The day is nearing its end; the small carriage entourage is weary of going through the large forest between them and the rest stop with so little light left. Even the stagecoach’s creaking attests to its own unwillingness to entering the woods at such a waning hour. The forest is rumored to be fierce bandit territory, and what they are transporting can be considered well worth tenfold the meager pounds of solid gold coins they carry as well. Hoping their seemingly poor shape is enough to deter any thieves, the caravan creeps along the road.

Just as their caution starts to waver, a single arrow shoots from high above and deep in the tree line to a hand’s length of the coach driver. All the soldiers instantly reach for their swords, but a whispered voice stops them.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.” As each of them looks around searching for the phantom speaker who whispers into their ear, they realize that they are surrounded and outnumbered. Every face in the bandits’ ranks are hidden by shadows, so even when the speaker demands “a small toll,” he can’t be identified.

A stocky soldier goes to the carriage, where there are brief murmurs before he returns with a substantial bag of gold. One of the more stout bandits breaks the tree cover completely to retrieve the fee. As he reaches for it, the soldier takes him hostage at knifepoint. Everyone freezes but the helpful whispering voice is heard again.

“You might want to look up.” The carriage’s escort looks to see a cloaked figures’ deadly arrow aimed at the offending soldier’s heart. Someone in the carriage must have seen the dangerous delicacy of the situation, as a stern voice from within it tells “Rupert” to stop causing trouble.

As the prisoner is released with the loot, the archer moves its aim to the carriage. The released arrow thunks halfway up the door with a leaf caught during its trajectory. The guards are instantly on defensive, but hopefully the parting words from the disembodied voice of the bandit gang eases their nerves.

“Keep the arrows until you leave the forest; it shows that you are under the Robin’s protection.”

***

Fifteen minutes from the edge of the forest, a raging boar charges towards the travelers. The guard they had unknowingly hired, the Robin, spots it first. Before the normal guards can draw their swords, the arrow whistles past them and into the swine. The ploy to rob the carriage reeks of those thieving twins; had they not seen the arrow or were they openly challenging the Robin’s authority? It doesn’t matter; they had gotten the message that time.

If need be, they will be dealt with accordingly.

***

The job now completed, the Robin creeps through the tunnels, following the smell of food deeper and higher into the mountains. The figure comes to a doorway covered by lavish curtains; inside, someone can be heard humming a graceful tune over a meal. The Robin quietly brushes the curtain aside and slinks into the room. Sarah hears the faint rustling.

“Is that you, miss?” She doesn’t bother turning around.

“Yes, Sarah,” the Robin says as she pulls back her hood to reveal the black waves of hair previously confined within.

Arai hangs up her burlap hooded cloak before sitting down to supper.