Rowan Ghost ch. 1It had been three years since then, and not much had changed in the lives of Robin of the Hood and his crew. The only change happened near the end of Wills third year with the men. They say the forest of Sherwood was haunted during those dark days. They say a dark spirit entered the trees; many people seeing it flee from the castle in the dark of night. None knew what it was, for it seemed to fly over the ground, too fast for any normal person. They began calling it the Rowan Ghost for the day after the sighting, a single blurred footprint was found among a grove of rowan trees. Nothing had been seen or heard since. Except the occasional time when a farmer would awake to his chickens clucking angrily at the thievery of their eggs. The village folk knew this ghost was not in league with the outlaw Robin Hood, for they had warned him about it and he knew nothing of the creature, but promised to keep his eye alert. The sheriff living in Nottingham sent a party of soldier
the Rowan Ghost Prologue Hunger was in the air that day. Not the kind that is easy to detect, but if one was trying hard enough, you could just barely smell it. If you stopped and listened to the inner forest, you could hear it in the wind. Yes, the world around those woods was filled with hunger, but deep in the dark recesses of the trees, far back where no horse could go nor man could track easily, there was what the starving people feared more than the one who made them so; The ghosts of the forest. No one knew what began the rumor, many years ago, but none were brave enough to challenge the stories.
These tales were forgotten, however, by a wretched figure that entered the sanctuary of the trees. Dressed in miss-matched rags and carrying a large potato sack, the person stumbled through the brush, looking around wildly, expecting to be followed by the armed soldiers that pulled up their horses at the tree line.
Come out, coward! And feel my blade!
NorsemenNorsemen were the most feared of all barbarians. They came from the north, south, east and west; they came quickly and without warning. They killed mercilessly and left few survivors if any; and if one had the bad fortune of being chosen to be taken captive, there was little chance of your return. This is what Dominic had been taught since childhood, he had never actually seen one of these barbarians, but the stories that came from distant villagers who had survived the raids were enough to scare anyone into the inlands of the kingdom.
In all his 15 years though, no story had worried him as much as the one that had come that day. It came from an old pig farmer from the coast; following him was a mountain of dark storm clouds, this worried Dominic as much as the story for this is how it went about:
They came around the head! the old man sobbed, the ships were under full sail and the canvasses had been dyed red! Blood red! I was on the hill crest with me son, an