Scarlet

I scowled. “You think yapping about that will be good for anyone?”

They shut their mouths. “We weren’t.”

“You were. Your mothers should have taught you better.”

They both flushed, but one still bit her lip like she were sweet on me. I scowled again. Stupid chit. I shook my head, looking over to Much, and by the time I looked back she were next to me; she took my face in both her hands and kissed me.

I whipped away, sputtering oaths as she went back to her friend and ran off, giggling the two of them.

And they weren’t the only ones. Much were bent over in laughter. I pushed him, and he rolled to the floor without my intended insult. “Come off it!” I stamped my foot.

“What’s so funny?” John asked, coming over in the middle of eating an apple. He tossed me an apple and I threw it at Much.

He only laughed harder. “K-k-kissed Scar!” he hooted.

“Someone kissed you?” John asked, turning to me. He didn’t look like it were too funny. “Who is he?”

This made Much laugh more.

“None of your business, John Little,” I told him.

He stepped closer to me with a flat face that, if I could ape it, I’d never be kissed by a stupid girl when I didn’t want to be. “Who, Scar?”

“Jenny Percy!” Much roared.

John’s face broke open, like a smile could split a black mood. “Wait till Rob hears this.”

“You two are nothing but loose lips,” I snapped.

John grinned. “Sounds like Jenny just got your lips a little looser.”

“It isn’t funny.”

“Look at Much. Of course it’s funny. I’ll tell you, though, wouldn’t I have loved to see the look on your face.”

“What happened to her shining on you? Weren’t you fiddling around with her?”

“Her cousin, Emma.” He smiled. “Now she had lips that could do quite a bit of loosening on me.”

I shook my head, disgusted, and then a shine caught my eye. I grabbed John’s shirtfront and dragged him back behind the weaver’s shop. Much jumped up, but I shook my head. It were too late; he’d look suspect. John didn’t crack wise as I drew my knives, hooking eyes round the corner to watch Gisbourne come through the market.

He stopped in the center of the market square, stepping up on a small fountain. “Perhaps I should introduce myself,” he called. People stopped to look at him. He were wrapped in violence as if it were clothes, his cloak like death, his armor like blades. His hair were shaggy as an animal’s and it looked like the Devil were trapped in his head.

“I am Guy of Gisbourne, and I have been hired by your sheriff to hunt down the one you call the Hood. I’ve been informed that rather than outing this criminal amongst you, you protect him.” His lip curled, and the points of his teeth shone like a snake’s fangs. “Now, I don’t know how long it will take,” he said, and his voice shook me like a dry leaf. Everyone went dead quiet. “But I’ll track the Hood and his men, and I will find them. When I find them, I will kill them. Anyone along the way that I even suspect of helping the Hood and his gang will lose everything—starting with his life.”

He snapped his fingers, and his guards brought forth two men. I looked to John. “Stay. I need to get to the side.”

He nodded, and his hands pulled me to the other side of him at my waist. I were fair certain I didn’t need the help, so I didn’t know why he did it. “Be careful, Scar. He nabs you and I’ll go after you, and there’s more of them so I’ll die doing it. But I’ll still do it.”

“Don’t be stupid,” I hissed, moving past him.

I walked around the outside of the market square, catching glimpses of Gisbourne taking a local villager and putting a knife to his throat. I saw a longbow drawn taut, and I sidled up beside Robin. He nodded to me, never shaking a muscle. “Go up,” he murmured. “Cover my shot.”

I nodded, scaling onto the roof of a little house right quick.

“Now,” Gisbourne continued. “I know you good people know who the Hood is. You love him. You protect him. But will you die for him? I don’t think so.” He looked to his first captive. I weren’t sure, but he might have been the dyer. Worksop did a lot of clothwork. “So what can you tell me about the Hood?”

“His name’s Robin,” he blurted. “Robin of Locksley.”

Gisbourne looked right shocked, and his arm loosened an inch. “Earl Huntingdon?”

The man nodded, and Robin took his shot, sending the arrow whizzing over Gisbourne’s knuckles. It were an impossible shot, skimming Gisbourne and missing his captive altogether when a hair either way would have sent it off, but Rob made it. Rob’s like that. Gisbourne dropped the man and roared in pain.

“Something to discuss with me, Guy of Gisbourne?” Rob called. The people scattered at this chance, the second captive forgotten.

“Guards!” Gisbourne called, drawing his sword.

I couldn’t resist. I’m a thief; we weren’t never good with temptation, honestly. I pulled a knife out and flicked it; with the clear angle, it sliced a deep line into his left cheekbone. Blood began to drip fast, I noticed with a grin.

I flattened to the roof as he held back from chasing Rob, looking around for his attacker. He didn’t see me, but he did see my knife in the ground. I hadn’t put a ribbon on it. Small mercies like that are the only reason I tend to go to church.

He picked up the knife and tucked it in his belt, going after Rob. I looked around, and I saw Rob on the roof next to me, looking at me like he knew why I threw the knife. I hated that look.

Gisbourne sent his men round the village, leaving the dyer to grab his wife and hide inside their house. Fact, most people did the same, and soon Much and John were hidden in someone’s house and Rob and I were hidden on separate roofs, huddled against the chimneys. It weren’t long after that Gisbourne sent his men into the forest to search for us, leaving a few in the town square to wait.

We stayed separate until the farmers came home and people came out of their houses so we could fade into them like shadows. The four of us met up in the forest and headed back to Major Oak.

“Rob, did you hear about Scar’s new lover?” John crowed.

Rob looked sharp to me. “Was there an old one?”

“Jenny Percy!” Much said, pleased with himself.

Rob smiled. “Of a band with three actual boys, why is it that all the maids lust after the fake one?”