definitely in the right place.

Harlow looked
around in amazement for a few seconds, before composing herself and
taking several steps in the area. She heard the gate close behind
her as she kept her pace slow and methodical. She tried to keep her
eyes even, unsuprised, and a bit skeptical. One of the first things
she noticed was the two hundred or so men who were standing around,
talking, and laughing. The younger men, around her age, were
horse-playing and drinking with eachother.

No one really
took notice to her entrance. Although, she did hear her new name
being called and recited several times throughout the
encampment.

She took a few
seconds to look around, observing how the others were acting and
trying to take mental notes on their behavior, although she was
certain she could be herself and get away with her disguise. She
noticed a line to the right of her, a man close to her right,
directing people where to go.

“
This way,
McBride!” The man called out, his voice somewhat welcoming,
although strict.

Harlow nodded at
the man, making her way to the line and taking a good look at him.
His hair was longer than the others, and he wasn't quite
middle-aged yet. She wanted to offer a smile as she walked by, but
decided it was best to simply add a curteous “thank
you.”

Harlow stood in
line, waiting patiently and nervously, for her name to be called.
Her heart pounded against her chest as she hoped she wasn't doing
anything wrong. She couldn't afford to set someone off about her
real identity.

Harlow raised a
hand to her hat, pushing it down a bit more, feeling some of the
hair at the nape of her neck, assuring herself that it was tucked
in.

She certainly
felt lost and confused as she waited in line, the formation of
people moving up ever so often.

As she waited in
line, her mind meandered off, thinking about how clear that lake
would be, or how clean the cabins were. Every so often, she would
tug on her shirt, and then scold herself for doing such a girlish
action.

“
Henry McBride!”
She almost didn't catch it when the man under a wooden overhang
called it out. Her eyes widened in a suprised look, before turing
quizzical, as her legs brought her closer to the kiosk.

“
That's me.” She
said, muttering lowly, trying to muster her best boyish voice
possible.

The man nodded
and looked down at a parchment in his hands, his eyebrow raising
after a moment. “You Harrison's Boy?” The man had a large build and
an incredibly deep voice that intimidated her.

In her men's
disguise, she was tiny, incapable of heavy lifting and harsh labor.
But, she had no choice but to deal with whatever was given
her.

Harlow looked at
him with a skeptical look. “Aye.” She nodded, trying her deep voice
again. She knew this would be hard. She would probably be a very
quiet fighter of this rebellion.

The man smiled. “Nice to have ya'.” He
held his hand out at her for a handshake. When Harlow took it, as
best as she could, the man continued. “The name's Aldridge
Chadwick. Your father was a good fighter years back. Can't wait to
see what you could do with a sword, that's for sure.”

Harlow smiled and
looked up at him as they broke the handshake. “Thanks. I'll do my
best.”

The man shook his
head, a smile still on his lips, as he looked down at the
parchment. “Alright, McBride, you're weapons are on the table to
your right. You've been equipped with the essential items.” The man
pointed to his right to a line of tables with equipment set out on
the surfaces. “Grab your stuff and report to the training area
immediately.”

Harlow looked to
the table of equipment and nodded. “Thank you.” Harlow said,
stepping aside and walking toward the table.

The man nooded
her goodbye and called the next person in line.

Harlow stood in
front of the table, overlooking the equipment. She noticed bows,
quivers, arrows, throwing knives, and other random objects that
Harlow had never seen before.

Harlow scanned
over the items, picking up a bow, although she never imagined using
it. She examined it before she picked up a quiver of arrows and
swung it onto her back.

She walked to the
next table where the throwing knives sat in a neat, clean order.
She smiled involuntarily as she picked one up. She'd never been
able to throw knives before, but she imagined that she'd get a kick
out of it the most. She picked up five, making her way to the next
table.

A Sheathed sword
sat plainly in a stack next to the arrows. She placed the bow
leaning on the table in front of her before picking up the sword
and unsheathing it by several inches. The blade was clean and
fresh. They must either have an on-site blacksmith or someone from
a close-by area as supporter of the cause.

She looked at the
handle, which seemed unique in the shaping and form. Harlow raised
an eyebrow at it, before looking at the rest of the sword handles
in the pile. They were all unique, whether by their emralds or by
their handle-shaping.

She couldn't
imagine using the sword either, but it would have been strange if
she hadn't taken one.
She
sheathed the sword, like the way she found it, and wrapped the
straps around her hips, letting it hang by her side.

A bag sat next to
the swords. Inside the bag were basic provisions for training,
scout trips, and general Military Business.

She grabbed a bag
from the table, flinging it over her shoulder and picking up her
bow that layed against the table.

Harlow taking in
a deep breath before she started walking away and toward the
training area, but not before hearing the man she'd just met
booming out another name. “Enders Hode!”

Harlow froze
slightly, looking back and catching a glimpse of the familiar face.
She turned away quickly, keeping a brisk pace toward the training
area.

She should have
known better.

Chapter
Four

Enders stood
silently in the archery range area with the other trainees. He set
off angry vibes at first, but as time passed of him, and the
others, standing around, his anger subsided into
exhaustion.

“
Are you
alright?” A voice sounded from behind him. Enders turned around to
face the speaker, kinda suprised by the sudden noise. Harlow was
suprised in herself, that she had the courage to ask, given their
previous interaction the previous night.

Harlow found
herself asking the question before thinking about it. She'd kept
her eye on him since she'd seen him arrive. She started mentally
kicking herself for being so transparent.

He nodded,
offering a small, thin smile. He had been totally consumed by his
thoughts, but upon realizing his ill-timed anger, he softened and
looked at the person who'd spoken to him. His eyebrows furrowed for
a moment. “Have we met before?” He kept his eyes trained on her,
trying to place a face with it's match in time.

Harlow cringed at
the question, but immediately covered it up, smiling brightly, but
in the most masculine way she could. “I don't think so.”

“
Sorry,” Enders
blurted out. He'd obviously seen the reaction she'd tried to hide.
“I don't mean to be rude. You look familiar.”

Harlow nodded,
trying to keep her voice as even as possible. “I think I have a
memorable face is all.”

He let out a
breath of air. “I have a lot on mind, but I'm fine. Thank you for
asking.”

Harlow nodded,
looking into the distance for several seconds. She raised an
eyebrow when she looked away from him. He was shockingly polite,
which wasn't something that she frequently came across in her
village.

She noticed the
training areas were complete with a swordplay and archery areas.
The areas were simple enough. Wooden blocks were formed into
circles on the grass, meant to be boundaries during the training
sessions.

“
My name is
Enders.” The man said, looking off into the distance, but turning
toward her and holding out his hand for a handshake. “I realize I
never introduced myself.”

Harlow looked at
him, her gaze ripped from the field she'd been staring at. A smile
appeared on her lips only slightly as she wondered how many men in
her village were this polite. She reached her own hand to her left,
taking his hand in what she deemed a masculine grip. “Henry
McBride.”

“
Harrison
McBride's son?” Enders raised an eyebrow, his jaw slightly slack in
what may have been shock or suprise.

Harlow nodded
eagerly at the new name and the recognition. “Aye.” She said,
trying her best to imitate the way she'd heard these men speak. She
sighed, looking down at the equipment in her hands. “Came here in
his place.”