Hey everyone! So a few things: the first is that I realized I said in the last chapter that I had found the drive to "finish" and many of you thought that last chapter was the last part of this story. THIS ISN'T TRUE! What I meant what that I had finally been able to finish that chapter. We still have quite a bit more story ahead of us!

Secondly, I know it's been an unmentionable amount of time since I last updated and I am so so sorry! So here's a quick recap:

Danny and the gang were handing out loot that they had stolen from Prince John's men to a local town when two of the soldiers that had

captured and beaten Danny before she was found by the Merrymen came. Recognizing Danny, they ran, but Danny killed one of them,

angering the group. Facing banishment, Danny decided to leave of her own accord to save her friends, but in the process she had to leave

Allan, telling him that she was betrothed and breaking his heart. Unable to stand the pain, Danny gave herself up and let Gwyn take over.

Disclaimer: I do not own anything except for Gwyn/Danny. Wish I did, though.

Chapter 15: Gwyn

Her mind as black as the night shrouding her, Gwyn stole through the forest, listening intently to the sounds of the wood for any sign of an intruder. She had left the sounds of Allan's pain, despair, and anger far behind her, soldiering on despite the feeling of cold, clammy death inside her chest, the last remnants of the woman who used to be Danny.

Gwyn wasn't certain of many things, but she knew three truths to be incontrovertible. The first was that she needed to gather her belongings and sneak away from Sherwood Forest as quickly as possible. The second was that leaving Allan behind had been the best thing to do—both for him and for Danny. The third truth—and the one that it was hardest for her to accept—was that even though she was no longer Danny, she was not truly Gwyn either.

She was something in between—not Danny, but not yet Gwyn.

She wasn't entirely sure what had happened back there with Allan. All she knew was that Danny had surrendered, opening a void for Gwyn to occupy, but even Gwyn didn't yet know exactly whom Gwyn was. There were no additional memories to guide her way nor were there any insights into where she came from or why she had come to Sherwood. Gwyn was just as much in the dark as Danny had been.

The only difference was that Gwyn was alone in the dark.

Just like Allan was now.

Shaking away the gloomy thoughts, Gwyn focused on the task at hand as she drew nearer to the camp. Standing upon the riverbank as she waited for Allan, Danny had lost track of time, but judging from the silence and darkness of the camp just ahead of her, Gwyn noted that it now had to be almost halfway through the night. She stood on the brink of the forest, scouting for several minutes to be certain that the Merrymen were asleep and wondering why Little John was not to be found among the sleeping, prostrate forms.

Putting his absence from her mind, Gwyn slipped from the cover of the trees and picked her way masterfully and silently among the huddled bundles, indicating where each member of the gang slept. Kneeling down next to her own bedroll, she carefully rolled up her weapons in the thick cloth, keeping them from knocking against each other and waking the others with the metallic clatter. Standing, she walked over to the shelves in the camp, retrieving her rucksack from under the bench and placing the black, velvet bag with the jewelry box inside, instinctively taking it with her although she knew it to be empty. On a whim, she also grabbed an extra pair of the gang's breeches and a shirt of Allan's that she had recently mended to exchange with her tattered dress.

Glancing around the camp, Gwyn's eyes alighted on the cache of weapons that the Merrymen maintained. Apologizing silently, Gwyn guiltily snatched one of Robin's extra bows and a quiver filled with arrows, vowing to someday replace her thefts.

As silently as she had entered, Gwyn left the area where the gang was sleeping and climbed the hill out of camp. Knowing that she shouldn't, Gwyn couldn't repress the urge to look back one more time, memorizing the place that had become a home to her and the people who had been like family to Danny.

Strangely, Gwyn felt a twinge of remorse. She knew that Danny had not murdered that soldier, but that she—Gwyn—had. Gwyn was the coldblooded killer. She was the warrior. It was her fault that Danny's family had disowned her and banished her. It was Gwyn's fault that Danny had died.

It was Gwyn who had broken Allan.

The guilt and hatred for herself rose in Gwyn's throat like bile and she could not stand to stay another moment in the company of people whom she had harmed and betrayed. Turning her back on the Merrymen, she jogged quickly and purposefully away from the camp, towards Nottingham so that she could attempt to make some sort of amends to the gang, Allan, and Danny.

Her plan was firm in her mind. In order to keep Prince John's men from hurting Danny's friends, Gwyn would sacrifice herself and return to her life on the run. She would lead the soldiers away from Sherwood and the Merrymen so that Prince John's men could never use them against her.

But first, she had to break into Nottingham—into the Sheriff's castle—because that was where the captain of the guard would be, the man who had bound and beaten Gwyn when she had been caught.

Settling into a pace that Gwyn knew she could keep up until she reached the town, Gwyn wove between the moss-covered trees, relying on the light of the moon to illuminate her way. Her long hair and cloak streamed behind her, catching on the twigs and branches, but she didn't pause to free herself, instead letting her motion pull herself free. The twigs and leaves became entangled in her hair, but the cloak never tore.

When she was almost a mile away from the gang's camp, Gwyn noticed the orange, flickering light of a torch in a clearing just ahead. Stopping her flight, she laid the bedroll on the ground, unrolling it so that she could attach her short swords to her belt. Shoving her bedroll into her rucksack, Gwyn drew her weapons from their sheaths and crept toward the light, wishing to see who had come so close to the camp. Were Prince John's men already here?

Pulling her cloak up over her twisted hair, she stealthily stole to the edge of the clearing to see who was there. Frowning at what she saw, Gwyn dropped all suspicion and wariness as she stepped out of the dark and into the light.

"I was wondering when you'd get here," a deep voice growled at her.

Sheathing her weapons and pushing her hood back from her face, Gwyn stared at the man sitting on a small rock next to the flickering torch. "What are you doing here, Little John?" she asked quizzically.

"What does it look like?" he answered gruffly. "I'm waiting for you."

Confused, Gwyn stepped forward until she was three feet away from him. Kneeling on the ground before him, Gwyn questioned, "What do you mean?"

Resting his elbows on his knees, John leaned forward and replied, "I figured you'd do something foolish. And I was right, wasn't I? Here you are," he gestured at her with his hands, "All ready to run off into the night. Never to be heard from again, just like a coward."

Shaking her head in vehement disagreement, Gwyn insisted, "I'm trying to make things right."

"By leaving?" Little John asked angrily.

Scoffing, Gwyn pushed herself to her feet and pointed an angry finger at John, yelling, "You wanted me to leave!"

Also standing, John yelled back, "I wanted you to take responsibility! To admit that what you did was wrong!"

Growing quiet, Gwyn leaned back on her heels and folded her arms across her chest. "I can't," she said. "I don't believe that I did anything wrong. What I did, I did to protect you. All of you! You don't understand the danger that I'm in, the danger that now the gang is in because you were seen with me."

"We understand danger well enough," John countered. "We are outlaws, after all."

"Outlaws from an inept, incompetent fool of a sheriff!" Gwyn yelled. "Not from Prince John! He has resources that the Sheriff can only dream of! The Merrymen wouldn't last two weeks if Prince John were hunting you."

"A chance that we would have taken," John replied calmly.

"You say that now," Gwyn responded. "But if you knew—"

"A chance that we would have taken for you," John interrupted her, grabbing her upper arms tightly. "You're part of this family. You're one of us. We do anything to save one of our own!"

Extricating herself from his grip, Gwyn walked backward while still facing him. "I was one of you," she said quietly. "But not anymore."

Gwyn turned away from Little John and had taken a step when she heard him call from behind her, "And what about Allan?"

Bowing her head, Gwyn sighed and turned back, true indifference on her face as she shrugged and replied, "What about Allan?"

Disbelief appeared on John's face as he shook his head. "Who are you?" he asked sadly. "The Danny I know would have done anything for him."

"Yeah, well," Gwyn shrugged again, "Danny's not here anymore."

"Clearly," John said with a nod. "Her, I liked. But you…" John trailed off with a shrug, leaving the end of his statement to Gwyn's imagination.

Bowing her head, Gwyn rested her hands on her hips and laughed humorlessly.

"Danny told me that she was afraid of you," John continued softly, careful to differentiate between Danny and the woman who stood before him now. "She told me that she didn't like you, didn't like the murderer that she knew was inside of her. You know what I told her?"

Obliging him, Gwyn replied, "You told her that she didn't have the whole picture. To wait until she knew more about herself before forming an opinion."

John nodded. "I told her that you couldn't be all bad, but that she shouldn't let anyone come between her and Allan." Little John paused as he bent to pick up the torch that was staked in the ground, but then he caught her eye again and continued, "Especially if that person was you."

He stepped closer to Gwyn and said, "Danny loved Allan. So a part of you must love him as well." He paused for a moment and exhorted, "Don't do this to them. Don't tear them apart."

Glowering up at him from beneath her eyelashes, Gwyn defended herself, "I'm doing what I have to."

Little John stepped closer and leaned down to within inches of her face, studying her. After a few silent moments in which they glared at each other, Little John gritted his teeth and shook his head. "No," he whispered, "You're doing what's easiest for you. So go ahead. Run." Little John leaned back and pushed past her, walking towards the tree line, but then turned back, condemning, "But I have a feeling that you won't be able to live with what you've done. You will always be haunted by the memory of Danny and of her love for Allan and his for her, a love that you will never know. See if you can live that."

Without another word, John turned away from her in disgust and headed back in the direction towards camp. Gwyn stood rooted in the same spot, watching his retreating back until she could no longer see the light from the torch as the darkness of the forest swallowed him.

Alone again, Gwyn walked over to the rock on which Little John had been sitting and dropped heavily on top of it, thinking over what he had said to her. At the forefront of her thoughts was what he had said about Allan and Danny, namely that since Danny had loved Allan, then Gwyn must love him as well. Searching deep within herself, Gwyn looked for any feelings she bore toward Allan, almost desperate to find something so that she could prove to herself that she wasn't as selfish and cruel as John had said she was.

She searched, but all she could find were the memories of Danny's love for Allan. Gwyn herself felt grateful to him, but she did not love him. When Danny had died, the feelings that this body Danny and Gwyn shared had had for Allan also perished.

Having only proven Little John right, Gwyn hissed in anger and pushed herself up from her seat, launching herself into a sprint towards Nottingham as she strove to leave behind the words that John had spat at her and the feelings of disgust that he inspired in her towards herself.

But even though she ran, she could not outrun his words or his hatred.

Because he was right. It was impossible for someone as wicked as she to give or receive an emotion as pure and as innocent as love.

Judging by the height of the moon, Gwyn could tell that there were only a few more hours left until dawn. Rolling her neck on her shoulders, she allowed herself to try to dispel some of the stiffness in her limbs. Now that dawn was almost upon her, Gwyn knew that she had to act soon and act fast. She had been sitting in this same exact spot for hours, scouting the walls of Nottingham town and trying to find a weak spot where she could penetrate the defenses.

And find it she did.

On the south side of Nottingham, there was a small, deep, brook that flowed underneath the walls that allowed the villagers to collect fresh water without leaving the safety of the town. To stop any intruders from sneaking into the village by means of swimming in the stream, a grate had been placed across the opening, barring the way so that no one could fit between the bars. In case of a siege however, Gwyn had noticed that there was a gate underneath the water within the grate that could be unlocked to allow the Sheriff or any other person to escape.

Or—in this case—it could be unlocked to let someone in.

This grate was guarded by two men, one on each side of the brook and the surrounding area was illuminated by several torches, ensuring that anyone approaching would be seen and that there could be no surprise blitz attack. There was also a man patrolling on top of the wall, who would make a pass every five minutes, staying close enough that he could hear the guards calling for help if anything should happen. Upon the belt of each guard was a key ring that held several iron keys, one of which Gwyn assumed opened the gate in case of emergencies.

Over the years, Gwyn had accumulated several talents—archery, swordplay, pick pocketing, sewing, cooking, and many others—and she knew that tonight she would use most of them. It was absolutely vital that no one was alerted to her presence and now—after killing one of Prince John's soldiers—all the guards would be on the lookout for her, which explained why she wasn't able to try to talk her way into the gates like she had once before.

Gwyn knew that she could not achieve entry by means of brute strength, so she was going in by means of stealth and careful strategy.

And now, after several hours of interminable waiting, her plan was about to be set in motion.

As she watched, one of the guards turned and spoke a few inaudible words to the other, gesturing towards the woods in which Gwyn was hiding. The other guard nodded and the first began striding towards the forest. Gwyn followed him, one with the shadows and embracing the dark. As the man entered the shelter of the trees, he was oblivious to the fact that Gwyn approached within touching distance of him.

Choosing a tree, the man lifted his tunic and began to take care of his pressing business. Taking advantage of his distraction, Gwyn slithered from the brush silently and crawled up behind the guard on her hands and knees, reaching a hand up toward his belt. Just before her nimble fingers relieved the guard of his keys, some instinct convinced him to turn around to look behind him.

Quickly, Gwyn lay flat upon the forest floor, her face pressed into the earth so that her pale skin would not draw attention. Satisfied that he was alone, the guard turned back to the tree. Once again reaching toward his belt, Gwyn succeeded in unhooking the ring, grasping the loose keys tightly so that they wouldn't clink together and alert the guard to her presence.

Crawling back through the undergrowth, Gwyn quickly retreated away from the guard and went back to a spot at which she could see the grate and the remaining guard clearly.

She waited until the guard she had stolen the keys from returned to his post to be sure that he didn't notice anything was amiss. The guard seemed perfectly at ease, so Gwyn nodded and began the second part of her plan.

Using the trees as cover, Gwyn came upon the brook. Stripping off her heavy cloak, Gwyn stood upon the bank in her borrowed shirt, breeches, and boots. Checking to make sure that her weapons were secure, she slipped the key ring over her hand and onto her wrist for safe-keeping, reaching behind her and tying her hair up with a leather thong. Taking a deep breath, Gwyn slipped into the brook, quelling a gasp of shock at the cold temperature of the water. She looked at the distance that she would have to swim to the grate and then realized that she would also have to try to find the right key while still underwater and prayed that she would be able to hold her breath for that long.

Knowing that she hadn't a moment to lose, she ducked her head under the cold water and swam to the bottom of the brook, which was about five and a half feet in depth. When she judged that she was about halfway to her destination, Gwyn began to feel the cold trickle of apprehension slide down her back as she realized that she had already begun to crave fresh oxygen. For the first time, she doubted that she would be able to complete her plan.

Still she swam on and just when she was about to give up and turn back so that she could try again, her scrabbling fingers collided with the metal grate. Calming herself and focusing on her task, Gwyn felt the grate, looking for the keyhole. Finding it, she slipped the key ring off her wrist and felt for the first of the six keys, stabbing it into the hole and hoping that it would fit.

Nothing happened.

Choosing another key, Gwyn repeated the process, her lungs now begging for air, but again the gate did not open. Placing another key frantically in the lock, Gwyn prayed, and let out a bubble of air in frustration when the gate didn't unlock.

Now she was desperate for air, but it was impossible for her to do anything. She did not have enough air to swim far away enough from the guards so that she could breech the surface, take a breath, and then try again. If she rose to the surface now, then she would surely be seen, caught, and then handed over as a prisoner to the captain of the guard.

Her only choice was to fit a fourth key into the keyhole. Begging it to fit but not entirely believing that it would, Gwyn was therefore surprised when the key turned and she could pull open the gate slightly.

Carefully, she opened the gate only a sliver, hoping that the guards would be looking forward to the trees instead of down at the water and so wouldn't notice that the gate was opening. Pulling herself onto the other side of the grate, Gwyn spent a few precious seconds relocking the gate before she continued to swim. After only a few kicks however, she burst through the surface and gulped in fresh air, the keys still clasped firmly in her hand.

After a few moments of simply breathing, Gwyn shook her head and focused herself, swimming until she could see faint light that signified the end of the tunnel. Again submersing herself, Gwyn swam until she was sure that she was out from under the walls and in a place that no guards would be able to see her. Warily, she peeked her head out of the water and looked around her, not seeing anyone near the water's edge nor any lights nearby.

Convinced that she was alone, she pulled herself out of the brook with her arms and shivered in the cold night air, wishing that she could wrap her thick, traveling cloak around her shaking limbs. Dripping water, she nimbly pranced nearer to the walls of the Sheriff's castle, studying the colossal obstacle in her way.

The castle was separated from the villager's huts by a thick wall, keeping any unwanted visitors out of the Sheriff's private quarters and the prison. The huts however, were very close to the wall, leaving very little space between them so that if she were to climb on the roof of one of the huts, the top of the castle wall would only be ten feet above her.

Seeing a rope nearby, Gwyn knew that this part of her plan would be the easiest to execute. Grabbing the rope, she fashioned a quick slipknot, turning the rope into a lasso of sorts. Choosing the tallest of the huts near the wall, Gwyn climbed up to the roof and swung the rope above her head, letting it fly loose up towards a merlon. Smiling when she saw the rope secured around the stone, Gwyn gave an experimental tug and then began to climb the rope, reaching the top of the castle's wall with little effort.

Ten minutes later, Gwyn had reached the ground on the other side of the castle wall and had snuck into the stone building through a door opened by a soldier on patrol, slipping though the opening before it had closed behind him.

Having successfully breached the defenses, her true mission began.

Unfamiliar with the castle's layout, Gwyn spent almost an hour winding through the various corridors and checking in rooms, looking for where Prince John's men would be billeted. The castle was silent except for the occasional clanking of chain mail when a soldier passed by on patrol, therefore when Gwyn heard voices coming from a room in the third floor east corridor, her curiosity got the better of her.

Following the sound of the voices, Gwyn came to a thick, closed, wooden door. Pressing her ear against it, she could hear two muffled, male voices within but was unable to make out any words. Wanting to know what they were saying, Gwyn looked around her for another way in, opening the next door to her right and slipping into the room.

This room looked like a spare bedroom and Gwyn was unable to discern any form sleeping in the bed so she assumed that she was alone. Looking around her, she saw a door on the opposite side of the room that led to a small balcony. Crossing to the other side, Gwyn opened the door carefully, wincing when it gave a prolonged squeak, and then stepped out onto the balcony. She looked to her left and was pleased to see that the locked room the two men were inside also had a balcony, but that its door was also open a crack to allow a faint breeze to enter the chamber.

Listening intently, she could still hear their voices emanating from the room, but was unable to make out their words. Studying the distance between the balconies, Gwyn decided that she would be able to jump from one to the other. Pulling herself on top of the railing of hers, she stood tall and looked down at the ground almost a hundred feet away and then she fearlessly launched herself off the railing, soaring through the air only to land catlike on the balls of her feet on the other balcony.

Standing with her back flush to the stone wall, Gwyn crept closer to the door, gently pushing inward on the frame near the hinge to open it wider. As the voices became clear to her, Gwyn allowed herself a small smile and settled in to listen.

"What exactly are you suggesting that we do?" she heard a man say in a strong, deep voice.

"I'm saying we do to her what we do to any other outlaw," a second man said.

"But she's not just some outlaw!" the first man argued.

There was a silent pause and Gwyn imagined the second man to be glaring at the first. Finally, he spoke mockingly, "Do I detect some leftover feelings for her, Gisbourne?"

"Of course not," the first man said quickly, who Gwyn now knew to be named Gisbourne.

"Good," the other man replied. "Now, the Night Watchman will be executed tomorrow afternoon in the square. All are to attend so that they may see what we do to people who think themselves above the law. Being from a noble and respected family will not save anyone from persecution nor will being a woman lessen the sentence."

"Yes, Sheriff," Gisbourne said, alerting Gwyn to whom he was speaking.

She had stumbled upon a private conversation between the Sheriff and Gisbourne, the man whom Allan had briefly collaborated with and the Sheriff's right hand man. But who was this Night Watchman and what had she done?

"Be sure that everyone knows the Watchman has been caught, Guy," the Sheriff continued. "When Robin hears that we are going to execute his beloved, he'll storm the castle to rescue his damsel," the Sheriff finished jokingly with a laugh.

"Shall I announce the execution of the Night Watchman or actually give Marion's name?" Gisbourne asked for clarification.

Gwyn slapped a hand to her mouth to quiet her surprised gasp. The Night Watchman was Marion! The woman whom Robin loved! Danny had never met Marion, choosing instead to disappear into the woods with Allan whenever she came to see Robin, but Gwyn knew that she acted as a spy within the castle, giving Robin what information she could garner. Something about meeting her had always worried Danny and made her feel unsafe, but now it seemed that Marion had gotten herself captured somehow and the Sheriff was going to make her hang for it!

Tuning back into the conversation, Gwyn heard Gisbourne ask, "And what of Captain Revelle?"

"Captain Revelle can go hang himself," the Sheriff replied disdainfully. "I won't waste my resources trying to find one girl when I need everyone tomorrow to watch for Robin and his little band of misfits."

"You heard what he said about her," Gisbourne countered. "She's not just a girl!"

"After tomorrow, I will give Captain Revelle whatever he wants," the Sheriff responded dismissively. "Robin Hood has evaded me long enough. I will have him tomorrow! Then, once he is dead, we shall help Captain Revelle end this girl and finish what we started."

There came a knock upon the door.

"Sir?" a voice called through the wood. "Captain Revelle has asked to see you in the Great Hall."

The Sheriff sighed. "What could he possibly want this time?" he bemoaned. "The sooner he finds and kills that girl, the better."

Gwyn heard the door open and two pairs of footsteps recede down the hall and then silence once again.

Leaning her head back against the stone, Gwyn thought over what she had just heard. Maid Marion was locked in the dungeons beneath the castle and the Sheriff was using her as bait to lure Robin into Nottingham where he would surely be caught and hanged alongside of her. She had also learned that a Captain Revelle—whom Gwyn assumed was the commander of Prince John's soldiers—was indeed within the castle and demanding that the Sheriff help him in his search to find a certain girl, which Gwyn could only assume was herself.

As she saw it, Gwyn had two choices. The first was to finish what she started and make herself known to Revelle, thereby leading him away from the castle and the Merrymen. But if she did that, she wouldn't have the opportunity to warn Robin about Marion and the ensuing trap and then all of the Merrymen would be in danger.

No. Gwyn's only viable option was the alternative. She had to break Marion out of the dungeon and return her safely to Sherwood before continuing with her mission.

Decided, Gwyn panicked when she noticed that dawn was approaching. Soon she would lose the darkness and then her chance to escape with Marion would be lost. Spurred into action, Gwyn slipped into the now vacant room and left through the door, more cautious than before since now Marion's life rested on her shoulders as well.

It took her longer than she planned to reach the dungeon, running into a pair of guards that stood talking in the hallway instead of continuing their patrol. She had to wait several minutes for them to meander far enough down the corridor so that she could slip down the passageway, but soon she was in the dungeon.

It was dark and dank and she spent several minutes scouting the fragrant room, checking to see if there were any other guards besides the two jailors sitting at a small table with tankards in front of them. Again relying on the same stealth that she had used to steal the keys from the guard earlier, Gwyn removed her short swords from their sheaths and gripped them tightly in her palms as she crept up behind the two oblivious guards. Raising her fists over their heads, she simultaneously brought the pommels down on their heads with enough force to knock them both out silently. Unconscious, they slumped onto the table, mouths gaping.

Checking their belts, Gwyn removed the keys from the bigger jailor, quickly walking over to the only occupied cell in the room. There was a huddled lump on the cot that Gwyn assumed was Marion so she fit the correct key in the lock and swung the gate open. At the loud creaking, the lump sat bolt upright on the cot and turned to face Gwyn, defensively raising her hands before her.

Speaking quietly in the darkness, Gwyn called, "Marion?"

An equally soft voice replied warily, "Who are you?"

Stepping into the cell, Gwyn grabbed hold of one of Marion's wrists. "My name is—" she paused for a moment, deciding how to introduce herself. Robin had told Marion of his guest and new addition to the Merrymen, but Marion had only known her as Danny. Swallowing heavily, Gwyn lied, "My name is Danny. Robin sent me to get you out."

"Robin?" Marion squeaked, jumping up from her cot. "Let's go."

Leading Marion out of the cell and over to the table, Gwyn urged, "Help me with this," referring to the unconscious jailors.

Five minutes later, the jailors were bound, gagged and locked up in Marion's vacant cell. Grabbing Marion's hand, Gwyn said, "Stay close to me."

Gwyn led Marion carefully up the stairs, motioning for her to stay put while she went to scout the passageway. Satisfied that the coast was clear, she led Marion into the lighted passage and hurried her down the corridor.

Twenty minutes later, Gwyn and Marion huddled against the merlons on the castle walls and Gwyn despaired that the town was waking and that dawn was just turning the edges of the sky pink. They had to hurry or they wouldn't make it!

Wrapping the rope around the stone, Gwyn gestured for Marion to drop onto the roof of the house, quickly following suit and then worrying that she had to leave the rope behind, a clear sign that someone unwanted had been in the castle. Unable to remove it however, Gwyn urged Marion even more quickly toward the brook.

Upon reaching it, Gwyn gave her instructions. "You must stay under the water until we're underneath the wall. Stay close behind me and I'll tell you what to do."

Marion nodded with wide eyes as her chest heaved from worry of being caught again. Trying to dispel some of her tension, Gwyn said lightly with a smile, "It's nice to finally meet you."

Marion also smiled, "I think I'm the one who is more pleased to make your acquaintance. If not for you, I'd still be stuck in that cell."

"Come on," Gwyn said, returning to the business at hand. "I've got to get you back to Robin."

Gwyn turned back to the brook, but Marion caught her hand, whispering, "Allan's lucky to have you."

Guilt rose within Gwyn, but without turning to look at Marion or acknowledge what she had said, Gwyn slid into the brook without a splash and then motioned for Marion to do the same. They both took deep breaths and dove beneath the water, staying low to the bottom to lessen the risk of being seen in the gathering light.

Once Gwyn felt the smooth stone to her left that indicated they were in the tunnel underneath the wall, she grabbed Marion and pulled her to the surface, greedily sucking air into her deprived lungs. Leaning close to Marion, she explained to Marion about the gate and how she, Gwyn, would unlock it, allow Marion to go through, and how Marion had to keep swimming until she could no longer hold her breath, hoping that then she would be far away enough from the guards.

"Aren't you coming?" Marion asked intently.

Gwyn considered for a moment. She could always go back and do what she had snuck into Nottingham for, but she worried that Marion would need her help to return to Robin and the Merrymen. Soon Captain Revelle would be leaving the town to search for Gwyn in the surrounding lands and if Marion ran into him then she would simply be brought right back to the Sheriff.

"Of course I'm coming," Gwyn related. "But I'll need to lock the gate behind us."

Marion nodded and followed Gwyn as she led the way down the tunnel. Reaching the grate, Gwyn once again ducked beneath the water and fitted the correct key into the keyhole, opening the gate slightly and pushing Marion through. Following her instructions, Marion kept to the very bottom of the brook and did not let any air bubbles escape that would alert the guards to the presence of something in the water.

Just as she slipped through the gate herself, Gwyn heard the sound that she had been dreading. Even under the water, Gwyn could hear the clang of the warning bell, alerting the guards to trouble. Had Marion's absence been noticed? Had the rope been found on top of the wall? Or had Marion and she been seen in the village?

Not caring about the answer to her questions, Gwyn forced herself to continue with her task, calmly closing the gate and swimming along the muddy bottom of the stream until she thought her lungs would burst. Unable to go any further, she broke through the surface and was pleased to see the canopy of the trees overhead, telling her that she was hidden safely in the forest from the guards.

She pulled herself out of the water and tried to gather her bearings. Not recognizing the area around her, Gwyn assumed that she had swum past the place where she had left her cloak and so she silently walked along the edge, constantly looking and listening for any sign of Marion. After almost twenty feet, Gwyn came across her cloak, wrapped it gratefully about her shoulders, and pulled the hood up over her hair, hiding her face from view. She was worried now that she still hadn't found Marion. Had she made it further down the stream than Gwyn had?

Suddenly Gwyn heard a twig snap directly behind her over the din of the still clanging bell. Spinning around, she pulled her dagger in a fluid motion and faced her attacker, sighing and letting her shoulders slump when she saw it was just a dripping Marion.

Stepping close, Gwyn spun the dagger in her hand and offered it to Marion, whispering, "I need you to move as quietly as you can."

Marion nodded silently and took the proffered dagger, following Gwyn as she led her directly into the forest.

Hours passed and the sun rose, but Gwyn refused to let them talk until they were safely ensconced within Sherwood Forest. They had taken the long path, doubling back often to make sure that no one was following them and confusing their trail so that no one could track them. Gwyn knew that it was only a matter of time before the guard realized his keys were missing and then the Sheriff and his men would search along the brook's banks for any sign of them.

Therefore it was almost midmorning before they crossed the border into the Forest, enveloping Gwyn with the familiar blanket of safety that she always felt when she was in Sherwood. Frowning, she remembered that that safety would soon be compromised once Revelle learned of the Merrymen's connection to the woods.

Knowing that she couldn't go back to the camp, Gwyn turned to Marion. "This is as far I go," she said gruffly. "Can you find your way from here?"

Marion looked around with a frown. "I think so," she said unconvincingly.

Gwyn nodded. Not one for long good-byes, she then turned and immediately began walking away from Marion. Before she had gone too far however, Gwyn sighed and spun back around to Marion, unable to get the safety of the gang out of her mind.

"Marion," she called out loudly.

Marion turned back to Gwyn with a questioning expression on her face.

"Robin is in danger," Gwyn said. "The whole gang is. I tried to tell them, but they won't listen to me."

Marion stepped toward Gwyn and asked, "Why not?"

Ignoring her question, Gwyn asked one of her own, "While you were in the castle, did you hear of a Captain Revelle?"

Marion nodded.

"This man will come after the Merrymen," Gwyn insisted. "He will do whatever it takes to find them. And then he will hurt them unless they tell him what he wants to know." Gwyn stepped closer to force Marion understand. "You must convince them to leave, Marion. I fear that only you will be able to sway Robin's mind."

"You know this man?" Marion asked adamantly. "This Revelle?"

Gwyn nodded. "I know of him," she replied.

"Do you know why he's here?" Marion asked insistently, her eyes trying to see into the recesses of Gwyn's hood.

Again, Gwyn nodded.

Marion bowed her head and stared at the ground. Grabbing Gwyn's hand, she looked back up and pleaded, "I need you to come with me. Back to camp."

Gwyn shook her hand free and said, "I can't."

"You have to!" Marion yelled. Taking a deep breath she continued, "When I was in the castle, I overheard a conversation between Revelle and the Sheriff. What I heard was so disturbing and important that I had to sneak into the Sheriff's room to find proof to show to Robin. That was when I got caught." Marion grasped Gwyn's wrist tightly again, frantically saying, "Revelle is dangerous. What he was sent here to do…" Marion trailed off, but then continued, "We're going to need your help, Danny. Robin won't be able to do this on his own."

Marion's intensity frightened Gwyn. Whatever Marion had overheard was important enough for her to have risked her life to try to procure proof.

"If you know Revelle," Marion continued, "then you know what he's capable of and why what he's here to do absolutely cannot happen. You have to help us."

Gwyn was torn. Returning to camp meant facing the Merrymen who had just yesterday wanted to hand her over to the Sheriff to face the punishment for murder. But wasn't the risk of not returning to camp even greater? If what Marion said was true and she had important information, then Gwyn had to remain behind and do what she could.

Reluctantly, she nodded and extricated her wrist from Marion's grip. "Let's go find Robin," she said quietly.

Walking past Marion, Danny could only hope that the Merrymen would see the bigger picture and allow her to stay.

What did Marion hear? How will the gang react to Gwyn's return? How will Allan react? Stay tuned to find out!

Review maybe? That would be cool...just saying. :)