I've always wondered the circumstances of Halt leaving Pritchard and Clonmel, so this is kind of my take on that. I own nothing, though the plot is basically mine. Please review if convenient. If not, review anyways! :)
A small doe nibbled delicately at the dew covered grass, ears perked cautiously as it ate. Something had triggered its instinctual alarm. What and where that thing is now is unknown to the doe. A few minutes later, the doe resumed its relaxed feeding.
A dark mass rose silently out of the dense green grass, dark eyes intent on his prey. He fingered the fletching of his black arrows, which was nocked on the string but not pulled back. He had frozen as the deer lifted its head. Holding his breath, he tried to keep his muscles fluid. Tensing up would make him tire quicker and be more likely to accidentally move or lose his balance.
Barely ten meters away, another mass hid up in a nearby tree, intent on the movement of the shape below him. He nodded slightly in approval as he watched his apprentice rise stealthily from the grass, visible for no more than seconds at a time as he stalked the young doe. Pritchard frowned. The wind was blowing from the south, which meant the doe didn't pick up neither his or his apprentice's scent. He was confident the Halt hadn't made a sound, as the boy was nearly as good as Crowley when it came to concealed and silent movement. Not that there wasn't room for improvement, of course.
What had alerted the doe then?
All of the sudden, the sharp baying of wolfhounds rang out. The doe bolted, speeding like an arrow into the forest right under Pritchard's branch. Well, there goes dinner, Pritchard thought as he clambered down swiftly.
Halt was ghosting back to his mentor, a worried look crossing his young face. "Why are there hounds so far from the castle?"
Pritchard rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "The only thing in this direction that lines up with the castle is… well, there's nothing really here but my cabin. Perhaps they are looking for better hunting grounds?" He paused as his apprentice shook his head.
"Those are the war hounds. Their howls are too deep. We're not at war, not that I know of… Is there something that would require a manhunt going on?" Halt and Pritchard walked back towards the former ranger's recluse cabin deep in the forest next to Dun Kilty. About halfway there, their whistles brought out an aged pony and a strong young horse.
Pritchard was silent in thought as he swung up in the pony's saddle. He noticed the boy's ill at ease expression. "Something on your mind?"
Halt shook his head a little too quickly. "Just curious." Pritchard calmly said nothing, leaving it to Halt to fill in the silence. "Just… Ferris. We had another argument."
It is said that horses reflect their rider's emotions. If so, Halt is hiding his nervousness a little too well. Pritchard nodded understandingly. "Ferris is jealous. Jealousy and envy often leads to no good. Has he attempted anything else yet?"
"Apart from the drowning and poisoning and the roof slates? Not really, he hasn't done anything life endangering."
"Perhaps he had a change of heart?" Pritchard offered. At Halt's incredulous look, he shrugged. "It does happen sometimes, you know."
"Ferris? Not likely. I have a feeling he's planning or has already planned something…" The teen paused. "Is that… smoke?"
Pritchard sniffed the air expertly the exact moment his pony let out a warning whinny. There was indeed smoke, thick and black. Not the general cooking fires with mouthwatering scents, this was heavy, like wildfire smoke. "I'll go check it out. Go fetch some water from the stream. Here, use my bucket." He tossed his collapsible bucket to Halt, who turned his horse Declan and sped away.
The former ranger edged closer to where his cabin is, hidden by a copse of trees. He knew this wasn't a wildfire the moment his gray pony Oaken had paused a second before whinnying. The shouts of men in the clearing of his cabin were further proof. Pritchard dismounted quickly, signaling Oaken to hide here and stay silent. The horse flicked his ears in understanding and received a pat on the snout before his master slipped away, unseen and unheard.
"Go look in the stables! Find him!"
"The stables are clear, sir!"
"There's no one in the shed, sir!"
"His horse is also gone, sir!"
The red faced sargent spat on the ground. "Well, what are you standing there gawping at me for? Search the surrounding woods!"
Pritchard had enough. He walked through the clearing, hands raised to show he meant no harm. "Evening, gentlemen. May I inquire why my house is in flames?"
"There he is! Men, you useless lot, go secure him!"
Pritchard was not caught entirely off guard, but he allowed the guards bearing the O'Carrick insignia on their uniforms bound up his hands. They removed his knives, his strikers, and his bow and quiver.
"Pritchard whateveryourlastnameis, you have been charged with the kidnapping and murder of Crown Prince Halt O'Carrick!" The fat sergeant bellowed in Pritchard's face.
Pritchard calmly looked back at the sergeant. "On whose accusation and what proof?"
The sergeant stopped. He was used to the accused blubbering "they didn't do it" or "have mercy", not this calm question. "Prince Ferris claimed to have seen you take Crown Prince Halt away last night. Crown Prince Halt has yet to return." He snapped.
"And you burned my house based on that claim?" Pritchard's eyebrow rose.
"Are you insinuating that the prince was lying?" The sergeant was furious, delivering a backhand slap that resounded in Pritchard's skull.
"No, I am simply suggesting perhaps he was mistaken? I was out hunting since yesterday morning. I didn't murder anyone. In fact, I didn't kill anything, as my hunting resulted in nothing." Pritchard could feel his face swelling. Though to be fair, he was lucky the sergeant's gauntlet hadn't cut his face open.
"What if you're lying? Besides, how do you explain this?" He whipped out a small band of embroidered leather, the over glorified "crown" of Halt. It was stained red in a small part, as if someone bled on it… The sergeant glared. "Men! Take him back to the castle."
As they pulled him unceremoniously to his feet, Pritchard acted. He jerked up, his bound hands clenched in fists. The man beside him was unconscious before he hit the ground. Pritchard pivoted towards his other guard, who was drawing his sword. Stomping on the man's foot, he crashed his elbow on the guard's right shoulder, dislocating it. He used the dagger strapped on the groaning man's side to cut his cuffs. By now, the sergeant and the rest of the guards had surrounded him, brandishing their swords. The former ranger was armed with only the dagger. He let out a piercing whistle.
Oaken crashed through the trees, bowling over two of the guards before anyone could react. Pritchard swung up, one hand grabbing his longbow and the other his quiver from the man who took it. He fired two shots at point blank range into two men who were getting up. With no intention of actually murdering people, he aimed for their legs. The rest of the guards fled in terror when they heard the sound of their sergeant's anguished cry as a broadhead arrow tore up the muscles of his left thigh.
Pritchard muttered a "Good boy." into Oaken's ear before the two were off, speeding through the forest much like the deer Halt was hunting did. Not a second too soon, Halt and Declan emerged, the horse traveling slower to avoid the full bucket to be spilled. Pritchard shook his head. "It's gone." He muttered, his voice breaking the tiniest bit. He had grown quite fond of his cabin, even if it wasn't the same as his old one in Araluen.
"What happened?" Halt asked quickly.
"Ferris claimed that I kidnapped and murdered you." Pritchard muttered, his brow furrowing in anger and sadness.
"But… but I told them I was on a hunting trip!" Halt blustered.
"And you don't take your royal headband with you when you hunt, do you." Pritchard held up the discarded leather, now stained with actual blood of the guards. "That was the evidence they used, so I assume it isn't your blood, if it's blood at all."
Halt took the headband and without warning, threw it far into the bracken. Pritchard raised an eyebrow but did not comment. "So it's all… gone? Nothing?" Pritchard nodded. Halt lapsed into silence for a few minutes, head bowed in memory of the cabin that had been his escape for more than three years. "Now I've been deemed dead, what do I do? I assume Ferris is overjoyed. Mum and Dad too, probably, now that their perfect boy finally gets the throne." His voice betrayed no emotion, but Pritchard knew the young teen enough to know he was sad and bitter.
"You should go back." Pritchard said softly. He knew the youth didn't want to dampen his family's joy, if there were any. He doubted Halt's parents really hated the boy as much as he claims.
Halt shook his head. "Why make them think they're dream came true just to destroy that again? Ferris won, Pritchard. He either thinks I'm actually dead, or he tried to hurt you to find me. Besides, " Halt's cloudy face brightened a bit. "Now I'm 'dead', I could live with you, right?"
Pritchard's heart broke a little as he surveyed the hopeful face. "If you haven't noticed, my home just burned down a few minutes ago. I have next to no money, no home, no food. You have no future with me. Besides, I've taught you everything I know about being a ranger. I think it is time, Halt."
Despite Halt's persistent protests, Pritchard would not relent. The boy is to go to Araluen, to hopefully seek new life and make a future for himself. He would make a good ranger. Pritchard thought. If rangers are still what they used to be… "Here." He muttered gruffly. He removed his pack, extracting his extra double knife scabbard. Strapping that on himself, he unbuckled his old one, with the knives still in it. "It's dangerous to stay here in Clonmel. You deserve this, Halt. Please don't make me force it on you."
"What about you?" Halt asked. He held the scabbard at arm's length, as if buckling it on would solidify his exile from his homeland.
"I can take care of myself, boy. I'm not that old yet." Pritchard grinned slightly. "There. Now you carry the proper weapons of a ranger. I expect you to take care of them, you hear?"
"Or you'll find me and make me sleep in a tree for a night?" Halt asked, smiling at the memory.
"Yes. You know I will." Pritchard tapped the side of his nose. "Uncanny ranger abilities, remember? I'll find you."
"Will I see you again?" Halt asked.
Pritchard shrugged. "Perhaps. I can't predict the future. I only act like I can, you know." His eyes softened at his apprentice's stricken face. "Don't worry, Halt. Whatever happens, you'll be fine. Trust your instincts, trust your gut, trust your cloak." He enveloped the young boy in a hug. "I'll miss you too. Now go get some supplies and go to Araluen. I'm sure you can figure things out from there. That has always been your strong suite, hasn't it."
Pritchard watched sadly as the former Crown Prince of Clonmel, his apprentice, his adopted son, slowly rode away. "Goodbye, Halt."