Love is a silly thing. It is so wildly impractical. It is what leaves me here, in the forest, waiting for my beloved.
I prefer practicality. I want everything to make sense. And at times, I can almost make sense of loving Robin Hood. I can very nearly dismiss it, even.
Marry a Lord, they said. Well, Robin is a Knight, at least. Albeit an exiled one.
Marry a man with land, with houses and security, they tell me. Robin had those, once. If only King Richard would return, he would have them again.
Should I stop this foolishness? Perhaps if I were not being pressured so from every side, I could. I could bide my time. I could be free to choose as I please.
But, if I don’t make a way for myself, others will make the way for me. And the Sherriff is bound and determined to marry me off to that brute Guy so that he can have control of my inheritance.
I’ll marry Robin, if for no other reason than to keep myself from Guy and the Sherriff’s sticky grasp.
