Guy of Gisborne jerked his head at the soldiers, and they took the whimpering man to the cells in the Sheriff's home. Tomorrow he would have his hands cut off for poaching. The fat Sheriff turned to Guy like a gleeful child. "A punishment!" he said. "What a fool that man was! 'Oh, my wife and children!' Then he shouldn't have been poaching in the first place, eh, Gisborne?"

"As you say," Guy said with a shrug. He did not relish the punishments, but the man had broken the law and was suffering the consequences. It was the Sheriff's delight in the man's fate that disgusted Guy.

Feeling he could tolerate the Sheriff's presence no longer, Guy departed from the Sheriff's dining room and walked out into the courtyard. He spotted what remained of the Merry Men staggering with the burdens of building a new wall for the Sheriff. The proud outlaws had been captured a few months prior and had been turned into the Sheriff's slaves.

Guy walked up to Robin Hood, kicking the man in the stomach as he stumbled. "Up, Hood," Guy bellowed at him. "That wall's not going to build itself!"

"When I get out of here—" Robin warned rebelliously.

"That won't be anytime soon," Guy interrupted. "Once this wall is done, your head will be coming off. Though I suppose if you're religious then death is your freedom. Now get a move on, Hood!"

Still muttering curses against Guy, Robin moved off, staggering under the weight of the rocks he was carrying. Watching the Merry Men work, Guy again had that nagging feeling that somebody was missing. There should have been two more. But he shook the feeling away. He had searched many times; there were no more Merry Men. The thieving had stopped after the capture of the ones he now watched work.

Yet he couldn't shake the thought that something was off about Nottingham. He remembered with startling clarity a dream of a girl with blonde hair, and the strong emotions that had accompanied it. But already the dream was fading.

. . . . . . . .

Merlin glared at King Mordred rebelliously, seeking a way to escape the confrontation he knew was coming. Mordred had his arm resting on the arm of his throne, glaring at Merlin while stroking his wispy black mustache irritably. "You are supposed to be a seer, Merlin," he sneered. "Tell me what you saw!"

Merlin knew if he told Mordred what he had actually seen, Mordred would call him a liar and kill him. His life rested on a thin rope; one wrong move and he would be cut loose. He forced his voice into one of subservience, pushing aside his planned sarcastic remarks. "I saw the golden age of Camelot," he said. "Led by you, Sire. No man dares to challenge you, and your reign will be long and wonderful."

Complete lies, Merlin thought bitterly. He'd been reduced to the terrible role of slave to a dictator king. He thought longingly of his friend Arthur, languishing in Mordred's cell with his former Queen. Mordred's takeover had been brutal but quick, and he had insisted on leaving Arthur and Guinevere alive to view his reign. He thought his reign to be safe, constantly calling on Merlin's ability as a seer to bolster his confidence.

The only thing that hadn't been a lie was that no man would challenge Mordred. It wouldn't be a man. Merlin saw a blonde girl, her eyes as pale as ice, overthrowing Mordred. Yet in his mind he knew it couldn't be. The girl faded at the end of the dream, and he struggled to find its significance.

"King Mordred." Lady Morgana walked into the throne room, ignoring the furious look Mordred cast at her. He had no power over her. "Some of Arthur's knights are causing trouble in the middle of the city. Five of your men have been slain. What should I do?"

"Take some of my men and go after them, for all the good it will do you," Mordred said tiredly. Arthur's men always disappeared before Mordred's could get there. It constantly frustrated Mordred, and thankfully he hadn't made the connection between Merlin and the men. Merlin's life would have been forfeit if he realized the sorcerer had been the one warning Arthur's men where most of Mordred's men would be.

Morgana inclined her head slightly, the closest she ever got to a bow. Merlin was constantly wondering why she didn't take over from Mordred, but however much the people disliked Mordred, Arthur's traitorous sister would be even worse. On Mordred's side, she got riches and nobility without having to deal with the rebellious people.

Mordred kicked Merlin in the chest, startling him from his reverie. "Are you deaf, fool?" he bellowed. "I told you to get out of my sight!"

Stammering apologies and scraping on the floor, Merlin backed out of the throne room. It was only when he'd gone around the corner and out of sight of the guards did he clench his fists and bang his head on the wall. Flames licked at his fingers, and he quickly doused them.

When had his life become so meaningless?

. . . . . . . .

The Wolf slammed against the door of the cabin, and Red jumped. "Oncle," she gasped. "He's going to get in!"

"That door will hold, mon cher," the Huntsman assured her, though Red noticed the nervous way he held his crossbow. "Have no fear of that. Non, what I fear is that the Wolf simply sits out there and awaits our dying of thirst. We have water only for a week, while he has the well that he can drink from."

"We should go out and try to kill him," Red suggested, preferring a quick death at the hands of the Wolf as opposed to awaiting a slow death from lack of water.

"I am in no hurry to die yet," the Huntsman said sternly. "Hopeless though it may seem, we must pray that God will have mercy and grant us a miracle. Until we run out of water, I will not run out there and die, comprendre?"

Red nodded, though her gaze lingered on the door. The Wolf howled and scratched at it, trying to get through the tough wood. How it survived the brutal attack, Red didn't know. Her hand fell to her club, seeking comfort.

She didn't find it.

. . . . . . . .

Will Scarlet tossed aside one of the Merry Men's bags at their former campsite, bitter and afraid. His entire Story had been forgotten. No one knew who he was, not even his own uncle. Perhaps what hurt most of all was that he remembered everything; Rachel, the fight with Carson, the Editor, Rapunzel—it was all clear in his mind. The Editor's final mockery of him was to force him to remember everything, but be unable to do anything about it.

He'd found Alan's grave at the Merry Men's campsite. Carved lovingly on a stone, it had simply read: Alan-a-Dale, the Bard of Sherwood Forest. May God have mercy on your soul.

The sight of the grave had cemented everything firmly in Will's mind. All the moments he'd shared with his friends, through good times and bad. It's finished. Rachel had been right; it was finished. Those two words had been final and true. Those moments, those memories, they were finished. Only Will remembered.

Once again kneeling in front of Alan's grave, Will bowed his head. "Lord, if I've ever done anything good, please. Please. Help me. Show me what to do."

It's finished. No. Will stood up, grabbing a sword, a bow and a quiver of arrows left behind by the Merry Men, lovingly polished and tended to—probably by Alan's wife Ellen and Maid Marian.

I won't let it end this way. What else had Rachel said? "You'll always remember me in your heart," Will murmured.

He remembered his dream of the day the adult Andrics had perished. Perhaps if he could remember that when it had been wiped from his mind by Ewan, the others could recall Rachel and they could fight the Editor. I don't know if it works like that, but it's all the hope I have left.

Will cut two roses from Ellen's carefully-tended rosebush, laying them in front of Alan's grave. "Alan, Rachel, I won't give up," he promised. "I will fight until my last breath. The Editor thought she was punishing me when she left me my memories; but I'll turn it into a blessing. I refuse to let it end this way. It's not finished. I'll be the one to finish it."

Slinging his bow over his shoulder, Will did the Sign of the Cross before standing and turning away from the grave. "God as my witness," he said, "I won't let it end like this."

And he left the Merry Men's campsite.