forest is quiet. Quiet as a whisper. I lay one foot in front of the other, arching my toes to roll into each step through the thick molted gold and red leaves. A bird calls. Three times. A bird named little Moses, letting me know that all my Merry Men are in position. A second sound: the sound of clopper cloppering hooves. thup thup thup thup thup thup...
There is a rustle above and I spring. By the time I have landed seven feet to the front of me and turned around and up, my right hand has drawn an arrow from the quiver over my left shoulder and notched it, my left arm has raised the bow from my side to squarely down the line of my nose, and my right arm has pulled the string back behind my head. Then I look.
"This ought to be good" said Oak. I relax, then remember why I was tip toeing just moments earlier. I scold the tree.
"Sshhh.... what are you doing here?" He chuckles and leaves fall, indifferent to my obvious anxiety.
"She sent me to look after you."
"Who?" More laughter, deeper, heavier, and leaves fall like rain.
"You know who."
thupthupthupthupHorses.
1 Steel clad crusaders. Armor.. thick. Weaponry... classic.
4 Purple mercenaries. Silk embroidered over leather. Very fine. 2 swords a head... a buckler.. and a crossbow at the ready.
3 Heaps of rusty metal. These ones have faces... and handsome expressions. God bless you.
Wagon... Wagon...
7 keen eyed archers, a dark hawk sewed to yeoman's shoulders.
1 more ... Sheriff? He is a black spot in a gold forest, surrounded by amber and crimson and rich brown and purple silk, hugging the tail of the train like death her self.
The boys are ready. I am ready. I bring my lips together and press my tongue to my teeth. This is what this is for.
..... it always ends here.
