30. Robin Hood

CHAPTER 30

ROBIN HOOD

L ife has become. . . strange.

Before Jill came along, it was just me and my dog, a simple life of whittling wood into little characters and finding food. Now, my small cabin feels more homey. Jill has added some items, some color. She chose soft shades of burgundy, making everything more comfortable than I've ever felt. If I didn't love her, I'd almost revolt against it. Robin Hood isn't supposed to be soft and colorful. I'm stoic and gruff, kind yet hard. Nothing could have prepared me for Jill Morris and her soft side. Even now, she stands in the kitchen wearing an apron with hearts all over it, kneading dough for bread. She's apparently never been able to just exist as she wants to, so I won't ever complain. Besides, she makes the best bread. I don't know how she magically knows how to cook.

"Sherwood is coming," she announces with her back turned to me.

Another thing I have to get used to. There are no secrets here. Whatever I may be about to do, Jill likely already knows it, just as she knows Sherwood is about to walk through the door. Her powers have gotten more focused, more precise, but still she can't see further than a few days ahead in her timeline. It's a useful skill, but one that took some getting used to. Especially when she'd be made at me a day before I actually did the thing that made her mad.

Sure enough, Sherwood comes strutting inside the cabin a few seconds later, his eyes bright and exactly the same as when he was a dog. It's strange to look at this man in the same way I used to look at my dog. He's still my companion, and I consider him my best friend, but there are things I told Sherwood as a dog I might have never told the man. Part of me feels a little hurt that he didn't tell me until he was in the Underworld, but another part of me understands.

There's something truly strange about Sherwood.

Besides the fact that he can transform into a dog, of course. There's a magic that pours out of him that neither Jill nor I can figure out. He won't tell us what exactly he is. He won't tell us what he's capable of doing. He won't even tell us his real name. He insists it's not important.

But it feels pretty damn important.

"Hello, Family," Sherwood says brightly. "Dad, I brought some new clothes I bought off a merchant. I think they'll fit you."

"Don't call me dad," I grumble. "It's weird."

"But you were my fur dad," he points out. "I called you dad then. You just didn't hear me."

I grimace. "It's still weird."

"Mom doesn't mind, do you, Mom?" he asks Jill, grinning.

Jill snorts. "Sure. Call me whatever you want, Sherwood."

"See!" Sherwood says brightly. "I've never had a mom and dad. This feels nice."

My heart softens just a little and I grumble at him. "Fine," I relent.

"Thanks, Dad!" he says and tosses me clothing. Surprisingly, it's exactly in my preferred style and sizing. "Now, I have something else to discuss."

Jill turns from her spot at the counter and waits, probably already knowing what's happening. I'm tired of being the only one who doesn't know, but it's something that can't be helped. I've never felt more out of the loop than I do with Sherwood and Jill. Part of me yearns for that simple life when Sherwood was just a dog I'd rescued, and I could just carve little creatures. That life is gone now, and while I enjoy my current one, it's not quite what I had in mind for retirement. After all, this is just temporary.

More is coming. We're only playing house right now, but the worlds are in danger and we're going to have to leave this house again. Besides Sherwood owing a favor to Hades, the Enchanted Forest is still suffering from the black rot. The Followers of the Crimson Merge may be splintered right now, but they're still very much a threat. The piper has been defeated, but something tells me we haven't seen the last of him. Things are not as they should be in the Enchanted Forest, and we'll be forced to face whatever threat comes. I can't ignore it as much as I'd like to.

Sherwood sighs and puts his hands on his thighs. "I may have made a mistake."

"What kind of mistake?" Jill asks, and it's refreshing to know she's as blind to this as I am.

Sherwood winces. "Don't be mad, but I may have started a chain reaction over a thousand years ago and it's just now coming to fruition." He claps his hands together. "Phew! I'm glad that's over. Oh! Are you making raisin bread? That's my favorite!"

I stare at Sherwood. "What exact chain reaction are we talking about?"

"Oh, you know, the kind that could end the worlds as we know it if we don't do something about it," Sherwood shrugs. "The usual kind." He claps me on the shoulder. "Thanks for listening, Dad. I'm so glad I have a father who I can talk to."

And then he wanders over to the pantry and opens it, looking for food. I blink and meet Jill's eyes to see her equally as dumbfounded as I am.

She sighs and dusts her hands off. "Well, I suppose I should at least finish the bread before we address what new threat we're dealing with, yeah?" she asks me.

I run my hand down my face. "Sure. Finish the bread. Then save the world. Seems smart."

"Can't save the worlds on an empty stomach!" Sherwood says brightly as he turns back around. His face softens. "I love you two."

And just like that, any anger I might have felt dissipates.

It may be strange, but it's ours.

Our little family.

Maybe retirement was a silly idea anyways.

With a smile, I clap Sherwood on his own shoulder and drag him over to the counter so we can both help Jill finish her bread.