Ranger's Apprentice One Shots

Revenge (Part One)

The leaves stood still. The air didn't breathe. Birds were quiet. A lone figure crouched behind a bush, his eyes narrowed as he watched his enemy, his prey, like a hawk, who was sitting by a small campfire. The figure was wrapped in a large camouflage cloak, and the deep cowl pulled over his head. The figure didn't move. He was an expert at this.

The man he had been watching suddenly stood up, muttering to himself. The stalker narrowed his eyes further as the man pulled out some sheets of paper. The crouched man was too far to hear what his prey was saying, but it didn't matter. The stalker cared only about one thing: revenge.

The man by the fire shook his head and went back to sit by the fire, his hands fidgeting with a small toy of some sort. It looked like a baby's trinket, a small figure, and it hung on a thin leather cord. The man stared at it, and the stalker could nearly feel the man's sadness radiating off him. What could that necklace mean to him, the figure in the trees thought.

There was a snap of twigs to the stalker's left. Only with the utmost traiting, the stalker managed not to turn his head and instead used his peripheral vision. Any movement could alert the enemy. However, the enemy, not aware that he was being watched, snapped his head around at the noise.

Nothing was in the trees.

The man stood, uncertainly, then after a few seconds, sat back down. The stalker sucked in his bottom lip in a sneering way. The fool kept looking in the fire – fire diminishes the night vision. The idiot, the hunter thought.

Finally, the enemy decided to turn in for the night. He placed the fidget toy around his neck, placing a hand on it feeling it, rolling it in his palm. Whatever it was, clearly it meant much to him.

About half an hour later, the enemy fell asleep, but the stalker had not. He continued to watch the man until the moon was long gone. Hatred coursed through the stalker's bones. He spat on the ground beside him, a heavy taste of metal in mouth. The horrors the enemy had brought on the camouflaged man. The cruelness he performed on him. The stalker would get him back for it, he promised himself. Anything, to show him what he'd done to me, Will Treaty promised.

"Will!" Halt barked at him, "get up!"

Will tossed over, covering himself deeper in the soft and warm blanket. He groaned quietly at Halt and promptly fell back asleep. That is, until Halt banged on his door again, making Will jump.

"Will!"

Will presses his eyes closed, hoping that with enough hope, Halt would vanish. He didn't. Knowing that it would cost him more if he didn't listen now, Will pushed himself up, groggily, blinking into the new day. He'd gotten him extremely late from the last night – sneaking in through his bedroom window. He had to come from the opposite direction of the wind, so that the horses wouldn't know of his presence. And any noise would be sure to alert Halt from his sleep, and if Halt caught him...

In a few moments, Will got dressed. He hesitated before putting his shirt on though, tracing scars on his shoulders and back.

The whips.

Will shook his head, ridding himself of the memory.

"Ah, sleepy beauty finally woke up,'' Halt said dryly as Will entered the kitchen. Halt was already eating, and his coffee was nearly finished. He raised an eyebrow at Will, waiting for an answer.

"Yup."

"Didn't get a good night's sleep?"

Will turned his eyebrow on Halt. Halt's tone didn't sound like he really cared. "Yes, actually. I was late falling asleep." He took out some bread and began spreading jam on it. He checked the coffee pot for coffee, and took what remained.