Maria pushed her way through the thickening forest, branches snagging on her dress and ripping ribbons from her hair. She had to get away. Maria had no idea where she was, nor which direction she had to go in order to find the Moonacre Manor, but as she forced her way through the bracken, she trusted her feet to carry her to safety.

Her fall from the de Noir castle walls had spotted her legs with purpling bruises and Maria could feel her shoes biting into the arches of her feet. Slowing her pace, she came to a stop beneath a gnarled tree trunk and rested her head upon its softened moss. She considered ripping apart the bottom of her petticoat in order to create some form of bandaging for the cuts across her arms, but thought better of it. Even the stemming of blood at a time such as this was not enough to face the wrath of Miss Heliotrope.

Maria stretched out her aching legs and sighed. Her breathing was still laboured and she hadn't the strength to continue running quite yet. But then, all of a sudden, there came the sound of heavy leather boots mangling twigs and branches. Maria barely had enough time to drive behind an overgrown honeysuckle bush before two figures, both clad in black, appeared within the clearing. Maria's chest heaved, but she didn't make a sound, even as she lifted her head and saw the telltale hat of Robin de Noir. She couldn't help but quiver slightly at the sight of him, and a breathless gasp escaped when he turned, abruptly, to scrutinise the honeysuckle. She could have sworn that their eyes met for the briefest of moments, his bird-like black gaze piercing through her, eyes dancing with mischief, dragging her in. But Robin turned around slowly, considering the rest of the clearing before striding over to his companion.

"Check to the east, closer to the stream," he muttered, "the little witch can't have gotten far."

Robin's friend jerked a nod and, vaulting an ashen rock, headed up an overgrown slope away from the clearing. Maria heard a shuffling of leaves and the crackling of twigs, but couldn't catch a glimpse of Robin anywhere. She knew better that to risk moving around to gain a better vantage point, but the eerie silence that had fallen across the forest made her near desperate for escape.

A chuckle echoed from within the trees. "Come out, come out, wherever you are, Princess." Robin's detached voice reverberated darkly. "If you give yourself up now, I promise I won't punish you... too severely."

Maria shivered, realising that even if she did stay where she was hiding, her spot would be found in an instant. But she had no way of escape, for Robin was larger and stronger than she, and he knew the forest like the back of his hand. But perhaps if she were to reach the opposite side of the clearing? If she made a dash for it, she could use her petite stature to her advantage and disappear into the thicket before Robin had a chance to find her. Feeling powerless to the situation, she knew she had no other choice. She fisted her fingers and tensed her legs, before sprinting toward the leafy shrubs.

She made it half way across the muddy earth before Robin dropped nimbly from his hiding perch upon a branch above. His strong arms easily encircled her waist and he pulled her back into his chest, easily subduing her kicking limbs.

"Let me go, you oaf!" cried Maria, wildly trying to escape his tightening grasp.

"Not likely, Princess," Robin chuckled in her ear, hot breath tickling her neck and mingling with her panting gasps.

With a sudden jolt, Robin spun Maria around and pinned her to the trunk of a tree, immobilising her arms with his firm fingers. A smirk was forming on his lips.

"Well, well, well," he chuckled. "I must say, I admire your optimism, thinking you could outrun me."

Maria scowled up at him. If looks could kill, it seemed Robin de Noir would already be fifty feet under the ground. His smile simply grew larger.

Maria felt like one of Robin's rabbit prey within the forest, though at least they had the dignity of death. She shuddered to think of returning to the damp and barren cell beneath the de Noir castle. Yet Robin had made no move to capture her, his eyes fixated upon hers, head bent down so that their faces were mere inches apart. 

"Aren't you going to take me back then?" Maria hissed.

"Hmmm," murmured Robin, his deep voice seeming to silence every other sound in the forest. "I thought I would take the time to at least examine my catch, and didn't I say that I would punish you?"

"What are you intending to do, you brute?" Maria tried to keep her voice steady, but she felt flimsy within Robin's grasp. Her heart was beating at a pace she didn't think humanly possible, and Robin's neck feathers were tickling a path across her collar bone.

Robin looked down at the girl before him. He knew he should take her immediately back up to the castle, but he couldn't seem to stand the thought of returning her to his ruthless father. She tilted her chin and his gaze met her own. He found himself entranced by her adamant glare and determined countenance. Surely she was a witch, for he seemed utterly enraptured by her entire being.

Without a thought to the de Noirs, the Merryweathers, or any aspect of Moonacre at all, he leant his forehead down to rest against Maria's. His calloused fingers came up to stroke across her cheek, removing a fleck of mud that must have caught upon her face. He brushed his hand through her long red hair, now unwoven and silken without the ribbons to hold it in place. She held her breath, unable to comprehend the situation as her heart sped impossibly faster.

"Maria," came his husky murmur.

"Robin," she gasped back, frozen as she felt the leather of his jacket brush across her bare arms and the curls of his hair fall around her cheeks.

Their lips met, unexpectedly and perfectly. Maria was surprised to find that Robin's lips were not calloused and rough, as his hands were, but rather soft and smooth, immutably gentle upon her own. Without thinking, she brought her fingers up to his shoulders, steadying her frame upon his wide chest. Robin's arms circled around her once again, but this time, it was without aggression and he tugged tenderly at her waist, pulling her figure closer to his and denying any space between their bodies. She felt his tongue lick softly across her lower lip and gasped soundlessly. With her lips open, Robin traced his tongue through her mouth, tasting her sweet breath and desperately tightening his grasp.

A raven cawed from a nearby branch and the pair broke apart, breathless and quivering. Their gaze met again, but all traces of violence were gone, replaced with an inexplicable affection. Time seemed to take on a futile role, and moments passed like years.

"Princess, you've got to... you've got to leave," said Robin, his voice pitched low and restricted.

"Robin, what..." Maria breathed, speaking no louder than that of a whisper.

There was a whinny of a horse in the distance and, all at once, time seemed to regain its senses. Robin's head snapped to the sound. He knew that some form of a choice existed, but his decision seemed unquestionable. He grabbed Maria's hand and pulled her roughly through the undergrowth, heading toward the Moonacre Manor.

They were not far from the edge of the forest and Robin could make out the dark and formidable shadow of the Merryweather's demon hound. It seemed that there was no going back now, and he turned to the girl at his side. Their eyes met and his pulse quickened as he felt her soft fingers resting at his wrist. It had all gone to hell now anyway, and he leant down, placing his lips upon her forehead and giving her the sweetest kiss he could offer.

"You'll be safe with Wrolf," he said, furtively glancing at the shadow of the dog. "He'll take you home."

Maria stared up at the boy, as equally shocked and mesmerised by him as he was of her. "Thank you, Robin de Noir," she said, squeezing his palm as she inched out of the forest, keeping her eyes upon his.

"I'll capture you next time, Maria Merryweather," he called, a smirk reforming on his lips.

Wrolf caught sight of his beloved Maria and raced toward the trees, diving with a yelp into her arms. When Maria looked back at the forest, Robin had melted into the shadows. A strange absence hollowed her chest as she gazed into the darkness.

Wrolf whined and nuzzled at her shoulder, and looking down, Maria found a feather caught in her hair. She untangled it by the light of the moon, before bringing it up to her lips. She couldn't suppress a smile as she was guided by the wolf back toward home.

Robin gazed after her, perched within a spruce tree that lined the edge of the forest. The corners of his lips turned up further and his face broke into a grin. He did not quite understand his feelings, and knew that there was trouble ahead, but sensed, undoubtedly, that this was the beginning of something magical.

❧

Thanks for reading!

Please note: This fiction was based on 'The Little White Horse' which was written by Elizabeth Gouge and published in 1946. I highly recommend that you give it a read if you haven't already!