I Don't Think Like You Do

I occasionally glanced over at Will, smiling. It wasn't often that we went out to do a job, just the two of us.

"What?"

"Nothing," I replied, chuckling.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Is it our turn to catch dinner when we get back? Or is it one of the others?"

"Ask Robin when we return," he shrugged. I nodded simply.

"Alright."

We rode the rest of the way to Locksley, in silence. There was a loud, undying commotion sounding from the centre of the village. I demounted my mare quickly, drawing my sword. I unhooked the bags of food and started over the hill and down into the village. The sheriff's men were raiding the place again.

"Do you never give up?" I sighed dramatically, before slicing the blade of my weapon into the dumb-founded guard in front of me. He dropped swiftly, after releasing a tiny, blood-curdling cry. I smiled a little, victoriously. It made me feel proud to be an outlaw, if I was fighting against the evils of the country. I had changed a lot since working for... The thought made me shudder; made me feel sick to the pit of my stomach.

Will stood watching me, his arms folded over his chest, a smug smile etched over his lips.

"What?" I questioned, frowning.

"Oh, nothing. Just enjoying the view." He looked at me again before looking to the stiff guard at my feet. I kicked the corpse away, quirking an eyebrow at him.

"And there I was thinking you'd stand for morals rather than pleasure." I retorted, "With all your God-this God-that business." He narrowed his eyes, glaring at me.

"Shut up."

"Tsh, as if." I started towards the village square with the brown sacks once more, beginning to hand out the food contained in them. There's no life like an outlaw's life...