A twig snapped and Sideburns Stabbington's heart hammered in his ears as he drew his crossbow and spun in the direction of the sound in one smooth motion, his finger dancing on the trigger, ready to strike. It could be Flynn or the Royal Guard or—
A timid man in a bard's hat looked up the shaft of the arrow at Sideburns with eyes wide. He threw his hands up.
"Don't shoot!"
Sideburns holstered the bow.
"My apologies," Sideburns said to the bard. "I'm just a little jumpy lately."
"No, no, I understand," the stranger said, "What with all those outlaws about, I imagine we all are."
"Yes," Sideburns said, and he hoped the bard hadn't seen his face on any of the posters nailed to the trees "Those outlaws."
"Like that one guy..." the man said, "What's his name, Flan Rider?
"Flynn Ryder?"
"That's the one! It's as if every other tree is papered with his face. They never can seem to agree on the nose though..."
"Oh? I hadn't noticed."
"Well, I have a keen eye—keen ears too—especially when it comes to suspicious folk."
"Suspicious folk, you say?" Sideburns said. He did his best not to smirk.
"Anyway, that's why I'm in these woods, actually. For the bounty. Perhaps you might be willing to join in and we could split it. After all you got the jump on me and I can only imagine how useful your skill with the crossbow might be in hunting down a rogue like that shady Flynn character."
Sideburns smiled, knowing the bounties on his own and his brother's heads were each twice that of Flynn's.
"You know what," Sideburns said, "You make a tempting offer. Let me just consult my business partner, and we'll let you know."
"Oh yes, of course!" said the bard. "Is he near?"
"Hey Patches!" Sideburns yelled, and Patches Stabbington came running.
"Yes?" he said gruffly, and he indicated the bard, "Who's this?"
"A bounty hunter. He has a proposition for us."
"And that is?" Patches nearly growled as he gave Sideburns a look that said why are you talking to a bounty hunter?
"I have a lead on the notorious Flynn Ryder," the bard said, "And I could use some muscle to bring him in."
Sideburns smiled at his brother as if to say see?
"What do you think, Sideburns?" Patches said.
"I think we could use the money. And if it means we rid the greenwood of this scoundrel Flynn Ryder, all the better."
"That's the spirit!" said the bard.
Patches side-eyed the bard, but he agreed.
"Good!" said the bard, and he extended his hands to the brothers, "I'm Alan, by the way."
XXX
The three of them pitched camp in a clearing near where the Stabbingtons had lost track of Flynn Ryder. It had been days since they had lost Flynn, and they had combed through the woods for days without luck before stumbling across the bard Alan.
Alan pitched his tent next to the brothers' larger shared tent before sitting down with them by the fireside to explain he had a lead on the secret cave entrance to a hidden valley that was rumored to be located nearby, and that they would strike out in search of it in the morning. Alan, like the Stabbingtons, had already combed most of the forest and the nearby towns. Flynn had to have found the hidden valley.
When the fire had died down and the embers lost their glow, as Alan retired to his tent, Patches grabbed Sideburns' arm and pulled him aside.
"What were you thinking," he hissed in a harsh whisper. "You brought a bounty hunter to our camp."
"He doesn't recognize us."
"But what if he does? What if he wakes up tomorrow and sees our faces on a Wanted poster. We can't just sleep in a tent next to a bounty hunter."
"If that happens," Sideburns said, "We do away with him. And if it'll help you sleep, I can stand watch all night."
"We'll take rotating watches."
"That works for me."
XXX
Rapunzel lay in the shallows, bare before the pale moon as it cast its silver light over the supple curves of her body and glittered over the water's surface. Her long golden hair gently swirled around her as though she lay upon a horde of gold. The soft golden waves lapped against her pale skin, and fell over her curves into the crystal pool where it mingled and swayed with the cool, clear water.
She sang in the language of the sirens, her voice teasing the air with its sweet melodic tones. The long golden waves of her hair glowed and rippled, becoming lighter and brighter, floating, flowing, swaying. Her flowers responded to every note and pulsed with purple light, and the soft petals parted. Pollen floated out into the air, pink and shimmering, until the world glittered a pleasant shade of pink.
Rapunzel luxuriated in the sensations that swept over her. The scent of her was intoxicating even to herself, and now that the air was thick with her perfume a blissful, lust-tinged drowsiness slipped over her. She couldn't help but lay in a daze, mindlessly stroking her naked curves and letting pleasure tingle through every inch of her body, letting the golden waves flow over her, lapping against her breasts, pulling her deeper under her own spell.
Vines snaked out over the surface of the water. twisted around her ankle. In her lust-filled daze, Rapunzel barely registered until it had twisted halfway up her thigh, the flower at the tip pulling back its petals to expose the bright pink lips underneath, as plump and delicious-looking as her own.
Though she was a siren and had some resistance to the aphrodisiac effects of her own perfume, she was not immune, and in her delirious state she was tempted to let the flower have its way with her.
Another vine slinked around her chest from behind to cup her breasts. The leaves' soft touches elicited a small gasp from Rapunzel, and she pressed herself into the vine's caresses.
Remembering herself, Rapunzel managed to pull the flowers away before she could give in fully to their touches.
"Don't worry, babies," she cooed as she stroked their petals, careful not to let their lips near her own lest they latch themselves to her and leave her incapacitated in sensual hallucinations and erotic fantasies their nectar was known to induce. "You'll have something to eat soon enough."
She resumed her singing, her own voice echoing across the valley and washing over her again, and soon she was lost in a trance again. Pollen flowed from the flowers in her hair, and she nestled herself in the soft caress of her golden hair as it glowed with a hauntingly beautiful light that reflected and refracted off the cloud all around her until she was hypnotized by her own light. Her mind was caught up in her own spell, and her haunting song carried through the valley, flowing out over the mountains and into the misty cool of the greenwood.
XXX
Mouth dry and palms sweating, Alan-a-Dale pulled the Wanted posters from his pack. He had to be sure.
With a practiced eye the bard scanned the drawn faces. And there they were, staring back at him: Patches and Sideburns Stabbington, a princely sum on each of their heads, far more than was promised for Flynn Ryder.
Alan turned from the papers heart hammering. He'd been right. And now Alam knew that if either of the brothers so much as suspected he knew about the price on his head, it could all be over.
That's why it would be crucial for him to get his fear under control, to project an air of levity and calm—a task that should be easy for the son of a nobleman trained in courtly manners as he had been. And as a bard he had practiced presence—a necessary skill of his craft. Nevertheless, he couldn't help being nervous.
Still, the upper hand was his. He was sure the brothers would be wary of any traveler, as any seasoned outlaw would be, and they had no doubt managed to piece together he was a man of means considering he had offered to hire them as muscles. With any luck they would think he was soft, just the pampered son of a noble playing adventurer. They would underestimate him.
They had no way of knowing he had been a knight in his home country, that he was well-trained in formal combat, no way of knowing his cunning and prowess in roguery, that in fact he was one of the most wanted men in all of Knottingham.
No, he would use them to capture Flynn Ryder, and take the king and queen of Corona's reward for all three.
And why not? He and the Merry Men had always stolen from the rich to give to the poor. And if the rich just handed over the money willingly, all the better.
But if Alan were perfectly honest he had not come so far from his home just for charity. The Sheriff had stolen his family's farms under the pretense of "imminent domain". And what for? To let them go fallow and the townsfolk starve as retribution for their love of the infamous Robin Hood?
It had cost Alan everything. More than just the wealth of the land itself, he had been stripped of his title—Sir Alan of the Dale no more—just a common thief unable to marry his love, the Lady Ellen of House Clare.
And that is when he had turned to bounty hunting. Not in Knottingham, of course; Alan could never turn on the Merry Men. So he had set out for Corona and found out about the price on Flynn's head.
It would be more than enough to buy back his lands and pay off the Sheriff—after all, who could know the Sheriff of Knottingham was a Capitalist before all else like one of Robin Hood's Merry Men? The greedy wolf would happily take a bribe if it meant more to come in taxes he could skim to line his own pockets with. But with the addition of the Stabbingtons' bounty, Alan would have a nest egg for the Lady Ellen and himself in the years to come if anything should go awry.
Alan smiled to himself as he placed the posters back into his pack. He and his love would be married before next Spring. It was perfect.
He donned his red minstrel cap and whistled to himself as he stepped out of the tent. And that's when he heard the siren's song.
XXX
Patches wasn't aware he had dozed off until the song woke him. He had been on watch at the time. Now the night was broken by a feminine voice, soft as a sigh, and clear as crystal in the night air. There were no words, and the voice was hauntingly beautiful.
Sideburns stirred on the other end of the tent, rubbing his eyes.
"What's that sound?" he asked, groggily.
"I don't know," Patches said, "It's not our bard friend, I'm sure of that. Probably just a woman singing."
But he knew it had to be more. The song tugged at his heart strings in ways he couldn't explain. He felt drawn to the sound, as if sitting in the tent would be more effort than following the sound.
"But what's a woman doing singing in the middle of the night?" Sideburns said.
"I don't know," said Patches.
"That sound can't be human. It's too beautiful. It's too—" Sideburns's voice quivered, as if he was straining to resist its pull.
"You feel it too," said Patches.
"It must be a siren."
"Sirens live in the ocean, dimwit, not the forest. Even the closest lake is back near the castle, and that's the other way."
"There could be a lake in the forest," Sideburns said, and he stood, "Or a pond or a stream. Maybe the siren swam upstream."
"It's not a siren," Patches said. But even as he said it he could feel the song swirl through the air, curling around his mind.
"The Holda then?"
"The seductress of the forest?" Patches scoffed. Sideburns could barely see his brother's face in the dark, but he knew he was rolling his eyes. "That's just a legend."
"And so are sirens. But men have been disappearing lately. They just walk into the forest never to return."
"Does the Holda even sing in the legends?"
"I don't know," Sideburns said.
