Sherwood Forest greeted them with the kind of leafy grandeur only centuries-old oaks could provide, their twisted branches weaving a cathedral of green sunlight. Athena sniffed the air delicately, taking in the scent of moss, earth, and the faint aroma of medieval legend.
“Ah, Sherwood,” she purred to herself, “where history breathes beneath every leaf, and folklore lingers like a perfume reserved for royalty.”
Obito, meanwhile, heard the words forest and legend and translated them immediately into GIANT SQUIRREL THEME PARK OF INFINITE CHAOS.
He bolted forward without warning, tail spinning like a malfunctioning helicopter, and launched himself headfirst into a bramble bush with a yelp so dramatic it could have scared a banshee into a quiet desk job. Leaves exploded. Birds fled. Somewhere, a monk probably dropped his quill.
Athena winced.
“Obito,” she said evenly, “if you so much as look at another squirrel, I swear I will”
Too late.
Obito had already locked eyes with a particularly smug rabbit who radiated the confidence of someone who had neverbeen caught in their life. What followed was less a chase and more a chaotic interpretive dance involving leaps, skids, sudden direction changes, and one heroic collision with a fern that did absolutely nothing to deserve it.
They had come in search of a legendary treasure: a skeletal bow said to belong to Robin Hood himself, buried beneath an ancient oak marked with mysterious carvings. Athena approached the task with scholarly reverence. Her paws moved softly over moss and root, her eyes scanning every shadow as though the forest itself might whisper secrets to her if she asked politely enough.
Obito interpreted the map as a legally binding agreement to cause problems.
Every root became a hurdle.
Every fallen log became a trampoline.
Every suspicious rustle in the underbrush became absolutely, definitely, no-questions-asked an enemy.
At one point, Obito attempted to duel a pile of leaves. He lost, but only emotionally.
He soon found himself spectacularly entangled in the roots of a particularly argumentative oak, rolling like a furry cannonball powered entirely by bad decisions. Athena sighed, balanced gracefully on one paw, and attempted a careful extraction.
Naturally, this was the exact moment Obito decided to perform a heroic leap of freedom.
The result was catastrophic.
Athena was launched skyward, executing an involuntary yet impressively graceful pirouette over a mossy stone before landing somewhat less gracefully, directly into a shallow stream. Mud splashed. Water sloshed. Dignity fled the scene entirely.
She emerged looking like a marbled masterpiece of canine disaster.
Obito stared for exactly half a second… then wagged his tail harder.
At another point, Obito discovered a picnic basket abandoned by unsuspecting tourists and immediately assumed it was part of the legendary hoard. With the enthusiasm of a pirate discovering gold, he tore it open, sending pasties flying through the air like buttery meteors of destiny.
Athena, summoning every ounce of composure she possessed, collected the pastries with one paw while dragging Obito away from a deeply unimpressed squirrel. The squirrel glared at them with the fury of someone who paid taxes and did not appreciate nonsense.
Hours passed in a blur of rolling, leaping, bark-singing, and one particularly tense encounter with a tree-dwelling owl who stared down at them in absolute, unfiltered judgment. The owl said nothing, but Athena felt it in her soul.
Finally, beneath the carved oak, Athena found it.
The “treasure.”
A collection of old sticks arranged in a pattern that could, with tremendous generosity, be described as possibly resembling a skeletal bow.
Athena stared at it.
Silence stretched.
Obito, however, declared victory instantly.
He leapt atop the “bow,” howling triumphantly, scattering leaves, squirrels, and Athena’s remaining patience in equal measure. He posed. He preened. He absolutely believed a song should be written about this moment.
To the villagers who had wandered into Sherwood for their morning walks, it looked like a full canine reenactment of Robin Hood’s greatest triumph. They clapped. They cheered. They took photographs. One person whispered, “I think it’s a historical thing.”
Athena, dripping mud and moss, raised one paw with dramatic restraint.
“Yes, Obito,” she said, voice equal parts pride and surrender, “you have rewritten history once again.”
Obito barked joyfully, chest puffed out, convinced he had uncovered the greatest treasure of all: fame, glory, and unlimited muddy playtime.
As the sun dipped through the oak canopy and the forest settled back into legend, Athena reflected that myths were not only written by humans. Sometimes, they were barked, rolled, stolen from picnic baskets, and absolutely chewed into existence by two dogs with no understanding of moderation.
Robin Hood may have had his bow, but Athena and Obito had stolen the forest… and gotten mud on absolutely everything.

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