Disclaimer: The basis of this story, the original Ranger's Apprentice books, came from John Flanagan's brain.

Halt stuffed the last few items into his already-full bags. He buckled on his knives- the throwing knife and saxe his mentor, Pritchard, had given him – in their closely set scabbards, and strung his massive longbow. Slinging his quiver onto his back, he picked up his bow and his bags and turned to leave.

"Going somewhere?"

At the sight of his mildly curious, pompous ass of a twin, something in Halt boiled over.

"Yes! Yes, I am going somewhere. I'm leaving, see?"

"Leaving? Why?"

"Because,you fool, I don't care about the throne. But you do. In fact you're willing to kill me for it!"

"I don't know what you mean." Ferris said the words just a shade too quickly.

"Really. So those poisoned shrimps were actually spoiled, were they? And the fallen tiles – an accident, I presume?"

"Well – yes!" Ferris was beginning to sound panicked.

"Then the way you shoved me out of the boat. I suppose that was an accident too?" he continued relentlessly.

"You can't prove anything!"

Halt snorted. "If I could, I wouldn't be leaving," he replied. "Goodbye."

He shouldered his way past, leaving his brother gaping behind him, and hurried down the wide carpeted stairs. Mercifully, Ferris made no attempt to follow him. Halt was amazed at how quickly the argument was over – usually, it took ages. But he still felt like precious time had been lost. There was no particular reason for it; he was merely anxious to be away from his family's home in Clonmel before anyone could stop him.

There was another reason as well. Before going to pack, he had dropped into Pritchard's rooms. Finding his mentor absent, he'd scribbled a note and left it there: Please meet me by the back entrance as soon as possible. Halt o'Carrick. He didn't know why he signed his full name. It was just a habit, possibly resulting from his hated position as Hibernia's crown prince. That position had also lead to his need for punctuality, and he never liked to keep Pritchard waiting.

All the same, he was glad to see Pritchard already standing by the gate when he arrived.

"You found my note, then." It was a statement, not a question.

"Naturally, considering that I watched you leave it there," Pritchard said dryly.

"What? But I looked for you and-" Halt stopped abruptly. He had been about to say 'and you weren't there' but had realised that Pritchard obviously had been there. He shook his head ruefully, astounded by his mentor's uncanny way of appearing invisible – two words that contradicted each other, he reflected. He had known of Pritchard's skill before, but Halt liked to think of himself as observant and it surprised him that anyone could escape his gaze in the confines of two rooms.

Pritchard guessed accurately what was going through Halt's mind and forestalled his next question.

"I hope you don't think I was rude to hide, but I guessed what you wanted to talk about. Walls may not have ears, but people do."

Halt nodded. "I'm leaving," he told Pritchard bluntly.

"Yes, I thought you were. With your father dying, the situation concerning Ferris is likely to become out of control."

Halt was surprised again.

"You know about that?" he asked.

"Obviously." It was the sort of dry reply Pritchard made sometimes. Unbeknownst to Pritchard's young student, Halt was starting to copy it. He always had been a quiet person and the mannerism suited him.

"I wish I could do something about it, but I'm afraid I just don't have enough influence to make them believe us."

"Against Ferris? Mummy's pet, Daddy's darling…" Halt trailed off bitterly. "But I should look on the bright side: at least Caitlyn knows." He said the words with a trace of irony.

"Ah yes, your little sister. Speaking of whom, here she comes now," Pritchard replied.

Halt turned, delighted to have an opportunity to say goodbye even though he'd decided against it – until he realised that she was absolutely furious.

"Halt!" she hissed, afraid to shout in case they were heard. "Why didn't you tell me you were leaving, you… numbskull!"

"Cat, I-" He didn't get any further. Caitlyn knocked the wind out of him with a punch that was surprising for such a small girl, then burst into tears, her anger giving way to the grief she felt at parting with him. She was thirteen, and old enough to understand the situation, but that didn't mean she had to like it.

Halt folded her up in his arms, where she clung to him, sobbing.

"Kitten, I wanted to tell you, I really did. But Ferris-"

"I don't care about Ferris!" she cried wildly. "Let me come with you."

For a moment, Halt was taken aback. Then, sadly, he shook his head.

"No. You must stay here." He raised a hand to check her protests. "With Father dying, Ferris will claim the crown. You have to make sure that he doesn't completely destroy the country. And Mother will need your support, as I imagine Ferris will be too busy polishing his horse-tack crown." They both smiled weakly at the picture of their brother with the headband of plaited leather that served as Clonmel's crown, then saddened as they realised what it meant.

"Look after him for me," Caitlin said, turning to the older man behind them. Pritchard had watched them without a word, but now he smiled and said,

"I will, my dear."

Halt frowned at him.

"But you're not coming either," He said.

"Then why are there two horses saddled outside the gate?" asked Caitlin.

Halt stared at her, then at Pritchard, then went to the gate and looked around it, before returning his gaze to Pritchard. His mentor smiled at him.

"I had the foresight to guess your business and decided it would be a good idea to prepare. I do hope you aren't planning on turning my offer down, as it would be rather awkward to be seen unpacking everything again after going nowhere."

"Ferris knows, Caitlyn knows, you know. Is there anyone who doesn't know in this accursed castle?" Halt muttered.

"Wait – you said Ferris knows?" Pritchard seemed suddenly worried.

Halt nodded glumly.

"We had an argument," he told his mentor.

"That's how I knew," added Caitlyn. "I was standing outside and heard them." She stepped forward and embraced him, then walked past, half blinded by tears. Halt followed and watched as she checked the girths on his horse, and whispered in its ear. He resisted the urge to check the girths himself, realising it would be insulting to Caitlyn, and swung up into the saddle. Pritchard was doing the same.

"Bye, Cat," Halt said, his voice breaking. "I'll miss you."

Caitlyn smiled back but didn't say anything. Pritchard touched his feet to his horse's flanks and they trotted away, leaving Clonmel, and Caitlyn, behind.

As he and Pritchard crested a knoll, Halt reined in his horse and turned to look back. Caitlyn was still standing outside the gate where they had left her. As he watched, she lifted a hand to wave, then slipped inside the castle grounds and closed the gate softly behind her.

"We should get moving." The voice behind him made him jump. He turned and saw Pritchard indicating the scene below. He looked back and saw several servants hurrying in the yards. Even from where he was he could hear his name being called. It wouldn't be long before men were sent out looking further afield.

They wheeled their horses round and cantered down the hill.

"So how did you manage to hide from me that well?" Halt questioned his mentor when they were camping for the night.

"You remember me telling you about the Araluen Rangers?"

Halt nodded.

"I've already taught you a lot of their skills: archery, map making, the knives, even the Couriers' Signal Code. But it never seemed appropriate to teach you Unseen Movement, even though it's one Rangers' chief skills."

"You're certainly very good at it," Halt remarked.

Pritchard bowed his head in acknowledgement of the compliment. He looked up mischievously at the teenager.

"Well, yes. After all, most of the field workers and such considered us to be black magicians."

"Considered? So they don't anymore?"

Pritchard sighed. "Standards have slipped a little. That's why I… left."

If Halt had noticed the hesitation, he didn't question it. Instead, with some determination, he said,

"Then I'd better join and pull it back up again."

For a moment Pritchard looked surprised. Then he laughed.

"You do that, boy. You've certainly got the spirit for it!" As an afterthought he added, "I'll start teaching you Unseen Movement tomorrow."

With that, they rolled themselves into their blankets and fell asleep.

A/N Please review and tell me your honest opinion! Thanks :-)