Dawn had only just risen and the town of Nottingham was already buzzing.

The good people went about their day as usual, but there was a definitive undercurrent of amusement in the air. Even Otto, injured as he was, was hardly able to set about his tasks without the corners of his mouth turning upward in thought of the song they'd composed only the night before. People hummed it as they meandered through the streets, children sang it as they played out in the woods.
By midday, everyone in the province knew the song forwards and backwards.

The Sheriff had gotten word of it from one of his archers, who'd heard it from a boar while taking his ten in a pub. The boar had imbibed in more drink than was good for him, else he'd have been more careful about blurting the impetuous lyrics out to one of the Sheriff's men. Needless to say, the boar was quickly escorted out of the pub but of course by then it was too late. The song had made its way to the Sheriff and even to Sir Hiss. In fact, it seemed as though Prince John was the only one unaware of it.

The townspeople, of course, feared remonstration from the Prince, for surely the news would make it all the way to the top and punishment severely extracted. They cringed behind their doors and shivered in their homes as the Sheriff made his rounds through their town to collect the day's taxes. Now the Sheriff was always in a rather cheerful mood, but to the shock of many, he seemed even more cheerful today than usual. He didn't even give much ear to what the more hot-tempered citizens shouted at him as they were forced to cough up what little money they had. He simply kept on whistling, gave them a mock-salute and wished them a pleasant rest of the day.

The people, to say the least, were puzzled. The Sheriff, however, marched into the Royal Treasury with the song on his lips, to which Sir Hiss looked up with glee and attempted to partake in the fun.

Their jesting was short-lived, however, when Prince John found out about the song and immediately ordered retaliation.

The Sheriff, of course, obeyed and set to work taxing Nottingham's citizens to pieces.

Most, if not all, of the peasants were locked up for inability to meet the insane demands.

House after house was emptied. The dungeons began filling up.

A stifling depression that was thick enough to cut with a knife gradually grew over the town.

The tavern which sat just outside Prince John's kingdom was witnessing about as average a night as was possible. At least, it would had it not been for the gossip buzzing around the room.

Creatures and characters of all sorts lounged on the weathered wooden chairs like yesterday's laundry and Mason was kept busy enough to suit his mood. He stopped now and then to ponder an interesting piece of news that made its way to his keen ears, though most of it wasn't anything he didn't already know. For the talk going around was almost exclusively to do with the turmoil going on in Nottingham.

The large grey bear knew all about that, of course, being from a hamlet not far from Nottingham. His own small town hadn't escaped Prince John's rage, certainly, but Mason and the Sheriff had an understanding - one that involved a constant reserve of the Tooth And Claw's best ale - and so Mason himself was weathering the current storm a little better than most.

The talk still disturbed him, though.
No one had ever seen Prince John so upset, which was saying something. Who knew what the hot-headed prince was capable of doing next? The dungeons were filling up at an alarming rate. Was the entire kingdom's population destined to end up behind bars? It was an absurd notion, but then, Prince John was an absurd monarch. Mason had some good friends in Nottingham, and although he was something of a self-serving bear who did whatever he needed in order to survive, things were getting out of hand in his country.

Belle passed by the counter after having refilled some mugs. She paused when she saw the pensive look on Mason's face.

"Everything alright?"

Mason looked at her and shook his head. "Ah, it's this craziness goin' on in Nottingham. You know, the Prince has really gone off his rocker this time."

"So I've heard." She looked grave, then faltered, as if trying to think of something encouraging to say. "But surely even this can't last forever."

"I hope not." He proceeded wiping the counters. "But you can't put anything past the Prince." He shook his head again. He was a stoic bear by nature, but Belle saw through his demeanor and knew that current events were weighing heavily on his mind.

The door to the back room burst open and the approaching sound of Rumpelstiltskin's footsteps could be heart. Out of habit, Mason pulled over a stool for the Boss and Rumpel climbed up, facing Belle.

"Listen, lassie - I need ya to run a few errands for me."

The young woman nodded. "Of course, sir."

"Ah, it'll be in Nottingham, dear, in Prince John's kingdom." He withdrew a list from a pocket inside his jacket. Belle, however, stood there looking almost dumbfounded.

"Nottingham...sir?" She repeated, uneasily. Mason gave the diminutive man a look as well.

"Aye, Nottingham," he replied without even looking up from his list. "I have a few things I need you to get for the tavern, and Prince John's kingdom is the closest one to us."

Now Belle was a brave woman by nature and rarely flinched when it came to performing a task, but the mention of Nottingham gave her pause.

Mason interjected, "Boss -"

Quickly looking up from his list to regard his employees, Rumpel was quick to placate. "Now don't ye worry about Prince John, m'dear! His revenge is restricted within his own borders, he won't mind a simple tavern worker popping in and out of his town."

She folded her arms. "Sir, I -"

Rumpel held up a hand. "Now then, lassie," his voice betrayed the slightest warning, "be a good girl and finish this task for me. The tavern can't go another night without the vittles."

He handed her the list, which she took with slumped shoulders. Rumpel departed for the back room, and Mason actually fixed the human with a worried stare.

"Listen, lass, I'll go with you if it'll make -"

But she shook her head. "No, Mason, it's alright. You have to stay here or there'd be no one to look after the place." She folded the parchment and tucked it into a pocket in her apron. "I'll be fine."

The large bear was still skeptical. He was, after all, a resident of nearby Nottingham and understood the plight of the hamlet more than she did. "Belle, you don't know what's been goin' on there. The Prince is taxin' our people to pieces, he's out for revenge, and he'll stop at nothin' to get it."

"What does that have to do with me running a simple errand?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know...but I don't trust even outsiders headin' into that town, not in the state it's in right now…"

Her expression softened and she actually smiled. "It's kind of you to be concerned, but we both know I have no choice. I promised to work for Rumpelstiltskin and do exactly what he says." His face didn't change, and she continued, "It's only for a year, Mason, and then I'm free." She patted his hand before going to the back room to retrieve a few things she would need for the journey.

The Sheriff had snapped the doors shut to the prison stall for the tenth time that day. Or was it the eleventh? He'd long lost count. Rounding up the taxes was turning into a wearisome thing. For one thing, there really wasn't any money left to collect, and for another, the lock-holds were filling up so fast that he was beginning to wonder just where they'd put the next set of prisoners. The days of meandering about the town collecting money from the poor now seemed a thing of the distant past. Truth be told, the Sheriff preferred the old Nottingham to the new. It was more fun collecting taxes, but now his position had gone from tax-collector to prison warden. Not that he minded being a warden, but it wasn't nearly as amusing as collecting gold.

As the cells filled up, he found he had more time to catch up on sleep, and that's just what he did if circumstances allowed. His naps never seemed to last long, though, as the Prince often sent for him to report on any and all happenings in the town and especially if any news had been gathered of Robin Hood. Of course the Sheriff hadn't heard anything with regards to the slippery fox, and this turned the Prince's mood even more sour. Ever since news had leaked of the song the peasants had made up in mockery of the Prince, he'd clamped his jaws on the notion of ending Robin Hood once and for all.

The Sheriff shrugged it off as well as he could and merely did his best to carry on with his job.

Five days had gone by, most of which he spent keeping an eye on the prisoners and scouring the furthest corners of the town on the very off chance that there was a penny left to be collected. No such luck existed, however, and so he decided to take a quick nap by the lock-holds.

He'd barely had his eyes closed for ten minutes before the sound of Trigger's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"Sheriff! Sheriff!" Trigger shouted, already within view as the large grey wolf opened an eye.

He stretched and yawned. "What is it now, Trigger?" He groaned, mildly annoyed.

The vulture hurried up to his superior, frantic and out of breath. It was several seconds before he got breath enough to answer. "I was patrolling the streets just like you ordered me to, sir, and you won't believe what I saw!"

A silent oath passed under the wolf's breath as he rubbed his eyes and finally forced himself to stand. "Spit it out already, Trigger, I ain't got all day to stand here listenin' to you jabber."

"It was an outsider, sir, a lady in a long red cloak -"

"Hold up," he held out a hand to silence the sentinel. "You said 'outsider'?"

Trigger nodded vigorously. "Yes, sir, I saw her walking down the main street, and -"

"Can it, Trigger," the Sheriff growled, "I'll handle this, you just sit tight while I go investigate." He pushed the vulture into the vacant seat.

"Be careful, Sheriff!" The vulture hissed in a loud whisper. "You can't trust outsiders!"

Ignoring Trigger's last warning, the Sheriff straightened his cap and made his way toward the town's highroad. He wondered who it was and what business an outsider could possibly have in the kingdom. As for 'lady in a red cloak,' it sounded interesting, and he couldn't help but wonder if it was the woman from the other night. The odds were against it, as Nottingham almost never received outsiders. Still...

The town was eerily empty save for the most well-to-do citizens who'd barely been able to afford paying their taxes. The Sheriff passed the pie merchant's stall, where the owner, a portly canine, was half-heartedly cleaning out his brick oven. It was obvious that he wasn't expecting any business that day, and although he was considered by the townsfolk to be well off, his good fortune wouldn't last long without customers to cater to. His eyes widened slightly when he saw the large wolf pass by, but the Sheriff only gave him a quick glance and went on his way. Perhaps he would come back and harangue the poor fool when his business with the stranger was done.

He swaggered on down the street about two blocks before he spotted the very figure which Trigger had described. She stood outside of the greengrocer's stall in conversation with the owner. Though her face was concealed, he somehow knew it was her.

His heart nearly skipped a beat at the incredulity of the situation, but he quickly set his mind back on the task and boldly approached the woman.

"Well, now, if it isn't the little lady from the other day," he began in almost-boisterous tones.

Belle, to her credit, didn't flinch but rather faced him with mild surprise. "Oh, it's you."

He presented her with an exaggerated grin. "How do, little miss? And a mighty fine afternoon to you too, sir." He tipped his hat to Francis, the store-owner, who merely nodded in greeting, but looked much more shocked to see the Sheriff than Belle did.

Trying to keep her patience in check, she said, "Can I help you?"

"Well that remains to be seen, miss - but, uh, d'you mind if I ask what business or pleasure brings you to Nottingham?"

"I hope you don't mind my showing up, sir, but I'm only running an errand for my boss." She cleared her throat. "Nottingham is the closest town to us, you see." She trailed off, as if hoping that the brief explanation would excuse her presence.

"That a fact, huh?" The Sheriff said under his breath, rubbing his chin. An idea came to him that he thought particularly fortuitous, and he proceeded to act on it. "Say, that wouldn't be a list you got there, by any chance, would it?"

Instantly wary, she stopped and said, "Yes...it is." She looked at him. "Why?"

Without further ado, the Sheriff snatched it out of her hand and skimmed it. She opened her mouth to protest, but checked herself and pressed her lips together. She was in the Sheriff's jurisdiction, which meant that she was in Prince John's jurisdiction, which meant that by rights he could do whatever he wanted with her and to her. The best way to handle this was to remain patient and hope that whatever game he was playing would be over soon.

He made a great pretense of looking over the contents of the list, nodding a few times, and finally ending with, "Well, now, missy that's a mighty steep order, even for sir Rumpel."

"I found everything on it," she answered, "except for -"

"Arrowroot, maybe?" He finished.

She blinked. "Yes. How did you know?"

"'Cause that's a might hard to find in these parts. Come to think of it," he scratched his face, "you won't find it at all, not with the town bein' as empty as it is. There's only one stall in Nottingham that sold spices and herbs and whatnot, and the owner...well, let's just say he's doing a little time away from his job." He folded up the list and handed it back to her.

"But there has to be someone who sells it," she reasoned, brow furrowing in concern. "That's the one thing my boss wanted me to make sure to get!"

A gleeful light came into his eyes. "Now don't you worry," he patted her shoulder, "It so happens I know just where the Prince is keeping the townsfolk's belongings locked up. I'm sure he wouldn't go missing a little jar o' arrowroot."

She gave him a skeptical look and folded her arms. "Alright...but what would you want for it in return?"

"Well, now that you mention it," he gave a light chuckle, "Probably nothing you'd be willing to give...but...I'd be surely obliged if you'd part with, say, half of what you got there in that pouch." He gestured to the pouch slung on her shoulder. Only a minute ago he'd heard the slight jingle of money emanating from it like fresh bread from the oven.

Her hand moved to the bag, but she kept her eyes fixed on him, this time with less skepticism and more astonishment. "But there are over twenty gold pieces in here...you don't mean to say that a bit of arrowroot is going to cost that much?"

"Hard times mean hard commerce, miss. Now, do we have a deal?" He reached out his massive hand.

He studied her reaction carefully. She bit her lip, obviously in turmoil as she struggled to come to a decision. He frowned and said, "Come on, missy, time's a wastin'."

She sighed. "...Alright...it's a deal..." She forlornly took his hand, which he shook once, and then beckoned her to follow him.

He whistled as he led her back the way he'd come from, once or twice glancing back at her. She kept her eyes to the ground, whether for fear of pressing her luck as an outsider visiting the Prince's kingdom, or because she was disappointed by his offer, he didn't know. Maybe it was a combination of both.

When they finally approached the entrance to the jail, Trigger and Nutsy jumped into place (Nutsy less gracefully so) and pointed their crossbows at them.

"Hold it, it's only the Sheriff," Trigger exclaimed in surprise, especially upon noticing that the stranger accompanied him.

"Put that thing away, Trigger!" The wolf snapped at him. "For the umpteenth time, yer gonna shoot someone's eye out!"

Trigger immediately pointed the crossbow out of anyone's way. "Sheriff, if you're looking for somewhere to lock up the prisoner, there's -"

"Oh shut your trap, Trigger," the Sheriff drawled, "she's not a prisoner, she's a guest from the Outside, and she and I've made a little deal."

"A deal?" Trigger frowned, perplexed. But before he could pose another question, Belle and the Sheriff had disappeared out of sight. "Aw nuts," he lowered his weapon.

"What is it, Trigger?"

"Not you, Nutsy, I was just...oh, nevermind..."

The lock-holds were nothing more than a collection of a few storage rooms that had been stuffed with goods that had once belonged to Nottingham's citizens. It mostly consisted of tools, furniture and other small trinkets of little to no value. Foodstuffs had been placed on a higher shelf to keep from perishing, but there were scant few of these.

The Sheriff had unlocked the door and immediately set to rummaging through the few edibles they had. "Now I know I'd seen some arrowroot here somewhere," he muttered to himself.

Belle, meanwhile, refused to enter the large storage room and simply waited outside for him. She was a bit disturbed, though. Clearly the people of Nottingham were under some sort of siege by their own Prince. The fact that there had been so few people about the town was a red flag as well.

Belle had never been within the border of Prince John's kingdom before. The Tooth And Claw was the closest she'd ever been to another kingdom, and it sat a great distance away from her own town in France. The fact that she'd made a deal with the curious man named Rumpelstiltskin had allowed her to see parts of the world she'd never seen before - as had always been her dream. Granted, she had hoped that the notion of seeing new people and new places would have turned out more...well, glamorous. Working in a tavern wasn't exactly what she'd had in mind, but that was life.

But seeing the desperate state that poor Nottingham was in made her heart quail. What kind of Prince would be so cruel to his own subjects? The town was in a worse state than even Mason had led on.

And here the Sheriff was rifling through things that rightly belonged to others as if there wasn't a thing about it that was wrong. She felt her anger rising a little and her fists clenched, but quickly mastered herself and kept calm.

The Sheriff seemed to be having trouble locating the spice, and she ventured for a bit of conversation. "Do you need some help, Sheriff?"

"No thanks, missy, I know it's around here somewhere." His voice drifted out from the room like an echo.

She peered in just in time to see him grab an unidentified phial that lay hidden behind a sack of apples. "Here we are," he exclaimed, and turned to face her. "Some arrowroot spice just like you wanted, little miss."

Her face remained impassive, however, and she reached for the pouch. "A deal's a deal. Here: half of what's in the bag is yours."

"Just a minute, missy. I've been doin' a little thinking, and I'm thinking…" He twirled the phial in his hand, "that half just won't cover this bottle."

She stared at him, stunned. "But it's what we agreed on! We shook on it!"

"We sure did," he allowed, "but times bein' what they are here in Nottingham, I'll have to ask you to part with the whole bag. And, maybe a little something else to boot."

She was too shocked to be angry, and at first all she could do was stand there, speechless. "I…"

He looked at her in barely subdued amusement. 'Poor gal,' he thought. 'It's too bad for her she had to show up when she did.' Aloud, he said, "Don't make this hard, now, little lady. Just gimme the entire bag and hear out my proposal." He reached for her hand.

She held tight to the pouch and yanked her hand away from his. "But I can't! My boss is trusting me to come back with the right amount!"

"Do you want your goods or don't you?" He gave a slight frown. "I'm sure yer boss'll understand, just tell him I took it by force. Tell him you couldn't help it." He reached for the bag but she took a step back and shook her head.

"I'm sorry, I...I can't do that."

"Now look, miss," he put his fists on his hips, "I don't wanna get forceful, so make it easy on both of us and hand over the money." He took a step toward her, but immediately felt a large, strong hand settle on his shoulder.

Belle let out an exclamation of surprise, and the Sheriff turned to see none other than Mason standing behind him.

"Mason!" Belle cried.

"Mason?" The Sheriff echoed, just as surprised. "Now just what in tarnation are you doing here?"

"I'm makin' sure the Boss's money gets back to him, that's what. And if you know what's good for you, Sheriff, you'll leave the lass alone."

"Well hang it," he said in exasperated defeat.

Without further ado, Belle quickly untied the pouch and gave him exactly half of its contents. Twelve gold coins slid into the Sheriff's gray hand.

"Belle, you don't have to do that," Mason said with a frown.

"It's alright, Mason," she said. "We shook on it, and I don't intend to go back on my word." She shot him a look. "Even if he went back on his."

The Sheriff regarded her with a mild scowl, but a glint in his eyes betrayed the slightest bit of surprise. Most people did anything and everything they could to keep every last little coin from him, and here was this woman, an outsider, sticking to their agreement and readily giving him half the coins she possessed.

"Tell me something, little missy," he ventured as he slid the coins into his own pouch, "are all Outsiders like you?"

The question seemed to catch her off guard, but only slightly. Her answer was a simple, "No," and with that, she turned heel and made her way out of the town with Mason.

The Sheriff watched them go until they rounded a corner and disappeared from sight. He shook his head. "If that don't beat all," he murmured. "I tell ya one thing, that Mason's got another thing comin' if he thinks he can interfere with my job. Still," he patted the slightly larger pouch strung to his belt, "the day wasn't a total loss."

He made his way back to the jail where Trigger and Nutsy were still standing guard, and sat himself down on the wooden stool. Trigger pestered him with questions regarding "the Outsider," but the Sheriff told him he'd had business with her and made a pretty little fortune in the process.

"Well, I'll be jibbed," Trigger said in mild surprise when the Sheriff showed him his profit. "Them foreigners must be well-to-do!"

The wolf chuckled. "Her boss was, at any rate. Now you two pipe down while I take forty winks, will ya?" He eased himself further down into the chair and folded his arms, but it was some time before he really drifted off to sleep.

For a while, he toyed with the idea of paying Mason back for trying to interrupt his payment. That meddling bear was a citizen of a nearby Hamlet not far from Nottingham, and the Sheriff's authority spilled into those regions. He knew that, and Mason ought to have known it, too. Didn't that fool of a bartender realize that he could have gotten himself into big trouble, interrupting the Sheriff's duties like that? Well, there would be time to pay Mason back in full, and no amount of good drink would save his sorry hide this time.

The Sheriff let out a small, tired chuckle as he imagined himself extracting revenge upon that turncoat. But his last waking thought was of that sweet young woman who had acted rather bravely in the face of adversity, and even had the wherewithal to hold to her end of the bargain. She hadn't seemed especially bothered by the fact that he had come very close to outright threatening her.

There was something refreshing about that.