storybroken | [event: flashback]

[James just grins at him, faintly but visibly smug as he sheaths his sword.]

We'll see, yes.

[Deftly he hooks the toe of his boot under Robin's blade and flicks it upward so he can catch it by the hilt, twirling it easily to offer it to Robin hilt-first. (No he's not showing off, shush.)]

[ Robin raises a brow, then takes the sword and steps away to retrieve his usual armaments. The bowman from earlier approaches cautiously and offers James his own bow and arrow. ]

Targets are set up over there. [ Robin nods toward the trunks now dabbles with notches denoting their point value across the way. ] Seeing as you're our guest, we'll let you go first.

[James gives the bowman a nod of acknowledgement as he accepts the equipment, pausing to pull on the quiver and familiarise himself with the bow. It's clear he's not unfamiliar with the weapon, even if it's not his chosen one. Then he takes a deep breath.]

Very well.

[He's going to lose this one, but that doesn't mean he can't make the best possible showing. So he takes a moment to pick out his mark, glad he chose to wear his wrist-guards today. Then he draws an arrow, fits it to the bow and lifts it, taking another few seconds to line it up before letting it fly. It thwocks just under one of the notches with the second-highest value.]

[ The third of Robin's men approaches the trunk to take note of the score and call it to the rest of them. Robin whistles, already drawing an arrow of his own. The speed he showed earlier is gone, because he can afford to take his time. ]

Not bad, for a prince.

[ He steps up next to James at the proper distance, drawing the string back and aiming with no haste in his stance (or, truly, any tension at all). The arrow is released and it sails straight on into the highest point notch, embedding itself with an extremely satisfying sound. Smirking, Robin turns to James. ]

Looks as though we've got a tie.

[James lifts an eyebrow back.]

Not yet, we don't.

[It's all posturing. True, they don't have one yet, but they will. James draws another arrow and sights down it, faster this time now he has a proper measure of the bow. He exhales slowly, relaxes his shoulders, and lets the string go. This one does better--hitting the trunk just under Robin's first one. Still not nearly as good, but there's still a quiver of arrows and maybe Robin's first was chance. (Chance. Right.)]

[ It wasn't chance. As they go on, Robin continues to line up shots near perfectly with his first, all bunched up to remain within the same point as the space allows. At least Robin seems to genuinely enjoy the contest, even if it's a bit one-sided — James is good enough for it to feel not quite like competing against a child. ]

[James manages to get a good cluster up near the same notch, with a few outliers lower down like his first--but it's really clear that James's first estimate is right. Robin's not even trying; he's spending his time picking space on the notch to shoot at, rather than just shooting at the notch itself.

[When James's quiver is empty he lowers the bow and shakes his head with a rueful sigh, flexing his drawing hand.]

We have a draw.

[ Robin laughs, rolling his shoulder once or twice while he lowers his own bow. ]

Pity we didn't decide upon a simply archery match. We'd be done already, in that case.

It's a pity I didn't keep to my initial suggestion of a duel alone, or we would have been done even sooner.

[He unstrings the bow and quickly rolls it up before unbuckling the quiver, throwing an amused glance at Robin.]

You should hope your skill as a horseman hasn't lost anything from being in this forest so long.

I'm sure you'll find my skill quite suitable, James.

[ Robin eyes the movements with a distinctly unamused glances before he shakes his head and pointedly does not follow suit. He instead hooks his bow around the quiver and gives a short whistle. The unfamiliar horse from earlier, a chestnut-colored mare, approaches obediently with a soft snort.

He pets along her forehead with a soft smile as one of his men bring James his own horse. ]

Hello, Penelope...

[Don't look at him like that, Robin. He could have done something really mean like knotted the string together. With a nod of thanks James hands the bow and quiver (and belatedly the string) over to the man and takes his gelding's reins, stroking the horse's nose. He glances over to Robin, noting the way he interacts with the mare--not just a horse, then. There's a soft spot there.

[With a stroke of his gelding's neck the prince moves around the horse's side and absently checks on his saddlebags, lifting an eyebrow and giving a deadpan look to the bowman who'd run his horse down to begin with. He's going to expect those back if he wins, man. And then he mounts easily, turning the gelding around.]

Where's this track, then?

[ Robin mounts just as easily as James, and turns toward the men who had set up the path, also interested in knowing where they'll be headed. The bowman, meanwhile, only allows a smug look in return to James. Robin is riding his best horse, and already has a point. Who says he'll have to return anything? ]

You'll be headed on the main thoroughfare until you reach a turn due south. Head north instead, and whoever breaks the forest first will be the winner.

That simple?

We didn't have a whole lot of time, Robin.

[ The man upon the horse shakes his head in amusement and begins steering Penelope toward the makeshift starting line. ]

[Oh you'll have to, buddy. James has no intention of losing this one, and he's good on a horse. Besides, warhorse his gelding may not be, but he was still an excellent horse. The prince takes a moment to map that out in his mind and then nods. He remembers that turn.

[With a light tug on the reins and a nudge with his heel he turns his horse onto the path, having him step aside to give Robin space as well.]

[ Robin lines Penelope up with James' gelding, glancing to Little John for a moment before he turns to the path ahead of them. ]

I hope you're ready, James.

One of the men has already placed himself at the finish line. He'll be the judge of the winner. On my mark...

Begin!

I am. Are you?

[That's the last thing James shoots back before he shortens the reins and leans ready in the saddle. The instant John calls the start he digs in his heels and the gelding surges forward, quick off the mark, but not at full speed. The course is long enough that James knows he'll have to harness some energy from the beginning for the final sprint.]

[ For now, until they get past the first stretch, it's a contest of balance; maintaining their horses' energies while not falling too far behind from each other. Then comes the turn, and Robin whirls around, suddenly signalling for Penelope to push forward, and she does with surprising responsiveness. They're off. ]

[James and his gelding quickly follow, just a touch slower but as sharp on the turn. And this is when he gives his gelding his head, because a warhorse he might not be, but he was a runner. Philip always said that if one was to travel, having a fast horse with a great heart was most important.

[So the prince lengthens the reins and gives his gelding all he needs, keeping low over his back and his hands encouraging on his neck. They don't know the area as well as Robin, don't know where the path curves and which branches lay low across it, but they've got speed and they catch up the distance lost.]

[ Robin side-eyes the overtaking team, shifting his own mare to try and block them off from the path. James's horse had an impressive amount of speed in its legs, but Penelope had seen battle and come out both whole and healthy. She had strength and stamina to make up for the energy the prince was burning now, even if the odds of them being passed up increase with each heartbeat.

No matter what happens, Robin realizes with an unconscious grin, the two of them are matched. Previous contests had them at opposite ends of the spectrum, but here, their individual strengths could end up with either one of them coming out the winner. It's exhilarating. ]

[The path is narrow enough there that James has to rein his horse back in to avoid the collision, but the instant there's room again they shoot forward to overtake Robin. It isn't a giant lead, but the trees are thinning, and if they can just keep it long enough ...

[James's gelding is tiring, but he whispers to him, strokes his neck, nudges him with his heels. The horse's ears flick back and he puts in every reserve he had in response to the encouragement.]

[ He sees the edge of the forest approaching in the way the light shines through, how the foliage gets brighter and easier to traverse. James is slowing down and Robin takes the chance, urging Penelope on within the last stretch, only to catch up, only to pass him, even by just a nose— ]

[Oh no you don't--! James urges his horse on and the gelding responds with one last surge of speed, just for him. It brings the prince and the outlaw even again as the edge of the forest approaches, and James is too busy trying to get just that little bit of extra speed to even try to judge where they are against each other as they burst out from the woods into the field.]

[ Once past the finish line, Penelope slows at the touch of her master, rearing gently to turn herself around and face the forest once again. She's panting with exertion, matching Robin's lighter yet still haggard breathing. He still seems quite pleased with the race, even if he couldn't tell which of them pulled through first. He sucks in a breath and calls to the man hiding along the tree line. ]

Who was it, good man?

Well, Robin... uh, you see...

[ Robin's eyes narrow. That doesn't sound very good. ]

[James pulls his gelding to a halt more slowly, circling around until he's back with the others to give the gelding a chance to cool down. As a result he doesn't hear the immediate answer, and is catching his breath, sitting up and eager as he looks toward the outlaw half in the trees.]

Well? Who won?

It was a tie.

... Come again?

[James blinks. He has to admit, of all the outcomes, a draw wasn't something that figured into things.]

What else is there for us to do to break a draw in three contests?

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