Robin sat slumped in the corner of the cell. Tears hung just behind his closed eyes as he gave his mind up to a piercing montage of memories. Marian—the Holy Land—the Sheriff—Richard—Locksley—Sherwood. He felt broken and let himself sink into that hopelessness. He would gather his strength, but not yet. First he had to wallow: it was his punishment for falling into this.
"Robin, Robin, Robin," the Sheriff cooed as he strutted through the dungeon. "We need you, oh hurry, save the King, save him, Robin!"
The Sheriff laughed unabashedly and stopped with his face almost pressed to the bars between him and Hood. Robin sniffed, rubbed his eyes, but did not move from the ground. He kept his gaze locked on the stone across from him.
"Now you won't mind if we use you to amuse the rabble, now will you? Budget is tight this season and we have to be creative with our festivities. It can be your Christmas present to your beloved poor."
Robin did not move.
"Well, enjoy your stay. I'm sorry it will be so brief, but we can't allow too much time for your little friends to try to spring you out. I'll be seeing you soon. Don't be late!"
The Sheriff laughed his way out of the dungeon. Robin gritted his teeth and got to thinking.
The gang was all thinking the same thing: why did he leave in the first place? They each knew why, they knew Robin that well, but it was still difficult to understand. Their brainstorming session was undercut with a fierce anger at the entire situation. They wanted to be mad, but knew it wouldn't help and so grew more frustrated at feeling mad. No one was thinking clearly or creatively enough to come up with a good plan and the limits of time made them worried. Robin's execution was soon. The villagers needed food soon. And it was painfully cold in the forest.
"It's too bad it's not going to be a hanging," Much started. "I mean, at least then we could do what Robin did that first time."
"What, shoot the rope? None of us are that good with a bow, Much. Come on," Will sighed.
"He's not hanging anyways," Djaq added, trying to steer them back to the facts.
Much frowned.
They lapsed into sulky silence and would have stayed that way if Allan had not crept up to their camp in the cave.
They all jumped when they saw him, except Little John who was inert with irritation. His face in a scowl, he was glaring at the fire.
"I've picked up some information from Gisbourne. I think I have an idea," Allan said, barely louder than a whisper.
The gang was all ears.