When Robin lost his Hood

capitol tri deug: fox trap

There was a darkness around the shepherds eyes. No matter how the blue eyes shone and sparkled against the cracks of sunlight piercing through the wind swaying leaves- it clung to him like a shadow of some past no future can ever make bright. This is how Bricteva knew the small smile that hung like a crescent moon up his cheekbones, crinkling that one eye into crowsfeet charm was practiced violence. Martial artists, samurais of old, monks and desert warriors practiced one move a thousand times over for it to reach perfection, for the brute animalistic to sipper into a flow of movements mimicking air and water. A mask of extraordinaire over the ordinary. That is why Bricteva did well to stay clear of his eyes as he turned his face towards her as she broke the edge of the woods. Could a smile kill like the sharpest weapon? Could it pierce the thickest of skin? Would it do greater harm if the Sherriff seized her or if Robin would reach her first. He would call it a saving- he would call it a reason to let her go. Now, forever.

"Men!" The fat bellied Sheriff called before her mouth moved underneath the cloak.

"I wouldn't do that, Wolf." And she swore she could see Gaderian Caens eyes widen as she did. A familiar young man's voice seeped out of her tongue, light and boyish with that peach stubble innocence of the newly recruited Merry Man from Nottingham. Alan-a-Dale stood right behind her, shaded by the bushes. The soldiers stopped their forward movement so the Sheriff raged out, yanking a soldier by the scruff of the neck throwing him woundingly close to Bricteva's covered feet. A head of black hair looked up and she turned her face at the last second. "Well! Take him! What do I pay you for?!"

"Give me my bounty."

"Otherwise what? What will you do?!" He started laughing, that hoarse thick raspy groaning where the sound is a cough. He shares humored eyes with Gaderian as if sharing a friendly laugh. "We've caught you, Robin Hood, face it ya scoundrel, now come in and dont make a fuss."

"Oh you dont know me as well as you think you do sheriff." Bricteva mouths. "I dont see any gold plated handcuffs on these hands." She raises her covered hands as in a come here movement, arms extended wide like a hug.

Sheriff draws his sword, growling. "Alright, I'll do it myself. You're dead meat." He says this to his soldiers who couldnt look more scared if they tried. Pale, unseeing eyes. Later, Bricteva would ask Gaderian what had made them so afraid. He was just a man. He'd look at her then, that same smile playing in his lips, just for her, and she'd know why weapons are named after warriors.

Like a ghost of knowledge seeped through the future into the past, the knowledge of their fear whispers into her mind, echoing the dome of her skull as the Sherriff takes that first step and the cloaked shadow behind her start moving like one unit, forward, crawling out of the bushes and tress onto the dirt road- the woman and the man long gone, their son somewhere far away about to unleash hell. Man is but flesh and bone but it is the soul- the unbridled, unleashed, unbound by law, politics, social norms that has terrorized man into docility, into control. It is God's system which have created societies out of creatures, it is our fear of man which binds us to them. She would then say that she had never feared him. Then he would come in close and she would feel her heart tremble and understand what she knows now- there are many ways to strike fear into the hearts of men. They were the same in that regard.

"What? Fox's got your tongue?" Twelve cloaked men with the same exact cloak stood with their face down, facing a jaw dropped blind Shepherd, a wide eyed Sheriff and backing away young men in armor. Later on, Gaderian Caen would recount this exact moment to a laughing Bricteva, well placed in the nook of a hang mat and hope the fabric so she could fall into his arms so he could tell her the truth- that it felt like his life came back to him when he realized she would not die that day.

Before he could answer, the twelve cloaked men attacked until the real robin hood was lost in the crowd of many, before one became twelve, before twelve became nothing- just an idea of what robin hood supposedly fought like. This would break the courage of the Sheriff who'd came close to cracking the behavior, fighting style and swagger of the punk. But his merry men knew him like the back of their hands, had watched his swift movements, practiced it as harshly and longly as Gaderian had practiced that easy going smile. Later, she would ask him how he does it and he would think her to mean his violence and she'd mean his happiness and he'd come to crying only once in his life, just then.

Bricteva seeped into the forest again as the men swarmed the carriage while others fended off the sheriff. The soldiers had fallen like toy soldiers, blood painted the dirt like streams of puddles amidst the rain and even the Shepherd was on his way back with his sheep until something went wrong.

A cloak was yanked, an ankle was kicked, a body dropped. The silvery head of the young boy with the peach stubble and innocent blue eyes looked up at the face of the twisted faced monster and he knew- his life would never be the same. The Merry Men slinked into the woods, Gaderian hesitated, clenched teethed and clench fists as his eyes closed as that ugly laugh emanated from the sherriffs chest. His men were all dead but he had caught- "Now I have ya!" Alan-a- Dale writhed and kicked in his grip but the beast was too strong, to demanding. This would be his Robin Hood and if it werent, he'd be a step closer to baiting him with this boy.

Bricteva watched the young man helplessly seal his tragic fate and was just about to run out before Noah held her back. "Don't- Look." He said and nodded to Gaderian's slow nearing to the carriage. The supposed Robin Hood had a bag over his head and was strapped to the empty carriage, his soldiers would not be disposed off for in his eyes they had betrayed the crown. It would be the Merry Men who would return to bury them, out of mercy for themselves for the stench became unbearable, and for the pity of the fools who side with corruption in search for glory.

Gaderian looked desperate as he tugged at the sheriff's shirt, just about to whip the horses into their path to the capitol. "M-May you offer a poor cripple a ride... I'll pay greatly."

"Pay you poor fool, you nearly cost me-" he sighed. "Alright then hop on."

Later, a weeping young boy would cling on to the rusty metal poles, his body trembling like a caged animal knowing its about to be tortured and plead to Gaderian to find a way out. Later, an ashen faced Gaderian would let his eyes fall to the ground knowing he could do nothing for a Merry Man whose face has been revealed. Later, he would return to Sherwood, later the forest itself would try to hide. For fire rages, no matter who it kills in its path. It is here he finds the worried Merry Men and a thumb turning Bricteva. It is here the fire ceases. It is here they reealizes, what has snuffed it out.