Robin Hood, the One Who Looked Good in Green

by Wendy Mass

  But as it is, I’m finding it hard to ignore the thumping of branches and the rushing of the wind through the husks of the trees, interrupted by the occasional distant screech or howl. There’s also a rhythmic, high-pitched hum that I’d assumed was coming from the ship, but now I’m no longer sure. “I never thought the Dead Zone would be so noisy,” I say to Robin. “From The City it sounds completely, well, dead.”

  “I don’t think we’re in a dead zone after all,” he says. “Did you see any signs of civilization when we flew overhead?”

  I think about this for a minute, then shake my head. “I wasn’t really looking, though.”

  “How about when you left Earth, could you see your city from high above it?”

  I nod. “When we first entered outer space I could still see the lights.”

  “That’s what I figured.” He inches closer to the opening, where a gust of wind has sent some broken twigs scuttling across the floor. He picks one up and brings it over. “I think we’re actually in the woods, like the living woods. With green trees and fresh soil that plants and vegetables can grow in. Maybe even animals live here.” I can hear the excitement in his voice.

  He places the twig in my hand. Soft triangular-shaped objects protrude from the sides in an uneven pattern. My eyes open wide as I realize what I’m feeling. Leaves! Living leaves, flexible and healthy, not stiff and charred like the ones that occasionally float into The City and crumble to bits under your fingers. Without thinking, I scramble to my feet and race toward the gap in the ship. Robin yanks me back before I get to the edge.

  “Not so fast,” he says, holding on to my sleeve. “You heard the part about the animals, right?”

  “I did — and Robin, if there’s vegetation, there could be bunnies! Bunnies!”

  He raises one eyebrow and tilts his head at me. “Bunnies?”

  I cup my hands like I’m holding and petting a small creature. “So soft and cute with those twitchy little noses.”

  “How do you know what their noses look like?” he asks, tilting his head at me.

  I give a small smile as the memory floats back to me. “Actually, it was King Richard. When I was little, he used to tell us stories about a family of bunny rabbits who lived in a hollow tree. Now I’ll get to see a real bunny AND a real tree!” I take another step toward the exit, but he holds firm. I sigh. “Yes?”

  “Do you know stories about any other animals?” he asks.

  I consider the question and shake my head. “Not really. The teachers aren’t supposed to tell us about nature. Prince John doesn’t want anyone to think life was any different than it is. But now …” I gesture to the opening in the ship. “Now we can find out for ourselves!” I start to pull away again, eager to explore.

  “Marian,” Robin says calmly, still holding me firmly. It’s starting to get a little annoying. “It’s the middle of the night. Not all animals are fluffy little bunnies. There are others who could outrun you, outclimb you, then tear you limb from limb and pick at your bones and you wouldn’t even see them coming.”

  My eyes widen. “Oh. Right.” I sit back down. “Perhaps we’ll stay here, then.”

  We take our mind off the situation by pointing out patterns of stars. My favorite is a constellation with especially bright stars in the shape of an arrow that Robin names Mister Pointy. Eventually our throats grow hoarse and our eyes droop. We slip off our shoes and wrap our cloaks around us like blankets.

  I awaken to the sunlight pressing against my eyes. I rub my eyelids, then open them. The gap in the ship reveals a mossy forest full of green leaves and brown tree trunks so spectacularly beautiful that I gasp. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see that Robin is still asleep beside me, his cloak rising and falling with each shallow breath. He needs to see this. I reach over and shake him, but he just mutters, “Not time for school yet, Will. I’m having a really good dream.”

  I force myself to look away from the splendor outside to fully turn in his direction. I yank back my hand, jump up, and smack my head right on the ceiling.

  We’ve got company.

  My head contacting the ceiling is enough to finally wake Robin. He groans and throws his hands over his eyes. “So bright. Turn it off.”

  Like I can turn off the sun. “You have a bigger problem,” I reply in a whisper.

  “Why are you whispering?” he asks as he pulls his hood farther down over his eyes. “And why is my left foot wet?”

  “Um, I think you need to see for yourself,” I reply, not moving anything other than my lips.

  He groans again, but peels his hands from his eyes and leans up on his elbows. His whole body goes rigid with fear. I don’t blame him. If a wild beast was licking my foot I’m sure I’d have the same stunned look on my face.

  Although really, the beast is kind of cute. Long gangly limbs, big furry ears, and the deepest brown eyes I’ve ever seen. A random pattern of white dots run down its brown back and onto its swishing tail. No doubt sensing Robin’s fear, the animal looks up, right into his eyes. The two of them stare at each other for what feels like a really long time. Then the creature takes a step closer to Robin, bends his head down, and nuzzles Robin’s hand. I can’t take it anymore — I melt. “He likes you! You’ve made a friend!”

  Robin slowly moves his hand away from the animal’s nose. I guess he might not want an animal friend. But instead of pulling his hand back under his cloak, he reaches above the animal’s head and pets it! This goes on for so long that my stomach begins to grumble. It’s been a very long time since my last full meal.

  “Um, sorry to break up the start of a lovely friendship between you and the beast of the jungle, but we should find something to eat. And I need to, um, you know.” My face reddens.

  “It’s a deer,” he says, his voice full of awe. “Pretty sure it’s a girl deer, and those dots means she’s still a baby.” He clears his throat. “And yeah, I need to ‘you know,’ too.”

  We slip on our boots while the animal called a deer watches calmly, nudging Robin’s legs. Robin stretches out his other hand toward me. “Ready?”

  I sprint past him and jump through the hole out into the tall, glorious grass. “Ready!”

  He laughs and jumps out after me. The deer hops down after him, then curls up at the base of our ship. We run around in the grass like fools. It’s scratchy on my legs, but I don’t mind. We toss soft leaves into the air and at each other, and bend down to smell flowers growing wild on the bushes. Real bushes, not ones made of foam. Robin’s teeth are still chattering in the early morning chill, and his eyes are still watering from the sun, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Look!” he shouts, pointing up in the air. “Birds!”

  My head flies back so fast I’ve likely done serious damage to my neck. I wait a few seconds for the medi-bots to go to work, but when the discomfort doesn’t subside, I decide that Robin is correct about there being no technology on this planet, or at least no medi-bots, which means if I get hurt, I have to heal the old-fashioned way. And no electricity also means no tracking grid! I’ll gladly put up with a sore neck for the freedom now afforded me!

  I turn in circles, staring up at the sky until I spot them myself. Birds! Three flying creatures swoop over our heads, wings flapping as they dart from branch to branch. Robin and I meet each other’s eyes and whoop as we run underneath them, flapping our arms. I don’t think I’ve ever had so much fun. Our deer looks up at us lazily, then seems to shrug as she rests her head again. Guess birds are nothing new to her.

  I finally tear my eyes away from their flight in time to see Robin yank a tiny blue ball from a bush. Before I can stop him, he pops it in his mouth. I hold my breath, afraid he’s going to keel over dead from eating something poisonous. But his face splits into one of his big, lopsided grins. He pulls more off the bush and runs over, holding his cupped hands up to my face. “You have to try this!”

  Between his excitement and my grumbling stomach, I can’t refuse. I take one in my hand, and immediately li
quid squishes out all over my fingers as the tiny ball flattens. Robin laughs and hands me another one. “Gentle.”

  I try again, this time getting the ball all the way onto my tongue before breaking it open. Now it’s my turn to grin with delight. No doubt little pieces of blue skin are caught in my teeth. Mother would definitely scold me for doing something so unladylike. Never did I guess that food could taste like this. Food that grows from a PLANT. In the DIRT. I swallow and hold out my hand. “More, please.”

  We run from bush to bush, pulling them off and tossing them into our mouths. Robin feeds some to our new friend, too. I can’t help noticing how gentle he is with the deer. It makes me like him even more. Unable to wait any longer, we head in opposite directions and duck behind the biggest trees we can find.

  I now have a new appreciation for my bathroom at home.

  I’m heading back toward the yummy bushes when my foot lands on something hard and flat. I push aside some fallen leaves and dig my fingers into the dirt (SUCH a nice feeling!) until I’ve revealed something I never thought I’d see again. “Hooray!” I shout, holding up my (Ivy’s) suitcase! It’s dented and banged up, but the lock still holds. A quick shake lets me know my headpiece and clothes are still in there. I sit back on my heels, grateful and relieved.

  We spend the next hour or so covering the area in a circle around the ship, never letting it — or each other — out of our sights. Just because our baby deer is friendly, we’re not taking any chances on the others. Not too far from the ship, we find a small stream and greedily cup our hands and drink. It’s crisp and refreshing and tastes a little sharp, not anything like the bland, overprocessed “water” we get at home. There must be metal still in this planet’s soil!

  Our widening search reveals a few more of our lost items: one silver dagger, the small golden statue I’d seen on the holo-screen, another even smaller marble statue of what I now know is a bird, and a thin gold chain with a single white ball dangling from it. Robin says the ball is a pearl and that it grew under the sea. He knows a lot more words for things in nature than I do for someone who grew up in a completely artificial environment. Much to our delight, Robin pulls his funny hat with the feather out of the mud (that’s what he calls the mixture of water and earth). It’s all squished and dirty, but a few dips in the stream and it’s as good as new. Except wet. He lays it out in the sun to dry, right next to the deer.

  “I think we should give her a name,” he says, patting the deer on the top of her head. “Like Nosey. Or Spots.”

  I laugh. “Those are names?”

  He crosses his arms dramatically. “You’ve got better ones?”

  I think for a minute. I’ve never named anything in my life, but I want to try. “How about naming her after your home?” I suggest. “We could call her Delta Deer, or Deedee for short.”

  He relaxes his stance. “Yeah, that’s pretty good.” Turning to the animal, he says, “So, Deedee, are you the only ground-dwelling creature on this planet of yours, or are there others?”

  “Like bunnies,” I add.

  As though in response to Robin’s question, Deedee’s ears shoot up. She bolts off down the length of the stream, faster than I’d have guessed those skinny legs could go. Robin and I look at each other. “Was it something I said?” Robin asks.

  I giggle (apparently I’ve become the kind of girl who giggles) and joke, “Maybe she doesn’t like her name. Maybe yours are better.” As we run after her, I call out, “How about Miss Nosey Spots? Or, wait — Princess Nosey Spots?” Now we’re both giggling as we run. I think all this actual fresh air filled with real plant-generated oxygen is making both of us a little loopy, but in a good way.

  Deedee doubles back, and when she finally stops, her ears stand straight up, and she paws at the ground nervously. She’s standing only a few feet away from the base of the tree where we’d left the few possessions that had survived the crash.

  And she’s not alone.

  “I don’t think they’ve spotted us,” I whisper. I flip up the hood of my cloak and gesture for Marian to do the same. She’s frozen in place, her left foot hovering in the air. I quickly count five men of varying ages on the other side of the stream. Two have long brown hair, one is yellow-haired like Marian, and two are quite short and totally bald. I peg those two as brothers.

  Marian silently lowers her foot onto the grass and whispers, “Maybe we should just ask them for help. People mean towns, and towns mean places to eat, and maybe even someone to fix our ship.”

  “Yes,” I whisper back without taking my eyes from them, “but they might not be the friendly type. They look a little rough-and-tumble, if you know what I mean.”

  The group is close enough now for their words to float over to us. “The sheriff’s prize is mine this year,” one of the bald men brags. “No one else can come close to me with a bow and arrow.”

  “Is that so?” another man growls. “I’ll beat ya with my eyes closed.”

  A bow and arrow?

  I risk a peek under the hood of my cloak to see who’s speaking.

  The first man jabs his finger into the other’s chest. “That purse of silver coins is mine.”

  Deedee chooses this moment to try to cross the stream. Her hoof slips on a rock, and Marian and I cringe as a few of the men turn at the resulting splash.

  “Look,” the yellow-haired man shouts. He looks younger than the others by ten years or so. “It’s one of the sheriff’s deer! How’d it get all the way out here?”

  The older man slaps him on the arm. “Why are you always asking dumb questions? It walked, that’s how.” The first pair is now rolling around on the ground, still arguing over who is better at archery. Watching them is making me miss Will and our wrestling matches.

  “Let’s go,” Marian whispers. “We can’t let them find the ship. They’ll just fight over it.”

  We’re only a few feet away from our belongings. In unspoken agreement, we slowly inch toward them, careful to avoid any twigs or crunchy leaves. I stuff my still-damp hat and the small statues in my cloak pocket and slip the dagger in my belt. I hand Marian the new gold chain. She tries to push it back in my hand, but I shake my head at her. It’s best if we divide up the valuables. She opens her suitcase a crack and drops it in.

  I glance behind us to see if the coast is clear. That’s a mistake. Deedee catches my eye and makes a bleating sound. This time she bounds across the stream without slipping and heads right toward us! She must have liked the berries I gave her. Berries! That’s what those blue balls are called.

  “Shoo,” I whisper, waving my hand for her to go back in the opposite direction. But Deedee only looks at me, sniffing the air. “Please, go away.” Deedee actually takes a step backward, but it’s too late. The men have stopped tumbling and shouting and have all turned to look in our direction. Two of the men reach for the swords at their sides.

  “Hark!” one of them barks, drawing his sword in one swift movement.

  “Who goes there?” the other adds, holding his hand above his brow to block the sun. “Who is hiding yonder beneath that hood?” I instinctively step in front of Marian. She immediately steps back beside me. Stubborn. At least she’s doing a good job of hiding her suitcase behind her.

  The man steps forward menacingly. “I ask one last time. Loosen your tongues or I will loosen them for you.”

  Now that doesn’t sound like fun.

  “We mean you no harm,” Marian calls out.

  The men stop and stare, no doubt as entranced as I was when I first heard her speak. Then all of them except the yellow-haired man begin to laugh. “You? Mean us harm? Haha haha.”

  Marian frowns.

  The man wielding the sword takes another step closer, looking only at me this time. “What is your name? Who do you work for?”

  I clear my throat and announce loudly, “I am Robin.” Then, when that doesn’t sound impressive enough, I lift my chin and add, “Robin of Locksley.”

  The men exchange l
ooks and shake their heads. “That’s not a name!” one of them shouts.

  “His name certainly is Robin,” Marian insists. “It’s Robin …” Her eyes dart all around us until her gaze lands on my face, then my cloak. “Hood. His name is Robin Hood.”

  I groan and whisper out of the corner of my mouth, “Really? Robin Hood? What kind of name is that?”

  She whispers back, “Be grateful you’re not Princess Nosey Spots.”

  Can’t argue with logic like that.

  The man with the sword appraises me. “I do not believe I’ve heard of you, Robin Hood of Locksley. Why are you trespassing in the sheriff’s woods? He doesn’t take kindly to strangers. And you’re mighty strange, with your green clothes and your skin pale like a ghost. Are you a ghost, kid?”

  I shake my head. “We’re only passing through,” I assure him. “We’ll be on our way now.” I take Marian’s arm and we begin walking as quickly as we can in the opposite direction of our ship. Deedee steps out of the shadow of the trees and trots along beside us.

  From out of nowhere, an arrow whizzes past my head and impales a tree trunk three feet ahead of me. Then another one, and another. Marian yelps. I whirl around to see if she’s hurt, heart pounding. She holds up her hands. “I’m fine,” she says in a high voice. “Just a close one.” Relieved, and then furious, I stomp toward the men, my dagger in my hand before I even realize I’ve pulled it out.

  “Robin!” Marian hisses. “Don’t!”

  But I can’t let it pass. I hadn’t noticed anyone had a quiver of arrows, but now that I’m closer I see the two men who were bragging earlier about winning the sheriff’s prize have them slung over their shoulders. If I weren’t so furious, I’d be eager to examine their equipment to see how similar it is to its virtual counterpart.