Sherwood Rogue

Chapter One

Oregon Cascades-1985

Hiking high up on my mountain, I stopped often to inhale deeply, savoring the air of the brisk day. The melting snow slushed beneath my feet, the sky arced like a dome of crystal blue above my head.

Spring had erupted in full glory, and it was a perfect day to be outside.

Cabin fever had driven me out, when the walls of my uncle's cabin closed in on me with every caged step I took, and the rank smell of wood smoke and the fish I'd fried last Tuesday made me long for fresh air.

When the weather finally cleared, I'd packed my survival gear into my carryall, picked up my bow and went out to burn off some nervous energy.

I felt like a child again, playing my lonely make-believe on the hill behind the school. Sometimes I played Maid Marian, sneaking away to see my friends in the forest. But I was usually the outlaw Robin Hood, King of Sherwood Forest. Nothing and no one was safe from the bite of my arrows!

I smiled at the memories, but I was no longer a child. I had survived another winter alone in the mountains.

On a high knoll, the forest below stretching away on all sides, I raised my arms above my head and shouted a challenge to the universe.

"I'm here! I'm alive!"

My words echoed back to me from the next ridge, an affirmation, an acceptance of the metaphorical gauntlet I'd thrown down.

In one fluid motion, I nocked an arrow to my bow, took aim at a rotten stump and let it fly.

Well, I wasn't Robin Hood, but I was getting better. The arrow, despite its warped condition, actually hit the stump. My arrows gave conspicuous evidence of my miss and hit method of learning archery-miss the mark, and hit the rock or tree, only to bend the aluminum during retrieval. Sometimes I felt glad just to be able to draw the big compound bow, but my marksmanship had served well enough to feed me this winter.

I grasped my arrow, which had lodged deep in the stump. I got a good grip and pulled...and a bright flash of light hit me right between the eyes. The arrow vanished from my hands and I lost my balance, falling backwards to land smartly on my ass in the slush. I gasped, both in pain and at the sight before my eyes.

To my left and right, the knoll was still cloaked in wet snow, but in front of me, a shimmering light formed a doorway. Through that doorway were trees-deciduous trees in full summer green.

I struggled to my feet, gaping at the sight in front of me. The stump and my arrow were gone. Oak and birch spread their branches ahead of me. I squeezed my eyes shut and opened them again, but the forest was still there, like a mirage in the cold mountain air.

Reaching out, I passed my hand into the light, marveling as it enveloped my fingers. I felt a tingling sensation run up my arm and into my head, like a voice calling to me through my blood. Without thinking, I stepped forward, through the light.

A sound like a clap of thunder assaulted my ears and I spun around. The light was gone. The knoll was gone. The forest seemed strange and quiet around me, and I fought the urge to run.

Run where? I didn't know where the hell I was.

Cursing, I turned in a circle, trying to get a handle on what had happened, then clutched my head against the wave of dizziness that washed over me.

Where am I?

I looked around and concluded I was very far away from where I had been minutes ago-impossible as it seemed. Fear leapt into my throat, but I clamped down on it, shutting away all the questions spinning in my mind.