Djaq got up, brushing her knees off as she finished her prayer. She picked up her blanket, cracking it, flicking the dirt and leaves from it before folding it. She glanced over at Will, who was carving something. He had installed a window in the camp, facing the direction that she told him Mecca was. Djaq was grateful for Will's thoughtful gesture. Though she was the only Muslim in the group, Djaq never felt excluded by her Christian friends.
Robin was most understanding of her habits, having witnessed them in the Holy Land. He would even join her in the evenings, kneeling beside her as she prayed to Allah, his eyes closed his hand occasionally moving, as if he was holding an invisible rosary. It was interesting to Djaq to see him pray. He was usually so energetic, so restless, but when he prayed, he seemed more relaxed. Ever since Marian had joined their gang in the woods, he would pray for longer stints. Djaq supposed that he was saying extra prayers for Marian.
Djaq laid her blanket on her bed, walking past the kitchen area as she did. Much was cooking, mumbling under his breath. Djaq smiled to herself. It was how Much prayed. He would stand over the stove, stirring their dinner, muttering. Occasionally, she would catch things like "watch over us, Lord" or "sorry, but I had to kill that guard." Djaq never laughed at Much, but the temptation was there.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Will again. He was still whittling. Djaq wasn't sure if the others noticed it, but sometimes his lips would move soundlessly as he carved. Djaq had watched him enough times to know that she wasn't imagining things. Will was praying. Once, she'd caught him quickly cross himself and glance up at the sky with a serene smile. It was a smile that he rarely showed. It was different from when Allan used to make him smile with a silly story or a joke. It was a look of total peace that did not grace his handsome features often enough.
She never actually saw Little John praying. It wasn't that the man had no faith; it was quite the opposite. Little John prayed in the woods. He would steal away from the camp with unusual ease, sometimes disappearing for up to an hour. Once, Djaq had wandered into a small clearing, spotting a cross chalked onto a tree. Little John prayed in the woods. It was something private to him, something that he took very seriously. Normally, the man was straightforward about his thoughts, but Djaq felt that his prayer amongst the trees was something much more personal.
Marian's praying intrigued her. Whereas the other outlaws would look at ease as they sent their hopes and thoughts to their Christian God, Marian never failed to look troubled. Perhaps it was the recent loss of her father, but Djaq doubted that. There was something about the way she would furrow her brow, leaning her forehead against her palms as she kneeled that told Djaq it was a habit, something that Marian had been doing for a long time. Djaq couldn't blame her. The girl, privileged though she had been, had led a difficult life. She'd been concealing her true character, her warrior's spirit. It was a bond that Djaq and Marian shared.
Djaq suppressed a laugh as she spotted Morgan. She was the most obvious when she prayed. Usually, she would do a handstand in the corner. Her form was always perfect, her body straight as a board, her breathing even. Someone who didn't know Morgan would scoff and call the girl disrespectful; Djaq recognized what her friend was doing. Morgan used the physically demanding handstand to focus herself. Morgan was odd, but she knew what she needed to do to control her incredibly short attention span. It was on Djaq's mental list of "Things that Morgan takes seriously." The list consisted of only three or four items, one of them being fighting tyranny and two of them being Allan, but prayer was at the top of the list. The first time Morgan had gone through her odd routine, Robin had made the mistake of poking her in the stomach, causing her to laugh and lose her concentration, toppling over. She had stormed away from the camp in a rare mood and hadn't returned until the next morning.
Djaq glanced around the camp again, taking in the various praying methods that were in progress around her. Robin's uncharacteristic stillness. Much's fervent muttering. Will's peaceful, skyward glances. Little John's discrete absence. Marian's silent worrying. Morgan's peculiar handstand. She gave her blanket a fond pat. Something that her father had once told her floated softly through her head, clear as a bell.
"Safia, it doesn't matter how you pray. Allah only cares that you pray from your heart." Djaq smiled fondly. If this band of outlaws wasn't praying from the heart, she didn't think she could find a group of people that did. She sighed contentedly. It was heartwarming to her to know that even though each member of the gang was irrefutably different, they could all find unity in something other than fighting a balding Sheriff.
Just a little oneshot that I thought of while re-watching series one.
Historically, the gang would've been Catholic, except for Djaq, who was obviously a Muslim. I thought it would be interesting to delve into how their differing beliefs could still coexist.
This was also a way to do a mini-introspection on everyone. I even snuck a little bit of WillDjaq in there. Huzzah!
Hope you enjoyed! Please review!