A/N: I'm really sorry nothing has happened for like a hundred years! Tbh, I kinda ditched this fandom, and while RA will also be dear to my heart, I actually haven't read the series in three years. I don't think I will continue this, but I've been getting so much wonderful feedback that I sort of had to respond in some way, so here, have a thing!

This fic has been left alone for a really long while, so the writing's probably a bit different, and also it's really short and it's unbetaed, so if you see a typo, send me something and I probably won't fix it bc I am lazy, but miracles happen.

btw, reviewers, you guys are awesome and i love you lots and i would give you cookies except i can't cook but really i love you lots you are my favourite people

The first time Halt tries to teach someone how to shoot an arrow is also the first time Halt gets shot in the face.

Basically, it goes like this.

Halt is riding along a quiet little street with Abelard, reins draped loosely and bow strung over his shoulder. There is a quiver of arrows bobbing on his shoulder, steady and looking very similar to a bunch of porcupines squished together. The town around them is small and bustling, filled with the sounds of children being annoying brats.

Abe munches loudly on oats, crunching his teeth to the rhythm of his feet as they travel along the path.

Halt pokes him.

Abe munches.

Halt pokes him.

Abe munches.

Halt pokes him.

Abe munches.

Halt pokes him.

Abe munches, and then kicks back, knocking Halt off.

"Ow!" Halt cries, landing on the side of the road. His bow manages to stay off his shoulder, but his arrows go flying. Unnoticed to him, a village boy stops kicking his friend to pick them up, and then they both run away, .

Abe stops, and looks condescendingly down on him. Excuse you?

"Okay, okay," Halt mutters. "I'm sorry."

Abe keeps looking at him, and presses a hoof onto his chest.

"I'm sorry," Halt repeats.

Abe looks at him.

"I'm sorry, and I promise to buy you apples?" Halt offers.

Abe huffs, and then shifts position so that Halt can stand up. He tosses his head and shuffles his feet, spraying dirt onto Halt's face.

"Mangy old nag," Halt whispers irritatedly under his breath.

Abe kicks him in the face.

xxx

A few minutes later, Halt is once again traveling down the street, minus a couple arrows and clean spots on his clothing. Abe makes a point to munch extremely loudly on his newly won apples, and Halt grimaces, and resists the urge to poke him.

He hears the sound of feet running after him, and he tenses, grabbing his bow and arrows just in case he needs to shoot.

Then he remembers. He doesn't have any arrows.

Abe snorts at him, laughing.

Halt glares, and slips off, sliding a knife out of his sleeve as he turns around to look at the cause of the footsteps.

It's a little girl, about five years old. She is dragging his quiver with one hand, trying to tie her hair with the other. She stops in surprise when Halt faces her, and then raises both hands in the air, dropping the quiver and hair ribbon onto the dirt.

Halt realizes that he is brandishing a knife at her, and tucks his arm sheepishly behind his back.

"Didn't your Ma never teach you not to wave sharp things at people?" The girl says petulantly when she sees that his dagger is gone, picking his arrows back up.

"Didn't your Ma ever teach you not to sneak up on people?" Halt replies.

"No," she tells him blithely. "My Ma kicked the bucket a couple years ago.

That sucks, Abe says.

"Thanks, mister horse." The girl says, moving to face him. "You're a whole lot politer than your Ranger guy."

I know. I have to deal with him every day.

"I apologize for being rude," Halt says stiffly, and why is she talking to his horse, how does she even understand his horse, this makes no sense, but he really needs his arrows. "I'm sorry."

"You should be."

"Can I please have my arrows back?" Halt asks, glaring.

"No."

"Why not?"

"I wanna learn how to shoot." She demands. "Then I'll give you your arrows back."

"Are you kidding? You're going to shoot someone in the face!"

"No shooting, no arrows."

"No."

"Fine. Say goodbye to your arrows."

"You are such a brat." Halt turns back around, and goes to hoist himself onto the Abelard. "Keep the arrows, then."

"Has anyone mentioned to you that there's rumours of camp of bandits a few kilometres south of here? It's a good thing you got your horse to protect you, because I don't think you gonna be so good at fighting without arrows." She calls.

Demon child, he says to himself, before dismounting.

"Fine."

"Yay!" She shouts, before running over in excitement and starting to babble. "So there's this soldier in our town and he has this really small bow thing and it's really cool okay, he says he can shoot a target from across the town square and hit the bulls eye and I wanna be able to do that, can you do that, and I tried to practice with a slingshot, and I got good with a slingshot, I can hit squirrels with slingshots, it's awesome, isn't it, but then I thou - "

"You want to know how to shoot well? This is what the first, most important thing is." He states.

"What?" She asks expectantly.

"First of all, shut up."

xxx

She apologizes later, but that doesn't change the fact that he now has burns on his hands and a bandage on his cheek where Halt got shot in the face by a pipsqueak girl.

Abe laughs.