The Greenwood Shadow Page 5

  She kept two arrows in her hand, just in case. Then she grabbed five more bags. Her small hand could barely take the load, but she only needed to hold them long enough to leave the cover. Once in the open air, she shoved the bags into the boy's hands, and he took them with a curious expression.

  Still as silent as always, she jumped from the cart. Then she grabbed the bow and nocked an arrow. Waving the boy ahead, she trotted down the road, keeping an eye on the four men at the cart. A short distance away, she slipped into the bushes at the edge, and winced as the young man followed, crushing twigs and jingling the silver.

  "Don't move. Don't even blink," she whispered as softly as she could, certain that the other men would turn toward the crashing noise at any moment.

  The cart slowly drew farther away. As loud as the boy seemed to her, nobody else had noticed. But it was never safe to assume, so she stayed put, watching the driver keenly. Just a few yards further down, the cart and its guards gradually disappeared around a bend in the road.

  The young man let out a loud burst of air. As fast as lightning, she clamped her hand over his mouth for the second time that afternoon and held it there. He looked affronted, but eventually accepted that fact that she knew more about being invisible than he did.

  "You couldn't possibly be a bit louder, could you?" she asked scathingly when she finally deemed it safe to whisper.

  "I'm –"

  "Quiet! They're still just down the road, you know. Just because we can't see them doesn't mean they can't hear us."

  He adopted her low tone. "Sorry."

  "You should be. If they turn to look for any noise and see you gone, they'll be back here before you can blink. We need to let them get as far away as possible before they notice."

  "Then we should go."

  She grabbed his arm before he could stand. "I could. You'd be two steps before they heard you tearing the wood down around you. Just don't move. Especially if they come back. Just freeze."

  He nodded, snapping a small twig as he did so. She sighed. If the men did come back, she would leave with the five bags in her quiver. She had rescued the boy once, but if he got himself caught again, that wasn't her problem.

  Five minutes ticked by with no sign of trouble.

  "Can you carry ten bags?" He turned a questioning look on her, so she pointed to the stolen hoard. "Ten bags of silver. Can you carry that many for a while?"

  "Yes. Why?"

  "Take these." She emptied the five from her quiver. "Head into the woods, straight that way. Be as quiet as you can, and don't wander off course too much. I'll find you in about half an hour."

  He stopped her with a hand on her arm. "How will you find me? Where are you going?"

  She glanced at the silver bags, then back up at his face. "Don't worry about that. Just remember, I will find you. Besides, I don't think a blind man would have trouble finding you in these woods."

  He looked dumbstruck, but stood anyway and gathered up all ten bags of silver. Evey suddenly had an idea that brought a sneaky grin to her face, which she erased as soon as he looked back at her.

  She pushed him off in the direction she had indicated, and waited for him to take a few steps. Then, like the shadow she was, she slipped several yards to the west of where they had been, and blended into the cover of several beech trees. Only her eyes peered out between the trunks.

  Just as she expected, the boy had only gone a few paces before feeling uncertain. He looked back at her, only to find that she had dissolved into thin air. He jumped, nearly dropping a few bags, and spun in a full circle before resuming his previous course. She saw him shudder before she turned and dashed away.

  The cart still rolled along while its oblivious protectors laughed loudly over something. The knight in the driver's seat looked much less amused, but he, too, remained unaware that the boy was gone. Just as she turned to leave, the driver slowed the cart.

  "Let's have a quick rest. Give the boy some water. We don't want him to– Find him! Now!"

  The soldiers turned and dropped their jaws in perfect synchronization. It took several seconds before they drew their weapons and split up. Evey knew they would never find her, and the boy they were searching for was at least a mile away. Perhaps more if he had kept a good pace. Still, she felt as though she should do something.

  On the ground she found a small, round stone. She picked it up, tested its weight, and then lobbed it as hard as she could into the trees on the other side of the road. All four men froze and stared in the direction of the sound. Evey found another stone and threw it farther down from the first.

  "Get him!"

  The soldiers dove into the brush, making more racket than a flock of frightened game birds. Evey smiled and retreated in the opposite direction.

  As she had suspected, the boy was ridiculously easy to find. She watched him stumble around in the late afternoon light as though it were pitch black out. That would have to be remedied. Under no circumstances would she go anywhere with a clod like that.

  She circled around and stepped out from behind a tree only feet in front of him. He dropped all ten bags.

  "Are you a ghost?"

  Evey couldn't help it. She snorted and burst into doubled up laughter. In between breaths, she gasped, "A ghost? Do I look like a ghost?"

  He seemed a little hurt at being laughed at.

  "Well, no," he replied, " But I imagine a ghost can probably look however it wants to."

  She wiped tears from her eyes, and reigned in her laughter. "Fair enough. But no, I'm definitely not a ghost."

  The stranger bent to gather up the silver. "Well then, who are you?"

  "I'm a person."

  He made too many funny looks to stop teasing him just yet.

  He raised an eyebrow. "That was extremely helpful. Thanks."

  "Just give me the silver." She knelt and held her hand out.

  He shrunk back a little.

  "You're not leaving me here?"

  "Why shouldn't I?"

  He didn't answer, but obediently handed the bags to her one by one. Evey looked him over. He seemed honest enough. She had seen enough of the king's crooked knights to get pretty good at reading people's intentions. At any rate, he hadn't even tried to make off with all that silver. Not that he'd have gotten far.

  "Is this anything to do with Robin Hood?" he finally asked.

  "Do I look seven feet tall?" She tried to keep her voice casual. This ridiculous Robin Hood story was taking over her life.

  "No. But maybe you know him, or maybe–"

  "Forget Robin Hood." She turned to leave. "There's no one like that here. This is my forest."

  He chased after her. "Wait! Don't go."

  "Why not?"

  He thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, at least tell me where I am. You owe me that much."

  "I don't owe you a thing. I saved your clumsy hide, didn't I?" She spoke fiercely, but her resolve weakened.

  "Well, yes." He looked down at his feet, like he was ashamed of himself or something. "I'm thankful for that. Really. But, I'm lost. Can't we just talk, or something, before you leave me here?"

  She had to consider for a while before she finally said, "Fine. We'll talk. But first we've got to get out of here, and that won't happen with you staggering around like you're drunk."

  He stood up straight and looked quite indignant. "I don't!"

  "You do. But I've been watching you, and I don't think you're hopeless. Follow me, and try to pay attention to what your feet are doing."

  As they traveled, she coached him on moving through the trees. She gave him pointers on leaving a less obvious trail behind him and showed him ways to slip through the countryside unseen. She didn't give away all of her secrets. The best she kept to herself. But for some reason, she felt that she could trust him.

  Before long they reached her oak. She had never shown anyone her hiding places before. They were only trees in the wood,
and nothing particularly important, but they were still special to her. She put her hand on the trunk, and tried to think about the afternoon in as practical a way as possible.

  The young man stepped toward her. "Anything wrong?"

  "Besides the fact that I've been traveling with the loudest human ever to enter the forest?"

  She said this with a wink, and then realized he couldn't see it with her hood on.

  "I am not."

  "Well, no. There was this –"

  She stopped cold. Something slowly came to her. It had something to do with the tree, and with the boy. And then she realized it at last.

  "I've seen you before."

  "Impossible. I've never seen you before."

  "No, you wouldn't have." Now she smiled, and pointed to the tree. "I was up there."

  "What?"

  "About three and a half weeks ago, I was sleeping in the tree, and this young man came barreling out of the wood like the devil was after him. He rested here for a minute. Then he sprinted off again. He wore clothes a lot like the ones you've got on."

  He stuck his hands behind his back and stuttered.

  "It had to be you." Evey slung her bow across a low hanging branch. "I recognized the way you move, and your general shape. That's why I thought I had seen you before."

  The boy's shoulders dropped. "Yes. I was out on a late night... um, adventure about that time. I can't vouch that it was here, though. I was a bit lost."

  "I could tell that much." She took off her quiver and knife, but stopped just short of dropping her hood. "Oh, and by the way, if you want to hide from people at night in the forest, don't carry a torch."

  He looked at his feet and slouched a little more. "Oh. Right."

  She folded her arms and leaned against the oak. "Well, it seems like we both have some explaining to do."

  "Yeah, I guess we do."

  "So..."

  She had no idea what to say.

  "Let's start with names," he suggested a little sheepishly. "I'm Isaiah."

  Evey panicked. For some reason her maid came to mind. She blurted the name without thinking.

  "Marion. Call me Marion."

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Evey shot, cleaned, and spitted a rabbit within a matter of minutes. It was all luck that she found one so quickly, but the easy kill was just another testament to her unheard of aim. It roasted over the cooking fire. Occasionally she added some spice or basted it with the juice that dripped into a pot below.

  Isaiah sat across from her. She didn't know what to say to him. He was just a boy that she had known for a matter of hours. She didn't even know if she could trust him. Which was a problem, as some of her secrets were actually dangerous. He was likely thinking the same thing about her, though. Strange girls running around the woods with bows did not exactly invite trust.

  Isaiah finally broke the silence.

  "So, what is this forest called?"

  "Sherwood." She poked at the fire with a broken arrow shaft.

  "And the closest town?"

  "There are some tiny villages and one beat up old castle nearby. The closest real town is miles away. Nottingham."

  "Have you ever been there?"

  "Once. I was very small."

  "Nice," he said, then all was quiet again.

  When she couldn't stand it anymore, she said, "Alright, look. I don't even know why I brought you here, so I have no idea what to say. I'm not going to just start telling you my life story."

  "That's reasonable," he replied.

  She cocked her head. "Oh, really? Most people say honesty is the best policy."

  He shrugged. "Well, yeah. I'd be a bit put out if you told me a pack of lies. But I think there's a big difference between lying, and deciding not to tell your deepest darkest secrets to a complete stranger."

  "True, I guess."

  "Is Marion your real name?"

  It was a blunt question, but he didn't sound accusatory. She took in a breath and held it for a couple seconds.

  "No," she said. "No, it isn't."

  A small grin twitched at the corner of his mouth. "That's okay. I can call you Marion for now."

  That wasn't the answer she expected.

  "Thank you. Is Isaiah your real name?"

  "Yes."

  "It's a good name."

  His steady gaze bored right into her. She was too used to being unnoticed. She had to make him look away. Yet, at the same time, she didn't want him to. Why?

  "You don't have to hide your face," he finally said.

  He was right. It was strange to still be wearing the hood, but something kept her from pulling it back. Her instincts had already saved her once that day.

  "It's probably best if you don't see me," she said, then hastily added, "not that I think you'd turn me in, or anything. It's just safer for you if you don't know what I look like. Or know my real name."

  Isaiah looked straight at her. "Who are you?"

  She shrugged. "Nobody."

  "You're an outlaw, aren't you?"

  There was a sparkle in his eye, as if hoping the answer would be yes.

  Evey snorted a little. "Not yet, but it might not be long. The tax man is missing ten more bags of silver."

  "Nah." Isaiah winked. "They never saw you. Neither did I, until you covered my mouth."

  "Please. I'm not that good."

  They both chuckled. Isaiah shifted in his seat and kicked at a burning log with the toe of his boot.

  "What..." he started, then paused. "Why did you save me?"

  That was a pretty good question. Why did she?

  "Um." She poked at the cooking rabbit. "I don't really know. I guess to spite the tax collectors. And you gave me a chance to lighten the cart of some silver."

  He slouched a little. "Oh. I suppose that's fair."

  "And I liked you. You looked brave and honest."

  "Thanks." He seemed slightly more pleased with that part.

  "There's one more reason." She cleared her throat. "I saved you because you saved me."

  Isaiah's head snapped up. "What?"

  "Well, I got there first. I almost dashed in there, when you blundered out of the bushes and triggered the trap. It was almost me tied to that cart."

  She checked the roasting rabbit again, trying to look nonchalant about the whole affair, but she had to admit to herself that it had been too close a call.

  His eyes widened with understanding. "Oh! You shot that arrow."

  "Yes. But I want to know what you were doing there. You're clearly not a woodsman."

  "Nor are you," he said.

  "No, I'm not. I'm not a man at all, actually."

  Isaiah turned slightly pink. "That's the first thing I was sure of. Even dressed like one, you couldn't be mistaken for a man if you tried to be."

  Evey blushed furiously at the comment, and was now glad that her hood still shadowed her features. She started to speak several times before she finally choked out, "Most people would find it uncomfortable, or even criminal, to run into a wild orphan girl with a long bow."

  Isaiah shrugged.

  "It doesn't bother you?"

  He thought for a moment. "I don't see why it should. A girl has just as much right to run wild as a boy does. The only difference is that fewer girls want to."

  Evey nodded her appreciation.

  "Well said."

  Instead of acknowledging the compliment, Isaiah frowned. "You're an orphan?"

  "Yeah. My parents died when I was small. Well, smaller. Since then I spend more time in the trees than at home."

  "That explains why I thought you were a ghost. You can move through the forest like a shadow. Are you all alone, then?"

  He wore a solemn expression, as though he really cared about the answer. He sounded like he did. No one had ever taken that kind of an interest in her before, though. It was a little uncomfortable.

  "No. I've got an uncle. He's a bi
t of a pain sometimes, but we're all we've got."

  Isaiah nodded.

  After another silent bout of poking the fire and kicking embers, Evey said, "You never answered my question. Why were you in the forest?"

  Isaiah cleared his throat noisily and shifted his seat again.

  "Alright. It's time for my confession. I don't hesitate because of any secrets or whatever. I just don't want to tell you because I know you'll laugh."

  Evey raised an eyebrow. That promised to be interesting. She waited for the explanation, but he never gave it.

  "So tell me," she prodded. "If you think I'll laugh, then I probably will, but you can't leave me hanging like that."

  "Fine. Just promise not to mock me mercilessly?"

  "I can promise that."

  He cleared his throat three more times. "I've, um, been looking for Robin Hood. I want to join his band."

  True to her word, she laughed merrily, but didn't reproach him. In fact, the idea wasn't really funny as much as ironic. Had Robin Hood been real, she might have joined up herself.

  He folded his arms over his knees. "I said you'd laugh at me. Everyone at home did. They said it's foolish for a grown, knighted man to tromp through the woods chasing after petty thieves."

  "Knighted? I had you figured for a runaway squire. Aren't you a bit young?"

  Isaiah turned red as a sunset. "I guess that's out now. Yes, I was knighted not long ago. And yes, I am a little younger than average. My father has connections. But it's not really what I want. There are loads of knights. I want to... I don't know. I want to do something important with my life. You know?"

  "Yeah." She nodded. "I do understand that. But you better pick a different career, because you'll never find Robin Hood."

  Unfortunately her words had the opposite of her intended effect. His eyes lit up and he suddenly seemed like a little boy on his birthday.

  "You know him, don't you? I knew it! I could tell there was some connection. Obviously you're no seven foot bowman, but you shoot like him, and you practically live in these woods, and if anyone knew about him, you would. I mean, everyone knows he's based in this forest somewhere, but it's an awfully big forest, and I'm no good at navigating, but maybe you could–"