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Robin, chapter 6
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That afternoon, Robin fulfilled her childhood dream of buying a pony.  In short order, she also purchased a cart and several barrels filled with liquor for her pet to pull.  Before the sun set, Robin and her acquisitions were well along a road Bucskin's men liked to patrol.

As Robin travelled, suspicious figures dressed in green began to filter out of the forest, falling in a ways behind the cart.  In all, there might have been a baker's dozen.  They tried their best to appear harmless, though none would mistake them for anything but bandits as they hungrily sized up the girl and her cargo.  When the robbers felt certain of their quarry, they unsheathed their daggers with a shout, and drew around the cart.  Robin let herself be surrounded before making a brief show of trying to run.

ROBIN-- Scurrilous thieves!  Scoundrels!  Scum!

LANCE-- [slipping away his dagger and stepping forth from among his cohorts; with an official air] Tut, tut, miss.  We're no thieves.  Not us.  We're royal inspectors here to protect young things like yourself from dangerous barrels like those.  [turning to another who's been checking the cart's contents]  Inspector Johnson?

JOHNSON-- As we feared, sir, they're loaded with booze.

LANCE-- Aha.  Drunken barrels.  A nasty business.

JOHNSON-- Very dangerous.

LANCE-- You're lucky we caught them in time, miss.  There's no telling what they might have done to you.

JOHNSON-- But we'll take care of 'em from here.

LANCE-- Sure enough.  There's just the small matter of payment.  Will that be in coin or kind?

ROBIN-- [holding out her staff] Do you accept staves?

LANCE-- [laughing with the rest of his band]  I suppose it's a start.  [regaining his officious tone; hand outstretched] Let me have it, then.

[with a slight tip of her hand and a short jab, Robin strikes Lance in the forehead, quickly following with an upswing to his groin; as Lance drops, Robin sweeps left at one foe's knee, then right at another's ankles, felling both; turning, she delivers a straight blow to the midsection of a fourth, knocking the wind out of him; before any others can get close, she sprints off, easily outdistancing her pursuit before disappearing into the forest]

LANCE-- [slowly regaining his feet; wincing]  Back, boys!  There'll be other girls.  [still smarting, he half gestures to the cart and pony]  These are prize enough for any day.

JOHNSON-- I always wanted a pony.

LANCE--  Yes. [stifling a grimace while attempting to smile] Tonight, we celebrate!

And so they did.
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