Here's the second chapter. Hope you guys enjoy!

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The first thing that Will had taught her was the various paths to take in the forest. Paths for moving quickly. Paths for avoiding guards. Paths that would keep you near a source of water. It was an awful lot to remember, and Morgan had a terrible sense of direction, especially when she was surrounded by trees that all looked sort of the same. Nonetheless, Will had told her it was important, so she'd learned the paths.

She was glad that she had, otherwise it would've been a long walk. As it was, she practically skipped along, finishing off her apple and tossing the core into the woods.

She felt special, being sent on a mission by herself. She guessed that it was Robin's way of making sure she could handle the responsibility if left to her own devices. Excited as she was about proving herself to the gang, she had a feeling of dread rising in her stomach.

She was confident she could get the information Robin was looking for, but she wasn't sure that she wanted to deal the source of the information. Little choice, now. She'd already told Robin that she would find out what she could. She came up on Nettlestone village, going to the cottage in the very center of town, opening the back window. An elderly woman was inside, sweeping.

"Poppy!" Morgan whispered, causing the woman to jump.

"Oh, Morgan, you nearly scared the life out of me! What're you doing?" The woman asked casually, returning to her sweeping. Morgan looked about before jumping through the window, closing the shutter behind her.

"I need information, Poppy," Morgan asked, smiling the best she could manage. The older woman laughed, handing Morgan the broom, sitting on the small bed near the wall. Morgan sighed and began sweeping.

"Talk of the town is that you've been abducted by outlaws," Poppy mentioned. Morgan shook her head.

"Not quiet," she muttered, picking her words carefully. Poppy was a notorious gossip. It was useful when you needed to know something. At the same time, she was always listening, never hesitating to pass on the latest news, whether you wanted her to or not. Morgan had been on the receiving end of Poppy's storytelling before and didn't want to relive the experience. "But I was never here, Poppy. Understand?"

"Of course, child, but if someone happens to catch you on your way out, that's no fault of mine," she cautioned. Morgan frowned.

"I didn't see any guards out there. What're you going on about, Poppy?" The older woman crossed her arms over her chest, shaking her head.

"Morgan, you know that I don't let good bits like that slip by without payment," she held out a hand. Morgan grinned sheepishly.

"I don't have any money, Poppy," she admitted. She'd given what little she had to the large poor chest back at the camp. The old woman smiled, showing her lack of teeth.

"Perhaps you could then pass some information to me, child," she suggested. Morgan leaned on the broom, shrugging.

"I doubt I could tell you anything that you don't already know," she said flatly. Poppy's toothless smile widened.

"That lad you fancy, Allan A Dale. Rumor has it that he turned on Robin Hood," Poppy trailed off. Morgan tried not to squirm, knowing that her every movement was under scrutiny.

"My friend Allan did leave Robin's gang after a disagreement," she corrected, trying not to say anything incriminating about either Allan or Robin. Poppy nodded.

"Alright, child. Whatever makes you feel better. Guy of Gisborne's put a reward out for you. Twenty pieces of silver to return you safely to the castle," Poppy divulged. Morgan was absolutely stunned.

"Twenty pieces of silver? Just what is he aiming at?" she mused aloud.

"Speaking of Guy of Gisborne, is it true that you two are engaged?" Poppy steered the conversation towards more dangerous waters. Morgan, however, had expected this much and crossed her arms over her chest.

"If I tell you, I need you to give me information about a man named Roger of Stoke," she haggled. Poppy's eyes brightened, which was both a good and bad thing. It meant that she definitely knew about Roger, but it also meant that Morgan was going to have to hand over more information.

"You tell me about you and Gisborne, and tell me what you're up to right now, and I'll tell you about Roger of Stoke." Morgan considered this for a moment before nodding.

"Guy did propose, but that's all done with now. I'm with Robin Hood right now," she whispered, not seeing any harm in telling the crazy old bat that she was an outlaw. Morgan was surprised that stories of her sudden disappearance with Robin's gang hadn't already reached Poppy. "Now, what about Roger of Stoke?"

Poppy adopted an air of sympathy.

"That's a sad business, child," she began, shaking her head. Morgan braced herself. The theatrics could only mean one thing. "The poor boy was murdered, not too long ago. Lacy from Nottingham saw it with her own two eyes. He stops in, talks with someone, starts to ride out. Gisborne swoops down like a hawk, stabs the poor lad right in the back and rides him off to the castle." Morgan gulped.

"That's absolutely terrible. Who did he meet in Nottingham?" Morgan asked before she could stop herself. Poppy raised an eyebrow.

"The pendant at your neck," she bargained. Morgan closed her hand around the wooden tag, thrown by Poppy's simple request.

"It's from Robin. Now, who did Roger meet in Nottingham?" she repeated. Poppy stood, taking her broom back and shaking her head at Morgan.

"You'll not like it," she warned. Morgan narrowed her eyes. The old woman sighed. "Alright, don't say I didn't warn you, Morgan." Morgan began to shift nervously, not wanting to say too much longer, in case someone saw her and decided that they wanted twenty pieces of silver.

"The last person to talk to Roger of Stoke is the same person who turned him over to Gisborne. That boy you fancy, Allan A Dale."

---

The dungeons were as she remembered them, although Djaq had noticed that there was a new jailer. The Sheriff had probably gotten sick of the previous one's failure to keep prisoners in their cells. Captured one by one, they had all been thrown into the same cell. The Sheriff was pacing in front of them, beside himself with glee.

"One, two, three, four, and five. Gisborne is taking care of number six as we speak. I knew today would be a good day," he almost sang, flourishing his hands as he numbered them off.

"A morning hanging, I should think. Something to get the blood flowing. Tomorrow. Enjoy your stay, Hood. Other ones," he said as a way of goodbyes, sweeping out of the dungeon. As soon as he was gone, the outlaws turned to each other.

"Does anyone have a plan?" Robin asked, looking around the circle. He didn't get a reply.

"Even if you pick the locks and get out of here, the Sheriff has every entrance and exit blocked. You won't find a way out unless someone in the castle helps you," a voice said from outside the cell. Allan had his back to them, glancing casually over his shoulder at the people that had been like family to him. He took the muttering of "traitor" in stride, giving them time to let it out before he continued.

"Jailer, aren't you expecting a delivery tonight?" he asked.

"Water for the prisoners," the man grunted. Allan nodded.

"I'll have it brought down later," he muttered, leaving the dungeon. The jailer grunted again, continuing his rounds.

"Was he trying to tell us something?" Will asked, jerking his head after Allan. Much shrugged.

"Who knows with him?"

---

Morgan hadn't stopped frowning at Poppy for the past ten minutes. How dare she imply that Allan had meant to get that man killed? Morgan didn't doubt that he'd turned Roger over to Gisborne, but there was no way that he meant for him to die. Stealing and lying, yes, but Allan wasn't a murderer.

Yet, regardless of how annoyed she was with the gossiping old bag, she had told her what she wanted to know. Roger of Stoke clearly hadn't made it out of Nottingham. Unfortunately, this business with Guy of Gisborne and his reward was proving to be troublesome. Morgan peeked out of the window, trying to leave without anyone seeing her.

"You know, Morgan, If you give me information about the Holy Land, I might be able to sneak you out of here without a problem," Poppy offered. Morgan shook her head. She didn't know any gossip from the Holy Land that she could tell Poppy.

"Sorry, Poppy. Out of luck there," she sighed, running a hand through her hair. Poppy laughed in that loud, grating way that always told Morgan that she needed to get out before it got ugly.

"Too bad. Have fun, child." Morgan had had enough, waiting until a man with a bucket of water had walked by before drawing the hood over her head and climbing out of the window.

When she recalled the incident later, Morgan wasn't quite sure if her cloak had caught in the shutter, or if the batty old gossip had pulled the shutter closed on purpose. Either way, her cloak was effectively stuck, jerking her backwards as she tried to sneak away.

"Perfect," she muttered, hastily trying to remove the cloak. From the other side of the house, she heard Poppy's cries.

"Help, someone! An outlaw! Come to rob a poor old woman!" Morgan supposed it was retribution for her lack of information about the Holy Land. Villagers soon poured forth, pitch forks and various makeshift weapons in hand. Morgan panicked, slipping out of the cloak and heading for the woods before she realized what she had done.

"Oy, that's Morgan Weaver! The one that Guy of Gisborne's offering the silver for!" One of the villagers noted, pointing excitedly. Morgan sent her eyes into a familiar, counterclockwise roll, breaking into a run.

"Don't look back, don't look back, don't look back," she chanted to herself, though her neck decided it wasn't a good idea to obey her newly formed mantra. She turned, revealing that the villagers were much closer than she had anticipated.

"I said not to look back. Didn't I say that?" she asked herself, scanning the area ahead. There was an empty old cart, resting at the top of a slop that lead away from the village. Morgan didn't stop to think that maybe there was a reason the cart had been left there, focusing only on the fact that the cart had wheels. Wheels make things go faster. She pushed the small cart forward, just enough that it started its downhill journey, before she leapt inside, tightly clutching the sides.

If there was one thought in her head in the moments following, Morgan voiced it as the cart sped down the hill.

"I've made a huge mistake." She had indeed made a huge mistake. There was indeed a reason that the cart had been abandoned. One of the wheels had come loose, shooting off of the cart nearly halfway down the hill. The cart flipped to the side, forcing Morgan to curl into a ball, tumbling down the rest of the hill by herself.

The villagers had all stopped, staring at the wreck that was playing out before their very eyes. The girl rolled to the bottom of the hill, skidding to a stop at the edge of the forest. To their surprise, she stumbled to her feet, staggering heavily but apparently unharmed. Before they could resume their chase, she had ducked into the trees, disappearing from sight.

"Cor blimey," one of the villagers managed, "She's absolutely mad!" An amused, crackling voice laughed from behind the crowd. Poppy was hobbling up to the mob, staring after Morgan.

"Absolutely mad? You could say that," she began, knowing that people would listen if she could perk their interests with the vague beginnings of one of her infamous stories. "You'll never believe what I've heard about her!"

---

The Sheriff was in a good mood. In one day alone, he'd captured Robin Hood and his hang, put out a bounty on the lovely, little blacksmith, eaten a particularly delicious plum, and arrested a man with poor taste in hats. He reclined in his chair, addressing Gisborne without looking.

"Gisborne, have you caught the lovely, little blacksmith yet?" No reply. The Sheriff sighed, rubbing his temples, calling over a guard.

"Sir Guy hasn't returned yet, my lord," the guard explained. The Sheriff gave the guard a swift slap to the head, knocking the man's helmet off.

"You, pretend to be Gisborne," he ordered, finding that he almost missed the younger man's presence. A clue: no. The guard did seem rather confused.

"My lord?"

"Oh, you know. Stand over there. Brood. Occasionally, whine like a little girl," the Sheriff rattled off, mulling it over to make sure he hadn't missed any of Gisborne's more notable traits. It probably would've been easier if he'd actually paid attention to Gisborne half the time, but he didn't. Just as the guard had taken to standing where the left tenet usually stood, the man himself walked into the room.

"My lord, news from Nettlestone," he reported, casting a confused look at the stand-in Gisborne. The Sheriff broke into a smile, speaking to the guard without looking.

"You're fired," he muttered. "Now, Gisborne, tell me that you have succeeded! Tell me that the lovely, little blacksmith is down in the dungeon." He rubbed his hands together, waiting for Gisborne to tell him. But Gisborne didn't.

"Morgan appeared in Nettlestone. They chased her, but she escaped into the woods," he recounted, crossing his arms over his chest with a smile. The Sheriff was thrown by this. Why was Gisborne still smiling like a lunatic? He ignored as Gisborne's boy, Alvin, or something, walked into the chamber, standing back so as not to interrupt.

"Well, spit it out, Gisborne. I'm assuming there's a reason that you're grinning like a fool, because it certainly isn't because the lovely, little blacksmith is in the dungeon," The Sheriff hissed, quickly losing his patience. Gisborne should've figured out that only he, the Sheriff of Nottingham, was allowed to be dramatic and suspenseful.

"I've discovered the real reason that Morgan fled into the forest," Gisborne announced. Behind him, Allan tried to hide his look of shock. If Gisborne had figured out about Morgan and the Holy Land, she was in far more danger than he had thought.

"Hood." Gisborne said triumphantly. "The villagers all confirmed that she is romantically involved his Robin Hood. It all makes sense, my lord." Allan went from hiding his shock to stifling his laughter. Morgan and Robin? Why would that ever make sense? Gisborne continued.

"All this time, we've suspected that someone was feeding Hood and his gang information. It was Morgan all along. It makes sense. She started working here around the same time that Hood showed up. She interacted with all of the guards, so she knew what has happening." The Sheriff had grown bored with Gisborne's exposition and had started crossing his eyes. Two Gisbornes. One Gisborne. Two Gisbornes. One Gisborne.

"Blah di blah di blah," he interrupted. "Don't care how your go about it, Gisborne, just see that she hangs in the morning with the rest of them." Allan's internal laughter stopped immediately. He had to talk to Morgan.

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I don't think I've mentioned it, but I love writing for the Sheriff. He's just so surly and uncaring.