Halt sidestepped to avoid a vicious overhead swing, then thrust his saxe knife up to cut into his opponent's shoulder. The man gasped in pain and fell to his knees, his sword dropping from his grip. Satisfied that this man was out of action, at least for now, Halt turned his attention to the six other men that Crowley and Leander were engaged with. Slashing his saxe knife, the enemy of his choice turned just in time to block it with his sword. He spun as he caught sense of movement in his peripheral and ducked to the side to avoid being smacked by the heavy swing of a second bandit's club.

A cry of pain from somewhere behind Halt, then the scratchy voice of one of the men. "Let's get out of here! Run!"

The remaining bandits took off like frantic deer, leaving their wounded comrade behind. The wounded man staggered to his feet and gave a low, keening wail as he tried to catch up. Halt, intently focused on the task at hand, as he always was, tripped the lagging man, then flew after the escaping men. He was slightly surprised to not hear Crowley and Leander behind him, but dismissed the thought, assuming that they had either spread to the sides or were securing the wounded man.

Five minutes later, Halt swore as he accepted the fact that the men were out of his reach - at least on foot. The Rangers would have to go fetch their horses, then continue to track them. As he came to this conclusion, Halt looked around him. Leander and Crowley had still not arrived. Perhaps the remaining bandit had put up more trouble than he had expected. With an annoyed sigh that he had lost his prey - at least for now - Halt turned and began to jog back to the clearing.

Despite their initial loss of the main group of bandits, Halt was still in relatively good spirits as he approached the clearing. They had caught one, and they would be able to track the others with relative ease. Entering the clearing, Halt was about to give a snarky comment about his fellow Rangers being slow when he caught sight of a scene that made his stomach drop to his boots.

Crowley on the ground, his face ashen and a growing puddle of crimson blood underneath a stained tunic. Leander was on his knees, his cloak pressed hard against the wound that marred his Commandant's side.

A choked sound escaped Halt's throat as he rushed toward them.

Leander had caught Crowley as the young Ranger had stumbled. Crowley's hands had flown to his side with a cry of pain, hazel eyes wide and glazed with shock as he stared at the blood that slicked his hands. Leander lowered him to the ground, sparing the escaping bandits and the Hibernian that pursued them only a fleeting glance before yanking his cloak off and beginning to stem the flow of blood from Crowley's abdomen, trying to will his hands to stop shaking.

"Getting... away..." Crowley managed between gritted teeth, before flinching violently and giving a pained groan as Leander put increased pressure on the gash.

"Halt's going after them," Leander replied, desperately wishing he had his spare cloak on him instead of sitting in his saddle bag as the Commandant began to shiver, his face growing ever paler.

Crowley took a shuddering breath. "Should be... helping... him," he argued, even as his eyelashes fluttered and head began to droop slightly.

Leander swore and firmly patted Crowley's cheek. "Crowley! No falling asleep yet, understand? Got to get the bleeding stopped first, alright? Crowley!"

"M'here," Crowley murmured. His tone grew worried as he slurred, "You... a'right? Halt..."

"We're both fine," Leander reassured him quickly. "It's you who we need to fix up." Though he didn't know for sure that Halt was still fine, he assumed he was. The young Hibernian was tough.

"Good..." Crowley sounded relieved, his body relaxing slightly. There was a minute of silence, save for Crowley's labored breathing and Leander's frustrated hisses through his teeth.

It was around this moment that Halt arrived. He was alone, leading Leander to assume that the bandits had gotten away.

However, at this very moment, the older Ranger really couldn't bring himself to care.

"What happened?!" Halt demanded as he landed on his knees next to the pair, his hands moving helplessly for a moment before he unclasped his cloak and drew it over Crowley's shoulders, his movements uncharacteristically gentle.

Leander glanced toward the dark haired man. "Sword got him right before they ran off," he said tightly. Leander was aware of how close Crowley and Halt were. They had a wide spread reputation as one of the most promising young pair of Rangers that Araluen had ever seen - the "dream team", so to speak. But more than that, they were best friends, bonded in a way that was hard to explain to anyone who didn't know them. Seeing Crowley in such a state was no doubt more difficult for Halt then it would be for anyone else.

"Halt... glad you're... alright..." Crowley murmured, the relief at seeing his friend evident. Halt attempted a weak smile, the expression feeling foreign and forced.

"We're all fine," he said, trying to keep his voice normal for Crowley's sake. "It's you who tried to get yourself sliced in half. How are you feeling? Crowley?"

Crowley hummed in response, his breath hitching slightly as he shifted position. Beside him, Leander spoke urgently. "We need the horses, Halt. They'll have the salve and real bandages."

Halt look conflicted. While every fiber in his being wanted to stay with his friend, he knew that he would logically be helping most by retrieving the medical supplies. Finally, Halt gave a curt nod. "I'll be back soon. Don't go anywhere without me," he said firmly, directing his speech toward Crowley as he squeezed his wounded friend's shoulder

Crowley, despite his condition, managed a weak chuckle. "Is... that an... order?"

"Consider it one. Just a few minutes, Crowley." Tearing his gaze away from his Commandant, Halt went to go fetch the horses - and the bandages that Crowley so desperately needed.

It only took Halt a few minutes to retrieve the horses, but for the dark haired Ranger, even that felt like much too long. The other two horses followed closely behind Abelard without a tether as Halt cantered into the clearing. Crowley's bright chestnut, Cropper, gave a frantic whinny and trotted to his prone master. Gently, he nuzzled Crowley's cheek, making the faintest of smiles touch the injured man's lips.

"Cropper," he murmured, making the horse nicker. "My good boy..."

Leander didn't try to stop the interaction between horse and Ranger, understanding the connection between them. Seeing his horse would only do Crowley good, and Leander knew the horse would never accidentally do something stupid. Stupid wasn't in a Ranger horse's vocabulary.

"Here," Halt said, thrusting the bag of medical supplies and a canteen of water into Leander's hands. Turning to Crowley's pale face, Halt nudged his shoulder. "Alright," he said softly. "Say we fix you up now?"

Crowley licked his lips as he gave an almost imperceptible nod. "Sounds... good..."

Halt glanced to Leander, who gave a slow nod. "This is going to hurt," the oldest Ranger said softly. "Hold him down and keep talking to him."

Halt and Leander held each other's gaze for several moments, until Leander finally turned away, closing his eyes briefly and taking a deep breath to compose himself. As he opened them, he poured the canteen and began to clean out the wound.

Crowley let out a harsh sob, writhing under Halt's hold. Halt gritted his teeth but continued a stream of calming words. Leander's voice was a low mantra of "I'm sorry, I'm sorry," as he finished off with the disinfectant. Before the blood could well back up, Leander quickly smeared the warmweed salve into the wound. He waited a moment for the numbing to take some effect before beginning to to stitch it, still crooning wordless comfort under his breath.

Halt gradually lightened his hold on the Commandant as Crowley drifted from the lessened pain. Halt watched the blank, half closed hazel eyes for a moment before turning to Leander, who was just finishing closing the gash. "Is he... going to be alright?"

Leander didn't pause from wrapping the thick linen bandage over the stitches. "He lost a lot of blood, Halt, but it's not too deep. He should be fine."

Halt let out the breath that he hadn't been aware he was holding. Leander tied off the bandage in a neat knot, then glanced around them. "I don't suppose our ugly friends will be back anytime soon?"

Halt's expression turned grim at the mention of the bandits. "No, but I almost wish they would," he answered darkly, fingering the hilt of his saxe.

"In that case," Leander continued, "I think we should stay here for the night. Crowley's got to rest and we need to be watching for infection. Being jostled on horseback just now is the last thing he needs."

Halt agreed, and moved off build a fire as Leander began to prepare Crowley's bedroll. Crowley slept, his face pale and expressionless, as Leander and Halt ate a simple dinner of jerky and dried fruit. Leander offered to take first watch, but Halt declined. He was too tense to sleep right now, the young Hibernian reasoned to himself.

This was the reason why Halt was currently leaning against a rock some meters from the campfire, his gaze alternating between the darkened forest beyond the camp site and Crowley's unmoving form. The image of first seeing Crowley, ashen, lying in a puddle of blood, refused to leave his mind and was creating an uncomfortable roiling in his gut. Crowley could have died if Leander hadn't been there to stem the blood flow.

Leander had been the one to stay by their fallen Commandant. And where had Halt been? Pursuing the group of bandits, without even a thought of checking his friends before taking off. He had heard the cry of pain, and he hadn't spared even a backwards glance to make sure that it hadn't belonged to one of his fellow Rangers.

There was one thing Halt was certain of.

If Leander hadn't been with them today, Crowley would have died from Halt's stupidity and hastiness.

Sickened with himself, Halt wearily scrubbed a hand over his face. A second later, Crowley stirred. Halt was up and at his side in an instant.

Crowley blinked dull hazel eyes at his friend and attempted a smile. "Hey," he croaked.

"Hey, yourself," Halt replied as he offered Crowley a mug of water, who eagerly complied. "How're you feeling?"

"Like I got cut open by a sword. Besides that, surprisingly okay."

Instead of the twitched half smile and snarky response that Crowley was expecting, a pained expression crossed Halt's face before he looked away. Crowley frowned. "Halt? What's wrong?"

Halt's dark eyes met Crowley's, and the Commandant almost flinched at the sheer amount of self loathing that was shining through them at this moment. "I was stupid. I could have gotten you killed."

Ah, Crowley thought with dismay. He should have known. "The only reason that you're stupid is for thinking that. It wasn't your fault. Unless, of course, you were in with the bandits and told them to target me, but I find that unlikely..."

Halt's brows pinched together in a rare display of distress. "Stop it. This isn't funny. I should have noticed you were hurt, but I didn't even give a glance back. I was careless."

"Yup," Crowley answered with a shrug, wincing slightly as the movement pulled at his stitches. "You were. So was I. Don't beat yourself up over this, please?"

Halt slowly nodded. "Alright."

"If you two are done with the sentiment party, some of us still have a few hours of sleep they'd like to use," Leander's dry voice floated over, making Crowley snicker and Halt smirk.

"Old man needs his beauty sleep," the Commandant said in a knowing tone.

Halt nodded seriously. "Undoubtedly. I suppose we've deprived him long enough."

"See if I ever stitch you up again, ungrateful brat," Leander grumbled into his cloak, even though they all could hear the note of amusement in his voice.

Crowley simply gave another chuckle before letting his eyes droop. "Night, Halt."

"Night, Crowley," Halt said softly as he moved back to his post.

His heart feeling lighter, the grim faced Hibernian allowed himself a smile.

What can I say? H/C is one of my favorite things. I realize I didn't ever really address the issue of the wounded bandit. It's not the focus of the story, so I kind of glided over him. You can either assume that he crawled away and they have to re-catch him, or that they took a minute to tie him at some point in all this action.

Like I said, I don't think it's a major plot impacting detail. (Plot? What plot? I mean fluff. ;) )

Nothing makes my day like a review!

-TrustTheCloak