(A/N): I was in a little writing slump, so I started taking some old prompts on Tumblr and writing something short for them. When I got through them, I requested a few more prompts on Tumblr to keep practicing. I ended up with over 7k words of practice written, and I wanted to share them with my readers on here! I hope y'all enjoy!

Will strummed the last cord on his mandola, smiling in satisfaction. He'd slipped up on a few notes, but he'd followed along with the lyrics perfectly in his head. He was sure that the other Wards would love it, despite the flaws. He was going to be done practicing for the night, however, after side-eying Halt and seeing that his mentor was pacing and staring in his direction.

"Will, we need to talk," Halt said, finally stepping around the couch to stand in front of Will.

Frowning, Will put his mandola to his side, resting it gently on the cushions of the couch. "What's up?"

Halt apparently wanted to sit, though, and grabbed the neck of the mandola and started to move it to the ground. Before he could, though, Will's hand flashed out, latching onto Halt's wrist with an iron grip.

"Don't touch my damn mandola," Will snapped, gently grabbing the bottom of neck, taking care with the strings, and pulling it away from Halt's grasp. Halt stared at him, shocked at the young man's language that he'd used in Halt's direction. But Will didn't even notice–he was too busy inspecting the neck of the mandola where Halt had grabbed it, checking the strings and making sure the tuning hadn't been messed up.

Halt started up the steps of the cabin, already smelling whatever his apprentice was making for dinner that night. He had left Will behind on this trip, the boy still recovering from a bout of the flu, and Will had promised he would make dinner for whenever Halt got back.

The problem had been solved quicker than expected, but he was still exhausted, and the smell of fresh-baked bread and sizzling, spiced meat made Halt's mouth water even before the scent of coffee hit his nose. Halt would never say it to Will's face, but he was an amazing cook compared to Halt. He was proud of how Will excelled in certain categories, even if he struggled in a few others.

His foot was on the top step when it finally hit his ears. A low, melodious voice, the traditional Hibernian song slipping from the singer's lips like it was something they were born singing. It reminded Halt of when he'd heard his younger sister Caitlyn singing it, even if the voice now was lower, more masculine.

Will.

Halt closed his eyes, listening to his apprentice's singing. He barely remembered singing the song to Will one night, not too long after they returned from Skandia together. Will had woken, caught in a panic attack, and Halt had tried calming him the only way he knew how.

"Hey Halt?" came Will's quiet voice, echoing down the empty hallway and into Halt's office. He still wasn't that familiar with his foster father, and even though he seemed cold, Will felt that the man didn't mean ill of him. He was just … a quiet person.

"Yes, Will?" came Halt's tired response. He was a high school teacher, and whenever he drove Will home, he was always exhausted and had a cup of coffee when they got home. At the moment, he was sitting at his desk, grading papers with the cup of coffee cooling down beside him and his reading glasses on.

"Do you know how to do logarithms?" he asked, clutching the thick math book to his chest. Halt was an English teacher, but he was an adult. He had to know this.

"C'mere." Halt sighed, pulling the glasses from his nose and motioning for the boy to come closer. Will stepped forward, opening the textbook to the page he was having trouble with. He'd scribbled out notes on a sheet of paper and showed his foster father everything he'd written down, but for some reason the answer just … wasn't making sense to him. Halt nodded along to his explanation, chewing on the end of his glasses as he considered the problem.

Finally, Halt leaned forward with his red pen, scribbling beside Will's notes. "From what I know, you start off the problem like this. You take these numbers–"

"Oh … we're not … that's not how Ms. Rivera taught us." Will pointed along the page where it supposedly explained how they were to solve the problem. But the practice problems didn't work like the example, which is why Will came in here.

Halt frowned. "What do you mean? That's how I know it. Math is math, why should how you do it matter, as long as you have the right answer?" Halt shook his head, and then leaned forward to continue writing out how he did it, explaining to Will as he went.

Then Will interrupted again. "If we don't do it how the book shows, we'll get docked points …"

Now Halt looked annoyed, looking up at Will. "Math is math."

Alyss looked down at the garment as the extra fabric rolled down to her ankles, covering the shift and her basic footwear that hopefully would go unnoticed during their impromptu undercover mission.

"Are you ready?" Pauline murmured, pulling her hair into a bun at the back of her head before slipping the cap over her hair. In the soldier's uniform, Pauline blended in well, her height and proud stance completely obscuring the fact that she wasn't actually a soldier.

Straightening her stance, Alyss brushed out the fabric, hoping that if she kept moving in the adjoining ballroom, no one would notice the slight wrinkles in the skirt of the dress.

"Of course," she said in response to her mentor, holding her hand out. Pauline extended her elbow out to her apprentice, and Alyss slipped her hand into the crook of Pauline's arm.

Together, they walked out into the ballroom, weaving in-between the crowds of other visiting nobles, moving towards their target. This wasn't what was planned for them to do tonight, but they saw their chance to get the information they needed, and made the choice in a split decision.

"I just need you to sign this statement," Pauline said, holding out the quill she had just finished writing with.

The Baron in front of her raised an eyebrow, considering her with a look of contempt. She could sense his eyes going up and down her, starting at her breasts and ending where her legs disappeared behind his desk. She didn't squirm, though.

"I'm not signing anything, my Lady," the Baron sneered, brushing the piece of paper to the side of his desk. The fresh ink on the parchment smeared, obscuring most of what Pauline had just written out. "You and your … people," he started, voice low, "are going to leave me alone. Because you wouldn't want your lovely husband outside to find out you're cheating on him with his best friend, now would you?"

Blackmail, Pauline realized, is going to be this man's course of action. Now, Halt was waiting patiently outside the room, Pauline having learned to not let him in the room with people she knew were going to be difficult. But it was seriously tempting to let him inside this one, just to hear his reaction for this one.

Instead, though, Pauline just tipped her head, reached across the desk for the paper, and rolled it up in her hands. It wouldn't be of any use now. Duncan would have to deal with this man.

"And what are you going to tell me when I find out that my husband is also cheating on me with his best friend?" she asked, letting her face betray none of her emotions.

The Baron's satisfied smirk faded away to one of confusion. And then shock.

Pauline smiled, tapped the head of the Baron with the discarded paper, and started to step away from his desk. "I'll be sure to let Duncan know about your feelings on this arrangement," she said, opening the door herself and not waiting for the secretary. "I'm sure he'll find this choice of action entertaining."

Halt stood from his seat in the waiting area, nodding to his wife as she exited. "I'll be sure to include your failed attempt at blackmail, Baron!"

Will snorted, pushing Horace away from him in mock disgust. "Oh my god, that's so dumb," he laughed. He started to stand from his spot up against Horace's side, but soon realized that he … he really didn't want to get up.

Horace scoffed, reaching around Will's shoulders and pulling the smaller boy closer into his chest. "Oh come on," Horace wrapped his other arm across Will's waist, resting his chin on Will's shoulder.

Will put up a half-hearted attempt to get out of Horace's grip, but instead got caught up in another bout of laughter. Horace started chuckling along with him, until he started laughing harder, slumping lower in the seat until Will was nearly on top of him.

After a few moments, they both slowly calmed down, Will resting his head against Horace's chest, a satisfied smile on his face as he relaxed into Horace's touch.

Horace found that he couldn't take his eyes away from Will, his eyes stuck on the joy literally etched into his face.

"What?" Will finally murmured, having been watching Horace this entire time.

Considering his words, Horace's hand came up, cupping Will's cheek as he got lost in looking at the love of his life. "Please never stop smiling," he whispered, a slight smile on his face.

Will's smile got wider, and before Horace could say anything else, Will leaned down, kissing him gently.

All five of the wards in their year clustered by the window, their small noses peeking right over the sill at what they hoped might be their ticket out of there. A man and a woman, younger, holding hands and talking to one of the caretakers. They both wore simple rings on their left middle fingers, and, if Alyss had remembered correctly, there had just been a wedding of a young couple in Wensley, Anna and John Williams.

None of them knew what the young couple looked like, but to their young minds, there was only one reason why a newly wed young couple would be visiting the ward and talking to a caretaker–someone was getting adopted.

It didn't happen often, but it happened. Normally it was the younger kids, the babies, but technically, technically, their year was still young. Six wasn't too old, some couples might want a kid that was older but still young enough to raise. But at the same time, none of their year had been adopted since they were babies. There used to have been thirteen in their group, and now there was only five, but none of the remainders remembered the others, and even if they did, they doubted those who had gotten adopted knew of it.

As they watched, Horace nudged his way closer to the window, his elbow digging into Will's ribs, knocking the smaller boy from his spot. He fell onto the couch, missing whatever happened next. George groaned, pushing away from the window himself and walking away towards their bedroom. Alyss simply shook her head and looked away, tears barely hidden. Jenny openly burst into tears, and Horace yelled "Noo!" and punched the wood of the window sill.

Will, who hadn't seen anything but could easily figure out what happened (they'd gone towards the nursery or at least the younger dormitories) just looked between the kids he'd grown up with. He didn't want them to be sad.

"…wanna build a pillow fort before dinner?" he asked, slowly getting to his feet. "We've still got an hour."

Slipping into the inn, Delia looked around, automatically comparing it to her mother's inn back in Seacliff. She didn't really know why she had traveled this far, especially when she wasn't even sure Will would want to see her again. But she wanted to at least try.

Delia walked towards the bar, deciding that she would get some food and a bed for the night and then find out where Will was at the next day. Brushing her dark hair out of her eyes, Delia found an open seat at the bar, waving for the bartender and waiting as they worked their way through orders for drinks, meals being passed over their shoulders. Finally, the person ducked towards the corner Delia had shoved herself into, a wide smile plastered on their face. They were blond and chubby, a black apron wrapped around their waist that had a white cloth looped through the ties.

Instantly, this girl caught Delia's eyes.

"Hi!" the girl said, brushing her own hair out of her eyes. "Sorry that took so long, it's a busy night," she laughed awkwardly, but seeing Delia's smile and apparent lack of annoyance, the girl continued. "Thanks for being patient. What can I get for you?"

For a moment, Delia couldn't get her words out. For some reason, she was just … enchanted with how this girl moved behind the bar, even as another bartender or cook, possibly, slipped around her, picking up other orders and running platters of food out to those sitting in booths and around the fire.

"Miss?" the bartender said, the smile still on her face.

Delia shook her head, clearing her thoughts. "Sorry, I was just … distracted. I need a room for the night, do you have any?"

The girl's face fell. "No, we don't, I'm sorry. They go fast on days like these …" she trailed off, but something in her eyes told Delia that she wasn't finished talking. After a moment, the girl started talking again. "I … I hope this isn't too forward, but I have an extra bed back at my place? I'm still an apprentice back in the kitchens at Castle Redmont, but we get individual rooms and my roommate just moved away, so it's empty tonight. It's a bit of a walk, and we'd be sleeping in the same room but …"

Before she'd even finished talking, Delia was nodding. "Oh, please, if you don't mind. The last town I was in was out too and I had to sleep in the stables." She laughed, but it died off quickly as she recalled that night. It wasn't unpleasant, but the smell was definitely not her favorite.

The girl stretched her hand out. "Great! My name is Jenny! My shift ends in an hour, so I can get you some food and be done when you are!"

Delia shook her hand. "I'm Delia," she smiled, watching as Jenny moved away. It took her a few moments to remember why she was even in this town to begin with, and found that the young Ranger she had supposedly chased after was only second in her mind to this enchanting young woman she'd just met. Maybe she'd just … needed to get out of her small hometown.

"Hey, here ya go!" Jenny tossed down a platter in front of Delia, probably of whatever the special was that night. Delia hadn't even noticed the minutes go by, but already was Jenny pulling the apron from around her waist, much to the other patron's chagrin. They seemed to enjoy her company. "I'll be done in twenty minutes. Sorry the food took so long!"

Jenny went by a few more times as Delia ate, her eyes glued to the back of the girl she'd just met. Something about her was drawing Delia's eyes, and she just … couldn't look away. "Jenny," Delia said, catching the young girl as she walked by again. "I just … I wanted to thank you again for letting me stay with you. It's really generous of you, especially because we just met."

"Oh, hon, it's nothing," Jenny said, smiling and waving away the statement.

"No, really," Delia said, not letting her dismiss it. "I just. It means a lot to me. Like, I'm pretty sure I could kiss you."

Jenny raised her eyebrows, but didn't seem to be taken aback by the statement. Delia had stated it only as a joke, but if she was being honest with herself …

"Oh?" Jenny said, leaning forward onto the counter. "And what if I kissed you right now?" There was a smirk playing on her lips, one that Delia just couldn't take her eyes from.

She smiled, finally looking up and meeting Jenny's eyes. "I wouldn't mind that."

Will stared at Gilan.

Gilan stared at Will.

"Don't," Will said, holding a hand out between them. Halt was in the next room, and it wouldn't end well if they made a ruckus. Halt was only allowing Gilan over because Gilan wanted to see the boy after losing him in Celtica so long ago.

"Don't what?" Gilan said, his voice mischievously innocent.

"Do. Not." Will said instead, refusing to answer the question.

They both fell silent.

"Where the hell are you two?" Halt called from the other room, his voice getting louder as he got closer.

That was Will's downfall. The moment he was distracted by his mentor's voice, still hung over not wanting to get on Halt's bad side, that was when Gilan pounced. Gilan had absolutely no respect for his mentor.

The young Ranger scooped up Will, arms going around the smaller boy's waist and yanking him up and off the ground. He threw Will onto Halt's bed, and before Will could even think to stop him, Gilan's fingers were tickling him, going over his armpits and his stomach.

"Stop! Stop!" Will giggled, trying to kick Gilan away, "Stop it! That tickles!" Will tried to roll away from his older brother's hands, but Gilan was longer then he remembered, and kept a hold of Will even in his struggles.

The door flew open. "What the HELL are you two doing?"

"Raise your wrist up, Horace," Gilan said, nudging the practice sword higher with his own sword. "Keep your feet even."

"Gil, I know this," Horace complained, rolling his eyes. "You realize I've beat adults in Gallica in actual duels, right? I know what I'm doing."

Before Horace could say more, Gilan twisted his sword, sliding it along the blade of Horace's and knocking it to the side. It spun out of Horace's grasp, landing right at the steps going up to the cabin.

Will watched from his spot on the cabin stairs, considering the movements of his two friends. He was still weak from his time as a slave, and Halt had suggested taking short breaks in-between training to rest. And now that Gilan was visiting, Horace was here to take extra lessons from him and Will was mandated to watch on the steps.

But if he was being honest with himself, he just wanted to sit and talk with his friends, not … not watch them fool around without him. At least if he hadn't been told to rest for the next half hour, he would have been busy. But here he was, just watching his friends have fun—without him.

After bickering for a few moments, Gilan tossed down his own practice sword beside where Horace's had fallen, the tall Ranger grabbing Horace in a headlock and messing up his hair as he continued to argue against whatever Gilan had just told him.

"Gilan! Let–let go!" Horace coughed out, kicking backwards to knock the Ranger off his feet.

Will bit his lip, considering his actions. Halt was just inside, and he'd told Will to rest and stay where he was. But at the same time …

Moving quickly, Will snatched up the two swords, slipping up the stairs but instead of going inside, moving along the porch and ducking under the handrail at the far side.

"Will!" Gilan called, "What the hell?"

Instead of responding, Will bolted around the edge of the cabin, clearly hearing Horace's running footsteps and Gilan's quieter steps following behind him. When he got behind the cabin though, he stopped running. He didn't know why, but he paused, turning to face his two friends.

Horace and Gilan turned the corner, freezing right at the turn. They both looked startled to see Will still standing there. For a minute, he thought they were going to be mad at him. But a moment later, Horace snorted, dropping to his knees and pulling Gilan down with him. Gilan chuckled, letting himself get pulled down along with the young knight.

Will hesitated, still clutching the swords. But then Horace reached a hand out to him, still on the ground and looking at Will with nothing but joy and love in his eyes.

The young apprentice smiled, dropping the swords and falling into the pile with his friends.

Crowley settled into his spot, looking around the Gathering Grounds with a satisfied smile on his face. The Corps wasn't back to what it was, but since a few years had passed from the Battle of Hackham Heath, a few of the missing Rangers had started to return, filling out the numbers a little more then before. They were still drastically low on the standard 50, but it was good enough.

Someone stepped into the command tent, their form obscured by the Ranger cloak around their shoulders. That didn't matter though, because Crowley would recognize him anywhere—Halt.

"What's that satisfied smirk on your face for?" came his friends gruff greeting, not even bothering with a 'hello.'

Crowley completely ignored it. "Halt! How've you been?" he asked, standing from his spot. "How's Redmont been?" It had hurt to assign Halt to Redmont, but he needed someone he could trust in such an important place, even if he'd rather Halt stay with him at Araluen.

His friend shrugged. "It's good. Met with David a few days ago and his kid still seems interested in an apprenticeship despite his training with MacNeil."

"And Pauline? Arald? Rodney? How are they?" Crowley continued, looking over Halt. He'd grown his beard out more, his hair as wild as ever. And, as usual, there was not a single sign of him having smiled recently.

"They're good."

They both fell silent, awkwardly standing in the small tent, considering the other as if they were strangers.

Then, Halt pursed his lips, considering his friend. "Come up with any annoying tunes while I've been there?"

"Annoying?" Crowley said, practically scandalized. "They're works of art, thank you very much."

Halt scoffed, shaking his head and pulling the tent flap closed, blanketing them in private darkness. "They're crimes against humanity, Crowley."

Before Halt could say anything else, Crowley pulled him into a tight hug, tucking his chin on Halt's shoulder and latching his arms together, basically locking Halt in his embrace.

Halt stiffened under his grasp for half a second, before slowly relaxing into Crowley's arms. He brought up his arms to close his side of the embrace, chuckling low.

"I missed you, you angry bastard," Crowley said softly, taking deep breaths.

Crowley didn't see it, but Halt smiled, tightening his own hug around Crowley. "I missed you, too, you annoying little shit."

Gasping, Crowley pulled out of his arms. "Little? LITTLE?"

Horace woke to the cold seeping through the walls of the cabin. Somehow, the covers of the bed had been pulled from his chest, revealing his bare skin to the frigid air.

He looked to the other side of the bed, sure that his companion had stolen the rest of the sheets to keep himself warm. But the bed was empty beside him, the discarded clothing from last night having been picked up and apparently put back on.

Horace took a deep breath, before swinging his legs off the edge of the bed. His feet were shocked at the cold floor, but instead of going back to bed, he stood up and made for the doorway. He saw a flickering light just under the door.

When he opened the bedroom door, he didn't know what to expect. But what he saw was one of the most lovely things he'd ever seen.

Will was sitting in front of the fire, his feet tucked under him with a thick, wool blanket pulled over his legs. He held a cup of steaming coffee in his hands, the pot itself still steaming in the kitchenette. Shockingly, Will also wore a knitted dark colored sweater, one that Horace had searched for before getting up from the bed.

"Are … are you wearing my sweater?" Horace asked, his voice barely coming out as a whisper. He ran a hand through his messy hair, hoping that it wasn't sticking up in all directions.

Will turned to look at him from his spot, his cheeks and nose red from the cold, but evidently he wasn't too cold—he seemed pretty comfortable in his spot, and there was nothing going on on his face that told Horace he'd fallen into a panic. He just seemed … like himself.

"Join me?" Will said, keeping his voice just as low.

Horace couldn't find it in himself to be mad, even if he was freezing with no shirt. He moved across the room, pouring the remainders of the coffee Will had made into another mug. He made his way around the chair that Will had moved closer to the fire, and Will moved himself to the side to make room for Horace. Before he sat down, though, Horace grabbed another blanket, pulling it around his shoulders before settling next to Will, who pulled the wool blanket over both their legs.

Will leaned into his chest, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out while staring at the fire.

"You know, I'd be a lot warmer if I had my sweater," Horace murmured, resting his chin on top of Will's head.

Will scoffed. "Yeah, well then you wouldn't be shirtless if I gave it back."

Horace laughed, shaking his head and closing his eyes. He was happy with this. Especially if Will was happy.

"Apprentices! Meet over on the west side of the clearing in five!"

Will looked up at the call. This would be his first examination since returning from Skandia, and if Will was being honest … he was nervous. He wasn't sure if he was caught up or not, and despite what Halt said, Will was convinced that he wasn't ready.

"Go on," Halt said quietly, nudging Will's shoulder. "You'll do great," he said.

Swallowing hard, Will stood up from his spot beside his mentor. He started in the direction that the examiner had called out, his mind already flying from outcome to outcome. What if he failed? What if they deemed him too behind to catch up, and he got kicked from the Corps? Where would he go? What would he do? Would they do that?

Without paying attention to where he was going, his foot caught on a non-existent root, tripping him and causing him to stumble. He quickly stood up straight, color rising in his cheeks. He looked back, desperate to identify what had tripped him. But of course there was nothing.

He didn't even have to look up to know that the rest of the apprentices, the examiners, and any Rangers nearby were probably staring at him. Rangers didn't just trip over their own feet—not when that could get them killed in the field.

But when he did look up, no one was staring at him. They were all busy, doing their own work or waiting for the exams to start and talking amongst each other.

Little did he know, in the half-second it took for him to catch his breath and calm down from the trip, the Rangers that had seen him had gone from staring in his direction to noticing the death glare coming from his mentor not too far behind him. They knew better than to piss off Halt, and quickly looked away, right before Will had looked up.

Halt nodded to himself, satisfied that Will wouldn't be crushed by nerves before the exam. Will was nervous, but that was a good thing. It leveled everything out.

"Halt, do you know where my shirt from yesterday is?" Will asked, digging through his bag. He'd emptied it twice now, looking for the shirt so he could wash it, but so far it was still missing. It wasn't in his bag, his bedroll, Tug's saddlebags, or even Halt's bags. It was just. Gone.

His mentor shrugged, kicking his feet up onto another log from his place at the fire. "Have you asked Jen?"

Will frowned. "Jen? Why would they have my shirt?"

Halt shrugged again, waving Will away from him. "Check with Jen first, then we'll talk about you losing another shirt, boy," he said gruffly, going back to the sheets he was perusing. Crowley had given him a stack of papers that he hadn't wanted to go through, and had basically cornered Halt into helping him.

Sighing, Will got up from his spot and headed for the campsite where he knew Jen usually set up. Jen was a junior Ranger who graduated a few years before Gilan, and often hung with their mentor during the Gatherings. Jen's mentor wasn't at the campsite, Will saw as he approached. It was just Jen, hunched over a piece of fabric and staring intently at it.

In fact, that piece of fabric looked a lot like Will's missing shirt.

"Jen?" Will asked, stepping over the log that the Ranger was using as a back rest. "Why do you have my shirt?"

Before they could answer, though, Will saw everything. Jen had a spot over the right chest area pinned down, and they were stabbing a thin needle in and out of the fabric, using a dark string–either black or a darker green then Will's shirt–to make a design. It looked like leaves and flowers, but there were also small swirls thrown in that looked like clouds.

"Oh–Will!" they said, shocked. They had been so intent on their work that they hadn't heard Will's approach, something that wasn't common during Gatherings. They fumbled with the shirt for a moment, trying to hide it around their side.

Will simply stepped around them, pointing at his shirt. "Why … ?" he asked, confused.

"I … I wanted to embroider something on it. I try to get a few people every Gathering, and I hadn't gotten your's last time, so–"

Before they could continue, Will was plopping down right at their side, studying the intricate stitches. He ran a finger over the design, in awe at Jen's work. "Can you teach me?" he asked, not really caring at this point that Jen had basically stolen his shirt.

Jen paused, not quite sure how to respond to the request. But, slowly, they smiled. "Sure," they murmured, bringing the piece of fabric back onto their lap.

Will watched as the bug crawled up his arm. He didn't know what it was, wasn't sure if this was one of the bugs George had pointed out, but he wanted to see what it would do. All the other Ward kids were playing closer to where the caretaker sat over on the bench, but Will was more comfortable under the tree by the keep. Their time outside was nearly up, because Miss Eliza, the caretaker, had to watch the year above them before lunch.

As he watched, the bug's head ducked down to nearly touching his arm, and he thought he saw something going from it's head to his arm. He didn't feel anything though, so he just kept watching. It went from a brown color to a dark red color along it's body. The head came up, and Will finally saw that there was something connecting it's head that had gone into his arm.

It … did it drink his blood?

Out of panic, Will's hand flashed out, smacking the bug and killing it instantly. A small amount of blood smeared on his arm, mixed in with the bug guts.

It was his blood.

"Miss Lizaaaaaaaa," Will wailed, tears whelling in his eyes. Was he going to die? Did that bug inject something in him? Why had it taken his blood? Was he going to die?

Will burst into tears, holding out his arm as he ran for the caretaker that was currently watching them. The young woman started in her seat, standing up and running for him, alarmed at the young boy's sudden tears and wailing.

Before Will could do anything, Crowley popped out of the command tent and latched onto him. "Come with me," the commandant said, dragging Will away from Halt and Gilan. His mentor and brother did nothing to save Will from Crowley grip, instead turning and grinning at him as Crowley pulled him off his feet and off towards the edge of the clearing.

"Crowley," Will struggled, finally getting his feet under him and pulling out of the commandant's grasp. "You could've just asked me to come along without dragging me," he snapped, annoyed but not angry. He was used to it at this point. Being Halt's apprentice put him into an odd position with Crowley, because he was still Will's superior but Halt never respected him–and therefore dragged his two former apprentices into shenanigans that were usually against Crowley's rules.

"Maybe, but this was easier," Crowley said, pulling Will out of the clearing. They were headed away from the Gathering Grounds, going deeper into the forest. Will couldn't recall anything of interest out in this direction, Crowley's hideout being in the opposite direction. "I want to hear your opinion on something."

They came to a stop suddenly, and Crowley turned to face Will. "Well? What do you think?" he said, grinning wildly.

Will paused, looking at the commandant like he'd gone nuts. There was nothing around them, as far as Will could see. "What do I think about what?" Will asked, completely flabbergasted. "There's nothing here."

That's when he knew he'd been had. Crowley grinned wolfishly. "That's where you're wrong, Will," he said, "There is something here. I'll wait for you to find it." Crowley clasped his hands behind his back, and watched Will patiently.

This was a test.

Will hesitated, looking at Crowley with an eyebrow raised. Then, he looked up, knowing that if something were to be hid, above them would be the best bet. He didn't see it at first, not in the way the tree branches were waving in the light wind, nor in the way the shadows of the trees fell, but after a moment, he saw it.

Cloth, hanging up in the tree. It was suspended in between two trunks about four meters off the ground. The shape of it was unmistakable. "A hammock?" he said, confused.

Crowley nodded, motioning up into the tree. "A hammock! We're thinking of adding it into the standard Ranger equipment, along with the tent," he started, "it's made out of the same material as our cloaks are, so it blends into the trees fairly well. It allows Rangers to stay undetected better, because unless you're making unnecessary sounds, people don't tend to look up when searching for someone."

Will nodded, intrigued. It was smart. It would allow them to get off the ground, and while their horses would be left there, they were trained to take care of those situations without instruction.

"So why did you bring me out here?" Will asked, raising an eyebrow at Crowley.

The commandant grinned again. "When this Gathering is over, Will, you're off on another mission," Will nodded, remembering the assignment that Crowley had given him yesterday. "I want you to take this along. See how it works, if you think it'd be useful or not." Crowley paused, looking up at the hammock above them. "You like to climb, so I figured it'd be good to start with you."

Halt walked through the door, and immediately knew that something was wrong. Or, not wrong, per se, but … off. He scanned the main room of the cabin, keen eyes going over each piece in the cabin, judging them and dismissing them before going onto the next.

The only thing that seemed off was Will's bedroom door, which was firmly closed. Halt could see shadows moving underneath the door, so he knew his apprentice had returned from the errand he sent him on. Halt frowned though. Will didn't usually close his bedroom door unless he was sleeping or changing. It was noon, so he wouldn't be sleeping, and unless he had somehow ripped or stained his clothing, he wouldn't have need to change.

Halt moved towards the door, pausing before he knocked to listen. Will was whispering something, and it sounded like he was sitting on the ground, talking to whoever was in there with him. Halt wasn't against Will having visitors but … the door closed was … it made Halt uncomfortable. He wanted to know who was in there with Will, if they were someone Halt knew or if they were safe.

He knocked on the door. "Will?" he said, making sure his voice was clear and steady, unlike how he was feeling. Will was at that age, Halt thought, and he doubted that the boy had gotten the … The Talk, so would that mean Halt would be the one responsible for giving it?

When Will didn't respond, but instead went silent in the room, Halt made a decision. "Will, I'm coming in," he said, and turned the handle.

"Halt, wait!" Will yelped, but it was too late. Halt opened the door to see his apprentice sitting on the floor, his cloak bundled at his knees and holding five squirming bodies. A tabby cat looked up at him with large amber eyes, while the four kittens at her tummy rolled, trying to get to their feet. One kitten was all black with a white chest, two others were tabbies with white spots, and the last one was mostly white with black. One of the tabby kittens was suckling at the mother's belly, and all the kittens still had their eyes tightly closed.

Halt didn't know what to say. He looked down at the kittens, immediately seeing that they were too young to be outside, and the mother was extremely thin. None of them would survive outside without help.

Will smiled awkwardly, placing a hand on the mother's head. "… Can we keep them?" he ask, voice rising to a pitch that told Halt he was nervous.

He sighed deeply, closing his eyes.

Halt was sitting back on one of the porch chairs, watching the small party with a satisfied smile on his face. As he watched, a slender shadow broke off, making their way up the steps and flinging themself into the empty chair at Halt's side.

Will grinned at his mentor, still fingering the silver oakleaf around his neck. His leg was thrown over the armrest, elbow resting on the other armrest. He was breathing heavily, probably from when Horace had picking him up and spun him around just moments ago.

"How're you feeling?" Halt said quietly, raising an eyebrow at Will. His apprentice–ex-apprentice–deserved the celebration, especially after everything that had gone down in Arrida. But Halt would be lying if he didn't admit that he was going to miss Will, wherever the boy got assigned. Halt had gotten used to his presence, and wouldn't know how to feel about the empty cabin, even if he wasn't going to be living there full-time anymore.

"Good," Will said simply, turning his smile towards his friends. Horace was being picked up by one of the Skandians, Alyss and Cassandra dancing together to a tune no one else could hear. Crowley and Gilan seemed caught in an intense debate, but both were nearly on the edge of laughter.

"I wanted to talk to you, before you left," Halt murmured, feeling the nerves build in his stomach. He didn't want to say it, but it had to be said eventually.

"Oh?" Will responded, slightly distracted. His eyes were glued to Horace, who's shirt was being ridden up by Svengals' rough handling. It was hard to not see what about that was distracting Will.

"I … I know you and Horace have gotten close, recently," Halt started, biting down hard on his lip. He had never imagined having to give this talk, but considering Will was an orphan and Halt was really the only parental figure he'd had, he should have realized this was going to happen. And with Will now moving away, this would probably be his last chance to make sure his apprentice was … safe. "And I … I wanted you to know that … well, how to be safe–with–with each other, and–"

"Halt." Will cut in, sitting up straight in his seat and turning to look directly at Halt. "Are … are you trying to give me The Talk?" he said, voice wavering as he held back laughter.

The older Ranger was taken aback. He hadn't expected Will to find this talk amusing. Awkward, maybe, but not funny. "Will, I'm trying to–"

"I know what you're trying to do, Halt," Will cut in again, resting a hand on Halt's wrist. Halt looked where Will touched him, only to see that he was gripping the edge of the armrest so hard his knuckles were white. "And I just …" Will paused, collecting his thoughts. "I just don't think I should be taking advice from someone who took twenty years to admit his feelings to the person he loved and get married."

A blanket of silence fell between the two Rangers, Halt shocked at the blunt comment from his former apprentice.

Halt looked at Will, absolutely shocked and scandalized at what Will had just said to him. Maybe Will wasn't his apprentice anymore, but he was his senior and superior. That demanded some respect.

Will went from grinning like a fool to realizing that he might've crossed a line that Halt wasn't willing to pull back on.

Before anything else could be said between them, Will was up on his feet, vaulting the handrail of the porch and sprinting across the clearing. The party stalled, watching as Will disappeared into the forest around them.

Halt didn't bother running after him. But he shot to his feet the moment his apprentice bolted, yelling "WILL FUCKING TREATY. GET YOUR ASS BACK HERE."