Ignoring History - Ranger's Apprentice Fanfiction

Chapter 24

~🏹Halt🏹~

Winter was quickly approaching. With summer waning, autumn spread across Araluen on voiceless winds. The trees were already changing. Their leaves were of little flames, scarlet and gold. Some had already browned, shriveled up on the forest floor. They lined the pathways, and Halt took special care to avoid them. The last thing he needed was someone to discover him and ruin the whole operation.

The sun had already burst into color, washing the sky with pink and violet. The days grew shorter. With it, time. There was little to waste and even less to spare. Still, Halt took his time. He knew the others weren't ready yet. Lady Pauline wouldn't have been able to escape the castle until after dinner.

The forest was silent, eerily so. Void of song, the birds had flown south to more merciful days. Halt peeked up at the darkening sky, where a flock passed overhead. If he wanted to bail, this was his last chance. And he almost wanted to.

So he didn't.

Halt wandered deeper into the forest, eyes forward. He focused on his next step, one foot ahead of the other. Never backwards, never away. Forward.

Because he had run away from Hibernia. He had run away from Araluen. And he hated to admit it, but he had run away from Morgarath too, choosing to follow his commands in order to avoid his ruthless hand. All along, Halt had been running. Not avoiding it like he had told himself so many times.

He had fled death, escaped treachery, and he had cheated himself along the way. But now, he promised himself that he was done. He would go through with everything, with all the consequences, the punishments, and he would fall. Not run.

The nicker of a horse told Halt that he had finally made it to the rendezvous point. He nodded once at the waiting rangers, finding a spot against a tree. Crowley smiled at him. Halt wasn't surprised when the sandy-haired ranger slid up next to him.

"What took you?" he asked.

Shrugging, Halt responded. "Nothing important," he said.

Crowley hummed to himself, crossing his arms. Then, he blinked. "Hey, I'm not sure if you've heard, but I may or may not have taken some sweetcakes in your name."

Halt raised an eyebrow. The corners of his lips threatened to quirk up. "Is that so?"

"They were delicious."

"I'm sure they were." Halt shook his head. It was his turn to cross his arms.

"Actually, I saved a few for you."

Halt glanced at Crowley, cocking his head to the side. "Really? I didn't think you had it in yourself."

"Do you not want them? I will gladly eat the rest."

Halt pushed himself up. "I never said that," he said, following Crowley to the small campfire they had running. His mouth watered at the coffee. Crowley seemed to notice because he grinned and poured a mug for each of them.

"Thanks," Halt muttered, sliding his bag off his shoulders. He quickly found the jar he was looking for, spooning a large glob of honey into the hot drink.

Crowley watched with great interest, slightly leaning forward. He inclined his head when Halt took a long sip, frowning. "Doesn't that ruin the taste?"

"No."

Crowley watched him a minute longer, nose scrunched up and all. He caught Berrigan and Egon's eyes from where they sat, shrugging. Shaking his head, he grabbed the basket of sweetcakes and took a seat.

"Cheers," he said.

When Lady Pauline and Prince Duncan finally emerged, quick work was made to put out the fire and pack up. Halt soon found himself on a horse, riding next to Crowley in the back. Berrigan led the way, and there was little talk.

In the dark, it took a little over two hours to reach the Redmont borders. From there, camp was made and sleep was found. Surprisingly, Halt didn't have much trouble falling into it.

But it felt like he hadn't slept a wink when he was rudely awoken. The sun hadn't even risen, and the forest was silent. Sitting up, Halt yawned and rubbed his eyes. He winced. A terrible trill trembled in his ears. Strident and high-pitched, it interrupted the usually harmonious balance of the wild.

Halt stood, brushing himself off. He walked carefully across the camp, making sure not to make anyone. Coming to the base of a tree, he looked up. Crowley had taken last watch.

"Crowley," he hissed. "What in the world are you doing?"

Crowley looked down at him from his branch. "Whistling," he said. "It helps me think."

"That is not whistling."

"Yes, it is." Crowley frowned. "Do they not have it in Gallica?"

"Of course they do!" Halt scoffed. "Why wouldn't they?"

"Well, if what I'm doing isn't whistling, what is it?"

"It is the impression of a wounded bird," Halt said. "Better yet, it is a scream for help."

"No. It is an art." Crowley rolled his eyes. "You wouldn't understand."

"It is not. Just stop doing it."

"My whistling is the highest form of music in this country," Crowley mumbled. "You're just jealous."

"I am not!"

"Then, you whistle if you're so good."

"No."

"Scared?"

"No." Halt placed his hands on his hips. "I just happen to have the decency not to wake the rest of our company."

Crowley snorted, jumping down from the tree. He gestured at the sun, which had begun to rise. "Well, it's dawn. We're going to have to wake them anyway. It's time to move out."

Nodding, Halt began to clean up the area as Crowley woke the others. It didn't take too long for them to get ready. Tearing off a piece of jerky, he chewed on it slowly as he mounted his horse. He met Crowley's eye when he began whistling again, and sighed when he started louder. Shaking his head, Halt allowed himself a smile. Crowley smiled back before turning in his saddle and leading the way.

Halt took his place in the back. It was only a few minutes later before he realized that Crowley had stopped whistling. He laughed quietly. Hope blossomed in his chest for the first time in years. Maybe he really did have a chance at a life there in Araluen. A second chance. Halt smiled again, wider this time. And he pursed his lips, releasing a small whistle.

Crowley whistled back.