*A long time ago*

'We come here today to mourn the loss of our Beloved King Aaric. He was a just and loved king. He will be deeply missed by all of us, but now we must look to our new King, just as we looked to our dearly departed King Aaric. Prince Ivan will now say some words for his lost father.'

The priest stepped aside as Ivan stood tall and gave his best grief stricken face, a few small tears trickled down his young, handsome, sullen face.
He spoke with a low voice the scripted speech of sorrow he had rehearsed for his father.

The crowd watched in silence as they mourned for their Kings death, all despising this man who stood in front of them.
No one bought his act, they all knew he was always just waiting for his father to die, some even said he poisoned him. He was a ruthless man that everyone feared.

*****

A few decades later, the country was in turmoil, under the rule of the new King, there were daily raids of the villages while King Ivan sat smugly on his throne enjoying the goods that the stolen money of his country had bought him.
The population had decreased drastically after public executions were nearly daily and little to no family's had enough to eat.
The oppressors were everywhere, 'restoring order', making sure the people followed in order the will of King Ivan. They did everything to the will of the king, right or left, they obeyed, even if it meant taking the life of an innocent because if they didn't, well... lets just day it wouldn't be pretty.
The villagers were dead terrified of the oppressors and would at all costs avoid contact with them because if anything they did looked even the slightest bit astray the will of Ivan, all hell would break loose.
Many people would be sent to the 'dungeon' for even
being within the 5 mile vicinity of the palace. The dungeon was Ivan's idea of justice, it was a series of small cells in an underground compound where the prisoners would be kept with little to no food for as long as they had been sentenced for. No one dared to stand up to the authorities.

*****

Princess Maxine looked at herself in the mirror, the 13 year old had a soft boyish face and was head to toe covered in freckles.
Nothing about her was very feminine except her hair, which was long, wavy and a deep red colour that stood out like a sore thumb as it floated effortlessly around her small torso. Her maid always kept it in a braid wrapped around her head like a crown. Her nose was small and slightly curved and her lips were noticeably thin but her eyes were her most attractive feature, they were piercing blue, almost purple and stood out against her red locks.

She took all this in knowing she could never go back, Maxine knew she had to escape, her father was already talking of her being next in line for the throne, she was the only child and she knew her father wasn't happy about it and he would at all costs make sure she would become a ruthless leader like him.
He wanted to train her, to teach her but she didn't want to follow in her fathers footprints, he was a monster.
She didn't want to become like him, a cold hearted fraud, she needed to leave before it was to late. She looked down at her long satin gown knowing she could never wear one again if she went through with her plan.
Maxine looked at her long hair once more before taking out her knife and swiftly slicing it through her long locks. The hair fell to the floor as if it was in slow motions and a wave of sadness washed over her as she looked at herself.
She now had bob of short hair but she had to keep going. She cut until her hair was short all around, she could almost pass as a boy if she hid her face.
She smiled at the thought and got changed, she took out the clothes that she stole from one of her rich guards that looked relatively down to earth from her closet.
As she slid off her gown, she wrapped her chest with a linen strip and slipped on the itchy, colourless pants and shirt. She looked at her reflection one last time before placing a hat on her freshly cut hair and fleeing into the woods, leaving her old world behind with nothing other than her bow and arrow and some cash. Her name was no longer Maxine Doyle, she was Max Swan.

Max knew where to go, she had been there a few times with her maid. The road was simple, and the light outside was good, Max felt a fresh wave of nerves and excitement knowing how much her life was about to change.

She arrived at sundown, it was a town near the palace where many of the poor villagers lived. She knew her way around the forest where she had many a times explored and she had heard many stories from her servants about life in the towns.
She could cope, she was going to cope, she told herself. Max decided to turn to the forest, she knew she could climb, and a tree could keep her safe because no one could touch her up high. I anything came near her she would shoot it just like she practiced when she did archery with her father. She was a good shot, maybe not the best but she was good enough.

*****

A few years later, in the town was a young boy. Amos Baker was a boy of 16, he was a tall handsome boy, his skin was deeply tanned and his eyes were a royal green. He had short brown hair that curled in little ringlets all over his head and his hands were callused from the hard work of living alone.
Both his parents had died when the sherif came looking for his father and burned their house down.
Amos hated the King, he hated the unfairness, the cruelty and injustice. It needed to stop, but he was just a boy.
What could he do?
Amos decided that the problem was people were scared, too scared to do anything, he would give them courage, him and his friends.
Yes, that was it, he would form a group of boys who would stand up against the oppressors and the laws.
He needed to start somewhere so Amos decided to go find some of his friend and tell them his plan. He would train them to fight back, just like his father did, he would train them to steal, just like the oppressors did.

Amos gathered some boys, an odd bunch who bonded together like brothers, a range of skills all for the one purpose, justice. John, Rowan, Tybalt, Roger, and Francis.

Tybalt was the youngest of the 6, he was just 15. Tybalt was a small brunette boy with hazel eyes that bore right into your soul.
He might have looked like an innocent but the boy was a little demon, he was quick with a knife and skilled with a sword, he could fight his way out of anything and would win.
His family had died from starvation after they sold him to a rich man because he was 'one too many mouths to feed.' This was probably the reason he was so closed up after he ran away.

Francis was the second youngest after Tybalt at the age of 15. He was a nerdy boy and looked it. Francis was stick thin and had short, curly, sandy blonde hair. He was a genius and proud of it.
He lived with his brother who was a lot older than him and never had any parents.
He was one of the few kids who had the chance to go to a school in the upperclass village since he was so smart.

John was the third youngest at 16. He was short and stocky but never fought, he was a bakers son and was well fed. He had rich black hair that covered his eyes and was almost always found wearing an apron.
He still lives with his parents but promised to provide for the boys and make sure they had enough to eat.
John was a loyal friend of Amos' since childhood.

Next was Rowan, the second oldest at 17, he was a tall dark skinned boy with deep black hair and eyes. His hair was longer than most, it could almost be considered a bob cut.
He was a skilled archer and never missed, he had a powerful presence but seemed to be very quiet and never really wanted attention.
His mother had died during child birth so he was left with his alcoholic father to fend for himself.

Roger was the oldest of the bunch at 18, he was a pale blonde boy with eyes so light, they looked grey. His body was tall and muscular making him look intimidating even though he was just as rough as a teddy bear.
He was a born leader and played the role of a father to the boys.
Roger was Amos' closest friend despite the age difference, they had been introduced the night of the fire. Roger has been Amos' neighbour and their fathers had conspired together resulting in the burning down of the houses, they had known each other before but it was the fire that brought the two survivors together and that was a bond that could never be broken.

They looked like a mix bag of different people but they all united as one, they decided on a spot to camp out in the woods, built a hut and brought in supplies that they would need.
This would be their home for the coming years and this would be their family, the were the 'Foresters' and they would rule the forest.

*****

A year later, the boys were on their way to Johns place to discus their next move. They made their way across the town getting admiring looks from everyone the passed. The market they would normally pass through was very busy that day, there were people bustling about everywhere, doing their trades, buying, selling and having a jolly time.
They took all the alleyways and hidden pathways to avoid contact with the authorities and to get some piece and quiet. They only passed a few old couples, one or two young men and women on their way to the markets and a young red head boy similar age them so it was safe to say they avoided much contact.
Amos lead the boys on till they made it to the lodge. It was situated at the back of the village near a stream where John and his older brothers went fishing occasionally. John invited them into his home and into the lounge room, they got comfy and started discussing plans.
Johns father had been taken prisoner in the dungeon along with some of the other rebels, they were to he held there for a week before the execution. Amos reaches for his plans in his pouch strapped around his waist, he felt around to find that his his bag was not there.
Had he forgotten to bring his stuff? No, he was sure that he had packed, he had brought his his pouch packed with his map with his plan notes, money and his knife but it was all gone.
He asked Rowan who was a very organised and observant fellow but fell to the same conclusion. The only people they had passed on the way vaguely capable of this theft was that young red haired boy.
That red haired boy, he knew there was something a bit off about him. Amos cursed while the others looked down nervously.

A.N
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