Bessy’s white muzzle shifted as she chewed on a bit of foliage, calm chocolate eyes indifferent to her audience. She flicked her ears a few times, stirring the mop of hair that fell over her forehead then dropped her head to root around for another rosehip.
“Little John?”
“Yes, Robin?”
“Is that cow wearing a woman’s cloak?”
“Yes. Yes, it is.”
Steeling herself for what was coming, Marian crept through the trees toward the clearing. She glanced through a parting in the trees, saw Robin furrow his brow, drum the fingers of his right arm over the swell of his left biceps. “And is that something humans are doing nowadays? Dressing their livestock?”
“I don’t believe so, Robin. Will?”
“Not that I’ve seen.” Will released his legs’ grip on the tree branch, flipping in the air and landing gracefully on his feet. He took a step toward the cow. “I believe this may be an anomaly.”
Bessy continued to ignore them, though she did keep one ear cautiously turned in their direction. Marian rolled her eyes. In all likelihood, Bessy’s concern didn’t reach beyond the possibility that one of these strangers may be after her rosehips. The bovine was truly the dumbest—sweetest—member of the herd. Shaking her head, Marian kept creeping around the clearing, toward the tree Will had just abandoned.
“This wouldn’t be the female you were expecting?”
Robin shot Little John a dirty look. “No.”
“Could it be some sort of glamour?” Will asked.
Robin carefully trailed a finger over the animal’s hide. Bessy flicked her tail, but accepted his inspection with good humor. Marian took a deep breath, held it, and crept around the circle of trees. Bessy was doing her part with the distraction. Now it was up to her to make use of it.
“This is no glamour.”
No kidding. She pressed her body against the trunk of the ash, listening carefully, visualizing their positions in her mind.
“Are you sure?” Little John asked doubtfully.
“There is no one better at glamour than I am,” Robin snapped. “I’m telling you, this is just a cow!”
“Then what is it doing here, dressed in a woman’s cloak?” Little John snapped back.
“How should I know? Maybe it’s cold.”
“Maybe it’s a pet?” Will suggested.
Marian lifted the crossbow, checking that the three arrows she’d loaded were straight and ready. Then she blew out a breath, counted to three, and swung her body around the tree, keeping the trunk at her back. “Maybe it’s a diversion.”#p#分页标题#e#
As one, Robin and his companions whirled around. Marian kept the crossbow trained on the sidhe, holding the other two in her peripheral vision. The knave in green had the nerve to wink at her, a grin sliding over his handsome face as he ignored her weapon and dragged his gaze down her body from head to toe. A flash of Guy’s leering face flickered through her mind and she gritted her teeth, caressing the trigger of the crossbow.
Before she could open her mouth to say anything, Little John’s eyes brightened from brown to amber. His skin grew fuzzy and his face bulged outward, lips turning black and curling up to reveal teeth much longer than they’d been a moment before. Marian’s eyes widened as claws as thick as her thumb sprouted from his fingertips and a wave of shaggy copper-brown fur flooded over his body. Muscles swelled, bones popped, and clothing tore. In what felt like the blink of an eye, she found herself looking at a full-sized grizzly bear.
A medved.
The urge to turn the crossbow to the medved was almost overwhelming, but Marian clenched her teeth and kept it locked firmly on Robin. He was the ringleader, the sidhe. He was the one to watch.
“Hello, pretty girl.”
Will’s voice was a lilting, high-pitched jeer, the sound grating on Marian’s nerves. She didn’t take the bait, resolutely kept her aim on Robin, witnessing a second metamorphosis from the corner of her eye. The scrawny lad of a moment ago was growing, muscles thickening, chest heaving as it doubled in width, tripled, quadrupled. The clothes that had hung so pathetically from his frame before were now strained, threads groaning with the slightest movement. Black eyes peered at her from a face much larger than it had been before, the mouth full of teeth sharper than any human’s.
A spriggan.
“You’re early.”
Robin’s casual voice seemed at odds with his companions’ new threatening visages. He took a step forward, his gait casual, unconcerned, and held out his arms. “Welcome to Sherwood. My little home away from home. Might I take your cloak? Will, do start a fire, won’t you? It’s getting dark and we need a little more light so that I can properly—”