Slats of light shone in from the gaps in the woodwork above, softly lighting the room as motes of dust twirled languidly in the air. Hay was strewn across the floor, an assortment of tools were stacked against each-other behind a low indoor fence.
William moved into the next room. The owner of the house - a short badger - followed behind him, nervously wringing his hands.
A table and bench sat against a small window, the canvas curtain pulled aside, showing the cobblestone street beyond. To his left was another table, a square plate with a half eaten slice of bread on it, and above him was a loft. A ladder, little more than several sticks tied together with rope, rested against it.
William looked up, then said, ``Do you mind if I have a look?''
The badger that was standing behind him in the jamb hesitated, then sighed. ``Go ahead.''
William smirked, taking a hold of the ladder, the rungs beneath his feet threatening to buckle. The space between the floor and the low hanging ceiling was such that he had to push himself onto his hands and knees to get a look. Besides a couple wooden boxes filled to the brim with potatoes and a single bag of flour, there wasn't much to see. William turned to go back down the ladder, but before he did he caught a glance of a frayed bit of string sticking out from behind one of the crates.
He reached forward and gave it a tug.
A bit of cloth appeared, and he pulled it again. After a bit of resistance, he managed to drag out a weighty burlap sack, its bottom scraping against the floorboards. William unfastened the string, then pulled it open.
In the dust-ridden light, he could see the glint of several coins inside the pouch. He whistled softly, then tied it up once more, sliding it back behind the crate.
He turned, then peeked his head over the edge of the loft. ``You're going to have to hide that,'' William said.
The badger looked up at him, then crossed his arms. ``It is hidden,'' he insisted.
William sighed. ``Really Peter, you're lucky it's me looking today and not somebody else.'' He climbed back down the ladder, then dusted himself off.
Peter glanced away, rubbing his arms. ``I know that,'' he said. ``And I do appreciate it, you doing this.''
William's gaze softened. ``Just try to find somewhere else; it's not safe to keep things in your own home anymore.
Peter nodded, then silently stood there, still wringing his hands as William left.
William ducked under the jamb and stepped outside, letting the door fall shut behind him.
The wind was blowing lightly, but it was otherwise quiet. A few people milled about the square in scattered groups, looking as if they had nothing else to do except to simply go on existing. Their movements were slow, their gazes distant. A few vendors stood behind their stalls, as silent and still as the gargoyles on Nottingham's chapel. No one was buying anything.
William knew it would take a while for things to go back to the way they were after yesterday's redundant extortion, and the thought of it made his fur prickle.
Under Prince John's reign, the Sheriff had grown more avaricious. Although he simply claimed he was `doing his job', William knew the wolf took pleasure in these indigent acts of exploitation.
It would not be long until there was nothing left to take. And what then? What was the point of having all of that wealth when there was nothing to spend it on? Not a single farthing ever left the castle, and the prince seemed perfectly content to remain there, hoarding over his treasury. There must have been some psychological malfeasance at work.
But what did William know?
He sighed, making his way through the mostly empty streets. A cold mist could be felt upon the breeze. Clouds streaked across the sky, and the sun had been obscured, the land beneath cloaked in shadow. He walked on until he reached the tall facade of the castle. The courtyard where he had practised archery just a few days prior sat empty, though a few arrows were embedded in the targets. Further along the long curving wall of stone was a small ramshackle hayrick, a few disused tools leaning at odd angles within.
From somewhere within the keep's walls, the sound of someone toiling laboriously could be heard, faint imprecations making their way out into the courtyard. William's ears flicked.
A tenuous path cut through the blanket of grass leading up to the side of the stone building where the Sheriff could usually be found at most hours of the day, when he wasn't pestering the villagers. There was a small doorway which was little more than a collection of old boards that had been jammed together.
William approached it, then peered inside.
The room within was small and largely unfurnished, aside from a dilapidated table positioned in the corner, and a chair behind it upon which the large Sheriff was seated, poring over a stack of parchments as a solitary candle flickered next to him. A mullioned window was behind, letting in a faint stream of silver light that limned the corpulent wolf's shoulders.
The Sheriff looked up, his spectacles gleaming in the candlelight. ``Well, look who finally decided to appear.'' His lips were drawn back, curled slightly in an expression that was unreadable. ``I was worried that something had happened to you.''
William feigned a smile. ``Why's that?''
The larger wolf's brows furrowed, and he set the stack of parchments aside. ``Just that I'd hate to lose one of my good men is all.'' He looked at him for a moment, then asked, ``Did you manage to find anything at Peter's house?''
William paused. He reached into one of his pockets and brought out a couple of uncut silver pennies. He dropped them onto the desk, in a gesture that fell just nearly short of simply throwing them. ``Just this,'' he said.
It wasn't much, but the coins were, in fact, part of William's pay from the week prior. He had been keeping up this facade for months now, merely pretending to collect taxes, giving a small amount back to the Sheriff, hoping the older wolf either wouldn't notice or care enough to say anything.
The Sheriff looked down at the pennies in front of him, then back up at William slowly. His eyes narrowed, and his fingers tapped impatiently on his desk. ``Two pennies?''
William stared at him. ``Yes?''
``In his entire house?''
``Yes,'' William said, more adamantly.
``When he is a miller. Are you sure?''
William shifted, feeling his tail flick in annoyance. ``We've been collecting a lot lately,'' he insisted.
The Sheriff stared at him once more, and then pulled a sheet of parchment off the top of the stack he had previously been attending, sliding it across the table. ``See this?'' he said, turning the parchment around before tapping a claw against it. William leaned forward, craning his head over the desk. ``That's the duties. That's what everyone's been collecting this month, and there you are - '' He slid his claw down the page `` - right there at the bottom.''
William looked it it for a moment, before glancing back at the Sheriff and forcing a smile. ``Well, no different than usual.''
The Sheriff gave a sigh, placing the sheet of parchment back with the others. ``No matter. I've sent Matthew over to have a look.''
William involuntarily stiffened, feeling his heart sink. ``I see.''
``That's not a problem, is it?''
``No,'' he said quickly - perhaps too quickly. He trembled, feeling light-headed. He gulped, then said, ``I gave you what I found. I know it's not much, hardly anything at all. I told you, I searched the entire place from the hay on the floor to the hay on the roof, and - ''
The Sheriff held up a hand. ``I don't need excuses.'' William blanched. ``But what's done is done. William?''
``Y-yes?''
``Despite your performance - or shall we say lack thereof - as of late, you have been useful in the past. God knows that Richard used to sing your praises. Well, he is not here right now. And he might not ever come back. So for the time being, we do things John's way. Right?''
William trembled again, and found himself gazing with great intent upon the floor. ``R-right...''
For a long while it was silent. The Sheriff's chair creaked as he leaned back into it slowly, his eyes mulling over the parchments laid out before him. The candlelight danced, reflecting in the large wolf's eyes as William was left to silently roil in his discomfiture.
What more can I do? he wondered to himself.
There was no possible way that William could force any form cruelty upon the people of Nottingham. He knew it was expected of him, by the Sheriff, by Matthew - and his various accomplices - and perhaps even by Prince John himself, if the mane-less lion even knew of his existence. It was easy for them to wield their cruelty, almost as if was second nature to them. Of course, it should have been second nature to him too.
`You are a wolf,' Matthew had told him once. It had been late, and they had seated themselves by a table near a tall slit of a window, looking out at the dark forest beyond, feeling the chill of night as it crept in and surrounded them. The taller wolf had been inebriated, and William was gradually getting there himself.
It was the only way the two of them could bear conversation with each-other anymore.
`Show your fangs a little,' Matthew had said. He hadn't even been looking at William then; he suspected he could have left and Matthew wouldn't have noticed. But he had stayed, and he had listened. `Sharpen your claws. Chase your prey. You are a wolf. What is there for a wolf but to hunt and rive and depredate?'
William wished he hadn't listened. He had felt a flash of anger work its way up his spine, but it had been dulled by the ale, and his only response had been some sort of noncommittal grunt.
The people of Nottingham weren't prey to be hunted or harassed, as Matthew had suggested. William didn't look at them that way; he didn't look at anyone that way. Really, hurting people in any capacity was the very last thing he wished to do.
William's ears flattened against his head, wondering why such things were expected of him.
He momentarily turned his thoughts back to the current situation of his lack of contributions. He had tried as best as he could to maintain this lie, but it was now apparent the sums he offered were suspiciously meagre in juxtaposition to what the others were providing. As there was no possibility from him of seriously performing his duties, he supposed he would have to sacrifice more of his income - perhaps all of it, if it meant keeping the Sheriff quiet.
``Matthew's said you're becoming more and more like a shadow these days.'' The Sheriff said, finally breaking the silence.
William looked over at the corpulent wolf leaning back in his chair. ``Has he?''
The Sheriff nodded. ``By all accounts you've become somewhat...reclusive. He said you don't even visit the bathhouses or the tavern anymore.''
William flinched as if he had just been slapped in the face. ``I never did `visit the bathhouses','' he said. ``At least, not in whatever way he seems to be implying.''
``Really?'' The Sheriff looked at him, staring. ``You don't entertain the thought of cavorting with a vixen once in a while?''
William stiffened and blushed, pulling at his collar. ``W-what?'' He paused, then said, ``I don't really think there would much point to me indulging in such things. I wouldn't...'' He trailed off, biting his tongue. He trembled, felt a wave of nausea wash over him. He reached up, lightly rubbing his fingers against his throat. ``How is this pertinent to anything?''
The Sheriff continued to stare, then shrugged. ``It's not really,'' he said, returning his attention to the parchments in front of him. ``Just trying to figure you out a little.''
``I don't think you called me here just so you could figure me out.''
The other wolf looked at him for another moment, then said, ``No, I didn't.'' His eyes flicked to the parchment, then back to William. ``I've been trying to think of other ways to put you to use, and to be completely honest, I can't think of many. But there have been reports of Robin Hood sneaking into Maid Marian's keep at night.''
William tilted his head. ``I'm not sure I understand.''
The Sheriff sighed. ``We have some guards posted around the castle, but Robin Hood's proven himself to be elusive. Look, it's just for the sake of observation. Stay there, stay hidden as best as you can, and report whatever you see.'' He slid open a draw and produced a small key, presenting it to William. ``There's a small gate in the back of the courtyard; you should be able to slip in unnoticed.''
William went to take the key, but he hesitated. ``Let's say I refuse.''
The Sheriff slapped a hand to his forehead, then muttered some imprecation under his breath. ``William, you are landless. You have no family, no dowry, no prospects. If you were not under my employ, you would find yourself like the thieves in the pillories; good for a laugh or two, but a sorry sight otherwise.'' The wolf leaned back in his chair, his eyes staring at William from behind his spectacles.
William's throat felt dry, and he forced himself to swallow. ``All right,'' he said quietly. The Sheriff offered the key once more, and this time William took it.
He absconded from the building. The gelid wind tousled his fur as he ambled back out into the courtyard. It was near midday, though it was difficult to see that with the ubiquitous blanket of clouds above.
It would be a while until evening, though at least he'd be teaching Sis archery today. He turned, then made his way to the other side of the courtyard, where a shrouded doorway stood at the bottom of the guard tower.
He went up the steps in the darkness, around and around, until he emerged into a short hallway. There was a row of windows to the left, and a small arched doorway to the right. The sound of shuffling could be heard from within, and after a moment, a wolf wearing a loose white shirt, small and lanky, gaunt of face and with tired eyes, emerged from the jamb, holding a large bucket in one hand and a broom and shovel in the other, both implements tucked awkwardly under his arm.
William raised an eyebrow. ``Thomas?'' The wolf looked up at him suddenly, nearly dropping his bucket. ``I was wondering who was making all that ruckus.''
Thomas sighed, righting himself, shaking lightly. ``S-sorry...I didn't...think that anyone else would be here.''
He raised his other eyebrow. ``Why? Were you up to something nefarious?''
The smaller wolf's eyes widened. ``N-no! I just mean - '' He shook again `` - I don't know what I mean. Sorry.''
William's gaze softened. ``Hey, you don't have to apologise.'' Thomas gulped, his gaze fixed upon the dust-laden ground. William stared at him for a moment, then said, ``They've got you on cleaning duty again?''
Thomas nodded lightly, still keeping his gaze averted as he trembled. After a long moment he looked up. ``W-what are you up to?''
He paused, knowing he couldn't fully impart the truth. ``Pretty soon? Cleaning duty.''
Thomas finally glanced up at him, his eyes searching. ``W-what do you mean?''
William sighed. ``The Sheriff caught onto my little facade.''
``Oh...'' The small wolf frowned, trembling. ``T-that is unfortunate.'' He glanced up at him, smiling sadly. ``It was a good idea, while it lasted.''
The larger wolf nodded. ``Anyhow, I'm going to go and fetch something from my clothes-chest.'' He paused, looking at the way the other wolf's shoulders were slumped. ``Do you need a hand with carrying anything?''
Thomas shook his head. ``I'm all right, thanks.'' He shuffled awkwardly past him, then stumbled his way slowly down the stairs, the shovel clattering over the steps, growing quieter and quieter, until it was completely silent, like the other wolf was never there.
William proceeded down the hallway, until he reached a small door leading into the barracks. There was a row of beds against the wall, in varying states of disarray. The room was empty and cold.
Each bed had a wooden trunk positioned at its foot, and he made his way over to his, opening the lid. His longbow was sitting there at the bottom alongside a pair of quivers, with Sis' little bow seated on top. He chuckled softly at the sight, then allowed himself to smile.
His tail wagged as he thought of her. But after a moment his smile faded as he remembered just how nervous she had been, how afraid she was the last time he'd seen her. He supposed it shouldn't have mattered too much; after all, they had only met a few days prior. Rabbits were naturally fearful of wolves. It wasn't surprising, and he suspected that she might warm up to him eventually.
But what if she didn't?
If she didn't, then there was no harm done. After all, he hadn't known her before, and he barely knew her now. It didn't really matter if she decided that she didn't want to pursue archery lessons anymore. If that happened, then things would just go back to the way they were.
He frowned slightly, then reached inside the chest.
A peal sounded from the belfry. William stepped out into the large open square, his bow slung across his back and Sis' tucked underneath his arm.
Some of the people turned to watch the bell as it swung to and fro, but most carried on, disinterested. He waited, and as the last knell rang out, its hollow sound echoing before petering out across the distant hills, William turned away.
A flash of pink caught his eye, and he looked to see Sis walking toward him.
He smiled as he saw her, and she quickened her pace as she met his gaze. But as she drew closer her gait grew slower, and slower, until finally she came to a stop. William handed Sis her bow. The young rabbit hesitantly took it from him and looked at it for a moment, then glanced away.
William felt his ears lower, but he tried to smile. ``I'm glad you're here,'' he said softly.
She glanced up at him. ``You are?''
William nodded. ``I am.''
She hesitated, then nodded as well. ``I'm sorry,'' she said. A cold mist was upon the air, and she shuddered. ``Do you...hate me?''
His eyes widened. ``What?'' he asked incredulously. ``What would ever give you that impression?''
``Because,'' she trailed off. She looked at him again, tears welling up in her eyes. ``Y-you...I d-didn't mean to...'' She hugged herself, then gulped as she trembled. ``I made you sad.''
``Oh Sis,'' he whispered, getting down onto his knees. ``It's all right.''
``Y-you're nice to me, and I w-was just scared, and I'm sorry...'' Her lips trembled, tears streaming down her face.
The large wolf placed his hands on her little shoulders. She flinched briefly, then trembled. For a moment it seemed as if she might pull away, but then she slowly allowed herself to relax. Sis looked up then met his gaze. He smiled at her warmly, and although the clouds overhead obscured the sun, there was something about the light then which seemed as if it was faintly shining upon him, illuminating the delicate fur on his face and his amber-coloured eyes. Sis blinked, feeling a hesitant warmth settle over her.
William brought his hand over, gently wiping the tears off of her cheeks. She felt herself slowly begin to smile as his large thumb brushed over her face. He reached up with his other hand, brushing the opposite cheek. Sis giggled, sniffling. Her hand found its way to his, her little fingers curling around the side of his palm.
His gaze fell to her hand. He stared for a moment, then glanced away with a faint smile. ``And you know what? You're brave.''
``B-brave?'' She smiled, wiping away another tear with the back of her hand.
``Mhm,'' he said. ``Talking to a big wolf like me, standing your ground even though you're afraid - no other bunny would do that. That means you're brave.''
She blushed.
``Or stupid,'' he added with a shrug.
``Hey!''
William laughed, gently pushing her away as he stood up and dusted himself off. Sis held her bow close to her chest, falling in step alongside him as they made their way through the scattered droves of people and out toward the edge of town.
``Do you think I'll hit the far target today?'' Sis asked, looking up at him.
He chuckled. ``Anything is possible. But even I miss the far target sometimes, as you've seen.''
She smiled faintly. ``Well, I hope I can.''
``I hope so too,'' he replied, smiling at her. ``But we'll start with the close one. Once you have that, the second should be easy. And from there - '' He paused, his eyes twinkling `` - who knows?''
They followed the path which led out of town, past the paddocks and down the hill, walking briefly under the shade of the ancient, overgrown oak.
Once they reached the bottom of the hill, they walked into the line of tall firs which girded the river, passing underneath the shade and into the darkness. Sis found herself gazing up at the long and sinuous branches weaved together in inscrutable patterns against the sky.
A pallid light streamed in from the clearing ahead, and after a moment they emerged into the open. The river was flowing swiftly today, and the targets sat in the overgrown field, just as they had been left. A soft wind ruffled their fur.
Sis' ears flicked, and she turned to him. ``I was thinking,'' she said, her eyes lighting up, ``that there's so much you could teach me, and I could get really good and there's a whole bunch of stuff we could try, like we could throw apples in the air, and shoot them while they're still in the air, or shoot an apple with another apple, or shoot three apples at the same time, or shoot flaming arrows into boats on the ocean that have dead people in them, or - mmph!'' William's large paw clasped over her face, and she quickly swatted his hand away, glowering.
``Sorry,'' William said with a grin. ``But we are not Danes. As for apples, I think they are too expensive to use for target practise.''
``Oh I know,'' she replied shyly, her little hands gripping her bow. ``It just seems like it'd be fun.''
``It is fun,'' he told her, giving her a wink. She then squeaked in surprise as he dropped her quiver down around her shoulders. Sis looked up at William and smiled, then stood next to him. ``Anyway, let's see what you can do.''
She nodded, reaching for an arrow. She placed her feet diagonally astride, then aimed her bow and squinted. As she aimed, the arrow began to wobble in her grasp. She went to relax her grip, but before she could, her fingers slipped and the arrow shot forward, glancing off the side of the target and spinning down into the grass. Her ears lowered. ``Oops.''
William chuckled. ``Interesting technique.''
Sis blushed, but then she smiled faintly. She grabbed another arrow, nocking it as her tail flicked behind her in anticipation. She squinted, then lifted her bow. This time she carefully lined up the tip of the arrow with the target.
The bowstring thwipped, and the arrow sailed in a clean arc before embedding itself next to the bull's-eye. She gave a little jump of triumph, her eyes lighting up. The young rabbit turned to William expectantly.
William grinned, crossing his arms. ``Impressive shot. It seems like you've been practising.''
``Oh,'' Sis said with a blush. ``Thank you.''
The wolf hummed in thought. ``But I've had your bow this whole time.''
She nodded, then said, ``I haven't been practising, I mean not really. But me and my brother and my friend Toby were shooting with Robin Hood yesterday, for fun.''
William's eyes squinted, and he couldn't help but smirk. ``Robin Hood?''
She grinned. ``Uh-huh! We were in the forest, because we had jumped in the river, and it was really cold, but Robin Hood came and saved us, and we were in the river because a wolf who was like you was chasing us, and he was really mean and scary. He was trying to rob Toby, and Toby didn't even have any money! But the wolf didn't believe him, so we had to kick his shins, and he screamed like when you step on a puppy's tail, so we ran and ran, and that's when we jumped into the river, and then Robin Hood found us, and he took us back to his camp and we ate some of Little John's stew, and shot bows for a while, and...William?''
The large wolf blinked as she called his name, and his ears lowered. ``A wolf...like me?''
``Oh!'' Sis gave a simper, her little fingers running across her arm. ``I don't mean that you were like him. I just meant that he was dressed similar; like a guardsman.''
William chuckled, his brows furrowing as he looked across over the river. He feigned a smile, and his bow slowly fell to his side. ``No, I know you didn't mean it like that. I suppose I was just concerned.''
Sis giggled softly. ``For me?''
A grin crept its way across his muzzle. ``Mhm. Were you all okay?''
``Yeah!'' she said, nodding enthusiastically. ``We got away just fine. The only person that got hurt was that mean wolf.''
William sighed, and his shoulders relaxed. ``I'm glad.'' He paused, then said, ``What did he look like?''
``He looked like you, but he was taller, and his fur was kind of messy.''
He nodded, humming. ``That sounds like Matthew. He's a bit of a thorn in my side.''
Sis tilted her head, her ears flopping. ``What does that mean?''
William sighed. ``It means he is annoying.''
``Ooh, I see! He was pretty annoying...and scary.'' She smiled faintly. ``I'm glad you're not like that.''
He blinked. ``Well, I endeavour to be a good person.''
``I think you are!''
His gaze fell to the ground, his ears lowering slightly. ``Thank you,'' he said.
``And...I'm still really sorry about the other day.''
William looked up at her, smiling. ``Please don't concern yourself with that. I know you didn't mean it.''
``I know, I just - '' She frowned `` - I'm still sad that you were sad.''
He drew a long breath, then sighed. ``It's okay.''
Sis smiled at him for a moment. She went for another arrow, straightening her shoulders.
They continued to take turns shooting, and once all of their arrows were spent, William made his way over and began to pull them free of the target and pick the others from off of the ground. Sis had been much improving, with a few of the arrows having found their mark, poking out of the hay at various angles.
After he finished gathering them, he ambled back to Sis. He smiled, stuffing them into her quiver.
In the distance, over the flowing waters of the Trent, the lone windmill sat upon the cusp of the knoll, its large white-canvas blades turning slowly in the wind.
Sis turned, taking aim at the target in the middle of the field. She raised her bow and squinted, but a moment later she lowered it, hesitantly looking back at him. ``William?''
``Hm?''
The young rabbit simpered. ``Can you show me how to stand again?''
He blinked. ``Well, you've been standing mostly correct.''
She looked at him, shifting slightly, her bow lowering. Her gaze met his for a brief, vulnerable moment, then darted away. ``Y-yes, but...'' The large wolf continued to stare at her. She lifted her bow, then looked back at him as she adjusted her footing. ``Is it like this?'' she asked hopefully.
He paused, then wondered how she could be standing so erroneously when she'd had it right just moments prior. Something about the request felt slightly off, but he hesitantly walked up behind her, then reached down toward her shoulders. His ears lowered, and his hands froze mid-air, remembering the way she had stiffened and trembled the last time he had done this. ``Sis...are you sure?''
Sis looked back at him, her bow shaking in her little hands. ``It's okay,'' she assured him, straightening her shoulders. ``I'm not scared.''
William swallowed a lump in his throat, then nodded, lowering his hands onto her. He moved slowly and delicately, making certain that his claws wouldn't brush against her. He then reached down, lightly raising her elbow, and then finally stepped away.
Sis gave a light sigh, perhaps of relief, then smiled at him. ``Thank you,'' she said quietly. She turned her attention back to the middle target. She drew back the arrow and loosed, and the arrow quickly embedded itself near the bottom edge.
William's eyes brightened as he smiled. ``Perhaps at this rate you'll hit the far target after all.''
She giggled, blushing.
Sis was already nocking another arrow, and he chuckled at her enthusiasm. A moment later he realised she was taking aim at the target on the distant side of the field. He opened his mouth, but before he could say anything she loosed, and the arrow flew. He watched it, saw as it sailed high in a clean arc, and then began to come back down far too soon, before skidding to a stop in the grass about halfway. Sis' ears lowered.
William couldn't help but chuckle. ``That was a good shot,'' he admitted.
She looked up at him, smiling. ``Really?''
``Absolutely! And it would have landed true, if you had aimed just a whit higher.''
Sis quickly reached for another arrow. She pointed the bow and squinted, her tongue sticking out of her mouth from the sheer effort of concentration. Her grip wobbled slightly, and she loosed.
The arrow soared through the air, flying farther and farther, and then dipped back down, landing in the grass just short of the target.
``Close!'' William said, his eyes glinting. ``Now try the middle one again.''
``But I want to hit the far one!'' Sis said with a petulant whine.
William sighed. ``And you will. But try the middle one now. Trust me.''
The young rabbit tilted her head. She hesitantly grabbed another arrow, then turned to face the target. She aimed and loosed, and the arrow shot forward, right into the bull's-eye. Sis gasped, grinning as she turned to William. ``I did it!'' She quickly threw her arms around William's midriff, and he grunted, taking an awkward step back as she leaned against him. The wolf blinked, then his eyes narrowed as his lips drew back in a smile. He rested his hands gently on her shoulders. Sis gave a faint sigh, then after a moment looked up at him, her little tail wiggling.
``I knew you would,'' William said, gently ruffling the fur atop her head. He then gently fixed her hair-bow.
Sis beamed up at him, lightly touching her hand to her head before stepping away and turning back toward the target, reaching for another arrow. William smiled at her, then nocked one of his own.
It wasn't long until they had both spent all of their arrows, and William had walked out into the field with Sis enthusiastically tagging along to help. By the time they had finished retrieving them, the clouds were beginning to clear, pale patches of blue dappled the ubiquitous gray above, and a wan light fell down across the distant fields in swathes of silver.
They decided to stop for a moment, seating themselves by a nearby tree. William yawned, stretching laboriously before resting his hands behind his head. Sis sat on the opposite side of him, flopping down in the grass.
William sat there, staring at the trees which girded the far side of the field. He shifted uncomfortably, leaning to his other side, a burr extruding from the tree dug into his back. He sneered, then shifted again. Eventually he found himself a position that wasn't completely objectionable.
A redwing cried out somewhere in the distance. He heard a shuffle behind him, and glanced back over his shoulder. Sis was staring at him. William's brows furrowed, and then a moment later he realised what she must have been expecting. ``Oh,'' he said, ``I didn't bring any food today. I'm sorry.''
Sis' ears lowered slightly. After a moment she said, ``It's okay.''
William gave her an apologetic glance, then looked away, gazing idly at nothing in particular. He felt the burr dig into his back again, and he winced, shifting himself with a sigh. ``Things...aren't going so well.''
The little rabbit looked up at him, tilting her head. ``What do you mean?'' William turned to her, smiling faintly. He explained his ruse, how he had been giving away his own money so that he wouldn't have to extort the people of Nottingham. Upon hearing this, her eyes lit up. ``You're like Robin Hood,'' she said, gazing at him in adulation.
``Perhaps.'' William chuckled. ``Though I don't think I'm as handsome.''
Sis laughed, then turned her attention back to the scintillating, flowing waters of the Trent. ``Do things ever get better?'' she idly asked.
William's ears lowered. ``Sometimes,'' came his quiet answer.
``Will Nottingham get better?''
``I hope so.''
``Will Prince John ever go away?''
His lip twitched. ``I truly hope so.''
She gulped, trembling. ``Are you mad?''
He blinked, then chuckled, his expression softening as he gave her an apologetic look. ``No. Well, yes. I'm mad about the situation; I'm not mad at you.''
She sighed in relief. ``I don't want to make you mad.''
``I don't think you could.''
``Really?''
``Really.''
``Really really?''
William sighed, rolling his eyes with a smirk. ``Really, really really.''
She smiled faintly, before looking at the sky which was continuing to clear, large fluffy clouds trailing slowly across the pale blue vista. Her eyes lit up for a moment, and she opened her mouth. But she quickly closed it, and her ears drooped down across her back.
He turned to her, raising an eyebrow. ``Were you about to say something?
``No...'' she said quickly, glancing away.
``Huh. It seemed like you were.''
Sis paused, thinking. Her little fingers fidgeted nervously. ``It's nothing; it was kind of stupid.''
``Well then, I should be qualified to hear it.''
The young rabbit giggled, smiling to herself. She glanced away. ``Well, I was just going to ask...''
``Yes?''
``Do you want to, um...''
William raised an eyebrow at her. ``What?''
She looked at him shyly. ``Do you...w-want to - '' She bit her lip, blushing `` - lay in the grass and watch the clouds together?!'' she blurted out. Sis covered her mouth. She fidgeted uncomfortably.
``Oh, uh - '' William's eyes widened slightly, and he blinked, rubbing the back of his neck. He turned his gaze to somewhere in the offing, and then he glanced back at her with a hesitant smile `` - sure, why not?''
``Yay!'' She leapt up and hopped a small circle around him, quickly grabbing his hand and dragging him over to a level patch of grass. She laid down, pulling the large wolf down next to her. William obliged, his large body dwarfing hers as he settled back into the grass.
Above, the white and gray clouds torpidly drifted by, their movement nearly imperceptible, their edges girded by the silver-gold sunlight.
William's chest rose and fell slowly. His hands rested on his midriff, and he idly twiddled his thumbs in small circles around one another. His eyes trailed over the amorphous clouds, trying to descry some form or another - but nothing was elucidating itself to him. ``I don't see anything,'' he admitted.
Her little hand pointed up toward a long, stretched cloud that was beginning to pull away from the others, her finger twirling as she traced shapes in the air. ``There's a castle, see?''
William squinted, trying to make out the shapes. It just looked like a cloud. He stared at it for another moment, and then another.
The wolf felt himself becoming slightly frustrated, but he took a deep breath and tried to push that feeling down; after all, it was a nice - albeit frigid - day, and he was laying in the grass next to a little rabbit who didn't seem to mind his being all big and scary. He smiled, a warmth settling over him despite the cold. He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye, his tail wagging lightly.
He looked back at the sky, at the sun-limned clouds above that drifted past. His eyes flicked over them, tracing over their amorphous forms, squinting as he tried to descry something in the clouds above. ``I truly don't see a castle,'' he admitted to her.
Sis groaned. ``Well it's not a castle anymore. It's different now!''
William raised an eyebrow at her. ``What's it supposed to look like now?''
``It doesn't look like anything now - except maybe potatoes when they have been turned to mush.''
The large wolf nodded, then looked around the sky for something else. ``Erm,'' he said, pointing at one off far to the left, ``what about that one?''
Sis looked at it for a moment. ``It looks kind of like a fox.'' William stared at it, blinking. Sis sighed, shuffling closer as she pointed up at it and traced the shapes with her finger. ``Look. That long part is his muzzle, and that's the shape of his head, and that pointy bit is his ear. See?''
His eyes followed where her finger was pointing, and slowly the forms began to take shape in his mind. He grinned, his eyes twinkling. ``I do see it.'' He then looked around, searching for more forms amidst the clouds. ``I think that one looks like a horse,'' he said, pointing it out to Sis.
``It does!'' She grinned. ``And that one's a bird!'' Then, impertinently, she looked at him and asked, ``Do you ever look at the sky...and imagine yourself falling up?''
William turned to her, smiling faintly. ``All the time.''
Sis beamed. ``Really?''
He nodded. ``Really.'' He smiled, looking back at the clouds that drifted by above them. ``Do you ever look at the ceiling and imagine yourself walking on it?''
Sis gasped. ``Yes!'' She grinned, shifting in the grass. She shifted again, and before William knew what had happened, she had rested her head on his shoulder, sighing to herself.
He stiffened, unsure of what he was supposed to do, of how he was meant to respond - or if he was even meant to respond at all. His throat felt dry, but he forced himself to swallow, returning his attention to the clouds. ``W-well...I'm glad we have that in common.'' He squeezed his eyes shut, cursing himself for the platitude.
Thankfully, Sis hadn't noticed. ``Me too!'' she said enthusiastically. ``Look,'' she said, pointing, ``that one looks like Lady Kluck.''
He took a deep, shuddering breath, then looked at the cloud she was indicating, tilting his head. ``How?''
``Because it's big!''
William found himself blinking. ``Sis,'' he admonished, ``you can't call people `big'. It's...not nice.''
She blushed, but quietly smiled to herself. ``Right, sorry.''
The wolf rolled his eyes, then after a quiet moment he asked, ``Am I big?''
Sis giggled. ``No, you're tall. That's different.''
``Oh,'' he said, smiling. He looked back at the sky, feeling her shift against him, the weight of her head resting on his shoulder. The wolf gave her an oblique glance, then returned his attention to the sky.
For a while they relaxed there in the grass, naming every little thing they saw. Eventually they fell into silence, content to watch the clouds drift by in quietude. There was the steady thrum of the flowing river, the gentle susurrus of the wind. ``Should we...get back to practising?'' he asked hopefully.
``Yes!'' she exclaimed, spontaneously springing to her feet. William blinked in surprise. Sis stepped over, standing above him. A moment later she offered her hand.
He looked at it briefly, then chuckled. ``Saving my life again?'' The little rabbit nodded, beaming. William smirked, then reached up and carefully gripped her hand. She latched onto him with both hands, then clenched her teeth from the effort. Slowly, the large wolf allowed himself to be pulled upright into a sitting position, and then his shoulders slumped as he sighed. He squeezed his eyes shut, white flashes like glints of sunlight rolled across his vision in a sweeping cascade. He took a deep breath, and then when he opened his eyes Sis was standing there, looking at him expectantly with her hands clasped together in front of her. His chest rose and fell, and he offered an apologetic smile. ``Give me a second.''
``Are you okay?''
``I'm old.''
She giggled, then after a moment she took hold of his hands again, trying with all her might to pull him up once more. This time, he rose fully to his feet, then rested his large hand on her shoulder to steady himself. Sis fetched her bow, practically bouncing as she hurried back out into the open. William smiled, then grabbed his own bow off of the grass, ambling back up next to her. She reached into her quiver, brought out an arrow, lifted her bow, and before she could pull it back, an arrow thudded into the target. ``Hey!''
``Sorry,'' William said, grinning slowly. ``Couldn't help myself. Now, how about a little competition? We'll see how many times we can hit the target before all our arrows are spent.''
``That wouldn't be fair!''
``I suppose you're right.'' He thought for a moment, then said, ``All right. How about you aim for the closest target, I'll aim for the far one, and you try to distract me?''
She smiled at him. ``Okay. I think that's better.''
William nodded, then nocked an arrow and lifted his bow. He aimed at the far target and pulled the string back - but just as he was about to loose, Sis bumped into the side of his leg, and the arrow flew off in a long arc, disappearing into the woods. ``Sis,'' he chided.
``Sorry,'' she echoed with a grin. ``I couldn't help myself!'' The wolf sighed, but then smiled back at her. She met his gaze, then giggled to herself and glanced away before nocking her own bow.
It hadn't been fair. Not at all. Despite William's disadvantage of aiming at a much more distant target and Sis' various attempts to distract or nudge him off course, he still landed all of his arrows, whereas Sis seemed to falter under the pressure. She had been improving - although every time she missed, her grin fell just a little bit further, her shoulders slumped just a whit more.
``You're doing very well,'' he assured her, a smirk working its way across his lips, ``even if you are losing.''
Sis glowered and stuck her tongue out at him. ``I bet Robin Hood could beat you.''
William rolled his eyes at that. ``Well, you'd know better than me; I've never seen him shoot before. But considering my garb, perhaps that's for the best.''
She smiled, then her eyes lit up. ``He's really good. I've seen him shoot an arrow, um - '' Her brows furrowed and she glanced to the side `` - twice as far, blindfolded!''
``I could shoot an arrow blindfolded,'' William said. ``But I'm not sure if I'd hit anything.''
The little rabbit touched her finger to her chin and hummed in thought, then said, ``Why don't we find out?''
William sighed. ``That might prove difficult; I don't have a blindfold. Though I suppose I could close my eyes.'' He looked at her, saw her curious, expectant gaze, and the way she fidgeted with her fingers. ``All right,'' he said, pulling an arrow from his quiver and bringing it to his bowstring. ``I'll try.''
Sis smiled, then stood off to the side, crossing her arms.
William glanced at her, then back at the targets standing out in the field. He raised his bow, then closed his eyes. He could hear the gentle flowing of the river, the ubiquitous thrum of distant birdsong.
He could almost see in his mind the targets in front of him, somewhere out there behind the veil of black. He furrowed his brows, pulled back the string, then loosed.
There was the sound of the arrow whizzing through the air, and then a moment later, a splash.
Sis broke out into a fit of laughter, falling back onto her haunches. ``O-oh William,'' she said, trembling, ``how?!''
He sighed, his shoulders slumping. ``Perhaps I shouldn't be teaching you.''
Upon hearing this, her ears lifted slightly. ``Oh, but I don't mind you teaching me. You are good, even if you can't shoot with your eyes closed.''
William simpered. ``Well that's reassuring.''
The rest of the lesson passed without much fanfare, although eventually he had to suggest that they call it quits for the evening. Sis had offered her dissent in the form of a petulant ``Awh!'', but after some further convincing she relented.
``I don't want anyone to think you've gone missing,'' William had said, chuckling softly as he took her bow and quiver.
She giggled. ``You said that the last time, too.''
``I know,'' he said. ``I do mean it, though; I truly don't wish to cause any distress to your family.''
``You're not,'' she assured him, her eyes twinkling. ``It's not unusual for me and Skippy to go play by ourselves for a few hours; this is really no different. You don't have to worry about Mama worrying.''
``That's good to hear.'' He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. ``It's just...'' He trailed off, his mind a jumble of half-formed thoughts swirling around in a tempest. He glanced back up at her, saw the way her head was tilted inquisitively. ``Ah, I don't know; I suppose I'm just a stupid wolf.''
Sis smiled at him. ``Oh, well for what it's worth I think you're a nice wolf, and a good teacher.''
He couldn't help but blush at that, and he felt his tail wagging slightly. ``Thank you.''
``And watching the clouds together was fun, too!''
William smiled, his tail wagging a bit more. ``It was, wasn't it?'' He then paused, his ears lowering.
``I'd like to do that again sometime.''
His ears lowered further, his tail slowed. ``Me too...'' he said quietly.
The two of them made their way back to town, climbing the long path up the hill as they moved at a leisurely gait.
He had been blathering, meandering on about his former aspirations for knighthood, when she had placed her hand in his. William fell silent, his ears flattening against his head as he gave her a brief, sidelong look. She met his gaze, and he smiled hesitantly back at her before glancing away, feeling his fingers gently tighten around hers.
They slowed to a stop at the edge of the market, and Sis spun around to face him. ``When's our next lesson?'' she asked eagerly, gazing up at him with wide eyes and a gleaming smile.
His heart skipped a beat, and he couldn't help but smile back at her. ``Oh,'' he said, ``whenever you like.''
``Now?!'' she asked hopefully.
William chuckled, gave her a gentle push. ``No.''
Sis giggled. ``Tomorrow?''
The wolf opened his mouth, but then he closed it. He pondered for a moment, then said, ``I'd like to, but - ''
``Yay!'' She clapped, then grasped his hand with hers. ``Tomorrow,'' she repeated softly, her little tail wiggling.
William sighed, then forced himself to smile. ``Tomorrow it is.''
The young rabbit skipped away, then turned and waved at him energetically, leaning to the side as she balanced on one foot. William waved back at her, found himself grinning - though once she disappeared from view, his hand slowly lowered, and the smile fell from his face. His gaze fell to the ground and he shuddered.
* * *
The wolf walked slowly through town, the ground hard beneath his feet.
He felt off, uneasy. The sun was beginning to set behind the hills, a ubiquitous reddish-pink hue cast over the village. He trembled as he walked through the open, in the street, amidst the strangle of dilapidated houses.
There was a feeling of malaise which enshrouded him, hanging down around him like a cloak. He tried to ignore it, and continued on walking up the street toward the looming castle ahead. The wind blew once more.
At the far end of the castle, on the other side of the village, where the houses gave way to empty fields and overgrown forest beyond, there was a rusted portcullis across a narrow stone bridge.
William approached it, then paused at the threshold with a sigh. He reached into his pocket, his fingers tracing over the key the Sheriff had given him earlier, feeling his hackles rise.
He looked up.
Beyond the iron bars was a courtyard of grass that was dotted with large trees, engirded by the large stone-brick walls of the castle. A large oak grew near the middle of the yard, and around the edges were several rows of flowers and bushes and ivies, the latter of which had become overgrown, but whose fronds were formed into a bower beneath which was an ornate stone bench. Near the bench was a small pond, and in the centre of the yard was a rope with tassels that had been tied between two white posts. A couple of racquets sat against a tree nearby.
It looked like a place that had been sequestered from the rest of the world.
William stepped forward, shutting the gate gently behind him. He looked around for a place where he might conceal himself, but nowhere seemed fit; the few trees offered little cover, and the bushes which grew in patches around the courtyard were barely high enough to veil a cub.
He looked again.
The walls circled high above, with no visible walkways behind the crenels - and the only window was the one atop the keep. A single wooden door sat behind the portico.
As he continued to look around, the door began to open. He stepped back, but realising there was nowhere to hide, he simply stood there, his ears flattening against his head. A moment later, a vixen wearing a purple dress emerged.
She was humming a tune to herself, pinching the waist of her dress as she gently swayed, her eyes closed as she was completely lost in a reverie. Maid Marian stepped out of the shade of the portico and onto the soft grass. Her voice lilted on, rising and falling, her head lifted toward the sky as she twirled around and around. Her voice softened, fading away as she smiled to herself. The fox opened her eyes.
She shrieked, taking an involuntary step backward as she clutched her hands to her chest. Her eyes were wide, her lips trembled. Then her brows furrowed, almost as if in anger - but it dissolved rapidly, leaving only a fearful incertitude. ``W-who...''
The wolf's ears perked up, and he offered a faint smile. ``William.'' He lowered his head, averting his eyes. ``I'm sorry for the intrusion.''
Her lip twitched, and she glanced away, her fingers fidgeting with the cuffs of her sleeves. ``All right, you've had your show; now get out, please.''
William's ears flattened again, and he rubbed the back of his neck. ``I wish I could.''
The fox stiffened. Her gaze flicked to the portcullis, then she quickly glanced over her shoulder at the door, then back at the wolf. She began to back away.
He slowly held out his hands in a placating gesture. ``Listen, I'm not here for anything, all right?''
Maid Marian gulped, visibly shaking. ``Then why?''
``Sheriff's orders. He wants me to spy on you.'' He grinned, squinting. ``How am I doing?''
The fox straightened. ``Terribly,'' came her curt response. Her shaking slowed, and she took a deep breath.
``Sorry.''
She blinked, staring at him incredulously. ``Sorry? You barge into my private courtyard, refuse to leave, and all you have to say is `sorry'? If you were sorry you'd turn around and walk back out of that gate.''
William's lips pulled back in an awkward, apologetic smile. ``Look,'' he said, his shoulders slumping, ``I really do not want to be doing this; I assure you of that. But I'm under duress from the Sheriff to be here, and if I'm not then he'll get word of it, and I'll possibly lose my station.'' He pressed his hands together imploringly. ``Please. I don't have any actual intent of observing you against your wishes, and you're free to go about your business.''
Marian stared at him for a long while, and then finally offered a brief nod, still fidgeting with her sleeves. She glanced again at the door behind her, then back at the wolf which stood before her. William shifted uncomfortably under her gaze, leaned his weight on one foot, and then the other. Marian's eyes flicked to the pair of racquets seated against the base of the tree. She hesitated, then made her way over to them and picked them up. ``You know, I was going to practise by myself, but seeing as I now have an extra participant...''
William's eyes widened slightly. ``Ah, I am no good at sport.'' He saw the way she was looking at him, then said, ``But all right, I suppose I can try.'' He took the racquet from her, then stood there, seemingly lost.
She rolled her eyes, then pointed with her racquet. ``Go over there, on the other side of the rope.''
William nodded, ambling over to the opposite side. The racquet felt unusual in his hand. He turned around to face Marian, giving the air a few cursory swats. ``All right, now what?''
The fox brushed the sides of her dress. ``Well, I'm going to hit the - '' She paused, tilting her head `` - whatever it's called. Then you try and hit it back. We do that until someone misses, and the other person gets a point. So if I hit it, and you miss, I get a point, and vice versa. And the first person to five points wins!'' Marian grinned.
``Are those the actual rules?''
She stared at him for a moment, then shrugged. ``That's the way I play it.''
He smiled at her. ``Very well.''
``Are you ready?''
``I believe so.''
``Okay, here it comes!'' Marian threw the shuttlecock into the air, then swung her arm in a wide arc, thwacking it to him. It soared through the air, bouncing off of William's chest before falling into the grass. He blinked. Marian pouted, crossing her arms. ``You didn't even try!''
``Sorry.'' He simpered. ``I was trying to figure out what the best way to hit it would be.''
``The best way to hit it is to hit it.''
He chuckled self-consciously, rubbing the back of his neck. ``I suppose you're right.'' The wolf leaned down and picked up the shuttlecock, then rolled his shoulders. ``I should hit it to you now?''
``Yes.'' Marian sighed. ``Also I'm in the lead.''
William blinked again, staring at her. ``You're counting that?''
She looked at him, her mouth agape. ``Yes! You missed.''
``All right, all right.'' He sighed. ``If I try to, uh, hit it to you, and I drop it, does that count against me?'' Marian nodded. ``Hm, I see.'' He looked down at the racquet in one hand, then at the shuttlecock he gripped in his other. He tested its weight. When Marian had tossed it, he'd noticed the way it had risen up, then spun around in the air, dropping suddenly as if laden with iron. He lifted his hand, feeling the way it turned in his palm, and then decisively he brought his hand down, then back up, tossing the shuttlecock into the air. He ducked down, then swung his racquet with a thwack.
The shuttlecock shot forward in a straight line, then bounced off of the rope, landing on his side of the court. Marian's eyes widened, and she brought a hand to her mouth, stifling her laughter. ``Oh my, you really are terrible, aren't you?''
He felt himself flush, the fur on the back of his nape standing up slightly as his cheeks reddened. ``W-well...'' He looked back up at her, noticed the playful glint in her eyes. He sighed, allowed himself to smile. ``Yes. I suppose I am.'' He straightened his shoulders, glancing upward as he thumped his racquet against his chest. ``William the Terrible; although I'm sure the title is merely honorary.''
``Oh I don't know,'' Marian said, chuckling, ``I think it's fairly apt.'' The wolf rolled his eyes at that, then ambled over and snatched the shuttlecock off of the ground, handing it to her. ``I have a feeling this is going to be a very short game,'' she said, taking it from him before striding back over to the opposite side of the square.
He nodded. ``I have to meet some expectations, don't I?''
Marian smiled, then took a dramatic step backward before hitting the shuttlecock to him.
This time, he managed to hit it back. It went over the rope, and Marian - who was standing there with a smug expression - was caught off guard by the sudden volley and scrambled forward, nearly tripping over her dress as she brought her racquet up beneath the shuttlecock. It bounced askew, but still flew up and over the rope, so that William had to take a lunging step forward.
His racquet smacked against the shuttlecock, sending it flying afar. Too far. It landed in the grass several paces away from the delineated court. Marian went to go and fetch it, and when she returned, she was panting lightly. ``I f-forgot to mention,'' she said, taking a breath, ``if the shuttlecock lands outside the square, it counts against you.''
His eyes widened, feeling a flash of embarrassment. ``Truly?'' he asked, his tail flicking behind him. ``You're not just making that up?''
She shook her head. ``No, I assure you; it'd count against me as well.'' Marian reached over the rope, handing him the shuttlecock. ``Speaking of making things up, are you sure you're new to this?''
``Very sure,'' he replied, taking the shuttlecock from her with a faint grin, before walking back to his end of the court, turning to face her.
They continued playing for a while, eventually finding an awkward mismatched pace between them. Most of the games Marian ended up winning, of course. But every once in a while William managed to get a few points ahead. He couldn't entirely tell if that was due to him improving, luck, or Marian taking some form of pity on him. It took a long while for him to acclimate to that; the crawling, prickling sensation of inadequacy and the subsequent embarrassment that engendered. It is just a game, he eventually told himself.
Of course, he could not convince himself of that immediately. But as the evening drew on he allowed himself to relax. Perhaps it was Marian's jibes - ever mirthful despite William's disposition - that finally coaxed it out of him.
By the time the moon began to cast its silver light on the tall parapets and the keep above, he was actively offering his own rejoinders, partaking in the banter which had been extended to him like a lure. ``Perhaps we should wager money on the next game,'' he said.
``Trying to make off with my dowry?''
``Do you think I'm that good?''
``No.''
William sighed, then set his racquet back against the tree next to hers. ``Perhaps some day.''
The vixen offered a smile. ``Perhaps. You will have to work on your form.''
``My form is sufficient.''
Marian chuckled softly. ``Thank you, William, for the game.''
``Thank you for teaching me,'' he replied, stepping over to the nearby bench and seating himself down upon it. He looked at her. ``Now I have to pretend to spy on you for the rest of the night.''
Marian's ears flattened against her head, and her gaze fell to the ground. ``Is there anything you desire in the way of victuals? Food? Drink?''
William hummed in thought, then said, ``I would not mind some ale, if you have it.''
For a moment Marian almost looked offended. ``A lady does not drink ale. But'' - A smile slowly crept across her face - ``perhaps I can find some lying around.''
``Ah,'' he said, snickering. ``Well if you happen to have any `just lying around'...''
She smiled at him, turning back toward the castle. ``I'll see what I can do.'' The vixen disappeared within the dark jamb behind the portico, and a few moments later she reappeared holding a small wood-carved mug. She offered it to him. ``Sorry I couldn't bring more,'' she said as he carefully took it from her. ``The bottle was nearly empty.''
William blinked, then attempted to pass the cup back to her. ``You don't have to give me this.''
She handed it back. ``You requested it.''
He tried to give it to her once more. ``I'm not going to drink the last of your ale.''
``A lady does not drink ale,'' she repeated, smirking at him mischievously. She then placed the mug in his hands, pulling his fingers closed around it.
William sighed, then glanced at her with a faint grin. ``Thank you,'' he said. He looked down at the mug, the silver moonlight reflected in the dark, rippling liquid. He brought it to his lips and gave it a tentative sip, before immediately coughing, his eyes prickling with tears. ``Iesu Crist, this is strong.''
Marian giggled, covering her mouth. ``Ah I forgot to mention, it's not watered down.'' She shrugged. ``I suppose you have to work up a tolerance.'' Her eyelids fluttered, and she lightly brushed the side of her dress. ``Well, I really should be getting to sleep.''
William nodded, wincing as he cajoled himself into taking another swig of the acrid concoction. ``Don't let me keep you. And thank you, again. With any fortune the Sheriff will find something else for me to do, and I can stay out of your fur.''
Marian shrugged. ``If he does, he does,'' she said as she turned and walked away. She glanced over her shoulder, smiling.
William raised an eyebrow, then took another sip, feeling it sting the back of his throat. The door behind the portico closed shut, and a moment later his ears perked up as he heard the faint click of the lock.
It was quiet in the courtyard. He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them, gazing up at the moon. Somewhere in the distance, a cricket was chirping. Somewhere else in the distance, another cricket was chirping. His thumb brushed idly over the rough lip of the mug.
From the offing, he could hear the wind slowly approaching. The grass billowed, the leaves upon the tall oak fluttered and scintillated as he felt a chill wash over and into him.
He wrapped his arms around himself, then hunched over slightly, trying to make himself smaller, and hopefully warmer. Another bluster caught him, and he shivered once more as the leaves rustled above, his teeth chattering.
William peered down at his feet, then looked further back. The stone bench he sat atop was long; almost long enough to fit a wolf beneath it.
The wolf took his mug, then slid himself down off of the bench and onto the ground. He sat there for a while, his elbows resting on his knees. He took another swig of ale, then sighed and set it carefully in the grass next to him, then laid down and curled himself up, shuffling back underneath the narrow cover of the bench.
He propped himself up on an elbow, then reached for the mug, bringing it to his muzzle and taking a long swing. His hand trembled as he set it back down, and he lightly coughed, resting himself back on the ground. He peeked out from under the bench, glancing up at the window in the keep, half expecting to see Marian there silently watching him, but he could only see a warm amber glow flickering inside. After a moment he withdrew himself back under the cover of the bench, wrapping his tail around himself.
His eyes felt so ineffably heavy. They slowly fell shut, and he shuddered. His head swam. He felt as if the ground beneath him was spinning, turning, swaying back and forth under him, as if he was being cradled and rocked gently to sleep. He could hear the wind blowing, and the crickets chirping, and the wind sounded to him more like the sound of a river, flowing there just beside him alongside the path, in that place he used to walk with her so often.
Mottled streams of light illuminated the understory in vibrant hues of green and gold. William meandered along a tenuous dirt path that made its way through the forest and alongside the brook. He passed into shadow, then light, then shadow again.
The water's surface glinted in the patchy islands of light, amber leaves carried downstream until they passed out of view, and as the river flowed on and on, the sun fell, leaving the forest in a still darkness.
The woods looked as if they stretched on forever. Black trees surrounded him on all sides, the dense canopy above obscuring the sky. He continued along the path, his feet carrying him against his volition, leading further into the cold and the dark. To whither it led there seemed to be no answer, for the forest looked the same regardless of where he turned.
There was another shadow there in the umbrage, frolicking amongst the trees and disappearing behind the thickets of bramble and fern. His feet carried him on, the shadow following him tirelessly.
With each step, the shadow grew closer, and closer, until it slipped away.
And then he was standing in the courtyard again, yet things were slightly different.
The moon was on the other side of the sky. A brume shrouded the top of the keep. The wind rippled the grass beneath his feet, and the castle looked dark and empty.
In the centre of the courtyard, the large oak bowed and groaned faintly in the zephyr, leaves glinting silver in the twilight. His eyes snapped up suddenly at a movement behind the tree. He went for his bow, but his fingers brushed against bare cloth.
The figure moved, peeking out from behind the tree, and two small eyes - his eyes - peered at him from the darkness. William stiffened, watching as a much younger version of himself walked out into the open. ``Wow,'' the young cub said, cautiously approaching the much larger wolf, ``you're so tall, and grown up!''
William look at him, feeling the wind flutter against his clothes. Years seemed to pass, though the cub stayed the same, the moon remained in its place in the sky, forever trapped in its celestial gaol as if this was where time itself had come to a stop.
The cub tilted his head. ``And quiet.''
William looked at the cub, then down at himself. He swallowed, and his voice came out in a whisper. ``Sorry.'' He sat down slowly, his back resting against the tree.
The cub's ears flattened. ``I can leave, if you want...''
William sighed, shaking his head. ``It's all right; I just wasn't expecting company.''
Little William hesitated, and then he sat himself in the grass next to the larger wolf, his fingers idly plucking a few blades free and flicking them away. ``Did I scare you?''
``Hm?''
``When I came out, you looked scared.''
``I wasn't expecting company,'' he repeated. He wrapped his arms around himself gently, leaning back against the tree.
``Can I hug you?'' the cub asked.
William's eyes snapped up suddenly. ``What?'' The cub continued to stare at him, and finally William swallowed, his throat feeling dry. ``I suppose.''
The little cub grinned, his eyes gleaming as he leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the large wolf's midriff. William felt himself stiffen, but he hesitantly reached down and rested his hand on his younger self's shoulders. The little wolf was soft, and warm.
He squeezed his eyes shut, feeling sick.
After a moment, young William pulled away, still smiling. ``Sometimes grown ups need hugs too.''
He chortled, feeling tears stinging lightly at his eyes. ``I...don't feel like a grown up.''
The little cub walked around him in a circle, then stopped in front of him, peering up at him with wide, inquisitive eyes. ``You look like a grown-up.''
William sighed, trembling. ``I know,'' he said. The grass moved and billowed beneath his feet. He stared at it for a while, the patterns of the wind in the grass, the endless permutations of shapes as the wind soughed through the meadow. ``None of this is right.'' He paused, then said, ``I've...been trying very hard to live up to other people's expectations. I think that's what growing up is about: being able to do things that other people expect of you - and being able to meet your own expectations of yourself. I haven't been doing any of that.''
He gazed up at the sky slowly. The moon, still in the same place as before, reflected in his eyes. ``I haven't...'' He swallowed, his eyes stinging again. ``Really, I'm not much of an adult, am I?''
``Is that a bad thing?'' The young William wagged his tail. He walked over, resting his hands on William's knees as he looked up at him hopefully. William nodded, sighing. ``Why?'' the young cub asked.
``It just is.''
``Oh.'' The wolf pup's ears flattened against his head, and he looked away. ``But, maybe it's okay?''
William swallowed, trembling. ``How would it be okay?''
``I don't know.'' The cub tilted his head, his ears flopping to the side. ``But maybe it is.''
Despite his dour mood, he couldn't help but chuckle. ``Perhaps.''
``And even if you're not, uh, doing all that grown-up stuff, you must be doing something.''
William drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. ``I suppose I am.''
``What is it?'' the cub asked, smiling. ``Is it fun?''
William rolled his eyes, slowly allowed himself to smile back - if only a whit. ``A little. I've been teaching this rabbit girl archery. She's a cub, like you. Not much taller.''
``A rabbit?'' the little wolf giggled. ``That's so funny!''
He raised an eyebrow. ``How is that funny?''
``Because you're a wolf!'' The cub bared his fangs and claws, making a series of light growling noises as he playfully chomped and slashed at the air.
William rolled his eyes again. ``I'm not going to eat her.''
The smaller wolf smiled, blushing as he clasped his little paws in front of him. ``You like her?''
William exhaled through his nose, feeling his lip twitch. ``I barely know her. But, she's nice to me.'' He paused, his gaze softening. ``She is nice to me,'' he repeated. ``I guess not many people are. Some are.'' He smiled at the cub. ``But I'm a wolf. Nobody likes wolves.''
``Awh,'' the cub whined petulantly, ``I'm a wolf too!''
``Suppose that means nobody likes you.'' He looked over at the cub, then chuckled softly as he saw the little wolf's horrified expression. ``Hey, I'm just playing.'' He reached over, lightly ruffling the fur atop the cub's head. ``People will like you. They can like you, even if they don't fully understand, even if you never really talk about how you're feeling. As long as you do your best to be a good person, and you're nice to people, they can like you. You can still be loved, even if...'' He trailed off. The wind passed by, and he shivered.
``Are...you still talking about being a wolf?'' The cub tilted his head, looking hopelessly befuddled. ``Because it sounds like you're talking about something else.''
``Sorry,'' the wolf said quietly, shuddering. ``I suppose I was sort of thinking about something else just then.''
``What was it?''
William glanced away. He shifted uncomfortably, and decided to change the subject. ``Hey, you know how I said I was teaching that girl archery?''
The cub's ears lowered, disappointed that his question had been ignored. ``Yeah?''
``She's doing really good,'' he said, finding himself smiling.
``That's good.'' The young wolf's ears lifted slightly.
``Yeah!'' He was grinning even wider now. ``I've only given her a couple of lessons, but there's a target that's from here to...that door over there, and today, she managed to hit it for the first time.''
The cub smiled, seating himself next to the larger wolf. ``Wow, you must be a good teacher.''
He blushed, his tail wagging. ``That is what she told me.'' He chuckled. ``It hasn't been all just archery, though.'' He smiled faintly. ``We watched the clouds for a while, naming every silly little thing we saw. We laid there for a long time. I haven't been without care like that for a while.'' His smile fell somewhat. ``She...laid her head on my shoulder.''
``That sounds nice!'' the cub said adamantly, the star light reflecting in his eyes as his tail wagged.
William gazed into the distance for a while, at nothing in particular, at amorphous shapes in the umbrage which never seemed to take form. ``It was nice,'' he whispered.
The young wolf looked up at him, feeling his ears fold back against his head as he watched the older wolf, a shadow that was silhouetted in the darkness. ``T-then why do you look so sad?''
There was water beneath them. It had come in from some place unseen, crept in and splashed around them, then drew back and surged forward again, like an infinitesimal ocean. It was up to their ankles, and they felt the slow ebb and flow, as if it was trying to draw the two of them back to that unseen place.
William didn't answer. After a while, he said, ``How's...mother?''
The cub's eyes lit up. ``She's great! Just the other day we went for a walk in the forest. I saw this glade, and there were so many butterflies! They were all orange and shiny, and I couldn't even count them all! Mama said that there must have been a thousand of them, and I never even heard that number before. She said it's a hundred ten times over. Can you imagine it?''
William chuckled. ``I remember that...''
The young cub continued talking, about how they had gone picking flowers together, and fishing in the river, and how when he was even younger she used to carry him around in a bundle of cloth, and...
I miss her...
He listened on and on. He could feel tears stinging at his eyes. He shuddered, wrapping his arms around himself. He held himself tightly. He was on the ground, sobbing.
The sky was a pallid blue, a few stars could still be seen just beyond, twinkling in the growing dawn. He shuffled awkwardly out from underneath the bench, then leaned back against it, breathing shakily. He reached up, his fingers tremulously brushed the side of his muzzle. His eyes brimmed with tears, but he choked them back, taking another shuddering breath.
It was quiet in the courtyard. It was a new day. It had just been a dream. The wind was blowing, and it howled lightly as it passed beneath the portcullis, the rusted gate creaking.
William slowly rose to his feet, trembling. He plodded slowly over to the gate, opened it, locked it behind him, and then disappeared.
