It was the last enemy left, the king. Robin knew what an honor it would be the slay the king, so he used this moment wisely. He positioned the arrow to face the rustling bush, waiting for his target to emerge. This was Robin's envied ability: his patience. Unlike other archers who shot as soon as they knew where their target was, Robin would happily wait for hours, as long as it meant that he would be able to shoot accurately. Robin stretched back the elastic of the bow with all his strength, ready to shoot and any moment.

Suddenly the kings head popped out the bush. To Robin, everything went in slow motion. He released his fingers, as the sharp arrow sliced through the air, heading straight for the kings neck. The king was looking around, making sure no one could see him, turning his gaze to the arrow, but it was too late to dodge it. Then, time ascended back to normal. The king slumped down in the bush, as Robin leapt of the rock, over to where the king lay.

He had done it.