Disclaimer: Ranger's Apprentice and the characters associated belong to Mr. John Flanagan. They are not mine, and I have no intention of making them mine.
Halt lay on the ground, propped up on his elbows, his breathing ragged. He's soaked from the rain pouring around him. His eyes stare at the figure poised over him with wide eyes, and for the first time in the many years you've known him, he looks terrified. He stares at the knife in your hand with a fear you never expected to see out of your mentor, and then you realize it. Halt is scared of you. No, he's not scared.
He's terrified.
You feel bile form in your throat as you realize you'd been seconds from stabbing that knife into your mentor, the way you had to that farmer. You feel sick. You could vomit if you had anything in your stomach. The rain soaks your hair and makes your bangs hang over your eyes, and you slowly start to gain a feel of what you're doing.
"Why?" Halt croaks. His face says more, but the one word sums up everything he wants to say to you. And then, without giving Halt a reply, you're moving. You've moved from your position above your mentor, and you've dropped the knife. It sticks in the mud, the hilt slowly sinking. You're running.
You don't know where.
You just know that you have to get away. You don't know where you'll go, who you'll become, but you know you need to run. As you run, you unhook the cloak choking at you, letting the cloak you'd come to love fly into the storm, and you're unslinging your quiver. You toss it aside. You lost the bow a long time ago, but deep down you know you would've dropped it anyway. The throwing knife you keep at your hip is dropped into the mud. You hope it'll never be found.
You keep running. Sprinting even when your breaths come in ragged gasps, and you aren't sure you can go on. But you keep running anyway. You run across the country side as the rain pours down and lightning flashes. For a moment, you're terrified the lightning will hit you, but you don't care. You just keep running.
And then finally, you know you can't go on. Your legs ache and your throat burns. You collapse in the mud, delusional and confused.
"For you, Halt… I did it for you…" You croak. Even though you throat hurts, and speaking tears it to be pieces, you don't care. You murmur the same thing, over and over again, even when your lips are moving and no words come out. Finally, your body begins to take pity on you.
It starts to shut down. You can't breathe. You can't think. You're dying, and you know it. You don't know how it's possible, but you just know that it's happening.
You seep into unconsciousness.
The bearded man you'd come to call a mentor and father finds you in the morning, when the rain is gone. He finds you covered in mud, face and all. But it's too late- he can't do anything.
You're already gone.
-Renegade Inspiration
Live long and prosper, my friends.