Robyn stretched the bowstring back. Her eyes focussed on the hay practice dummy and the red and white painted target. A large target on the chest and a smaller target on the head. She let loose the arrow and it burst through the air and struck home. She smiled and this followed a round of applause from eager trainees.

Here in this sparse forest, away from all the hustle and bustle of the city, she trained those who respected the forest for what it symbolises. Life.

When she stole from those who stole from the poor. She would give generously back to those affected by the cruel taxation burdening the honest farmers of the kingdom.

And it was when she took refuge from the law and bounty hunters, in this dense expanse of the forest of which she knew every nook and cranny, every stream and a every route; that she felt a maternal instinct in teaching and enabling her students to learn her ways. It was in her hopes that every rebel she taught to use a bow, to evade and chip away the corrupt barons.

That was her goal.

“Who wants to take the next shot?