Sherwood Read Online Free PDF Page A

sure to scan all of the
faces.
    Harlow looked back and
forth, seeing all the confused, maybe even scared, faces. She
breathed in silently, before reluctantly speaking up. “I
did.”
    Robin's eyes zeroed in on
her, keeping angry eyes on her. “You?” He asked stepping closer,
looking her over. “What's your name?”
    Harlow kept her eyes
steady, although she was worried her anxiousness might show. “Henry
McBride.” She tried to keep her voice as manly as she
could.
    Robin looked taken aback
for a moment. “McBride? You're Harrison's son?”
    Harlow kept eye contact
with the man.
    What was the worst he could
do? Schedule her clean-up duty? Order that she practice all night?
With some restored confidence, she spoke: “Aye. Harrison McBride is
my father.”
    Robin nodded. “And this is
how you throw a blade?” He asked, verbally provoking her, his voice
doused in quiet frustration.
    Harlow felt shocked for a
moment, but only a moment, before a surge of anger over took her
and made her blood boil.
    Robin turned his back on the men and
walked toward the target tree, facing the crowd of recruits after
several paces. He still held her blade between his index finger and
thumb. “We are at a historical impasse, gentlemen!” He announced,
looking over the men.
    Harlow had
her eyes on him as her anger built. He hadn't provided any example for archery. He hadn't
thrown any knives. Who was he
to criticize any body's skill?
    Robin turned his eyes on
the small piece of metal in his hand, a look of pure disdain on his
face as he did so. “And you completely miss the target?” He took
several steps back toward Harlow, who still watched him, her lips
pursed, her eyes filled with a certain kind of rage.
    “ Your father
would be disappointed, don't you think so, Henry?” Robin asked, a
hint of sarcasm in his voice.
    The more she thought on his
words, the more angry she got, the more it built up in her mind,
the more she was influenced by impulse rather than
logic.
    Robin turned his back on
her and stepped toward the target again, examining the shots. He
placed his hands on his hips in a somehow masculine way. “Next
time, men, try to focus on the target!”
    Harlow took in a deep
breath, holding it in her lungs for as long as she could handle
before letting it out. The anger continued to build up in her and
her breathing was the last pathetic attempt she could give to make
the anger subside.
    She opened her eyes, and
before she could really understand what was happening, she heard
it: the whizzing of an arrow as it flew through the air. She caught
it in her sights, following it's path.
    It raced through the air,
catching the loose fabric of Robin's sleeve, sending the man
forward a few feet as the sound of ripping fabric filled the
air.
    Every recruit in line next
to her turned to face the person who shot the arrow. It was from
her left side. She dropped her jaw at the sight of an enraged
Enders standing beside her.
    Enders had rage written all
over his face, with his eyes squinted, almost as if warning and
provoking Robin Hood. His hair hung gently in his eyes, dripping
with sweat. His bow hung almost limply in his right hand which had
retreated back to his side.
    Robin turned around, facing
the recruits, looking down at his sleeve. His eyes examined the
hole that now graced his shirt, widened in shock.
    Robin turned back, looking
to the target tree and seeing a newly added arrow in the center of
the paint. Robin turned his back to the tree, facing the recruits,
and after a short second of astonishment, he smiled.
    He eyed the bow that hung
in Enders' hand and noticed that his breathing was angry and
heavy.
    “ What's your
name, recruit?” Robin asked, stepping forward, an excited smile on
his lips.
    “ Enders
Hode.” Enders said after a moment of silence. He raised one arm to
wipe the sweat from his forehead.
    Robin nodded,
still smiling like a child. “Enders Hode.” He took a few steps back
and looked to the rest of