"Hey, Will," Evanlyn said one day as they were sitting together in the old hunting cabin.

Will looked up from where he was sitting on the floor, hands idly gliding over the small hunting bow in his lap. "What is it?"

She hesitated, unsure on how to phrase this. If she says something the wrong way, Will might very well take offense or shut her out, and that was the last thing they needed. "I was wondering...assuming that we ever even get back to Araluen, that is..." she saw Will's face take on more of an edge and hurried on before he could interrupt, "how much are you planning on telling Halt and the other Rangers about our time here?"

Will looked at her uncertainly, apparently not knowing where she was going with this. "Everything, I guess. There's no way I could lie to Halt." She pursed her lips, hesitated. Will, seeing this, asked, "What's wrong? You're acting weird."

"It's just...it might be in your better interests not to tell them all the details." Although Rangers, from her knowledge of them, would probably not care about the fact that Will had been a slave, knowing that Will was a drug addict might change matters. The Ranger Corps held themselves to- well, perhaps not a standard of honor, exactly, if the rumors of forged documents and stolen treasures were to be believed, but at least a higher standard than the general rabble. Definitely, a different standard than the rest of the world. Even as a princess, the full code and conduct of the Rangers had never been explained, and to be honest, she wasn't actually sure if her father even knew it.

Will tilted his head, a little confused. The once guileless look in his eyes was now replaced by weariness, sadness, and, more and more frequently, shame. She had no idea how much he remembered of his time in Skandia, but either way, it wasn't good. "What do you mean?"

"Even with my rank," she winced at the remembrance of who she was, of her responsibilities, "I wasn't privy to the secrets of the Ranger Corps. But...I'm not sure how well they'd take your story. Your, erm," she waved a hand awkwardly, "stint with warmweed."

For another moment, Will stared at her, brain still slow from the effects of the drug, even weeks later. Then, finally, something clicked. "You think they'll expel me?"

The sheer horror on the boy's face wrenched at her heart a little. She made sure her voice was as gentle as possible when she responded, "From what I've seen of the Rangers, they aren't a sentimental or forgiving lot. Halt might not care, but what about the commander, Crowley? What about the other Rangers? We have no idea how they'd react to being told one of their own..."

"But..." Will tried weakly, "But it wasn't my fault." He paused. "Was it?"

His eyes were so uncertain, so unsure about his own involvement and fault at being deceived and drugged, it hurt to look at them. "No, of course not," she assured him vehemently, "but will the Rangers have the same point of view? They might well decide that," she picked her words carefully, "you're not..." she broke off awkwardly, unable to find a way of phrasing it that wouldn't sound accusing or demeaning.

Will's shoulders slumped. "I guess you're right," he murmured, so quietly she barely heard. "But I can't keep it from Halt."

"Will," she said softly, hating that she had to do this, "if you tell Halt, he'll tell Crowley and the rest of them. You can tell everyone about being a slave, but you cannot mention the warmweed."

"Very well." His head bowed, Will voiced his resignation. Standing up, he placed the now-unstrung bow against the wall and walked over to the door. "I'm going to sit outside for a bit, Evanlyn. Catch some fresh air."

Will had never known deeper despair.

He was exhausted, weakened, unarmed (since there's no way he was calling the poor excuse of a bow in his arms a weapon), alone, without a plan or backup, facing six armed men. The effects of the warmweed still clawed at him, clouded his mind, chilled and dulled his senses, made his hands shake around his bow. In the small clearing several meters away, Evanlyn sat, helpless, as the man's curved sword began its slow descent.

Helplessness overwhelmed him. Anything Halt had once taught him had flown clear out of his head; what little he remembered was useless with a puny bow and a bunch of sticks for arrows. But, even as a cloud of shame and defeat began to descend, Will forced himself to standing. Evanlyn deserved better than a worthless excuse for a Ranger's apprentice, but at the moment, he was the best he had to offer.

He took a deep breath and drew back the bow. Hands shaking, he sighted, aiming for the exposed wrist of the swordsman. Hesitating far too long, he released the arrow with a twang, watching as it flew across the clearing. Then, cursing himself for waiting too long, he knocked another arrow to the string, aimed, and let fly. The second one barely glanced the man's sleeve, and Will fought the wave of hopelessness the sight caused him.

Worthless, his mind whispered. If Halt were here...

But that was just the thing. Halt wasn't here.

The third arrow was a miss. The fourth, as well.

He'd just given up, only halfheartedly drawing his dagger to face the oncoming men, when a familiar, deep thrum split the air behind him. With a resounding thunk, the black arrow buried itself into the nearest man to Will. Another thunk and the next one went down, too. The third man turned and ran.

Cautiously, not daring yet to hope it was who he thought it was, he turned around.

Halt.

A wild rush of emotion surged through him, but he didn't allow himself to think about it. Even though two of the men had already galloped off, a third swiftly joining them, the one who'd originally attacked Evanlyn was still there. And even though she'd managed to retrieve a saber, a princess was not taught swordsmanship. She would be killed in seconds. With a dim flicker of horror, he realized another thing: she was still tied to the tree.

Entirely forgetting about greeting Halt or running towards him, he motioned wildly in Evanlyn's direction and yelled something he hoped gave away the amount of danger she was in. But Halt's view of the girl was blocked by the trees, and he knew the Ranger wouldn't be able to change position fast enough.

Then hope came in the form of a tall, well-built figure wearing chain mail and a white surcoat with an image of an oakleaf on it. Something seemed vaguely familiar about him, but Will's memories had been hazy since the warmweed incident. He'd tried his hardest to remember anything past Skandia, but nothing had come to him- and worse, even what came before that was difficult to recall.

In all honesty, he thought bitterly as the young man engaged Evanlyn's would-be murderer, I wouldn't be surprised if the drug had permanently scarred my mind. After all, there was a reason drugs were highly frowned upon in Araluen- and not just because of the inevitable addiction. No, although Will had never had much experience with them, he'd heard rumors about specific drugs destroying brain cells and worse. No wonder the Rangers didn't like drugs.

Of course, he'd never actually heard that they didn't, but since Evanlyn said so...and it fit. He wouldn't want to take back a worthless druggie like himself, either. Everything he'd done since being taken by the Skandians only threw shame onto the name of the Rangers.

Tearing himself from his thoughts, Will dully noticed that the young man was rapidly gaining the upper hand of the exchange with strokes that were so swift as to be completely bewildering. The other man lunged clumsily with his curved blade; the younger man deflected it easily, throwing the other off balance, wide open to the retaliatory backhanded cut already on its-

"Don't kill him!" came Halt's voice from behind Will, just in time. The young man twisted his wrist so the flat of the blade slammed into the man's head, knocking him unconscious instantly. "We want a prisoner," Halt finished mildly.

Any thoughts of self-doubt, of shame, flew right out of Will's head, and he ran, uncaring, straight into the Ranger's arms. He slammed into Halt with a force that made the other stagger backwards and threw his arms around his master. And not just his master, but his mentor, his teacher, his friend. And as he babbled incoherently, inwardly cursing the drug as his speech slurred, he found himself crying, sobbing, into Halt's chest.

Halt patted his shoulder gently and Will finally looked up, surprised when he saw a single tear glistening on Halt's own cheek. "Halt," he started slowly, "I..." he paused, thinking it better not to mention the tear. He'd never seen Halt cry before, and all of a sudden he found himself wondering how he'd ever thought his teacher was grim and emotionless. Certainly, Halt wasn't prone to excessive bouts of emotion, but he cared in his own way, and cared deeply.

"Are you all right?" Will heard a voice behind him ask. It was too far away and was pointed the wrong direction to be aimed at him, but he reluctantly disentangled himself from Halt and turned around to see who the familiar man next to Evanlyn was.

To his shame, he couldn't recall the name- couldn't recall it until Evanlyn repeated Will's earlier actions with Halt and threw her arms around the man, exclaiming, "Oh, Horace! Thank God you're here!"

Horace, he thought. That's right- his fellow ward, his friend. The shame returned, stronger, deeper. How could he not have recognized Horace?

Will felt the distinct sense he was being watched, and knew it was Halt scrutinizing him. He must've thought there was something wrong with Will's probably blank, unknowing stare at Horace, or perhaps he was just making sure Will wasn't injured. You never knew with Halt.

As Horace and Evanlyn finally pulled apart- Will carefully smothering a flicker of jealousy- Halt stepped forward, furtively brushing away the tear, and called, "If you're quite finished, we should get out of here. There's no telling when the Temujai will return with reinforcements."

The two young people gave a start. Horace sheepishly retrieved his sword from the ground where he'd put it, wiping it off and sheathing it. "Where are we going?" he asked. Will felt a bit of relief that, for once, he wasn't the one asking all the questions. At least now, Halt would have to get mad at both of them.

"I want to get some distance between us and this place. If the Temujai return or if their army starts marching, we're in for a rather unpleasant situation." He smiled grimly. "Let's retrace our steps and head back across the border. We should be able to find a good camping site somewhere around there."

Halt was, as usual, correct in that assessment. At about midday they found a hilltop with a fairly large depression that'd both allow them shelter and a good vantage point and decided to camp there while he thought up their next move. As soon as they set up camp, however, Horace casually mentioned how they hadn't eaten since yesterday, and Evanlyn instantly picked up the plea. Will, not really all that hungry but not wanting to draw attention to himself (or worse, draw the suspicion of Halt), joined in.

Grudgingly, Halt started a fire and began to cook a stew. While he was doing so, Will drew Evanlyn off the side, out of earshot of both Horace and the Ranger. "They're probably going to want to know our story," he whispered so softly that even he could barely hear himself. "It's the perfect opportunity to hear it with minimal distraction. Have you thought of anything?"

Evanlyn gave him a weird look. "All we have to do is leave out the part about being a yard slave and..." she glanced cautiously around, unwilling to reveal the reason for Will's state even with the other two several meters away.

Will shook his head a fraction, in case Halt was watching. "That will leave far too many holes. It doesn't explain why I don't remember anything about Skandia. If they ask me something, I won't know, and it'll get suspicious if you're the one doing all the talking."

Biting her lip, Evanlyn conceded the point. Will was right. They needed a plausible story. "We'll keep in the part about you being a slave. That's something that can't be taken out. The rest, I guess I'll have to fill you in on as many details as possible." Although she'd told Will the events of Skandia in their days in the cabin, he couldn't remember actually living through them. Because of that, it was possible that Will, knowing all that information only secondhand, could easily forget something and contradict Evanlyn's story with his made-up details. And although Horace might not realize it, Halt most certainly would.

Talking as quietly as possible, she filled him in on as much as she could- the freezing temperatures, the drudgery of the yard slaves, Erak and Slagor (for the warmweed had even begun to infringe on his memories before he came to Skandia), then as best she could, told him all she knew about how he got addicted to warmweed. Although that wasn't necessary to fool Halt- since that was the exact thing they were hoping not to ever tell him- she felt she owed him that much.

Before she'd completely finished with her retelling of their escape, Halt called them over for dinner. Carefully reining in his urge to look guilty and startle, he and Evanlyn walked over and sat side by side, Will with Halt on his left and Evanlyn with Horace on her right.

"What were you doing over there?" Halt asked. "I'm sure you've developed a certain fondness for each other in the past months, but-"

"No!" Will exploded, cheeks stained red with embarrassment, "nothing like that, Halt! Honest!"

"I was just thanking him for his bravery earlier," Evanlyn said, but her face looked a little pink as well. "It was very courageous of him to try and save me with what little weaponry he had at his disposal."

"Yes, I saw that," Halt said, and Will went cold, then hot again with shame. Had Halt also seen his hesitation, his trembling hands, his shots that had flown wide? "He's gotten a bit slow, but nothing a few weeks of practice won't remedy."

"Even with that little bow, those were great shots, Will!" Horace said, eager to try and make the apprentice feel better. Will managed a smile, but it felt forced and fake and the humiliation he felt at how out of shape he'd gotten made Halt's words feel harsher than they otherwise would've.

"Only one of them actually hit anything, Horace," Will reminded him quietly, taking up his bowl of stew. He was famished- what little game he and Evanlyn had managed to scare up had been far too little for Will to be able to rebuild muscle and fat off of, and he ate the whole thing in what felt like seconds.

Covertly, Evanlyn nudged him. Don't eat too quickly, her eyes seemed to say, so Will pretended the dregs of his bowl were really far more than they were, taking his time with the last few drops.

"Seconds already?" Halt inquired after Evanlyn finished her bowl a minute or so later, holding it out. "You finished that faster than Horace, and some days he seems more like a huge stomach on legs than anything else."

"Me, too, please," Will added, careful not to seem too eager as he gave the empty dish to Halt. Damn, the strain of putting on a show was already getting to him- Will was as honest as they come, and the thought of having to lie to his mentor- and for years- was not one that sat well with him. But he could see no other choice.

A few seconds later, Horace held out his bowl as well. With a sigh, Halt filled all three, muttering something under his breath that sounded like youngsters.

"So," Evanlyn started after she'd finished her second bowl, "What have you two been up to this past year?"

"You really mean Horace is some kind of hero in Gallica?"

To Will's surprise, Halt was nodding his head emphatically. "A regular figure of respect."

Evanlyn turned to Horace and leaned forward, fingertips grazing over his own. "I can believe it. Did you see the way he took care of that Temujai soldier who was trying to kill me?" Her eyes were alight with warmth- a warmth, Will noticed with a pang of jealousy he desperately tried to suppress, that she'd almost never directed at him. If she had indeed ever done so.

Then Halt turned to Will. "We've told you our story," he said. A deep feeling of dread began to curdle in Will as the Ranger continued, "I want to hear yours, now."

Thankfully, Evanlyn kept her eyes from locking onto Will's. That could easily have given away that something strange was going on between the two of them. Instead, she just took a deep breath and began, starting with the tale of their lengthy voyage to Skandia. She glossed over anything that had been particularly dangerous or that she sensed Will might not want to be told, much to Will's eternal gratitude, spending some time on Slagor and Will's impressive knife throw at the keg.

He felt he should look up from where he was sitting, gaze fixed on his hands in his lap, but the guilt and shame was weighing heavily on him and it took Halt laying a hand on his shoulder for the boy to finally look up and lock eyes with the Ranger. Halt gave him a nod, and despite Will's current mindset, he couldn't help but feel a warm sense of approval and accomplishment settle in his gut.

Of course, he reminded himself, that was before the warmweed. I doubt I'd even be able to do that anymore.

"Then," Evanlyn was saying, "we arrived in Hallasholm. Erak decided not to sell us off as slaves, instead making us work in the capital itself. I got stuck with kitchen duty, but Will..." she hesitated. Anxiety thrummed in Will's veins as he wondered if she would really lie to them. "Will got assigned as a yard slave."

"What's that mean?" Horace interjected. "You made it sound like it's a very bad thing."

Will only barely managed to keep his face from showing any emotion, then, realizing that Halt might think his lack of expression weird, adopted a pensive look. At least, he hoped it was a pensive look. He'd never been the best actor.

"House slaves, at least, always have the warmth of the hall," Evanlyn said slowly, "we also get a little more food and, although the work is still extremely tiring, it's not nearly as physically strenuous. We also get a warm room to sleep in at night. Yard slaves, on the other hand..."

Feeling he should speak up around this point, he started hesitantly, "we work in near freezing conditions." He heaved a humorless chuckle, remembering what Evanlyn had said. "Actually, scratch that. Just plain freezing. While there are older house slaves-" he paused, hoping he was remembering what Evanlyn told him correctly- "I never once saw a yard slave older than thirty. We just don't live that long."

Halt's expression was grim. "How did you escape?"

Will said nothing, waiting for Evanlyn to take the lead again. She did, with an, "it was Erak who helped us. He realized that Will-" she hesitated for the slightest instant- "was being worn down by the conditions in the yard, and he knew Will would be dead very soon if he didn't stop it." She continued on with her, vastly edited, version of events, and by the end, everyone was silent. Even when you took out the warmweed and glossed over the worst parts, it was still a dark tale.

Finally, Halt looked at Will again. There was such a sadness and guilt in there that, for once, Will felt grateful they hadn't told him about it. The very last thing he wanted to do was hurt someone, especially Halt. "I'm sorry you had to go through that," he said softly. It was hard to meet the Ranger's eyes, but Will forced himself to do it.

Behind him, a warm presence made Will instinctively relax. Tug. In terms of who he'd missed the most, Will could easily say it was Halt, but Tug was also an undeniable part of him. He loved the shaggy horse in the way only a Ranger could- perhaps even more than a Ranger usually did. He twisted around, reaching out one hand to stroke Tug's ears and scratch the spot between them the way the little horse enjoyed.

Tug snuffled softly, but something in his brown eyes seemed accusing, worried even. Ranger horses always seemed strangely human, and Tug was no exception. Will didn't doubt that Tug knew there was something wrong with Will. That word- wrong- hurt to think, but it was true. Even thinking objectively and not self-depreciatingly, Will was, quite honestly, a mess. He had memory problems, nightmares, tremors, anxiety attacks, and basically fit the criteria for anorexia, even if the starvation had not been by Will's consent.

A prickling sensation came over Will and he realized Halt was watching him. Again. In the year since they'd seen each other last, Will had forgotten how much Halt watched him. Now that he thought about it- assuming he could even trust his mind anymore, which he wasn't sure he could- he had felt Halt's eyes on him a large part of the day, no matter if they were training or not. Even if they were on a mission, Halt was watching Will. Not that that was odd, but Will had forgotten how unnerving it felt at first to be so conscious of your every move.

Even though he hadn't minded that back in the calm, peaceful forests around Castle Redmont, a year can change a person quite a bit. Now, he found that he hated the feeling of being looked at- hated having to second guess every move in case Halt would get suspicious. He was enough of a wreck just trying to function properly, let alone keep up a perfect facade of normality, as though he'd never been a drug addict or been worked practically into the grave.

"Do you think you could persuade that horse of yours to stay with the other horses for a minute or two?" Halt said. His tone was severe but even Will's slow brain figured out it was feigned within seconds. "Otherwise he'll wind up believing that he's one of us."

"He's been driving Halt crazy since we first found your tracks," Horace put in. "He must have picked up your scent and known it was you we were following, although Halt didn't realize it."

Halt raised an eyebrow. To someone who didn't know him, it probably would've looked menacing. "Halt didn't realize it?" he repeated slowly. "And I suppose you did?"

Horace just shrugged, not taking the bait. "I'm just a warrior. I'm not supposed to be a thinker. I leave that to you Rangers."

All of a sudden, Will saw his vision blur. He wasn't a thinker, not anymore. His brain felt like a foreign entity to him, like he couldn't control it. Much of the time, especially at night, he found he couldn't. And, worse, Will wasn't a warrior anymore, either. He was nothing. And he was most definitely not fit to be a Ranger.

If Halt noticed Will's expression, he said nothing about that, instead going on to reply, "I must admit it had me puzzled. I've never seen a Ranger horse behave like that. Even when I ordered him to calm down and be silent, I could tell there was something on his mind. When you first stepped out of the trees to shoot, I thought he was going to take off after you."

So Halt had seen everything. He felt disgust, contempt for himself, begin to settle in. But, he knew, it wouldn't do to let the others see it- even Evanlyn didn't need to see that. She'd seen enough of his weakness already. She'd seen him at his lowest, and he had no right to bother her with that anymore. So he forced a smile and looked at his three companions, and for a moment, he even fooled himself into thinking it was real.

"Will." It was Evanlyn's soft voice from beside him. On the huge black steed Horace had taken from Deparnieux, she towered above Will- not that she wasn't already taller than he. Regrettably, even Halt was a half-inch taller than Will, and Halt was, by the standards of everyone, Araluen, Skandian, or otherwise, very short. Not that Will would ever tell him that, of course.

"Yes?"

"How are you?" If it had been anyone else, Will would've given her a bright grin and made a joke about being enslaved. But it was Evanlyn. She was the only person who knew his secret. And although he didn't want to burden her, he sensed that if he didn't answer, their argument would get more heated and attract the attention of others- more specifically, Halt.

"Well," he tried, "one good thing about not sleeping for two days is that you don't have any chance to have nightmares."

Evanlyn gave him a sympathetic look; she'd started getting them, too, a few weeks ago. Although hers weren't nearly as bad as Will's. "And what about..." she flicked an eyebrow up. The motion reminded him of Halt, and the familiar stab of guilt hit his chest. He really did hate lying to Halt, but like Evanlyn said, there was no other way. He wouldn't risk being kicked out of the only place he'd ever felt like he belonged in. He wouldn't risk Halt, the person whose opinion Will cared about most, finding out and becoming ashamed that an apprentice of his was stupid enough, weak enough, to go through all the things Will had gone through.

"I'm fine," he said quickly. Then he realized he said it too quickly, and she was giving him a skeptical look. "Really, Evanlyn. And besides, we have bigger things to worry about right now."

With a sigh, she conceded defeat. Will could be very stubborn when he set his mind to it, and with Halt, Erak, and Horace only a few meters away, she couldn't risk arguing with him.

Which, speaking of Erak...

"Will, we haven't told Erak and his crew," she whispered, beginning to panic. From the horror that grew in Will's eyes, she knew he'd caught on to what she was saying.

"We need to tell them," he whispered back, "as soon as possible." He grimaced, and Evanlyn was delighted to see his Ranger mind was beginning to work again as he said, "if one of us goes to ride beside Erak, though, it'll look suspicious. We need a plausible excuse to get close to him, because we can't wait until Hallasholm; who knows what he might say." Then he froze. "Evanlyn...I don't remember Hallasholm."

Not knowing what he was trying to say, she said slowly, "yes, we've gone over that."

He looked at her levelly, trying to suppress his fear. He'd been getting better at hiding his emotions lately, but they still showed at times like this one. "No, what I mean is that Halt and Horace will expect me to know my way around Hallasholm. Erak won't because he knows what I've been through, and the rest of his crew don't care, anyway, but those two..."

She paled considerably. Then a solution came to her. "You worked as a yard slave, right? Well, to my knowledge, you weren't allowed far off property anyway. It'd make sense you didn't know your way around, and besides, we've been away from there for several months. You can claim your knowledge is fuzzy." She bit her lip. "But we'll need to make sure you're not nearby Halt while you relearn the ins and outs of the buildings."

He nodded slowly, face caught up in worry. "Evanlyn, this is impossible!" he exclaimed softly, finally giving full vent to his feelings. "I've never been able to trick him before, not even for a moment. Who's to say he doesn't already know?"

She let out a rather unladylike curse. Will was right. As silent as Halt was, it was entirely possible he'd already figured out their whole ruse, but- no. That wasn't possible. He had no reason to believe Will had taken warmweed, if he even knew the existence of the drug. Sure, he might think Will was acting weird, but he had other things on his mind right now. When she tried to tell that to Will, however, he looked less than convinced.

"We have no idea how much Halt knows, Evanlyn."

"Well, what do you suggest?" she asked, a little acerbically. "Have a nice, open conversation with Erak about your past, right in front of Halt? Look, Will," she looked him the eye pleadingly, "there's still a chance he doesn't know. We need to take that chance. Plus, even if he does figure it out, there's no reason for Horace to know, too, is there? I mean, Horace probably wouldn't care, but-"

"No." Will's gaze was steely. "No one can know."

If they'd been on foot, she would've taken a step back. Never had she heard Will, sweet, kind, cheerful Will who wouldn't lie to save his life, speak to anyone that way. And, she realized with a sinking feeling, she had a bad feeling that that kind, cheerful Will was now a thing of the past. His time in Skandia, remembered or not, had changed him.

"Alright, Will," she said softly. "I'll try to find an opening to talk to Erak. You occupy Halt."

As it turned out, occupying Halt wasn't difficult. A few minutes later, Halt called for a brief stop. Once they dismounted, he drew Will out of earshot of the others to speak to him. Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw Evanlyn discreetly edging Erak out of the group of his men.

"This fellow Erak," Halt said softly. "What do you make of him?"

Will frowned, hoping Halt would think he was considering the question and not desperately racking his mind for anything he remembered of Erak. Coming from his own memories, it wasn't much- he remembered Skorghijl and the passage to it, but after that it became increasingly harder and harder to remember anything. But from what Evanlyn had told him, he'd been instrumental in their escape. Besides, Erak had a certain rough kindness that Will found hard not to like.

So, taking a deep breath, he looked at Halt and said, "I like him."

Halt nodded. "Yes. So do I, but do you trust him? That's a different matter to liking."

He stiffened. He honestly had no clue. The correct answer, from what Evanlyn had told him and his vague memories, should be yes, but Will no longer trusted his own mind. It was his mind, according to Will, that had gotten him hooked on warmweed. It was his mind that tortured him nightly with nightmares. It was his mind that disabled him with panic attacks- which, thankfully, he hadn't had recently.

But, knowing what he should answer, he opened his mouth and said, "yes."

Halt nodded again, rubbing his chin. "I must say, I agree with you."

"Well, he did help us to escape, you know, Halt," Will pointed out, thinking that was probably the right thing to say, and was relieved when Halt tilted his head in approval.

"I know. That's what I was thinking about."

A little confused, he sent a curious glance at Halt, but the Ranger said nothing more. Having learned to expect that by now, Will said nothing, either, and the two stared off into the forest. It was almost peaceful and Will found himself longing for those days back at Redmont fief where everything had been so uncomplicated and right. No Skandians, no death threats, not Temujai and wars and lies.

As they mounted back up again, Evanlyn found her way back to him. "I filled him in," she said in a lowered voice, knowing all too well that Halt was a mere four meters away and possibly watching them. "I didn't have time to tell him why, but he understands and promised not to mention...it...and to help make excuses or distract Halt when necessary." She grimaced. "Now that I think about it, asking him to help make excuses was probably a big mistake on my part."

Despite himself, Will couldn't help but smile. It was the first genuine smile he'd made in months, albeit fairly small. "Well, what's done is done."

"And what might that be?"

Fighting his body's instinctive freeze, he turned to look at Halt. Rapidly improvising through the haziness in his brain, he said, "Evanlyn was trying to get Erak to ride a horse again so we could make better time, but he refused." Uncertain as to whether or not Halt's look was skeptical or accepting, he continued, "He told her to, put politely, screw off," and then threw in a grin for good measure.

Surprisingly, it worked. The barest ghost of a smile flitted across Halt's weathered face and Will knew that he'd succeeded. Torn between guilt at lying to his mentor and satisfaction that at least his mind wasn't completely screwed up and could still work, he decided on a blank expression and continued riding.

This could work, he thought. I just need to keep this up until we get back home and Halt won't ask again.