A/N: This is just an idea that popped into my head. I'll warn you now, this story is going to be angsty and violent. So if you don't like angst and violence, then don't read this. Try to go easy on me, this is one of my first stories and there will probably be mistakes, but please try not to be too harsh. :)

Disclaimer- The characters in this story belong to John Flanagan! I don't own any of them... but I wish I did...

Halt was out on a routine hunting trip to stock up on provisions for the coming winter. It was already starting to get cold in Redmont Fief. The chilly breeze felt like hundreds of prickly needles as it brushed past his face. It had been nearly a year since Will was kidnapped. There had been search parties swarming all over Araluen searching for the missing Ranger, but there was no sign of him. It was almost as if he never existed in the first place.

Halt still blamed himself for his former apprentice's kidnapping, but deep down he knew there was nothing he could have done to prevent it. He felt so useless and guilty, but he had buried his feelings, determined to find Will.

But after a while he had begun to lose hope. He searched and searched, never leaving a stone unturned, but there was nothing. No clues, no signs, nothing whatsoever that he could use to point him in the right direction.

His thoughts were rudely interrupted by a slight rustle in the grass. A normal person wouldn't have heard such a faint sound, but he wasn't a normal person. He was a Ranger. He silently glided in and out of cover, following the sound. He had already ruled out the possibility of the sound being made by an animal. Animals didn't try so hard to be quiet. Something was definitely out of place, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it...

He saw a flash of black to his left, out of the corner of his eye. He heard the hiss of a blade being drawn and pivoted to the right, narrowly avoiding the powerful thrust that had been aimed at his throat. In one fluent, practiced movement, his saxe knife was drawn and he was ready to counter any attack the person might try to surprise him with.

He swiftly parried another killing blow and lunged at his assailant. The man dodged his attack just in time and continued to block his attacks. Halt noticed the man favoured his left leg and he knew that was his weak spot. The man wore a black cloak, the cowl hiding his face from view. He was a bit shorter than average and there was something vaguely familiar in the way he moved... He pushed the thought aside and focused on the task at hand.

Whoever he was, the man had been trained well. Very well. He was skilled at hand to hand combat, but still had a few things left to learn. This worked in Halt's favor. As the man went in for another attack, he ducked and the man was thrown off balance for a fraction of a second.

That was all the time he needed to get the upper hand. He kicked his feet out from under him and put his knife to his throat. The man lie flat on his back, panting. He didn't dare move muscle, knowing a move like that would probably get him killed. Halt put more pressure on the blade and the man dropped his knife.

Then his cowl fell back, revealing his face. And Halt found himself looking into the cold, dark eyes of Will Treaty.

A/N: I know this chapter was short, but it's only the prologue. Don't worry, the next one will be longer, I promise! REVIEW!