Well, I love the Ranger's Apprentice series. However, I thought that it could have had more girls- and why were there no girl Rangers? I understand why there would be no girl knights, but if girls can be diplomats and rulers in their own right (Cassandra, for example) in Araulen, then it makes no sense why there wouldn't be girl rangers. It just seems to me that girls, on average, would be very good at learning the ranger skills. So, here's my whack at girl rangers.

Gilan rode through the forest near Castle Redmont, happy to be near the end of his journey. It was barely autumn, and he reveled in the warmth it brought. In his own fief of Norgate, The days had become unpleasantly cold, and already snow dotted the ground several inches thick.

Here, however, the harvest had barely begun, and the touch of summer still lingered in the trees. Birds chirped calls to one another, as squirrels screeched, beginning their frantic quests for nuts. Gillan let himself relax- this was much better than trying to weather another hectic winter at Whitby.

Crowley had allowed his request for a brief vacation with Halt and Will, and as soon as his temporary replacement had arrived, Gilan had quickly-but thoroughly- briefed him, and left as fast as he could.

Blaze snorted at a kicked up red leaf, and Gilan chuckled.

"Very different from Whitby, isn't it?"

Blaze bobbed her head, snorting again in agreement. Then her head went up and her ears swiveled to the left. Gilan strained to hear what had caught his horse's attention- and relaxed again as he heard the far-off strains of a rough wooden flute, echoing under the trees.

Gillan chuckled again and patted Blaze's neck. "It's just a flute. Let's go. Halt and Will are waiting for us. And I'm sure they'll have something for you at the cabin."

Blaze's ears pointed at Gilan, and she picked up her walk to a trot, eager to get to the cabin and her dinner.

Far above the road, someone watched the forest. Lounging in the branches of an enormous oak, the slim figure was dressed in nondescript clothing- leggings, soft leather half-boots, loose shirt, and laced leather vest. A homespun hooded cloak of indeterminate color was tossed casually across a nearby branch.

Two horses cropped the sparse grass beneath the tree. One was slightly taller and rangy, a muscular and mature black mare who could have easily been from battlehorse lineage. The other was a young, almost pony sized buckskin colt.

The black mare had both a bridle and saddle, while the smaller buckskin only had on a halter and lead, which was tied to the cantle of the mare's saddle. Also slung across the saddle were a small bow, canteen, and a small quiver of arrows.

Aspen smiled down at the two equines from her perch in the tree as she laid aside her flute. Softly, she whistled three notes. The mare's head popped up.

"What did you think of that one, Tempest?"

The mare shook her mane impatiently, making her bridle jingle. That you should get down before someone sees you. Or you fall and break your neck. She seemed to say.

"You're very pessimistic."

The mare-Tempest- grunted in reply, and returned to her grazing. The younger horse, whose name was Cricket, looked up at Aspen instead.

Is it nice up there?

Aspen smiled at the young pony. "Very nice, Cricket, but I think you want to keep your feet on the ground."

The pony snorted, and he, too, returned to his grazing. Aspen smiled. This was one of the fine days before true fall- and winter- set in and confined her to her home. Which, this year, would be lonelier than ever-

She cut off that thought with a shake of her head. That was what she was supposed to be doing- gathering food for this winter. Not lounging about in the trees, practicing her flute. There would be plenty of time for that once the snow confined her to her little home and its grounds.

Focused on her task, Aspen allowed her gaze to roam over the forest. Wild apples were just coming into season, as were nuts, and if she could beat the squirrels to them, then this would be a comfortable winter. It wasn't easy to spot the particular trees that yielded fruit and nuts against the mosaic of trees, but years of practicing had honed her eye.

There- across the road. Two nut trees- a hazelnut and a large horse chestnut nestled together. Goal acquired, she appraised the route. She would have to make her way along the strong and large branches of the oak until she reached the spot where the younger, thinner branches of a rare evergreen tree intermingled with the oaks, and use that junction to cross the road, and reach the nut trees.

Scooping up her cloak, flute, and her gathering sack, Aspen began climbing up, and out along the oak limb. As she reached the pine, she carefully tested it with one foot, not trusting the brittle wood to hold her.

Cautiously, she made the crossing, placing both feet and her whole weight on the branch. It held.

For all of a minute.

The branch snapped beneath her, sending her in free fall toward the road.

Gilan had begun to tire by now, as he and Blaze made their way along the trail to Halt and Will's establishment. A few months after Will and Halt had been jointly assigned to Fief Redmont, the Baron had had the cabin expanded a bit- another small room had been built off the back of the main structure. A ranger and his apprentice might live comfortably in one of those cabins, but any more than that and living space became tight.

Will and Alyss were probably going to formalize things any day now, and in most marriages, children generally made an appearance. Will had also begun thinking about looking for an apprentice, which meant that the small cabin was going to be fuller than ever.

But, for now, Will remained in solitary residence. Which meant that Gilan would be repossessing the bedroom that had been his during his apprenticeship for the duration of his stay, instead of stretching out in front of the fireplace like he had on so many previous visits.

Gilan was thinking of this with ironic amusement when two things happened.

Blaze stopped dead. Gilan was instantly on alert. His horse would not have stopped to indicate something commonplace. He didn't reach for his longbow or sword- yet- but he strained his senses for any sound or movement.

A sharp crack sounded in the branches above his head. He reached for his longbow, but before he could do more than touch hand to wood, a girl of about fourteen dropped to the ground in front of him, landing with a thud and a wet crack that echoed the one a minute before.

P.S.- This fic will updated about as much as my fic Windspeed will be- that is to say, irregularly and not often. I will attempt to finish it, so just keep checking back. Go to my profile and scroll down to 'story extras' to see pictures of Cricket and Tempest! Have fun and review,

Wings.