“Stop scowling,” Robin said, glancing back at me.

  Marian, Robin, and I stood in front of Sherwood Village’s gate, four of Robin’s band acting as guards behind us.

  I shifted slightly, straightening the skirt of my dress. I had opted to wear a normal, comfortable dress despite Robin’s insistence that I needed to be “visually intimidating”.

  I was never going to be visually intimidating. It was what made me a good spie, despite my lack of experience. Though, to somewhat appease my brother, I wore my fingerless gloves and had tied a long brown leather belt around my waist. My sheathed daggers were fastened to the belt, resting at my side in easy reach.

  What’s taking Will and the others so long?

  I strained my ears, trying to pick out the sounds of footsteps.

  “Remember what we talked about,” Robin muttered as I finally heard the soft rustling of people in the forest.

  I grinned. “The more he underestimates me, the better.”

  “The longer you pretend to be weaker than him, the better,” Marian added, placing a hand on my shoulder. “It’s more fun that way.”

  I held back a laugh as the memory of Robin and Marian’s wedding filled my mind. At the end of the celebrations, Marian challenged Robin to an archery contest. She was notoriously, hilariously bad. Robin, being subject to his wife’s fierce competitive streak often, had purposely missed, hitting the outer edge of the target. Marian had hit the dead center, grinning the entire time.

  Marian squeezed my shoulder. I shook the memory away, turning my attention back to the matter at hand.

  Will stepped out of the trees, three other merry men behind him. In the midst of our people, dressed in earthy colors and practical clothing, stood a young man that looked not much older than I was, dressed in city clothes. He carried a backpack and a duffle bag, and had a blank, almost empty expression on his face.

  The young man stepped forward, bowing slightly to Robin. “I am Ronan, a member of the Underground.”

  “I am Robin, leader of Sherwood village and my Merry Men,” Robin said, stepping forward. “You are the member we’ve borrowed? How old are you?”

  Ronan nodded once, the movement sharp. “Seventeen.”

  Only a year older than me.

  “This is my wife, Marian, and Wren, my younger sister and your partner while here,” Robin said, gesturing to Marian, then me. “I expect you to take good care of her.”

  Ronan nodded again. I rolled my eyes. Marian elbowed me in the ribs.

  “Wren will show you the village and explain our operations. Ask her any questions you might have,” Marian said. “Leave your bags here, and we will take them to your quarters.”

  Ronan nodded, dropping his bags in a heap. He glanced at me, then turned his attention to the gates, not saying a word.

  Unimpressed, are we?

  “This is Sherwood Village,” I began, pasting a brittle smile on as I led him past our walls. “The main section we’re in is called the square, as it has the dining hall, the meeting hall, and the fire pits. It’s where we meet, eat, and socialize as a village.”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  I pointed to each building mentioned as I set off along the curved wall of vines, ignoring the many curious people lingering around the fire pits or the dining hall’s porch.

  “This is the farm,” I said, pointing to the first gate we came across. “We grow food and have some goats and chickens and a few horses. But mostly we get our food from the forest or the Grove, and sometimes buy ingredients in town.”

  I paused, waiting for the customary “What’s the Grove” question. Ronan stayed silent, studying the rows of corn and squash and beans just beyond the open gates. The farmers tending their fields had paused their work, clumping together and speaking in hushed tones.

  I cleared my throat and started walking again. “Moving on.”

  I peered back at him as we kept walking. He still wore that blank expression, his eyes almost unfocused.

  Is he bored or unimpressed? Disinterested? Or does he consider this a hovel compared to his “great and mighty” capitol city?

  “Through that gate is the heart of the city,” I said, pointing across the square. “All our housing and infrastructural buildings are there. It’s the largest of the four sectors.”

  Ronan tipped his head forward in a slight, stiff nod, not looking at me. Instead, he looked out at the back porch of the meeting hall, where nearly a dozen residents of Sherwood stood, unabashedly staring at Ronan and chatting to each other.

  “Through here are our training grounds,” I said, pointing to the next gate as we approached it. “And storage for all our gear and such.”

  “You train there?”

  I paused, turning to look back at Ronan. “Yes, I do.”

  “Spar me.”

  Ronan stared me down, his eyes as blank and empty as ever, threatening to pull me into their darkness.

  “Sure,” I said, my voice squeaking a little as I fought the urge to hunch under his scrutiny. “What weapon?”

  “Daggers,” Ronan said, his hand straying to his side. For the first time, I noticed a dagger at his side, the color of the sheath blending in with his pants.

  “Right this way then,” I said as my palms began to grow slick with sweat.

  I led him through the gates, past the archery range and to one of the spaces set aside for sparring.

  Except for a few younger members of Robin’s band working on their aim, and a pair sparring with staffs, the training grounds were empty. Everyone was busy patrolling or gossiping to practice, apparently.

  I picked a spot to spar, a large square marked with bright red string at ankle height.

  “First blood wins,” Ronan said, settling into a fighting stance as he drew his daggers.

  I smiled at him, though I think it looked more like a grimace. “Sure, ok.”

  How did I get myself into this situation? I’m going to be eaten alive!

  I mirrored Ronan, bemoaning my life’s choices and short reach as I unsheathed my daggers.

  “Three, two, one,” Ronan said, his voice even and eerily calm.

  I leapt backwards, nearly tripping over my long skirt as Ronan lunged at me, dagger raised. My heart pounded in my chest as I used my shorter dagger to block his, bringing up the longer to attempt cutting his arm.

  Ronan stepped back, circling me like a wolf preparing to pounce. I moved with him, desperately trying to keep my back from him and keep him in sight.

  A small crowd was starting to form around us. The two sparring nearby, and all the archers that had been practicing. Some others too, I suspected. Silent bystanders to watch me be humiliated.

  I lunged at Ronan. Instantly I knew it was a mistake and tried to shift directions. I was too late.

  Ronan brought his blade up, using his longer arms to press the tip lightly against my chest.

  I froze, breath shaking as the metal glinted off the afternoon sun. The silence was deafening.

  Ronan sheathed his dagger. I expected him to turn away from me. Perhaps scoff at my easy defeat?

  Instead he rolled his shoulders back, his posture relaxing.

  The small crowd dispersed, grumbling to each other as they returned to their previous activities.

  “I thought they would give us a show.”

  “Wren? A show? Ha!”

  “Too timid for her own good.”

  “Good aim though. But with Robin as her brother…”

  I ignored the chatter as I sheathed my daggers, searching for something to say.

  “Where am I staying?” Ronan asked, the flat tone of his voice breaking the silence.

  “Oh, with Little John and his wife, Millie. I’ll walk you over. They live next door to Robin, Marian, and I.”