Robert set off at a steady pace down the road.  He followed the merchant caravan at a distance.  Occasionally he would catch sight of the mercenaries acting as rearguard. The trees of the overgrown orchard soon gave way to a forest of oak, elm, and other varieties he did not recognize.

When he was younger Robert spent the majority of his free time in the woods  His grandfather had taught him basic survival skills, such as  how to make a fire without matches, building a shelter, tying assorted knots, and even hunting using a split-tip gig.  His grandmother taught him archery and how to field dress a kill.  

In the summer he would take long walks through the woods behind his grandparents’ house. There he practiced walking without making noise in order to better watch and stalk the wildlife. His grandfather did not teach him that skill.  No, he had learned that from her.

Rose.  Her name fit her perfectly.  Her red hair wild as she snuck through the trees.  They had met by chance during his wanderings.  She claimed to be the queen of the forest glaring down at him from the superior height that many eleven year old girls gained over their male contemporaries.

For three years they would meet in the woods as if it were another world.  They played and made up stories about the animals and about the ancient old oak tree that grew deep in the woods.  She swore she had seen the dryad with long lush green hair tending to that old monarch of the forest. She was home schooled and she would often be waiting for him to get home.  She would sit perched like royalty on the big granite boulder at the edge of the woods feeding the squirrels with acorns she had gathered on the way from the big old house on the hill in which she lived with her mother.

She taught him how to fight with sticks, though usually they were branches of appropriate length they found in the woods.  She claimed she learned eskrima, a form of martial arts, from her uncle who lived in the Philippines.  She taught Robert everything she knew from the fencing moves to hand-to-hand combat.  The basic moves included grappling, which was something they rarely practiced once they became more aware of each other as members of the opposite sex.

As the years passed Robert grew to be taller than her.  She started calling him her giant knight, though really 6’3” hardly qualified for that moniker.  He would have to dodge low hanging branches under which she passed with ease.  On sunny days when they ran silently through the trees her bright red hair glowed in the sunlight that made its way through the forest canopy.  The world was alive and bright and to him it grew brighter when she was nearby.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“This brings back too many memories.  She would have loved this place.”

The ache of her loss was still with him.  The last day he saw her she was lying in the hospital bed pale and silent.  Fifteen was too young to die.  

“Who cares where I am?  She’s not there anymore.  She’s gone.  So what if I’m in some strange place.  Every place is strange without her.”

A scream broke him out of his reverie.  He had slowed his pace while lost in his memories.  Breaking into a silent run he moved quickly forward and around a bend in a slight valley within the trees the mercenaries were fighting a group of scruffy men.  A large man stood in the middle of the road directing the fight.  The rusted chain mail shirt on his torso rattled as he bellowed orders.  Completely oblivious to Robert he drew back his bow string taking aim at the merchant.

Robert contemplated for only a second.  Firmly grasping the staff in his hand he darted up behind the bandit leader and swung the stick down.  The strike was sufficient and the leader collapsed to the ground.

Dodging to the left as one of the other bandits noticed him, Robert swung again.  This time the targeted bandit’s dagger spun out of his hand.  Robert followed up with a kick to his solar plexus.  The bandit collapsed to his knees.  With a second kick to the chin the bandit went down.

Seeing their leader and his lieutenant unconscious the bandits broke and tried to run.  They were scurrying down the road.  Two of them stopped and drew bows trying to provide cover for the retreat.

The merchant ran over and grabbed the Bandit leaders bow from the road.

"Hurry the arrows!"

Robert wrenched the quarrel free from the bandit's side.

"Here!" Robert tossed the quarrel to the merchant.

It took the merchant two quick shots to get familiar with the weapon, the arrows falling short of their marks.  The next three shots felled the bandits furthest from the caravan.  Within moments the fight was over and the bandits defeated.

The caravan guards moved through the bandits slitting the throats of the injured and tying up the unconscious leader and lieutenant.