The Greenwood Shadow (12 page)

She had her bow in hand almost instantly. "That is the first reasonable thing you've said all day."

"Always at your service, my lady." He swept into an over-dramatic bow.

"I'm certainly no one's lady," she remarked, half dryly, half in amusement. A second later she sped off through the trees.

"Oh, wait up," he called, but it was too late. She was already out of sight. "I hate it when she does that."

Evey could still hear him. She watched as he expertly blended into the shadows. He really was getting very good, but there would be no hiding from her.

Before long he realized that she was not still blazing the trail. He knew she was somewhere around, but nothing more. She had to suppress a chuckle that would have given her away. He stopped and examined the nearby trees. After a minute, he chose one and climbed.

Isaiah was fast and quiet on the ground, but his tree climbing hadn't reached the same level of expertise. He couldn't scale the branches without a fair amount of noise. Just after he cleared the ground, she climbed up the other side, as fast as a squirrel, using his own sound and preoccupation to mask her ascent.

Soon she stood just above him, though he didn't notice. He was trying very hard to be quiet and this took most of his concentration. Just as he poked his head above a particularly thick limb, she grabbed his cloak and held her dagger playfully at his throat.

"Looking for me?" she asked in mock seriousness.

"How on earth?" He rolled his eyes. She could see that he wanted to wrest the dagger from her and throw it into the bushes, but she had made sure he'd be in too precarious a position for that. Instead he just jumped clear of the tree.

"You can climb back down, you know," she teased, as she gracefully swung herself from a branch and landed gently on her feet.

Isaiah stormed off. "Next time I'm not even going to bother. When you disappear, I'm just going to keep going forward until you get bored."

She made a silly face. "I think you might be a bit too competitive for that."

They set up camp near enough to the road to hear the caravan, but far enough that they wouldn't be seen. Evey was already antsy. Within ten minutes of making camp, she had already paced the length of the camp six times, climbed the lookout tree three times, and grilled Isaiah for details four times.

"I already told you, sometime this afternoon. That's what I heard. It might even be tomorrow morning, so sit down."

Evey sat, but started fidgeting almost immediately.

"Plan 3?" she asked.

"Sounds good." He lowered his voice into a dull monotone. "Just show me what to hit, and I'll hit it."

She laughed at his accurate impression of the tax-cart guards.

"Why do you do it?" she asked abruptly.

"Do what?" He held a bit of fletching up to the light.

"Stay here with me."

Isaiah dropped the fletching and turned slightly red.

"It's just that bashing heads doesn't seem like your thing," she explained.

"We don't actually do much bashing."

She laughed. "No, we don't. But I still ask, why do you keep coming with me?"

He shrugged. "I don't like head-bashing, but I'm good at it. There are some people who can't do it for themselves. You know how things are. I guess I'd feel guilty if I didn't try to help."

"Oh." He had just said exactly the same thing that she had tried to articulate for years now.

Ten seconds later, she was pacing again.

"Would you sit down?" Isaiah groaned. "You're making me dizzy."

"Sorry. I just really need to do something right now. All this waiting is maddening."

He snatched the end of her cloak and halted her momentum. "You wait patiently for things all the time. Usually while completely still."

She pulled her cloak back from him and walked around the fire again. "I know. I just keep seeing that brute's face in my head and I want to smash it in. I need action. Now. Besides, patience is easier when you know exactly who, what, when, where, why, and how. I don't like ambiguity."

"That's true." He went back to his fletching. A moment later he said, "You're still pacing."

"Sorry." She sat facing him. After fidgeting for another few seconds, she ordered, "Distract me. Tell me something about you."

"Like what? You already know everything interesting."

"No I don't. Just tell me something. Like... what color you like best."

"Green," he replied.

She smiled inwardly. Her eyes were green, and she was rather fond of the color herself.

"What about it do you like most?"

He set down the fletching again, and thought for a moment.

"It's versatile. It can be innocent, like a patch of clover. Or it can be deadly poisonous, like in some animals. It shows life. Most plants have green on them somewhere. When I'm surrounded by miracles of nature, human failings seem to become less impossible. It's very... fulfilling. While I'm out here, I feel closer to really living."

Evey cocked her head and looked at the trees around her. "You really feel all that, just by sitting under a tree?"

Isaiah shrugged. "Yeah."

She suddenly felt very shallow by comparison. He had so many layers. She did not. He had said as much himself.

"What about you?" he asked. "What color do you like best?"

She had to think about it. "Oh, I don't know. I like most colors. Red is powerful. Green is sneaky. But I think I like blue most. It's kind of comforting. Makes me feel safe."

"Like a blanket," he replied.

"Um, sure?"

"The sky is a blanket that's always there, no matter how bad things get. Sometimes it's really dark blue, with silver stars, all gorgeous and elegant. Sometimes it's so pale that it's white or gray. It changes colors, but underneath it's always blue, and it's always there."

"Yeah. Yeah, I guess that's it."

She cleared her throat.

"My mother's eyes were an amazing blue," Isaiah said quietly. "They always made me feel warm and cozy. That's why I think of a blanket."

"You must have her eyes," Evey said.

He shook his head. "Mine are paler. Hers were like sapphires. Deep and rich and mysterious."

"Were?"

"Yeah. She, uh... she died a few years ago." His voice cracked.

"Oh. I'm sorry." Evey didn't know what else to say, so she just started talking. "I don't remember my mum. My uncle says she was beautifully Irish: flaming red hair, green eyes, infectious laugh. That's Ireland to a T."

"Yeah."

"I suppose she must have been amazing. My uncle always says she was. As her little brother, I guess he'd know."

"What about your dad?" Isaiah asked.

Evey smiled. She did have one memory of her father.

"He was the tall, dark, and handsome type. Charming enough to get himself an Irish girl without causing a war. I only remember him a little. He died when I was three."

Evey felt tears welling up and did not want to attack a cart with weepy eyes. She forced a laugh and said, "They were both beautiful. Both charismatic. Makes you wonder how they ended up with me."

Isaiah grinned. "I'm sure you could be charming if you slowed down long enough to try."

"Nah. My charm died with my baby teeth. Besides, it's easier to just knock people on the head."

Isaiah burst out laughing.

"Well that does get straight to the point," he said.

Evey put on a silly grin. "Yeah. I don't see the of point of extra words."

"Most of the time I agree," he replied.

"Most of the time?"

"There are some things that are better with more words. Like..." His face reddened. "Never mind."

She threw a twig at him. "Oh, come on. Like what?"

"You'll think it's weird."

"I won't. I promise."

"Well, like poetry. Nature, life, love..." He paused and glanced up at her for a moment. "Those things don't need more words, but they deserve them. Saying 'I love you' to someone is fine, if you mean it, but if you really do love them, why not say it over and over? Make the saying of it as beautiful as the feeling itself?"

"I never thought of that," she answered.

Love ballads and poems had always seemed like a waste of time to her. Looking at it the way he did, they didn't seem as bad. Still, she wouldn't be composing one any time soon.

"Sorry." He still blushed furiously. "I didn't mean to get all poetic or whatever. I know it's not really your thing."

"No, it's fine." She smiled and tried to look like she understood things as deeply as he did. "I like hearing what you've got to say."

"Well, the words sound better when I think them, than when I say them. I wish I could translate it into spoken language better. That's something I have no talent for."

Evey threw another twig. "Don't be stupid. You're very good with words."

Isaiah smiled his thanks.

The entire forest seemed to go quiet for a moment. It was easy to sit back and appreciate the beauty of her surroundings. She suddenly understood what Isaiah meant about green and life. She was about to say so when she glanced at him. He hadn't been watching the forest with her. He was looking right at her with a content little half-smile.

She almost asked him what he was looking at with that silly grin, but she rather enjoyed the forest and the stillness, which was very unlike her. It would be best to savor the moment while it lasted. Besides, the grin wasn't actually that silly.

True to form, it didn't last much longer. Soon her legs felt tight, her hands twitched, and she just had to stand up and stretch. Isaiah looked away immediately as she did, pretending to be interested in the fletching again.

"That was a good distraction," Evey said, "but the cart is still not here."

"You could practice shooting," Isaiah suggested.

"Might as well."

She grabbed her bow and emptied the quiver into a tree. She could always tell when she was distracted because her shots pulled slightly to the left. She gathered the arrows and fired again until she was focused and calm.

"I don't think they're coming tonight," Isaiah said after a while. "The sun's almost gone. That sort of caravan never travels in the dark."

Evey slumped to the ground. "More waiting. My favorite. It'll be a cold camp tonight, I guess."

"My favorite," Isaiah repeated dryly.

After an unsatisfying dinner of travel biscuit, Evey climbed the tree with her hammock and fell asleep almost immediately. Something woke her a few hours later. She lay very still, straining to hear any little sound.

The sound of muffled cart wheels and men hushing their horses drifted vaguely down the road. It had to be well past midnight, judging by the moon. What was a cart doing on the road in the middle of the night? The only explanation was that they were trying to avoid bandits.

Quietly she climbed out of the tree and shook Isaiah awake. He sat up groggily and had to slap himself a few times before he was awake enough to string his bow. A minute later, Evey crossed the road and secreted herself in a tall hedge near the path. Isaiah moved to a position almost directly opposite. Then they waited.

Soon the light from the lanterns came fully into view, followed by a large and rather ornate carriage. This surprised Evey. Carriages usually had people, not cargo. It was expensive looking, though. Obviously, someone important owned it and was probably dozing inside while the hired men did all the work.

A few soldiers on horseback rode nearby, but nothing serious. This was clearly not the caravan from the rumors. On the other hand, there was a safe-box fastened securely to the rear. With a ride as nice as this one, the owner would surely have something worthwhile in the box.

A pang of guilt made her hesitate. They couldn't steal from just anyone. This person was just an innocent traveler. Or were they? One glance at the opulence of the carriage helped her stifle any doubts. Whoever it was, they could spare a little to help the less fortunate, and be none the worse for it.

Isaiah fired his arrow, which was both a signal to her and a trigger for the trap they had set. Evey fired back. Two strong cords now blocked the progress of the procession. The soldiers and driver looked around warily. They'd heard the noise, but couldn't see the lines. The horses did, however, and refused to move forward.

"What's the matter with you boys?" the driver hissed. The horses just whinnied and stayed put.

Evey shot an arrow far down the road. The soldiers turned their heads to listen.

"Sounds like there's someone up there," one of them whispered.

"Well!" The driver gestured impatiently. "Guard the carriage."

"Right," said another. They formed up on either side of the harnessed horses, still unaware of the barrier just in front of them.

They stood there as if expecting something to come down the road at any moment, which is exactly what Evey wanted them to do. It all seemed so easy. No matter which of her tricks she played, the guards fell in to step with them every time.