As I travelled into the forest to find my stranger I noticed that the crickets weren’t the only things making a distracting noise. The light grew nearer as I explored deeper into the trees and the hustle and bustle of a village soon arose out of the shade. Despite it being in the middle of nowhere, with no real access to civilization, it was a sight for sore eyes. Taking the cobble path through the village, I saw several miniature cottages, thatched rooves and all. The street itself was lit only by the moon, which caused spirit-like shadows on the walls of the cottages. The smell of damp grew closer as I continued to search for my acquaintance. The path soon came to a dead end in front of a wooden stage, mounted at least a meter off the ground.  Upon it were two wooden posts nailed in the shape of an uneven cross. The sound of a heavy drumroll filled the area and I was, within moments surrounded by a crowd of angry, but eager villagers, all of them staring up at the stage. Waiting.
Two men of heavy build and little patience walked onto the stage in a synchronized manner. Behind them was, presumably, their boss.
Dressed in a layer of chainmail that was an inch too long, and covered with a black cape decorated with a golden crest, the figure emerged from behind his security.  He was elderly man, with short, grey hair and had a spooky grin that could turn the devil’s eyes away. He seemed to be in complete control of the situation, and I envied him for that, as well as his obvious wealth and power. The crowd, with a thunder of applause, soon greeted him. And then he said those cold words that I will never forget.

“Greetings, ladies and gentlemen of Charwood. I am pleased to know that I am surrounded by good, honest men and women.” Of course this was met with another loud cheer. “Then again, a student is only as good as their teacher, and you will seldom find a more honest man than me.” Another cheer. “I have a reward for you lovely people. A treat that will spice up your day.” Another cheer. “Today’s mysterious guest comes from outside the wood’s borders! A traitor!” This remark was met with a gasp from the entire crowd. “Here he is!” The king pulled out a man from behind the stage and removed a duffle bag from around his head as the crowd gasped in excitement of seeing who it was. Dan. I found him.
 

There was nothing I could do. The knife was too quick.
I couldn’t catch a breath. I didn’t know what was worse...having the only thing I had spoken to in months be executed right before my eyes, or hearing the cheering afterwards.
And that was my mistake. Not cheering. They noticed.
“Hey!” One of the ruffians yelled at me, “Do you know him?!”
“Oh God.” I Murmured. Woops.
The crowd instantly grew furious. Insults like “Blasphemer!” “Satanist!” and “Traitor!” were yelled at me and the entirety of the crowd was chasing me within seconds.  Running away from a mob is never easy, but add being unfit and the side affects of depression to it and it is almost impossible. More importantly, however, I had no idea where to go. Back into the woods? I could never find my way out again! Into a cottage? I didn’t get much of a choice. That was when I was saved by a legend.
Running past the fiftieth cottage, a stranger grabbed my arm and pulled me into an alleyway, letting the unaware mob run straight past me. In the dark, there wasn’t much I could tell about my hooded hero. He stood about six foot off the ground, with an athletic build. He was thin, healthily thin, and not lanky like Dan.
Dan. My eyes flooded with tears.
No, I told myself, it wasn’t time to mourn; besides I barely even knew the guy, but the stranger seemed to know I was upset because he offered me a dirty strip of cloth as a handkerchief.
“I’m sorry, but we have to go.” He said when he saw a tear run down my face.
I nodded, unable to speak for fear of crying next to my saviour. Instead I just let him drag me through corridors, and back streets, and back into the woods. For a moment I thought he was taking me home, but I had no such luck.
He took me to a den that was cold, wet and filthy. But it was built in the shape of someone’s home so I decided not to complain. The countless leaves on the forest floor made up for any need of carpet, or vinyl. The den was supported in the middle by a single, large willow tree, and it’s branches held up a cloth roof as a form of outdoor shelter. At the bottom of the trunk, was a door that seemed to lead into the tree. Above the door, on an unvarnished sign, the words: “Welcome to the Hood” were engraved. We were the only ones there...or so I thought. My hidden saviour wolf-whistled and within seconds we were greeted by 9 more disguised men, and one, not-cloaked girl.
“Damn Maisy, can’t you see we have a guest! Why would you reveal yourself?” Yelled my hero, then sighing, he said “Come on guys, we may as well do the same.”
One by one, the masked removed their masks and hooded removed their hoods. I was shocked to discover, that out of the twelve of us, there were only two men. Even my hero was a girl. A Heroin.

Excluding my heroin, the foolish Maisy girl, and myself, there      were nine of us in the forest. We were all dirty, dusty and covered in mud from the forest flaw and so we would have all looked the same if it weren’t for our different body shapes. I was a lot taller than everyone else there, except for my heroin, which stood at least a foot taller than I did. She was fair skinned, and glowed in the early morning sun as it stretched through the canopy. She was dressed in a tunic painted Lincoln green, with the front lined down to the waist with pale wooden toggles. Her tunic came to just above her knees, but her boots rose high up her calves, covering most of the bare skin left. Her hair was strung up in a smooth, high ponytail that hung down by shoulders. She wore no jewellery except a mysterious wedding ring on her left hand. Who was she? I needed to know. So I asked.
“”Who are you? What are you doing with me?” It came out more timid than I wanted it to.
“My names Robyn, and welcome to the Hood.” She said in a sort of triumphant manner.
Robyn, The Hood, forest, den. I made the connection almost instantaneously in my head.
Time Travel.

“Bring out the so-called traitor!” Robyn called.
Quickly but carefully, Maisy and two other girls ran inside a bush and disappeared for half a minute, soon to come running out pulling limp body behind them. It was Dan. His face was covered in dirt, like the rest of us, but he was glowing in a way that showed his innocent nature to the full. His eyes were open and deep black like the night sky, and full of confusion...like he didn’t know what was going on when he died. I could not bear to look at them anymore. In an attempt to shut his eyes and give him some peace, I lent down on one knee to say goodbye to my stranger.  But he grabbed my arm. 

Before I could catch my breath from the fright, Robyn pulled me away. “He’s had a shock,” she would say, “Come away now, leave him be.” I barely even knew the guy, yet something was appealing about him. Why did he get captured? Why didn’t they take me too? How was he still alive?
I slowly made my way, with Robyn to the supporting tree, and through the door. A corridor and a flight of stairs led us to an underground room. A perfectly square room with weapons mounted on the wall, and a large, round, oak table that was covered in, what seemed to be maps of the forest. Robyn left me and went to join the others, who were leaning against the table, (there seemed to be an absence of chairs) plotting.
Walking up to the table, I tried to ask what was going on, and to get some answers to my innumerable questions, but they only spoke louder to mute out the sound of my voice.

“WOULD SOMEONE TELL ME WHAT THE HEC IS GOING ON??”
I yelled at the top of the lungs. That shut them up.
They (eventually) explained everything. How they switched Dan with another, less likable stranger, just before the execution with the help of a trap door, how they needed Dan to inform their eager minds of life outside the woods, and how Robyn decided to save me to see if I could calm him down. I didn’t understand any of it. I was too confused, and was left looking at the misleading faces of seven girls with understanding expressions. In the corner of the room stood a man hidden away in the shadows, but who was watching our every move. I slowly and cautiously walked up to Robyn to ask her who it was, when
Maisy, who was considered too immature to discuss the team’s plans, and therefore was not in the room at the time, came running in.
“Robyn dear! He’s got the bow!” she yelled in a hurried tone, not paying any attention to me, or my difficulties.
At hearing this, Robyn’s face went from a look of understanding to one of complexity and anger, along with the girls’. Like clockwork, they all moved towards the table and started to whisper. Maisy told me the bow, which appeared on every sign and post in The Hood, belonged to Robyn’s father and was a gift from the King of England who was currently abroad.
“So that old man from the village was not the King?” I asked rather sheepishly.
“No thank goodness,” she replied, “That was the Sheriff of Nottingville.” And she told me the whole history of Robyn and his arch-nemeses, the Sheriff. It was no more than five minutes before Robyn turned around and yelled: “I have a plan!”

I spent the next three days in the hood, not wanting to leave the limited shelter of the willow tree, but I told the girls it was because I wanted to look after Dan. He regained his health rather quickly, as it was just the overcoming of shock he was struggling with. He seemed not to mind staying in bed, with four or five girls waiting on him night and day, and only left the comfort of his blanket to get food.
At about noon on the third day of my adventures in The Hood, Robyn approached me and asked me for my help, or rather, Dan’s help.
They wanted to use him as bait, which hardly seemed fair, given the fact that he had already been through so much. I tried to protest, but with no luck, Robyn was the leader and nothing went against her word. So it came down to me to break the news to him. He took it reasonably well, although I believe he was just trying not to make a fuss in front of the girls. Step by step, Robyn’s plan was coming together. And by the end of the week, we were ready for action.
Saturday morning was dense. We awoke from our leaf-stuffed mattresses into a cloud of fog that was so thick our vision was limited to a span of five metres. I could hear yet another rustle in the bushes around the tree, but my sight was so poor I could no identify what or who it was.
Nevertheless, Robyn as usual got the team together and ready for the day. She gathered up the girls and told them to wait outside the shelter. Going to the guys, she told them to protect the Dan at whatever costs to themselves, and then she came up to Dan and I.
Placing a firm hand on Dan’s shoulder, and leaning close to his ear, she whispered.
“I am sorry for everything that I have put you through, and I am sure we will see each other again tomorrow.” Her voice was shaky, like she knew that what she was promising certainly wasn’t certain. Coming up to me, she clutched my hand, and whispered: “Thank you.”
We were set in place for the weekly executions. The older girls had taken Maisy further into the forest removing her from all possible harm. Dan had gotten himself captured by the Sherriff’s security again, and was taken up onto the moldy wooden stage. The drumroll began, and the Sherriff and his grin strut up onto the stage, shimmering in the sickly shine of his self-pride. He was wearing the same black cape as the weekend before, the only difference being the mahogany bow strapped to his back like a trophy. We were going to clutch the shimmering bow off his back and then grab Dan before the knife sliced him. That was the plan.
The Sherriff began his speech:
““Greetings, ladies and gentlemen of Charwood.” His voice sent a shock through my spine. “I am pleased to know that I am surrounded by good, honest men and women.” Just per routine, the crowd began to cheer. “Then again, a student is only as good as their teacher, and you will seldom find a more honest man than me.” Another cheer. “I have a reward for you lovely people. A treat that will spice up your day.” Another cheer. “Today’s mysterious guest is a tra...” he coughed. “A trai...” he coughed again. Then he collapsed. The crowd gasped and began to look around. The security guards, without changing their facial expressions whatsoever, bent down to pick up their boss’ body, and walked off the stage.
What was going on? I glanced across the crowd to see Robyn’s puzzled look as he tried to figure out how this could have happened. All was lost. But that was then he came out from behind the stage. The man behind the constant rustling in the bushes, the figure in the shadows, had come out in broad daylight and was addressing the crowd.

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen of Charwood. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” He was dressed entirely in black, and his voice was not as harsh as the Sherriff’s. He continued. “I am afraid that your loyal, and dedicated Sheriff has been taken ill, and that there will be no execution today.” A sigh from the crowd brought about his cue to leave the scene as he disappeared back into the shadows.
I thought that was our plan over, and that, most importantly I would not see Dan until the next day of execution. Which was why I was surprised to see him, and the stranger from the shadows in the shelter of The Hood when I made my way back.
The shadow approached me. He was in his early twenties, and looked surprising handsome despite all the black he was wearing, and was very well mannered. He was the opposite of the Sherriff in everyway. Offering me his hand, he said: “Pleased to meet your acquaintance.” My shocked face obviously made me look funny, because Robyn soon came up and, while laughing she said: “This is my husband, Sir Guy of Gisborne, he helped us save Dan by poisoning the Sherriff!” I glanced over to see Dan’s relieved expression, before he went back to flirting with one of the girls. 
“But what about the bow?” I replied, still not quite sure of what was happening. “What happened to your father’s bow that Dan risked his life trying to save?”
Guy tapped me on the shoulder and revealed the stunning mahogany ceremonial bow, his smirk spreading from ear to ear.
“Oh, alright then!” I said, finally accepting his hand. Everyone laughed while I sighed with relief that it was all over.

As we left the forest, I noticed the sound of the crickets had ceased. The forest looked calmer and less petrifying than it did when we entered it. The light no longer shone in the distance and there was no more movement in the trees. It was at peace, no longer in danger of depression.
Dan and I were on our way to my place, where we where hopefully going to try and explain the last few days to my mother, while convincing her not to ground me for life.
“You know,” Dan began, as we made our way back to the beachside cottage, “I still don’t know your name Stranger.”

Smiling, I answered. “It’s Marion.”