Robin Hood | Thief of Skandia

Chapter 3 (Bound for Skandia)

Song: Carry On by fun.

Robin raced across the plain, the steeds' hooves pounding against the cold ground. Her usual grin sat planted on her face, as the wind fanned out her hair. She had been riding for a few weeks now, being unexpectedly delayed by a hoard of bandits. The men had come at her from different angles, causing Robin to change her path. She defeated them all, but her change in path, resulted in her also losing her direction.

Robin Hood visited more Gaelic villages, with the loot she had stolen from the bandits.

Eventually she navigated herself back in the right direction. Now she rode through a forest that lead to a checkpoint into Skandia. This trip was her favourite to make, as it was always a promising raid. It was challenging to. In the great halls of Hallasholm they hold so much, hence why Robin enjoyed robbing them blind. Skandians were also great fun to drink with.

Now you're probably wondering.. why?

Why does Robin Hood steal? Had she had bad experiences with rich people, or was she just selfish?

Well, the truth is that she is the complete opposite of selfish. In fact, her whole outlaw life has been devoted into helping those in need. Her earnings come from those who are just to selfish to give, to those who are just too hungry to live.

She likes to call it robbing the rich to feed the poor. But another fact underlined the meaning of her 'hobby', one which she holds dearly, but is not open to share.

Many would consider Robin a dirty thief or a nasty scoundrel, and honestly, she didn't care. She was doing what she loved, something others were too afraid to do.

'Get a real job.' Some would say to her, trying to drag the outlaw down.

'Settle down in one place and forget about all the action, you can't spend the rest of your life like this.'

'You're a women, you should be cleaning dishes and drying clothes, not fighting off guards.'

The last one always caught Robin's attention, as the thought of a women being incapable of creating a name for themselves always irritated her. If a female believed that she could kick ass, she could.

Majority of the people, no matter the country, new Robin as the legendary tale.

The rush of the action was what Robin lived for. They may think that she was slowly dooming herself, and even if it were true, it was worth all of it. The feeling of adrenaline when running away from guards brought excitement into her life, the accomplishment of rewarding others even more of a satisfying sensation. It also helped her forget her past, but she pushed that thought away. Robin Hood was definitely NOT running away from her past. Okay maybe she was a little.

She was unique, something others could be if they truly desired, but unfortunately, it was something that was hard to come by those days. Robin would never give up the life of an outlaw, as that was what made Robin Hood, well, Robin Hood.

Robin finally came across the narrow defile that twisted and wound through the lower reaches of the mountains into Skandia itself. She rode through the pass that zigzagged between the high mountains, until the border post finally came into sight. But before she could even consider chucking on a disguise or scaling the mountain itself, she noticed something odd. She expected to be hailed from the small wooden stockade and tower at any moment, as the guards demanded that she dismount and approach on foot. That would have been normal procedure. But there was no sign of life in the small, fortified outpost as she drew nearer. The gate was open. There was usually meant to be half a dozen to a dozen men to garrison a place like this.

There was an indistinct shape apparent now in the shadows just inside the open gate. Acting on instinct, she urged her horse into a canter and closed the distance between them and the fort and drew her bow, an arrow already nocked. Robin already felt certain she knew what the shape was.

It was a dead Skandian, lying in a pool of blood that had soaked into the snow.

Inside there were ten others, all of them killed the same way, with multiple wounds to their torsos and limbs. The outlaw dismounted carefully and moved among the bodies, studying the awful scene.

It looked like the Skandians had been stabbed over and over again, but they were arrow wounds. The killers collected their arrows from the bodies. Except for one. Robin picked up the broken half of an arrow that had been lying next to one of the bodies. The Skandian had probably broken it off in an attempt to remove it from the wound. The other half was still buried deeply in his thigh. Robin studied the fletching style and the identification marks painted at the nock end of the arrow. Archers usually identified their own shafts in such ways.

Filled with sorrow for her brethren she moved the bodies into their death bed positions, true Skandian fashion, and made a quick prayer to the Vallas for their passing.

There was an expression of deep concern in Robin Hood's eyes, that was something very rare. That fact alone, was probably worse than the carnage around her. She knew that the Temujai were on the move again.

Robin then followed the tracks, finding the Temujai a more pressing concern then her raids.