Sherwood by S. E. Roberts

of the best.”
    Harlow smiled a bit.
“There's a bit of that story missing.”
    Enders snapped his head to
her and widened his eyes. “What do you mean?”
    Harlow looked out on the
lake. “I mean that,” She paused throwing a renegade rock that laid
on the pier. “The cook, he actually fell in love with this woman.
She was a very important, high class, high status
woman.”
    Enders let his mouth open a
bit as he listened, turning his eyes back to the lake as the sun
setting itself over the trees on the horizon.
    Harlow hushed her voice a
bit in sadness. “That woman died for the love they shared. Punished
by the Sheriff and the King.”
    Enders' bodily frame
dropped an inch in sadness.
    Harlow dropped her voice
even lower. “That woman was my mother.”
    Enders' eyes snapped back
to her again, holding her gaze for several seconds.
    “ And you
wouldn't know it if you looked at him, but my father makes a mean
beef stew.” Harlow joked, chuckling a bit, afraid to look at
Enders.
    Enders stared at her in
shock, not knowing what to say.
    “ I know what
you're thinking. I'm fine.” She repeated his words from earlier.
“It's been done with.”
    Silence fell on the two for
several moments, his eyes lingering on her for a few extra moments
before falling back onto the water in front of him.
    “ We do what
we must to make the pain of losing someone go away. So, if we must
make a few jokes, or a pun or two, then so be it. At least that way
the pain is numbed.” Harlow said, looking one more time at Enders,
before raising a hand to her hat and making sure it was on
securely, no strands of hair poking out. She pushed herself up and
stood next to him for a moment.
    “ I'd like to
friends again, if you're interested.” She offered, seriously,
although the remnant of a joke lingered.
    Enders chuckled. “Aye. I
think that's a fantastic idea.”
    Harlow nodded, her heart
thumping with anticipation for tomorrow's training. “I'll see you
tomorrow on the field.”
    Enders smiled.
“Aye.”

Chapter
Seven
    Days and weeks seemed to
pass without acknowledgment.
    Harlow's heart would thump
like crazy for Enders, but she fought to control it.
    She was shocked that no one
had found out about her secret yet. It had been five months since
she'd started living among thieves. She had to admit, she missed
home, but it wasn't as bad she'd thought.
    They practiced swordplay
more frequently than archery, but Robin noticed this pattern and
started to send everybody to the archery range instead.
    For a month, they had
intense archery training.
    For another month after,
all they did was throw knives and daggers.
    Three people were hit by
renegade knives that month. Luckily, though, they hadn't lost their
lives, but obtained only a few scratches and scars.
    Harlow hadn't really
appreciated the change, but when she bathed, she noticed that her
stomach muscles had profited.
    She wasn't well versed in
archery. She considered it one of her weaknesses, although she
could keep herself alive in a forest for a few hours, if the need
arose.
    She hadn't ever really
thought about it too much, but she was better at hand-to-hand
combat and melee skills than she was with archery.
    Will Scarlet had taught
them how to throw knives, which she'd excelled at and enjoyed every
time.
    When it came to archery,
she didn't find it fun, and only practiced the art when absolutely
necessary.
    Every now and then,
however, she couldn't help but wonder what other hidden talents and
capabilities she had hidden in her.
    Often, she would wonder how
long this would last. How long would this stalemate of a war last?
How long would it be before Harlow's father rode in on a horse,
demanding his daughter be returned? How long would it be before her
hat came flying off, letting loose the intense curls of hair that
sat on her head? How could she cover that up? These men didn't have
long hair and if her hat somehow came off of her head, she would be
sent back home before she'd done