A Bad Start to the Day

Robin Hood groaned, rolling over in his bed to face the damp, chilly air that seeped into the outlaw camp in Sherwood Forest. He had woken up feeling absolutely miserable, his body aching all over and his throat sore. A nasty cold had taken hold of him overnight, and his usually robust constitution was weakened. Despite his best intentions to stay in bed and rest, he could hear the sound of Will Scarlett's boisterous voice outside, goading him into joining the morning's archery practice. "Come on, Robin! A little cold isn't going to keep you down, is it?" Will Scarlett called out, chuckling. "We need our champion archer to show us how it's done!" Robin Hood sighed, rubbing his tired eyes. He knew he shouldn't get out of bed, but Will's teasing was hard to resist. He tossed off his covers and swung his legs over the side of the bed, planting his feet firmly on the ground. The cold air hit him like a slap in the face, and he stumbled as he stood up. As he made his way to the archery range, Robin Hood struggled to string his bow. His hands felt clumsy, and his arms ached with every movement. He gritted his teeth, trying to push through the discomfort, but it was clear that he was not himself. The cold air and exertion only made him feel worse, and he started to feel dizzy and disoriented. Before he knew it, he was stumbling and almost falling over. He grabbed onto a nearby tree trunk to steady himself, but it was too late. The world began to spin, and Robin Hood felt himself losing his balance. He tried to call out for help, but his voice was hoarse and barely audible. Just as he was about to collapse, he felt a wave of darkness wash over him, and everything went black. For a few moments, Robin Hood lay there, unconscious, his body succumbing to the illness that had been building up inside him. But fate, it seemed, had other plans for the outlaw hero. Little did he know, his friends John and Tuck were about to arrive on the scene, and they would not let him suffer for long.