Marion of Wolves ( Robin Hood of Loxley Story)

II - Under the Hoods

I am beginning to hate this man.

Out of all the people who could possibly be interested in the going on of arms dealers, I had to get the one who actually knew how to wield his sword.

The universe really did have a sense of humor.

His dagger sliced at my side and I jumped back just in time. You could tell he was used to wielding a sword by the amount of un-needed strength he put into his blows and the broadness of his shoulders. I stabbed at his shoulder with one knife, slicing at his shoulder. He blocked both, beginning a sequence of his own.

"Give up boy, I only wish to question you," he said in a forcedly resigned voice. My eyebrows shot up. He voice had the manicured tone of a noble, his speech polite, yet there was a rough rumble that suggested he had spent a lot of time away from court. The man let out a sigh at my silence and fought with a renewed vigor. I slashes out with my knife again, causing him to shift to the defensive. I feint at his left, stabbing at his right but he parries. I cut close to his stomach with one knife, the other hooking under his hood, flipping it off his head to reveal his face. I blink, feeling my eyelashes flutter against my skin.

Oh dear.

He is handsome, my opponent. The kind of handsome that would make a weaker girl swoon. His hair, a deep black, curls around his head adorably and his emerald green eyes sparkle with a sort of merriment reserved for those that are free at heart. He appears to be twenty-five, his skin is slightly darker than the typical Englishman from spending time in the sun and his chin sports a shadow which, coupled with his wind swept hair, gives him an untamed appearance and the swoon affect.

It's the eyes that throw me. I had seen those eyes before.

Taking advantage of my distracted state, he tackles me to the ground, disarming me and pinning my legs beneath his and taking both of my wrists in one of his hands. He grins at me in delight.

"Let's reveal who you are, boy," he says his grin never faltering as his un-occupied hand reaches for the cowl o my hood. I buck underneath him, trying to wrench my wrists from his hand as his smile grows even wider, but he is too strong. He flips the cowl of my hood back and freezes.

"Not a boy," he murmurs. "A girl."

"A woman," I snap and his smile returns.

"So it would seem."

"Would you mind GETTING OFF me then, if you would be so kind, 'sir.'"

"As soon as you tell me why you were buying so many weapons from arms dealers."

"The fishmongers were fresh out," I said dryly.

"We are in the middle of England, there are no fishmongers here."

"THAT is what you take away from that comment?" The man chuckles and my glare becomes even more pronounced. Is he trying to frustrate me? By the look on his face, he is.

"Sarcasm is a low form of wit'" he replies with amusement.

"Pardon me, dear Sir, for not gracing you with humble replies awestruck curtsies of reverence."

He chuckles again. "I am a noble, woman, not the damn King. I would save your curtsies and looks for him."

"I'll take that under advisement," I grumble.

"A straight answer lass, if you would please." 'Lass'? He must of stayed in Scotland too for that bit of slang to rub off. Lass indeed!

"I was in need of them'" I say simply and his eyebrows rise.

"Were you now? What did you need them for?"

"Nothing for you to concern your self with. Now would you remove your self from my person!" I pause as he stares at me. "Please."

He grins, infuriatingly. "Since you said 'please'," he says, clambering to his feet. His face turns serious. "Just tell me one thing," he continues as I begin to stand.

"What?" I ask.

"Are you going to use those weapons on anyone in Loxley?"

For some reason I answer him truthfully. "One, but he deserves it". He nods in response.

"That's all I needed to know." He turns and begins to walk away.

"Sir," I call after him and stops and turns back around. "Your name?" I say simply.

"So you can address your adoring love letters to me," he says with a merry twinkle in his eye. Everything about this men screamed 'merry', like he thought the entire universe was playing a joke in the entire human race that he was somehow in on.

I roll my eyes. "So I can avoid you in future."

He laughs. "Robin," he says, still chuckling. "My name is Robin."

I nod. "Farewell then, Robin Hood."

He cocks his head to the side. "Hood?" He asks.

I shrug. "You didn't give me a last name." I turn to walk away.

"Wait!" Robin calls and o glance over my shoulder, an eyebrow raised in an invitation to continue. "Don't you think I should have your name in return?" I study him closely, wondering what he could want with it. But surely, what harm could he do with it when I was probably a forgotten memory?

"Marion," I whisper, knowing full well he could hear me. He smiles.

"Until we meet again, Marion Wolfe."

"Wolfe?"

He shrugs, mirroring me. "You fight like a wolf." I laugh, and I can see my reaction confuses him. I salute him, an then turn and run away from Robin Hood, sure I will never see him again.

Fate would have other plans.