Hey, guys! I've had this story stuck in the back of my mind for a while now, so I figured, why not write it down, see if anyone likes it? So, here goes. Tell me what you think: Love it? Hate it? Don't care? Let me know in the reviews!

Disclaimer: I do not own Ranger's Apprentice. If I did, there would be a lot more of Halt in the last book, and Alyss would still be alive.

Halt glanced at his wife out of the corner of his eye as they walked into the Redmont ward. He couldn't believe he had let her persuade him into doing this. What was he even doing here? He hated children. They were reckless, careless, and asked way too many questions. Even when he took apprentices and waited for them to turn fifteen, they were still unbelievably irritating. He couldn't imagine what had been going through his head when he agreed to come here.

One week earlier...

Pauline sighed as she watched her husband from across the room. He was getting increasingly irritable lately, getting into all sorts of trouble with the castle guards, and claiming to be bored of the lazy and frivolous castle life. She thought she knew why.

It reminded her of a time, several years before, when Will had gone missing. A time when Halt had not been himself, and several men were thrown out of windows. A time she had hoped would never repeat itself, because nobody around him had enjoyed it. And she knew what the problem was then: he missed having an apprentice, a young person that looked up to him for instruction. And now the symptoms were reappearing. All the signs were there. Halt was lonely.

Only, now that he was retired, he couldn't take on another apprentice. Will was all grown up now, and had too much to worry about to come and visit every day. How could she find a way for Halt to come in contact with a young person on a regular basis?

And then she got it. A brilliant idea. Pauline smiled.

Caroline Mathers was perched on the windowsill of the ward, staring solemnly out the window at the fig tree in the courtyard. All the other eight-year-olds were crowded around a lizard they had found on the wall. Caroline didn't see what they were so excited about—they were rather common. In fact, she'd seen three of them just yesterday.

She looked down at the sheet of parchment on her lap, then back at the fig tree. She made a careful mark with her charcoal pencil. She was almost done drawing the tree, but the leaves always gave her trouble. There were so many of them, and drawing them was tedious, but she always paid such careful attention to detail, she couldn't bare to lump them all together. She drew another leaf.

She had a book of all her other drawings, all carefully preserved and organized, on her lap. She was using it as a hard surface to rest her parchment on as she drew. She liked to draw, it was relaxing.

Suddenly, a voice cut through her solitude.

"How come you don't want to see the lizard?" asked Rebecca, a petite blonde haired girl, five months older than Caroline. Caroline shrugged and didn't look up from her drawing.

"I see them all the time. It's literally called a Common Lizard, you know."

Rebecca narrowed her eyes at her. "You don't have to be such a brat about it."

Caroline glanced up at her. Was she being a brat? "Sorry."

A couple seconds passed, and then Rebecca, as usual, spoke up again. "Why are you always drawing all the time? How come you don't play with us? Do you think you're better than us or something?"

Caroline looked up again. "I like to draw," was all she said. She tried to ignore Rebecca and return to her sketch, but Rebecca wouldn't have it.

"How come you never show us any of your drawings, huh? You always just sit there all alone. Can I see your drawings?"

Caroline turned away from her, protectively guarding her sketchbook. "No. I'd rather you didn't," she said. She never showed anyone her sketches. They were hers, and nobody else needed to see them. What if someone ruined them? She worked hard on every single one, she couldn't bear the thought of someone messing up her work.

Unfortunately, Rebecca had attracted some attention from the other kids. There were five eight-year-olds in the ward, and all of them had been there for several years, except Caroline. She'd been there for nine months, and she'd stayed away from the other kids to the best of her ability. It wasn't that she didn't want friends, she was just shy. So, when Rebecca approached Caroline, the others sided with Rebecca.

Shouts of, "Yeah, let us see your drawings!" and, "Show us!" resounded through the ward. Caroline clutched her book to her chest protectively, curling up against the window. She hated loud noises, crowds, and especially attention, and, right now, she was getting all three. She shook her head, "No, I don't want to."

"Oh, come on, Caroline. Give us the book!" Rebecca whined, reaching out to grab it. Caroline shrunk away, holding it even tighter to her. Rebecca huffed.

"Give it to me!" she shouted, latching onto the book and tugging with all her might. Caroline pulled back, trying to snatch it away, but she lost her balance on the window sill and fell. The book flew out of her hands, and her sketches flew everywhere. The group of eight-year-olds cheered and laughed, trying to get a good look at the drawings.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and a thunderous voice shouted, "WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?!"

It was Martin, the baron's secretary.

Pauline had arranged a meeting with the baron's secretary, explaining to him their hopes of adopting a child from the ward. While not unheard of, this was a rare occasion, and Martin was slightly flustered. He scheduled a visitation, where the couple could come and meet some of the children before deciding. He asked them if there were any specific requirements that came to mind.

"Not too young," was Halt's only demand, and he was quite adamant about that.

And so it happened that on the first of February, Halt and Pauline had a visit with some eight-year-olds.

Martin met them at the entrance to the ward and led them to the 8-10 house. This year, there were only five ward-mates in the house, and all of them were eight years old.

Halt wore his signature cowl, although he was not technically a ranger anymore. It suited him, and he didn't feel quite comfortable without it. He stood slightly behind Lady Pauline, and both of them followed Martin toward the room. As they neared it, they could hear shouting coming from inside.

"Give it to me!" a girl's voice shrieked, and they heard a thump, like someone falling. Martin rushed to the door, yanked it open, and bellowed, "WHAT IS GOING ON IN HERE?!"

All motion stopped.

Pauline and Halt stepped inside, and Halt took in the scene. Four children, two boys and two girls, were crowded by the window. A blonde girl in the front was holding a book. There was another girl on the ground, and papers were scattered everywhere.

Martin was fuming. "WILL SOMEONE PLEASE EXPLAIN TO ME WHAT THIS IS ALL ABOUT?" he roared. The girl on the ground flinched. The room stayed silent. Martin growled.

"You there! What's your name?" He pointed to a dark-haired boy in the back. The boy snapped to attention.

"M-Michael, sir. Michael Blake."

Martin nodded. "Alright, Michael. Tell me what happened."

Michael shuffled his feet and cast a furtive glance at the blonde with the book.

"We were just trying to look at Caroline's drawings, sir," he stammered. Martin raised his eyebrows.

"And which one of you is Caroline?" he asked, eyes roving the room. The girl on the floor raised a tentative hand.

"I am, sir," she said quietly. Martin looked down at her.

"Tell me, Caroline, did you give them permission to look at your drawings?"

"No, sir."

"ALRIGHT, THEN! EVERYBODY, APOLOGIZE TO CAROLINE, AND GET BACK TO YOUR PLAY TIME!" Martin ordered. A few mumbled "sorry"s were heard, and the children dispersed. Halt noticed the blonde girl handing the book to the girl on the floor.

Pauline put a calming hand on Martin's wrist before moving to talk with the children. Halt focused his attention on Caroline. The girl was sitting on the floor, gathering up her drawings and organizing them. One by one, she picked them up, looked at them, and carefully placed them in her book. Halt silently made his way over and knelt down beside her. Her eyes flicked up to him, then quickly looked back down. Without a word, Halt started collecting the papers from the floor around him. He snuck a few glances at the sketches themselves, and raised his eyebrows, impressed. They were incredibly detailed for an eight-year-old.

When he'd gathered all of the pictures off the floor, he set them down in front of her in a neat stack.

"Thanks," she mumbled, sorting through them. He watch her as she meticulously organized them and returned them to their proper places in her book. When she was finished, she closed the book, but didn't stand up.

"You're Ranger Halt," she stated softly, finally addressing him. "What are you doing here?"

She knew about him. Of course she did, he was famous. He hated being famous. He glanced down at her, and she finally met his eyes. She had deep brown eyes, curious, but strangely guarded. Her long brown hair fell in her face. He considered her question.

"My wife, Lady Pauline, and I are looking to adopt," he answered gruffly. She cocked her head.

"Why?"

Halt groaned inwardly. The dreaded questions were starting. He knew this was a bad idea.

"Why not?" he replied, exasperated. She seemed to think about this for a few moments, then she shrugged, and looked back down at her book.

"Most people don't," she said simply. Halt nodded, seeing her point.

"Well, I like to consider myself different from most people."

He noticed her lip twitch at that. Pauline came over.

"I think we should go," she told him quietly. Halt glanced back at Caroline, then nodded and stood up, taking his wife's hand and leading her out the door, where Martin stood, waiting.

"Did anyone stand out to you?" Martin asked when they returned to his office. Pauline shook her head and looked at her husband.

"Halt?"

He pursed his lips in thought. He couldn't stop thinking about Caroline. Something about her reminded him of himself as a child, growing up in Clonmel. She was reserved, but quietly perceptive, and certainly paid a lot of attention to detail, as shown by her artwork. He didn't quite know what to make of the guarded expression in her eyes.

"I want to know more about this Caroline kid. What's her story?"

Martin pulled out a file. "Caroline Mathers," he read. "Eight years old, from Redmont Fief. She arrived at the ward nine months ago, after her parents, Jonathan and Mary-Kate Mathers, died in a fire. No known relatives.

Her father was a blacksmith, and her mother was a seamstress. Neither had much money. Caroline was found alone on the street by Elias Jameson, a neighbor."

Halt nodded. It was a sad story, but then, the same could be said of most of the kids in the ward. They were all orphans, after all. With a glance at Pauline, he made up his mind.

"Tell her to pack her bags."