WildeHood: A Zootopia and Robin Hood Crossover

Chapter 12

Robin parted the thin barrier of foliage that separated the dark shades and the sunny, well-kept churchyard. It was the most expansive clearing Nick had seen yet, by far. The old church appeared to be directly in the center, slightly rolling ground parting it from the woods on all sides, as if the old building was a battered ship on a pleasant, bouncing sea.

The front yard was overrun with mossy, wind-worn gravestones. Much of them could have easily been there a hundred years, as their peaks were misshapen and their writing unintelligible. Nick had gone into a state of fascination and taken off down the stone path that cut through them, when he heard the crackle of breaking branches and turned to see that Robin had stopped to help pull Little John from a tight spot between two trees. The bear fumbled out, nearly falling on Robin, then continued on as if nothing happened, leaving a trail of disjointed leaves and twigs.

Robin squinted in the afternoon glare, eyeing Nick's amusement before wrapping his arm around the new fox's neck again. "Quite a sight, isn't Nicky? It may not be much, but it's pretty in it's own rustic sort of way. There's no rule for how fancy your church has to be, now is there? A lot like me when you think about it. I think it's perfect."

Nick turned his head towards him, laughing the most genuinely he had since they met.

Robin placed a paw on his chest and straightened himself. "Of course, not to say I'm perfect. Well, it's complicated..."

Nick brushed his paw atop a short gravestone, knocking a few loose gravels off. "Yes, it is perfect."

The building was just was as old as some of the oldest gravestones, but very charming and clearly cared for. Even though Nick hadn't gone inside it yet, he knew there was something very homey about it. He felt as if he had been around it his whole life.

Robin again grabbed him by the wrist as if he was out of sorts because of his injury (Nick admitted that from Robin's perspective, that's probably what his amusement had looked like the past few moments), and led him to the doors.

Robin knocked a few times with no answer and grunted. He tried pulling on the handle a few times but was met with a clunk. He fanned his paws out, clearly puzzled and perhaps a bit angry. "The doors are usually open on sunny days, much less closed and locked." He strolled around the corner and peered into one of the little windows. "I don't think anyone's in there."

Little John knocked this time, uncontrollably louder and angrier sounding than Robin's knocks. "Hmm. Guess not."

Just as the bear faced the other way, the doors flung open. A mouse in a black robe and hat squealed on the other side, thrusting a fork towards him.

As sudden as it was, Little John and Nick barely flinched, and an awkward silence occured.

The mouse threw the fork to the ground and put his palm to his forehead. "Oh, well this is embarrassing. I thought I recognized that knock from someone else."

Little John kneeled as if it put the mouse and himself remotely on the same level."Ey, what's the matter, Father?"

"I thought you were the sheriff!", he scoffed, his fists flying through the air. "That big bellied-"

Little John looked a little offended.

The mouse stuttered as if there was a lump in his throat. "That...black hearted devil! Ever since King Richard mounted his horse, he's been goin' around like he owns everything from here to Westminster!" At this point, he was breathing heavily and scuffing across the stone floor as if he might start a sermon. "Taking all the taxes he wants! Not to mention the mess he leaves in that ditch by the springhouse!"