A/N: Thankyou Dom, for providing me with the missing word :P LOVEYOUUUUU! (Even though it was you who typed that :P) ps: I do actually love you :))))) and sorry for being mean to you ;]

Morning's First Light

I'll take these storms away, start a brand new story.

I'll make it through each day, singing death or glory.

Lord won't answer me; I won't let it bring me down.

And though these clouds are grey, that I'm living under.

I know I'll be okay, whether rain or thunder,

I hear it calling me; I won't march into the sound.

Oh! Whoa!

Lostprophets – Where We Belong

As she awoke for the second time that day, she blinked as the bright midday sunlight shone through the small window. It was crudely cut into the sandy yellow stone, large enough to allow substantial light through but small enough to keep people from escaping. Rolling onto her back, she studied the pattern of the stone above her head. It seemed like early afternoon; maybe only midday and the sun was blazing hot against her skin. From outside, she could hear the normal sounds of the castle courtyard: the noise of animals, cries of peasants begging for food in the marketplace and the shouts of the sheriff's men.

Looking to her left through the bars of her cell, she whispered urgently "Roy, Are you there?" Silence. Getting up and stumbling over to the bars, she gripped them tightly, her eyes darting frantically around his cell. It was empty. Sinking to the ground, she hit the wall in frustration. If he had gone, that meant that he had already been sent to the gallows and it wasn't that long until she would be too.

There was no use worrying about it anymore. Getting shakily to her feet, she walked over to the window and contemplated the height. She could certainly jump that high, and if she had enough strength, she could probably scramble up and hang on. The problem was getting through the window. There was no way she was thin enough to squeeze through. There must be another way to escape, one that she could access by using her wit.

The chestnut mare cantered towards the tree line. Once she came to a halt, Allan jumped from her back in one fluid motion. Instantly, the rest of the men surrounded him, awaiting his information. Robin stepped forward, holding the baby close to his body and spoke first.

"Well?" He demanded.

"Central courtyard. Portcullis. Both heavily manned, we can't get in that way." The men groaned and Robin spun away, gently rocking the infant as he began to wail again. "The east wall, where the builders are?" He enquired desperately. Allan shook his head and muttered out of the corner of his mouth "Teeming..."

Will murmured "We could try the south wall?" Robin sighed, throwing his head back in exasperation and closed his eyes in concentration. "Too high." Allan agreed and added his own opinion. "And even if we could get in, I've heard the new door to the dungeon's two foot thick!"

Will smiled very slightly, his mouth turning upwards a fraction; barely noticed by the other men. He stepped forward, eager to share with them. "Yeah I heard that too, but I also heard that Robert of York put it in!" The men turned to him, listening to this new piece of information. Confusion clouded their eyes when they didn't understand. Allan looked directly at him and shrugging his shoulders said "And?" Will looked at Robin and answered Allan's question. "Robert of York can't make a hinge to save his life! The lock side will be as strong as an ox, but the hinge side will be weak – especially with the weight of two foot of timber!" The men grinned at each other, jubilant that their rescue mission seemed almost possible. Robin handed the baby to Much, who looked at him with disgust when he started to cry again.

Swallow kicked in frustration at the iron bars around her cell. She needed to think. She needed a way out, and so far nothing had come to her. Kicking out again, she felt a jolt vibrate through her right foot, as her feet came into contact with a section of rotten wood. Grinning in satisfaction, she kicked again and again and again, stopping every second kick or so to test the doorframe. Bracing her feet against it, she finally succeeded in snapping through the post and sized up the gap it had left. Taking a deep breath and sucking in, she squeezed through the hole and escaped her prison and near death.

Roy lay slumped upon the cool floor of his cell. Every inch of his body burned with an unfathomable pain and agony ripped through his heart as he contemplated the end of everything. He shifted his body weight a little as his legs began to go numb as a result of lack of exercise.

At the far end of the dungeons, a bang echoed across the hall as a heavy wooden door banged against the damp wall, hitting the mildewed stone. Footsteps echoed and prisoners further down began to moan and groan, begging for food, for forgiveness, for release.

A jangle of keys signalled the jailers' presence, as he muttered his way past the cells, jeering at the few prisoners contained in them. He reached the wooden door to Roy's cell and leered at him as the door swung open. He was not alone.

Gisbourne stepped into the doorway, blocking out most of the light and casting an ugly shadow across Roy's face. He sneered menacingly and beckoned to Roy "Sherriff wants to see you." He grinned evilly.