“Well it’s against the king’s law to go hunting in the King’s Wood you know. And soon enough I could see torches all around me, as far as you can see, and people yelling and screaming and dogs barking. Well, anyone else would have probably gotten down on the ground and started crying, but not old Stutely. I’m too smart for all that. I knew they was looking for a big giant man, so they wouldn’t pay any attention to an animal. I broke some branches off a tree, and held them up like this.”

He put his fists on his head where he had placed his fake horns, and in his imagination he could still feel how big and heavy they were.

“I headed back the way I came, and they never found me none. Some of them came close, but all they saw was a stag and not me.”

Munday laughed. “I always love that part. I like the idea of you running through a forest with your fists on your head, pretending you’re a deer.”

“I was a stag,” Stutely corrected, “and they was horns not fists.” Munday had ruined the end of the story with his own stupidity. Stutely huffed. He had wasted his time on them. “The point is, I’m an outlaw more than this Robin Hood person is, so I don’t know why he’s got everyone so excited.”

“I don’t think that’s his name,” Munday muttered.

“Yes it is, I heard about him. His name’s Robin Hood and he’s a goat thief and a big ol’ liar, and if he shows up in Thorney trying to hand out stolen gold and food I’ll knock him on his ass and let him know what Stutely thinks of big ol’ liars, is what I’ll do.”

STUTELY WAS DREAMING OF beautiful women riding white bears when Robin Hood showed up in Thorney. Almost the whole village gathered around a strange wagon filled with crates and barrels. A great big giant man sat atop, calling them out to gather. Five or six others he didn’t recognize walked around the crowd, talking and laughing, pulling crates off the wagon and sharing its contents. More and more stories had come through Thorney lately, about Robin Hood and Will Scarlet and Little John, and now here they were.

“I don’t believe it,” Stutely said, pushing his way through the crowd to get closer to the cart, where a bald troll man greeted him. His teeth were crooked and his beard was pathetic, like the hair that grew on the tops of Stutely’s feet.

“Good afternoon, friends!” said the little troll, even though they’d never met.

Munday elbowed Stutely in the ribs, not enough to hurt. “I told you it was true!”