WildeHood: A Zootopia and Robin Hood Crossover

Chapter 6

Robin found his way through the winding passages to the bustling assemblage of lords, counselors, and officials. The meeting place was a blandly decorated long, narrow room, with two similarly long, narrow tables, and a stage at the end. There were more attending than he expected: somewhere between forty and fifty, not counting the odd number of rhinos lining the walls. All the rhinos seemed to look the same, but he was sure he'd never seen any of them before. It was a very unfamiliar setting compared to the surrealness of his tree that he had enjoyed for the past week, and already he couldn't wait to return to it.

"Look who it is," an unfamiliar voice called out. Robin payed no attention to the other lords, now laughing in their little corner huddle. Instead he stuck his snout a little higher in the air, and swung his tail a little more violently.

As soon as he took his seat, trouble approached; and, boy, did it have an odor. That wolf in wolf's clothing of a sheriff.

Oh, he did his duty; usually in a ditch near Friar Tuck's springhouse. And he did a good job as a sheriff, as well; sometimes too good. He always had his eyes on Robin. More than likely just because he was a fox, but also because Robin, for the same reason, was too good at making smart aleck remarks for the sheriff to win a bickering match with him whenever he accused him of something: like letting his load in Friar Tuck's ditch.

The plump predator viciously consumed half an apple in a single bite. By the time he got to Robin the other half was gone. "Well, if it isn't Sir Robin of Locksley back from the dead. Stay quiet like that for a week again and you're liable to get my hopes up." He proceeded to eat the core, seeds and all, much of it splattering on Robin's eyebrows.

"You aren't getting rid of me that easily," he replied, faking a friendly tone as he used his pointer and middle fingers to wipe the splatter off his forehead. "What's your business now? Or have you run out of things to blame me for?"

"So typical of you foxes to blame the law for all your problems. And I'll have you know I'm here with a very important duty."

"Well in that case you'd better hurry. It'll take a while to get around the corner to Friar Tuck's place at your speed."

"Not that you....grrr!" He went to take his seat further down the table, and his company was replaced with someone much more welcoming.

"Sir Robin."

He turned to see Carter, a deer, the Lord of Devonshire to be exact, and one of the only other nobles he respected in the slightest, greeting him with a gentle nod. "Sir Robin, you seem down. Old Bushel Britches ruffling your tail feathers again?"

Robin straightened himself and waved his paw towards a chair next to him. "Carter, please, sit," he said, sounding relieved.

He glanced at the flock of other lords, then back to Robin. "Quite an unruly bunch, isn't it?" He took his seat next to the fox and continued to study him. "Although, I-", he leaned behind Robin and looked down the table. "I don't see Harvey. I don't know if that's a good sign or a bad one."

Robin faced him, obviously jarred, but before he had time to reply, the curtains on the far side of the room swooshed open, and Sir Hiss slithered onto the stage. He grunted, and one of the rhinos sat a stool that couldn't be more than an inch high off the ground in front of him. The same rhino rushed back with a scroll and the snake's glasses. Hiss rested his bifocals on his snout and unfurled the scroll with a flick of his tail. "Hisss Highnesss, the regal, the noble, the graciousss, the majessstic, the..."

Prince John emerged, wearing his red cape and King Richard's crown. At least his whiskers were tamed down this time. He tripped on his robes at least twice while making his way to his throne, but he arrived unscathed, and slouched in it like a sack of cabbage. Robin's eyes rolled instinctively. He already had a bad feeling about him; about this whole thing.