Ranger's Apprentice is the property of John Flanagan, not me. I am making no money off of this, merely playing in his sandbox.

In the Storm

The rain pounded on Will Treaty's head and into his face as he trotted Tug. It was nearing dawn, he guessed, and the storm had yet to abate. Usually he would never have risked a ride in such weather. But his son's life was in danger, and that was more than enough to drive him onward.

Lighting crashed overhead and thunder rolled. Tug tossed his head a little, but continued. Will patted his neck, grateful for such a brave horse. The storm seemed to hardly bother Tug.

Of course it bothers me, the little horse replied. But Nate needs a healer more than I need to be in my stable.

"Thanks, Tug," Will shouted over the noise of the storm.

Nate never begrudges me an apple, and he's a good rider, Tug said.

"Have I ever begrudged you an apple?" Will asked, still yelling.

Well..., Tug began, then a heavier swirl of rain hit them, and both horse and rider lost interest in conversation for a while.

It was mid-morning of the following day before the storm stopped, and the rain only grizzled down. It was still cold, and Will was soaked to the skin, but the thunder and lighting had finally stopped.

Will rode along, letting himself doze in the saddle, just a little. Then he felt himself sliding off, and woke up just in time to land in a mud puddle.

I think it's time you ran, Tug said.

"Apparently," Will said, getting up from the mud and tying Tug's reins up and out of the way on the saddle bow.

The two old friends walked along in silence, thinking of the suffering four-year-old back at the little cabin. Every instinct in Will screamed for him to gallop Tug all the way to Norgate Fief and Healer's Clearing. But he knew that would only exhaust Tug and slow him down in the long run, so he continued to alternate running and riding.

Morning turned to afternoon turned to evening, and the rain showed no signs of letting up. Will was exhausted, having been up for almost twenty-four hours. He was swaying in the saddle as he approached a larger village with a two-story inn.

You should sleep, Tug said.

"I have to fetch Malcolm," Will argued back.

You're too tired to continue today, Tug said. Sleep tonight, and we can ride hard tomorrow to make up the time.

Will had to acknowledge the wisdom in his horse's words. He would be no help if he arrived at Healer's Clearing too tired to tell Malcolm about Nate.

He got a room at the inn, managed to gulp some supper, and fell into bed, telling himself to get up at dawn.

By the time the sun was fully above the horizon, Will and Tug were on their way. The rain had turned the road to a small stream with islands of mud in it. One side was right underneath some trees, and a little higher than the rest of the road. Will kept Tug to that side of the road.

Despite that, by the time they reached Mackindaw in the early afternoon, both horse and rider were covered in mud.

As they rode toward Grimsdale Wood, Will couldn't help remembering the last time he had called on Malcolm, that horrible time that Halt had nearly died of poison. Now Will needed him again.

Riding into the wood, Will ducked tree limbs and stay-with-me vines as he rode along what he thought was the right trail. Unlike last time, he didn't need to ask Tug to search for Grimsdale Mere, the trail deposited him right on it's bank. In a different spot than he had visited the last two times he had been there.

He was about to use the method he had used last time, summoning Shadow and following her to Healer's Clearing, when he saw a huge shape in the woods.

"Trobar?" he called, thinking he recognized it. Then there was a sharp bark, and a black and white Border Collie left the woods and trotted up to Tug.

"Shadow!" Will said in delight. Then looking to the figure still hiding in the woods, he called out, "Trobar, it's me! Will Treaty!"

"Wi' Tr'ety?" Trobar asked, stepping out from the woods.

"Yes," Will said. "I need Malcolm help again. A limb fell on my son's foot and crushed it. I need Malcolm to fix it. The healer at Redmont will likely just try to cut it off."

"There's every likelihood it will need to be cut off," Malcolm said, stepping out from behind Trobar. "A crushed appendage is notoriously fussy."

"Please, Malcolm," Will begged. "He's my son. I don't want him to be crippled."

Malcolm looked at him with compassion. "Will, every parent wants that for their child. But I cannon gurantee anything."

"But you can do more than any other healer in Araluen," Will pleaded.

Malcolm sighed. "Why is it," he asked no one in particular, "that whenever I see a Ranger, it involves some sort of predicament?"

And that's In the Storm. Many thanks to moniquebowman and jellyfish1234 for reviewing. Next part tomorrow!

~Tortoise