The fight was raging. Staff meeting staff, the solid thumps were nearly drowned out by the jeers of the spectators. The noble was good, athletic, and learned fast. But John had chosen the staffs, and so naturally that was where he excelled. The art of fighting staff style lent itself to brute strength, and the 6'5 Goliath had plenty. Yet somehow the rich man was able to hold his own.

Until he plunged into the racing water, that is. Will cheered John on and laughed at the noble's futile efforts to get his medallion. The noble finally had been taught his lesson.

But evidently he hadn't learned it. The rich man swung at John once more with his staff, and the fight picked up again. The two duelers were heading downstream. Will hurried to a better vantage point. He wasn't going to miss the chance to see a noble get his thick skull smashed in a couple of inches. Or feet, Will thought as the noble plummeted down and disappeared into the river. The 18-year-old gave John a mock salute, when in the middle of John's lengthy victory speech, the noble's staff sent the outlaw tumbling into the swift- moving water.

Will frowned indisappointment as John yielded to the noble.. Yet even he managed to see the humor whenwhen the noble showed John that the water was 3-ft deep. But his amusement faded to the wind as the noble spoke his next words:

"I'm Robin of Locksley."

Blood rushed to his ears. All sound muted, drowned, all vision distorted, blinded, forgotten, all senses stripped until only blackness surrounded the edges of his eyesight. Every object in his field of vision disappeared, until the only thing surviving the murky void was the visage of the one man Will loathed more than any creature on God's green earth.

Robin of Locksley.

The journey back to camp was a haze for Will. His vision swam, he stumbled once, and would have fallen if not for a steady hand swiftly grabbing onto him.

"Easy there, friend."

He jerked himself out of the steady grip, and Will sidestepped to limit any additional contact. Locksley had already moved on himself, easily flowing back into the everlasting conversation provided by John.

As soon as they reached camp, Will flung himself into the lower lying branch of a nearby tree. He spoke never a word; he just listened in growing anger as Locksley recounted his woeful tale.

Finally the pretty boy ended his narrative, and started to ask about the outlaws. When he mentioned the ghosts stories the outlaws had perpetuated, Will couldn't help himself, quickly interjecting, "They've worked so far. Do you have a better idea?"

Locksley spoke quietly and calmly. "You can always fight back."

John loudly declared his disbelief. Will, however, remembered a fast-flying rumor about the Lord Locksley, and needing desperately to lash out at something, anything, he viciously spat, "What does a rich son of a devil worshipper care about a bunch of outlaw peasants—"

"My Lord was a kind and generous man. Who among you dare to believe—" Well, the old man had gotten riled up at least.

"My father was no devil worshipper, and I'll have words with any man who says otherwise." Locksley did not raise his voice, but there was a forceful note to them that proved to Will his words had stung the man. Good.

Locksley continued, "But he's right. I was a rich man's son. When I killed the sheriff's men, I became an outlaw… like you."

Pressure built up inside Will and a bitterness born of years of practice made him fling out into the night,. "You are nothing like us."

He actually stated it rather matter-of-factly, considering, as he walked strode away from the warm light of the fire and into the chilling darkness. Years of bottling his emotions and storing them far from any remote chance that they could get out kept most of the bitterness from appearing in his body or voice. He knew, that despite that, even the blind old man couldn't have missed the hatred that had seeped from him.

He had to leave this place. Now. He wasn't going to take stay another minute near that black-hearted liar. 'Like me,' rubbish! The furious strides whisked him farther from the camp that had been his home for almost a year now. There was no way. No way was he going to stay in the same forest as the man that had deliberately set out to crush any smidgeon of hopethat he could have a normal life. The strides increased their pounding wrath. He couldn't believe that out of all the nobles in all of England, it had to be Robin of Locksley that came waltzing into Sherwood.

Well, more like tripping into Sherwood, Will thought with a smirk. But the smirk quickly disappeared under another flood of rage.

The nerve of that brat! He's been here for less than half a day, and already he's criticizing us! 'Fight back,' easy for the man who never had to work for…anything in his life! Will's hectic tempo quickened, he took three angry, long, hurtling strides, and then he—

Tripped.

Will swore under his breath, and kicked the protruding rock that had impeded his path. He swore again, kicked, swore louder, and still louder. With the last curse came a mighty kick that sent the rock satisfactorily sailing into the air, and several dirt clods along with it.

The ferociously expelled energy winded Will. Gasping, he leaned against a tree, and slid tiredly to the ground. He stayed that way for several minutes, panting for every breath, and as he remained still, Will's undeniably very aggressive side managed to turn his reasoning (and destination) around.

Will had never been a very gracious loser, and even the very thought was a loathsome and vile act to the competitive spirit within him. He was definitely not going to let Robin of Locklsey beat him out of his friends and his home! Unlike Locksley, this was all the home Will had left. Locksley had already beaten him out of too many things in this life, and Will was determined that no more would he just watch it happen without so much as a hint of rebellion. He was going to fight Locksley for this forest. He was going to beat Locksley for his friends. Though that would take a little more skill., Will knew. As he had been walking away, Will had overheard John's description of him. 'Piss and Wind.' It had confirmed the always nagging thought that he had never really been able to fit in with the other outlaws completely.

And there was Locksley, a man more than three stations above all the others, fitting in as if he had been there all his life! Not any more. Not any more. Will was going to fight for it, and he was not going to lose.

Besides, Will snorted, it's not as though the rich brat would actually stay here. Once Locksley got a taste of what romping through the forests was really like, he wouldn't linger for long. It was a pleasant thought for Will in a day wrought with hatred and never-ending tension, and he was grateful for the reprieve as he turned and headed back towards camp. Locksley couldn't last a day in the harshness and brutality that was the Sherwood Forest. The rich boy didn't know how to. And the rich boy didn't have the courage to learn.

It was the most false thing Will Scarlett could have ever thought.

Hi, guys. This is the start of my first Robin Hood story, and so reviews will be greatly appreciated. Thanks for reading!