Hello everyone! I am so sorry for the delay in getting this up online! What with a new job and ongoing stress in life, it's been a hard couple of months. But I am endeavoring to get this Story done and completed this year. I have so much that I want to write!

After discussing a plan, the Outlaws had retired to their separate beds for the evening and the soft crackling of the dying fire filling the air in the camp. Sleep did not come easily that night; I lay awake, my mind practically spinning and my body feeling tense from the day's events. When I eventually did manage to drift off, sleep was disturbed by nightmares; visions of the Sheriff at the head of a grand table, mocking me as I sat helpless at the other end; my wrists bound by thick iron chains and such a deep feeling of helplessness that I felt that there was no air in my lungs to cry out for help.

I gasp as I wake, a fine sweat beading my forehead and I try to adjust from the disturbed sleep. I look around the camp, taking in the varying sounds of heavy breathing from the other Outlaws, each lost in their own dreams. A muffled sound catches my attention, and I slowly bring myself into a sitting position, my ears straining for the sound and my eyes sweeping the others for any hint as to the cause of the noise.

There it is again. Louder, but only just, and coming from the far corner. Hesitation grips me, but I ball my fists, urging myself to get out of bed and investigate. Treading carefully on the cool ground, I near the opposite side of the camp. I notice Much sleeping in his bed, sprawled out rather ungracefully beneath his blanket, with a soft snore that almost makes me chuckle. A thrash of limbs in the bed opposite Much grabs my attention, as I hear the muffled noise again.

Robin is twisting and turning in his sleep, his skin having a sheen of moisture and his face completely pale. He emits the muffled noise again, although this time I hear it more as a whimper. I realise, with a distressing feeling, that he is having a nightmare too. I look around the camp at the other Outlaws, all sleeping soundly in their beds, unsure as to whether to wake him up. When Robin thrashes again, more vehemently this time, I make my decision and kneel beside him at his bed, attempting to rouse him from his troubled sleep with a gentle shake of his shoulder and whispering his name. At first, it has no response, his brows only furrow deep on his face. So I try again, this time a bit harder and a little bit louder. Robin's eyes flash open, wild and surprised, his breathing shallow as he gasps awake. He grabs my wrist from his shoulder, the strength behind his grip shocks and stuns me. Panic lies in his gaze, as he attempts to adjust to the darkness within the camp.

'Robin, it's only me.' I whisper, trying to keep my voice low so that the others don't wake up. I'm not sure that Robin would want anyone else to see him like this, heck I'm not even sure he's going to like me seeing him like this. His strong fingers dig tighter into my skin, still tender from the rope bounds a few days ago and I can't help but wince. His attention appears to focus on me after hearing my voice, a look of apprehension appears as he looks at me kneeling beside him at his bed. His gaze wanders to my wrist, and upon noticing his strong hold on me, he instantly lets go as if my skin were burning his fingers.

'You were having a bad dream.' I tell him, attempting to reassure him in a soothing tone. I spot the flash of uneasiness in his eyes as he tries to gather himself, sitting up in his bed. I notice the hair is stuck to the back of his head due to his sweat, and that his hand had been cold and clammy to the touch when he had grabbed my wrist. I turn and find some fresh water close by, and grabbing a piece of cloth and drenching it with water, I hold it to Robin's forehead. Although he was tense and uneasy with my action, he allowed me to dampen his skin with the wet cloth, his eyes closing and a look of relief washing over him. I hand him the water in the canteen, which he takes with a small thanks, emptying the container in just a few mouthfuls. As I move the damp cloth to the back of his neck, where the hair looks ruffled and matted from the tossing and turning he had done in his sleep, Robin's breathing gradually returns to a normal rhythm, a calming silence falling back over the camp.

'I'm sorry.' His voice is coarse and barely a whisper, but I hear it nonetheless. I shake my head at him as I reply.

'What are you sorry for?'

'For waking you up. For hurting you'. He looks at me then, his gaze seeming to be that of a wounded man. I stop my motions with the wet cloth and bring my hands to rest on my knees, not too sure what to do with them now.

'You didn't hurt me, and I was having trouble sleeping anyways.' I let the sentence hang in the air for a moment, before adding, 'It must have been an awful dream.'

Robin doesn't look at me for a while, instead he stares at his hands which he then brings to his head, running them through his hair in an exasperated motion.

'You must think me childish to still have nightmares.' He eventually states, averting my gaze. For a second, I am lost as to what to reply back with. Once again I look around at the sleeping bodies surrounding us, the cool night air already nipping at my skin and I rub my arms in an effort to create some warmth for myself.

'I had a nightmare the other night and I have never known anything like it. Thank God Alan was awake, he managed to calm me down so that I could go back to sleep. It appears that there are a lot of nightmares going around lately.' He watches me as I speak, his eyes are intense. 'Plus, I do not think I could ever see you as being childish.' I tell him, in such a matter of fact way that a hint of a smile begins to appear on his face.

'Thank you Gwen.' Robin's voice is so warm with sincerity that I blush, and quickly scold myself for doing so. I am suddenly aware that I am knelt beside a man in his bed, at God knows what hour, in the middle of the night. I place the soaked cloth back and stand up, my knees sore from the hard ground.

'You're most certainly welcome Robin.' I smile warmly at him as I feel my face flush once more, and I make my way back to my own bed. The covers feel cool against my warm skin, and I fall asleep with a smile on my face and a warmth in my chest.

The next morning I was up before most of the other Outlaws, only Djaq and Much were awake and sat beside the fire as I stroll over and join them.

'Morning' I beam at them, taking a drink of water. Much beams back at me with a 'Morning Gwen' and returns to cooking breakfast, but Djaq watches me, her eyes twinkling with a curiosity.

'You are in a good mood this morning, Gwen.' She notes, watching me smile at her.

'I had a good dream, that is all.' I reply to her, not wanting to say anymore. I had felt like a child, blushing in front of Robin last night, he surely already thinks of me as unable to stand on my own two feet. Djaq laughs at my response, and noticing that her container is empty, stands and quietly heads to get her cloak.

'I will go out and refill the water, before everybody wakes up. Would you like to join me Gwen?' Djaq's sly tone makes me smile broadly, she obviously wants to delve deeper but not around Much's delicate ears. I nod at her, making my way to grab my own cloak as I notice some of the others beginning to stir in their beds.

'W...wait a second. Do you really think it best for you two to go out alone, with the events that happened yesterday?' Much asks us, his tone worried and skeptical. I think over his question, in regards to what the Sheriff's Guard had said yesterday, my smile already starting to wane.

'We will be there and back in a matter of minutes, there is no need to be so afraid Much.' Djaq's confident tone retorts back, as she opens the hatch to the forest woods. After reassuringly patting the hilt of my sword on my cloak, I follow after her. The surrounding woods are dense with a slight mist, sunlight attempting to trickle through the heavy branches. I had always loved when the seasons began to change, the lines of cold and warmth blurred as the grass grows a little greener and the days a little warmer. I cannot help but smile, despite what Much had said before we left the camp, as me and Djaq trek through the forest, with early morning birdsong hanging in the air above us.

'Okay, tell me the truth Gwen. What has made you so happy this morning?' Djaq laughs as we fill the camp's canteens with water at the beautiful spring, the crisp and cool water rejuvenating me as I wash my face and neck.

'I told you, I had a good dream.' I tell her again, determined not to say anything more and she smirks at me, washing her forearms in the stream. I did not want to tell anyone of Robin's nightmare in the middle of the night, however I did feel that I could honestly open up to Djaq and tell her about my small albeit one-sided crush on Robin, but I did not want to appear foolish and childish to her. The woman was an enigma, her exotic background and vast skills with healing and fighting already astounds me.

'Well I am glad to hear that Gwen, you deserve to be happy.' Djaq's genuine smile mirrors onto me as we leave the stream behind, making our way back towards the camp.

On the walk back, we smiled at each other and talked about whether Will has made his move yet, the glances filled with romantic tension almost too much for the Outlaw camp to cope with. A branch snap catches our attention and we stand dead still, suddenly on high alert. The two of us look for movement in the dense woodland, our hands reaching towards our weapons and our breath hitches in our throat as even the birdsong quietens down. The laughter and conversation seems to have died suddenly, our words still hanging in the forest air as we scan the surroundings. Another sound draws our gaze somewhere to the right, a crunch of leaves a few hundred yards off and a figure of a small boy emerges from behind several trees.

The boy abruptly stops in his tracks, his gaze on myself and Djaq and our hands on our weapons. He looks no older than 9, maybe 10 years old, with his auburn hair in a matted mess atop his head, simple peasant clothes hanging off of his thin body and a look of surprise on his face. The boy is holding an armful of dry sticks, obviously collecting firewood for his home in the Village, he must have wandered too far down where hardly anyone comes. Well, except for us.

I look to Djaq, curious as to what to do now, but I can see that Djaq looks as equally perplexed as I do. A few drops of rain fall on my damp skin as I move forward, taking my hand off the hilt of my dagger and watching the boy as he looks between the two of us. As I take another step towards the boy, my arm outstretched and the words 'It's okay' on my lips, the young lad drops his armful of dry wood on the ground and takes off running in the direction of Locksley Village. I take another step forwards, whether to take off after him I'm not too sure, but a hand on my arm pulls me back.

'Let him go.' Djaq tells me, as she looks in the general direction of where the lad ran off home in. 'The children tend to be startled when we bump into them'. She explains to me as she walks over to the pile of abandoned firewood and picks it up, the rain getting slightly heavier as the sky overhead begins to grey.

'Shouldn't we be worried?' I ask her, as we walk back to the Camp, the gentle patter of rain on the fallen leaves filling the air between us. Djaq looks at me and shakes her head slowly.

'Even if the child tells their parents or the Guards that they saw us, they did not see the Camp or how to get in. Plus, you already know that the Sheriff regularly sends his Guards into the forest to look for us, we are in no more danger than we are any other day.'

I think over Djaq's statement, and it's true how the group of Outlaws are always in some sort of danger, no matter how hard they try not to be. We reach the opening of the camp, and the two of us make a detailed scout of the clearing around us for any lurking figures, before heading in.

Most of the other Outlaws are sat around the Campfire, but I spot Will and Allan in the middle of putting their cloaks on, near to the entrance where myself and Djaq walk through. Will's expression of worry softens instantly upon seeing us, as does Allan's. I notice the others seem to relax a fraction at our appearance, and briefly feel guilty over the early morning stroll by ourselves.

'We thought….' Will started, but didn't finish his sentence. Instead he gives Djaq a concerned glance as he takes a few of the filled canteens off of us. Allan smiles mischievously at us as he takes off his cloak.

'So you guys decided to go gallivanting off, despite what we learnt yesterday?' His tone noted with scorn as raises his eyebrows at the two us. I feel as though myself and Djaq are being reprimanded like misbehaving children, needing to be scolded for our actions. Djaq obviously feels the same way.

'It was a simple trip to the stream. I think Gwen and I are able to fulfil that task by ourselves.' Her voice is strong and firm as she makes her way over to a seat by the crackling fire. I wonder how she must have felt, coming into this gang of Outlaws as a male, and not having the others worry about her so much. Now that the group are well informed of Djaq being a female, they worry over her a lot more.

'No one is saying that you are not able to, but with everything that happened yesterday-' Will starts to reply, but is interjected by a louder voice.

'We cannot keep the two of them contained to the camp, like prisoners.' I am just as surprised as the other Outlaws as Little John pokes at the burning flames, his eyes on the morning fire. I watch him after he has spoken, and although we have not spoken many words to each other, my heart warms a little more towards the gentle giant.

'You're right.' Robin agrees after a second of silence, as he picks at a chunk of bread. He looks over to where I stand, feeling rather awkward and unsure. 'It is the two of you that the Sheriff of Nottingham is after, we are not sure as to why that is just yet. But you are both a part of this group, of this family, and it is our duty to protect each other.'

The other Outlaws nod in response to Robin's words and I find myself looking at the floor. Too long have I felt unable to stand on my own two feet and a mere hazard to the heroic band of Outlaws. I can still feel the weight of it on my shoulders, bearing down on me when situations arise.

We sit and eat breakfast after that, the conversation turning to what plan the Sheriff is cooking up in his invitation for the King to come to Nottingham. I listen to their theories as I eat some cheese and bread, my own thoughts running a whirlwind in my head. If the Sheriff had just been after me, I might have been able to slink away from the group, to turn myself in and avoid any further repercussions for the Outlaws. But I know, way down deep inside, that I would not have had the courage to do that. The mere thought of the Sheriff, of his sinister leer and callous lack of empathy, chills me to my core. I had heard many stories in the Village over the past few years, of torture and brutality and murder. I cannot imagine how someone can so joyously give orders for punishment and death, and feast off the misery from the Villagers and poor townsfolk of Nottingham. I do not know how the others can be so relaxed with the ever-hanging threat of the Sheriff and his men breathing down their necks, a malicious plot perhaps already in the process. I breathe a shaky breath as I gulp down a few mouthfuls of cool spring water, and feel a reassuring hand on my arm. Much is offering me more cheese to go with my bread, but my stomach is so full of knots that I refuse him, thanking him all the same.

'You seem quiet, Gwen. Is everything alright?' Much always has a worrying tone, I realise, and it must be due to all of the trouble that him and his Master get into. I smile thankfully at him, and tell him that I just have stomach cramps. Not a total lie, I try to tell myself, as Much worries over whether it would be anything to do with the food, to which I assure him that it isn't. I explain that I need some fresh air and make my way to exit the camp, reassuring the other Outlaws that I am fine. Djaq motions to get up but I gesture for her to sit back down, I'll only be outside for a few moments. As I leave the camp, the rain falls softly on my skin, the cold dampness of it clinging to me and refreshing me all at once. I can feel the presence of someone behind me and I sigh, turning to explain that I am fine, but am met with Robin's curious expression.

'I only need to get a bit of air.' I tell him, as he takes a step towards me. I instinctively take a step back, the situation surprising me, especially after the events of last night.

'I know.' Robin replies, watching me with his trained eye. I feel a surge of guilt then, wanting to tell Robin of the small boy who spotted Djaq and myself in the woods earlier, which is what I do. He looks surprised when I tell him, his eyes briefly widening, then his gaze becomes serious.

'I'm sorry I didn't tell you any sooner. The boy did not see the camp, we were a few yards south of here and he ran before I could stop him, I-' Robins moves forward again, stopping me mid sentence and enveloping me in a hug. Instantly I stiffen, being taken off guard to both the action and the proximity. I realise that the rain is no longer falling on my bare arms, as Robin's cloak surrounds me. The warmth from his body radiates and I begin to feel a little less rigid.

'It's alright Gwen, he was just a boy. I'm thankful it was not someone more threatening.' Robin says, and I breathe an unsteady sigh of relief. 'I won't let anything happen to you Gwen. The Sheriff won't hurt you.' His tone is low and serious, his voice a whisper and his breath warm on my forehead. All at once, I come apart.

Not hysterically crying or sobbing, but the warmth and relief floods me so hard that I have to grab Robin's back to steady myself. My eyes brim with tears as I grip onto the back of his cloak, my heart beating so erratically that I am sure Robin must be able to hear it. His hand strokes my hair in a soothing fashion, as I internally struggle not to cry in front of him, but it is useless. My tears fall onto Robin's broad shoulders, my barrier crumbling away as he holds me. I feel like a child who is crying to their parent, afraid of whatever monster they believe to be under their bed. It is at this point that Robin pulls away, his face filling my vision with warmth and understanding. I cannot help but let out a small laugh as he wipes a tear from my cheek, and I can only imagine what a sight I must look to him. But looking up into his blue eyes, I see nothing but concern for me as he leans forward and softly kisses my forehead, lingering a second or two. My heart is beating so fast that I can hear it in my ears, it blocks out the other sounds of Nottingham Forest around us. All except for one sound, the sound of a horse, which seems to be getting closer.

I pull away from Robin's embrace, already missing the warmth and security I felt, as the two of us attempt to see what direction the sound is coming from. My heart now feels like it is in my throat, the drizzling rain hazing my vision and my mind still reeling from the kiss Robin had planted on my forehead. Robin shoots a worrying look back towards the camp, a mere few footsteps away, and signals for me to slowly step backwards with him. The sound of a horse gallop getting closer, coming from the direction of the Village. I see the predicament in Robin's face, as to whether risk opening the entrance to the Outlaws camp and risk it being seen by whoever is riding towards us on horseback. I notice him clench his jaw as the oncoming sound of hoof prints make his decision for him, he grabs my hand and takes off running to the surrounding trees, where the shrubbery is much more dense and easier to hide. We lunge behind a particularly thick throng of bushes and tree trunks, with a viewpoint of both the Outlaws camp and the approaching figure on horseback.

Well, figures. Several of the Sheriff's men gallop through the woodland, their armor clinking against their saddles. Behind them trots a large black horse, atop it the stern figure of Guy of Gisbourne, scanning the surrounding trees with a concentrated expression. I hear Robin curse next to me upon seeing Guy approaching, and I watch as the Guards pass through the clearing and on the path south, towards the stream and the denser part of Nottingham Forest. I can sense how on edge Robin is as he kneels beside me in the foliage, the threat to the other Outlaws a sudden and painful realization. If anyone in the camp decides to leave right now, all of their lives would be in danger. My breath comes out shaky as I watch Guy trot forwards on his horse, his gaze intense on the woods around us, his position to the Camp too close for comfort. Robin carefully looks over to whether the other Guards are making their way through the thick trees and makeshift paths, a plan starting to form in head.

'I need to draw them away from the Camp.' He whispers, his voice low and steady.

'Let me help.' I ask him, trying to calm my nerves as I watch Guy of Gisbourne trot past the clearing to the Camp. Robin stills for a moment, analyzing the situation.

'Okay, we move further south to distract Gisbourne and the Guards, and once they think they have followed our scent, we double back to the camp and warn the others.' Robin says calmly, his eyes on mine, making sure I understand the plan. I nod at him, adrenaline already starting to spike in my system. 'Do you have your weapon on you?' He asks me, and I place a reassuring hand on the hilt of my dagger, thankful to have it strapped to my belt. Robin smiles, pleased at me having some sort of weapon in this situation, as he checks his own small dagger on the inside of his cloak. 'I left my bow and arrows in the camp, this will have to make do for now.'

Robin doesn't appear to be overwhelmed by the situation, only slightly on edge. I wonder if he and the other Outlaws have to deal with this often enough, what with the Sheriff and his non-stop attempts to disillusion the Outlaws to the people of Nottingham. I swallow the nauseous feeling of fear and follow Robin's lead as he begins to silently trek through the forest beside the Sheriff's guards and Guy of Gisbourne, being ever so careful not to make a sound. The two of us watch as they glance through the thick trees on the makeshift path, and my heart skips a beat as Robin throws a thick branch somewhere far ahead of the Guards and out of our direction. Guy of Gisbourne's head snaps to where the branch hits a tree about 50 feet away, motioning to the Guards to follow him as he stealthily trots over to the noise, a devious grin appearing on his face.

It's almost comical how smug and arrogant Guy looks, seemingly hot on our tails, that an urge to kick him where it hurts all men appears in my mind. Robin carefully lead us back to the clearing, taking care and deliberation to avoid making any further noises. The two of us notice that the opening to the Camp is on the latch, with Much and Djaq looking around with confused expressions. They must have wondered what was taking me and Robin so long to return back to Camp, but now my stomach is in so many knots that I shiver; with adrenaline or due to the rain now beginning to fall harder, I do not know.

It is Much that sees us first, his almost-permanently worried manner begins to look relieved as we leave the safety and anonymity of the thick shrubbery, but it quickly returns once he sees our faces.

'We need to leave. Now.' Robin states, somewhere just above a whisper, the urgency evident on both his face and in his tone. Much's face clouds with more concern as his gaze darts to the surrounding forest. Djaq nods with a somber expression on her face and quickly darts back into the camp, no doubt to warn the others. I look to Robin, unsure as to what is going to happen. Although it must be nearing midday, the skies above have darkened with storm clouds, with a far off thunder rumbling away.

'Could we not just hide within the Camp?' I ask Robin, who has his trained eyes in the direction of where Guy and his men had wandered through. He glances over to me, and I notice just how weary he begins to look, as if he is so tired of all of this sneaking and hiding. My mind momentarily flashes back to the intimate scene a few moments ago, the memory ruined by the appearance of Guy and his men.

'Unfortunately not. If Guy and his men were to somehow manage to find and open the entrance, we would be trapped. It would be best if we leave for now, head out of the forest and prepare to cut them off.' I nod, understanding the logic and reason, and I spot the other Outlaws slipping out of the Camp with solemn faces, their cloaks and weapons with them.

Wordlessly, Robin motions for us to head back the way the Guy came through, and in the direction towards the Village. I heard Alan muttering something about 'can't that damn Guy give us a day off' and I can't help but smile wearily at him, appreciating his humour in this turn of events. The others are on high alert; their attention focused on their path ahead but their gazes are intense and vigilant. The impending threat hangs over the group like a thick fog, as we silently trek through the forest, the rain continuing to get heavier as the clouds above turn a darker shade of grey. How fitting, I think, considering the tense situation.

A distant sound of thunder rumbles a few miles away, smothering the sound of the rain and our footsteps for a second. I vaguely recollect a memory of watching a thunderstorm with both of my parents, a cup of something warm in my hands and the familiar scent of home. I brush off the melancholy that clings to me, as another clap of thunder booms in the skies overhead, this time a few miles closer to us. Little John looks to the heavens above, squinting as the rain falls directly into his sight, and I wonder whether he is looking for the lightning that should be accompanying the thunderstorm. Alan has pulled his hood tighter round his face, obviously not enjoying the rain soaking him.

'You know, we could always head on up to the tavern to seek shelter?' He states to the rest of the Outlaws, shrugging his shoulders as water droplets fall from himas he walks up to Robin. Will smiles at his friends motion, no doubt amused at the prospect of him wanting a large tankard of anything strong and to warm himself by the fire, which doesn't sound entirely awful I must admit. However I do notice Much watching the trees warily, his eyes searching for any danger or threat. Djaq is further ahead, scouting the trail we are intending to follow, and although I have no idea where the group are heading, it does appear to be in the direction of the Village. A roar of thunder startles me, and the rest of the group judging by their expressions, the sound of it rumbling right over our heads distracts me as I look up into the dark and dismal midday sky. As the rumbles fades out quietly and the rain can be heard falling all around us, I hear something else. I turn on the spot, curious to know what that sound could be, and as I look to the others to see whether they can hear it too, the sound of oncoming hoof prints behind me makes my stomach drop.

I begin to run with before Robin has yelled at us to. The ground beneath my feet is soft from the rain as I sprint through the trees, leading to a steady inclining hill. Little John is directly behind me, holding the flank to the rest of the group, Alan is beside me with an expression that gives me a sinking feeling. The other Outlaws are just a few seconds ahead, looking back at us with concern. I do not want to look back, the sound of the Sheriff's men on horseback fills my ears, with Guy's distinct voice, shouting at his horse to go faster. I barely manage to save myself as my foot slips on the wet ground underfoot, but Alan grabs my arm and pulls me with him so that we continue running, but something whizzes past us and embeds itself into a tree. My heart plummets as I realise that it was an arrow that has sailed past our heads.

The rain has soaked through to my skin, my cloak now clinging to me as I continue to run forwards. A painful sounding grunt makes me look behind my shoulder as I spot Little John a few yards behind us, an arrow sticking out of his calf. My breath hitches in my throat upon seeing Guy coming towards us, one hand on his mounts reins and the other on the hilt of his sword. Riding further back behind him are five of the Sheriff's Guards, one of which is struggling to steady his bow as he draws back another arrow. Alan pushes me back so forcefully that I lose my footing and stumble backwards, hitting the wet earth as the arrow flies between us, lost somewhere in the trees and bushes. Had I been standing where I was, the arrow would have hit my shoulder. I glance up to Alan but he is already running over to Little John, who has proceeded to yank out the arrow, roaring in response to the pain.

'Gwen, run!' Alan turns his head to yell at me, as he draws his blade out from its sheath. I struggle to get onto my feet, grabbing handfuls of mud as I push myself off the ground, glancing up to the others who were running back after realizing that we were no longer right behind them. The sound of hoof-prints draws my attention and a blur of black whizzes past me, as a Guard and Guy gallop past and towards where Will and Djaq are. In the back of my mind, a voice is screaming that they're after Djaq, remembering the words that the Sheriff's guard had told me. Much and Robin, who had been running back towards us, halted as the oncoming Guy of Gisbourne unsheathed his sword. The two of them looked where Djaq and Will stand defensively, their weapons already out and defiant expressions on their faces, and then to where Little John and Alan are attacking three of the guards who are still on their mounts. A rough hand covers my mouth and yanks me backwards, suppressing the shout of surprise that emits from my mouth in response to my arms held to my sides by an unseen arm and my head hitting the large shoulder of whoever is behind me.

Instinctively, I thrash at whoever is dragging me backwards into the denser part of the incline, managing to release a hand up to reach the attackers face, my fingers touch cool metal and I realise that it is one of the Sheriff's Guards, wearing their helmet armour. I throw my head back with a force I regretted when the pain shoots through my skull on contact with the helmet. The Guard grunts in anger and his hands on me loosen so that I manage to stumble out of his grip and turn to face him, drawing my blade out from under my cloak in the process. The Guard in front of me is head to toe in armour, but I can still make out a hideous smirk under the helmet visor as he unsheathes a sword from his belt and advances towards me. I struggle to sidestep his advance as he lunges at me, the tip of his sword narrowly missing my hip, I clench my tweet and turn on the balls of my feet, taking a strong swipe to the underarm of his armor and hearing a satisfying yelp from the Guard as my blade makes contact with the weakest spot of the armour.

I take a step backwards, hearing the commotion behind me of the other Outlaws defending themselves from Guy and the other Outlaws. I want to turn and see how the others are faring, but dare not take my eyes off the Guard in front of me. The Guard in question hisses in pain as he lifts his injured arm up with sword in hand, and I cannot help but smirk knowing that I have injured his fighting arm. A shout pierces the air above the sound of sword fighting, and instinctively I turn to see who it had come from. The rain is falling harder now, making it difficult to see, but I barely manage to spot Will further up the hill, fighting one of the Guards who is struggling with something on the back of his horse. It slowly dawns on me that it is a familiar figure on the horse with the Sheriff's Guard, and I feel my face drain of colour as I realise with sickening dread, who it was. Djaq.

I begin to wonder how she ended up on the horse with the Guard, who has now kicked Alan in his shoulder and made him sprawl to the ground. Robin looks over his shoulder at the commotion, as he stands fighting the oncoming attacks from Guy of Gisbourne with Much right beside him. With an immense feeling of dread, I take a step towards their direction, my heart beating so fast in my chest that my head feels light, preparing myself into a run to try and get to where Djaq lay, motionless on the horse. But the Guard is racing off, his mount fast considering the slick ground underfoot, and Djaq is gone with him. For a second, I forget to breathe. A gasp barely manages to exit my throat as it dawns on me that they actually managed to capture Djaq, one of the great Outlaws. The other Guard had been right, they were after her, and they had managed to get her.

I heard him before anything else, the Guard behind me. I heard his grunt as he staggered towards me, I felt his cool, hard armour as he grabbed at me from behind but stumbled as he lost his footing on the drenched incline. Then I saw flashes of deep, dark sky and tall trees as I fell, hard and cold, down the hill.

I hit the ground at the bottom of the hill with a force that knocked all of my breath from me. I lay there on my back, trying to open my eyes but not managing to see anything with the rain falling directly into my vision. My mind barely registers that I had fell down the hill, tumbling through the trees. I was amazed that I had not hit a single tree on my way down. I can still hear the shouting and commotion further up the hill, but I cannot distinguish the voices as they sound so far away. I hear a painful groan nearby, reminding me of the Guard who had caused us both to tumble downwards. The adrenaline was still coursing through my veins, and I began to pull my aching body from the wet forest floor, my cloak heavy with rain and mud. As I stand on my feet, swaying slightly, I gasp at the twinges of pain emitting from various parts of my body, and I have to steady myself by putting my hands on my knees in an awkwardly bent position. I observe that I had fallen down into the clearing just before the inclining hill, as I glance over to where I can see the figure of the Guard laid against a nearby tree a fair few meters from me. It takes more concentration to realise that the Guard is sprawled out in an unnatural position, his head resting on his chest and legs at bent angles. I struggle to see more in the heavy rain, but it looks as if the Guard has broken either his legs or his back. He groans again, this time louder and in much more pain and I am reminded of just how lucky I had been, not to hit anything on the fall down. A shouting somewhere far off catches my attention and I struggle to raise my head upwards towards the noise.

The shock of seeing Guy of Gisbourne racing towards me made every nerve in my sore and bruised body go ice cold. I clumsily reach down to where my sword normally lay on my belt, and have a stomach-turning realisation that it is not there because it had been dropped when I was tackled down the hill. My legs begin to move before I even realise that I am running, panic gripping my heart like a vice as I hear the heavy hoof-prints of Guy and his horse right behind me. I dodge to my left and behind several large trees, just as Guy makes a grab at me and instead getting a fistful of air. He grunts in dissatisfaction as I hear him dismount and my legs threaten to make me sink to my knees on the cold wet earth, but I manage to keep myself up, barely. I peek around the tree's trunk, up the incline where the other Outlaws were attempted to come after us, but were being delayed by the remaining Guards, two of which were attacking Little John and Allan. The sound of crunching leaves snaps my head around, trying to figure where Guy was within the shadows of the forest around us. My breathing is coming out in short gasps, and I try to quieten it down so that it is not so loud. The sound of my rapid heartbeat fills my ears and I struggle to hear anything else, the heavy rainfall on my face making it infinitely harder to see anything surrounding me. The scene vaguely reminds me of a childhood memory, of playing hide and seek in the sparser woodland with my mother, the sound of her laughter filling the air as I weave between the bushes and shrubbery to escape her clutches. And now here I am, desperately trying to get away from a devious figure who no doubt will harm me, or bring me to a greater harm.

I swallow a strangled sob as I attempt to run a few steps towards the clearing, hearing a twig snap too close behind me in response to my flight. A forceful grip around my neck abruptly stops me, and I thrash at the arm currently cutting off my air supply, berating myself for not managing to get away quick enough. Up ahead I can barely make out a few figures running towards us, attempting to run down the hill as fast as they can manage in the stormy conditions. Guy tightens his arm around my neck and I stop thrashing, instead I attempt to gasp for air as my heart beats like a drum in my ears and the world spins before me.

'Don't worry, the Sheriff wants you alive.' Guy grunts at me as he whistles for his black mount to come to him. The panic flooding my body has evolved into something else: sheer terror. I begin to thrash and fight, suddenly overwhelmed by the fear of what was to come if the Sheriff had plans for me. Grunting in agitations, Guy takes his arm off my windpipe, and I breathe in a lungful of blissful damp air, swaying slightly where I stand, Guy's grip on my shoulder painful as he turns me around on the spot to face him. I barely make out his facial expression in the heavy deluge before a fist collides with the side of my face and I am left in total darkness.

I seriously would like to thank everyone that is still reading at this point. I know it's been a while, but I'm hoping that now I'm back in the saddle that I can manage to whip out a new Chapter every few weeks. I appreciate all of those that Follow and Favourite this story, as well as myself. I'd especially love any reviews or messages to let me know how you guys are finding this story development.

Now it is off to bed for me, but I wish you all good night and sweet dreams!