Thanks for reviewing, Dodo.123! *glares at rest of hypothetical and possibly nonexistent readers* Hint, hint, review.
Sorry about the family angst from Halt. Just keeping it real.
Read and review.
The minute Ranger William left the cabin to take care of the horses, I spun on Crowley. "What is your problem?"
"You think you're so great, don't you, Halt? You waltz right in and stop a bunch of half-drunk bandits with the help of a girl and suddenly you're a hero." He spat bitterly.
"That's your problem?" I asked. "You're jealous? That's the most selfish and ridiculous thing I've ever heard. Get over yourself. I've got no money, no parents, no home, no friends, nothing. You've got your father, you've got Pauline, you've got tons of money judging by your clothes, and you're all cosy in a nice warm cabin."
"You have no idea what my life is like!"
It was like someone had pulled the vial out of the bottled up anger I'd had stored away for years. "Yeah, and you have no idea what my life is like." I retorted, jumping to my feet.
He shoved me backwards. I shoved him, and then he swung at me. I barely ducked in time to avoid the blow. I grabbed him around the waist and tried to slam into the wall, but he dug his elbow into my back.
My fingers found his neck and tightened. His own fingers scrabbled against mine, peeling them back and threatening to break one.
As I lost my grip, he punched me in the stomach, knocking the air out of my lungs. Ow. My knee came up automatically, but before I could knee him in the groin (enemy or not, I would feel bad for him if I did), someone grabbed me by the collar and pulled us apart.
"I leave you two alone for one minute and you get into a fight? Crowley, I expected better of you. Halt, keep in mind that I will not put up with further fighting. As it is, I want you and Crowley to shake hands and apologize."
I glared at Crowley, and he met my gaze with more hatred than I could muster, even with my mutinous thoughts towards everyone in the room.
He shook my hand, squeezing it so tightly I began to wonder if he would actually break my hand. Probably. I, for one, met him with equal force.
"Sorry, sir. It won't happen again." I said, forcing an apologetic and thoroughly insincere smile.
"Crowley." Ranger William snapped. "Stop with this behaviour."
He met my eyes again, and for a moment I wondered if the momentary darkness in them was sincerity. But his voice was stiff and angry as he said, "Sorry, Halt."
Okay, definitely not sincerity.
x-x-x-x
"Wake up." Crowley said, and I opened my eyes to see him standing over me wearing a cloak exactly like his father's. He must have been wearing it yesterday, but I had been too busy wondering what he had stuck up his—what his problem was to notice.
He looked to be in a better mood today, and I wondered if maybe—just maybe—we could stop hating each other. I didn't actually hate him, I was mad at the world.
"Wha's going on?"
"I'm getting assigned a mentor, and so is Pauline. Father says you have to come, and meet the Ranger Corps Commandant."
I sighed and got out of bed, reluctant to leave the warmth.
"Oh, he said to give you this." He handed me a folded up cloak. My stomach growled. "Don't worry. We'll be eating breakfast before they get here. Ever had coffee, Halt?"
"No…"
Crowley suppressed a grin, but then it broke through. "Oh, you will have to be trained up. No Ranger can go about not being addicted to the stuff." He called the last over his shoulder as he left.
Admittedly rather confused by this new side of Crowley, I unfolded the cloak and held it up. It was mottled with greens, greys, browns, and some colours in between. That explained why they could disappear…
When I'd gotten dressed in the rather drab clothing at the foot of my bed (folded exactly like the cloak—Crowley's handiwork?), I followed a strangely bitter smell into the kitchen.
William was… cooking? I'd never have expected him to be able to cook; it was girl's job, wasn't it? Whatever was in the pan, it was bland enough for the steaming black liquid's scent to drown out.
"Here you go, Halt." Crowley said, handing me a mug. He perched on the counter, only for his father to push him off.
I was kind of uncomfortable, being watched so closely by the pair. Call me paranoid, but I sniffed it. After your brother repeatedly tries to poison you, you start distrusting everyone. And besides, Crowley had a shifty look about him.
"I didn't poison it." Crowley rolled his eyes and poured out his own coffee. He drank the whole cup within seconds. "See?"
Hesitantly, I sipped at it. I quickly spat it out.
"Bleh! It's bitter."
They stared at me. Crowley looked flabbergasted. "That's the point. How can you not like coffee? You wasted it on the floor!" He pointed at the small splatter of liquid.
"Don't you have any sugar?" I asked.
Still giving me suspicious looks every few seconds, Crowley got out a jar of honey. I spooned some out and stirred it into the drink.
This time, I was able to appreciate the bitter notes to the drink as well as the sweet, and the real flavour of the stuff. It was strong and warm and smelled absolutely amazing. And believe me, the smell was nothing compared to the taste. I'd had the finest wines money can buy and this trumped every single one of them. "Mmm."
"How can you stand by and watch this, Father? He's ruining coffee!"
"Calm down, Crowley, we'll convert him. But for now, eat this oatmeal as fast as you can."
I took the bowl and shovelled spoonfuls into my mouth. It scorched my throat on the way down, but my throat was nice and numb from the hot coffee doing that just seconds previously.
Just as I scraped the last bits of oats out of the bowl, I heard carriage wheels and hooves on soft forest ground.
"Pauline, stop that. It's unladylike to fidget." Lindsey said, her voice faint from distance.
Crowley fixed his light brown hair quickly. For Pauline or the Commandant and his mentor, I wondered…
"It goes without saying that you two must not fight or speak out of turn during this meeting. Understood?"
"Yes, sir." We chorused, unusually still and silent. I glanced at him yet again, hoping he wasn't anything more than Pauline's father's friend's son. He looked at me at the same time. It seemed he was thinking along the same lines. No fighting, I reminded myself. No fighting.
If I get more reviews, I'll keep working, but I do have a manuscript to finish/edit. Fun stuff can't come first unless I'm making someone happy by doing so, because then I have an excuse to offer my co-writer as to why I'm not working nose-to-the-grindstone to finish the ending and edit the rest of the chapters.
And since her dragon has a thing for eating elves like me… Tell me what you think in a review!
Blue link, can't miss it, click it.
Or else I will send the griffins with purple collars after you. They were denied the chance to hound my birthday party invitees since they all RSVPed within 12 hours, so they're bored and hungry.
