I'm an apprentice Ranger of Araluen. It still sounds odd, and I can't help wondering whether I dreamed it all. Whether I'll wake up in my bed in Dun Kilty and find it never happened. I roll over with my eyes still closed, wanting to let the dream last a little longer. And I fall on the floor of a barn.

Abelard snorts at me. What did you do that for?

"Shut up." Great. Now I'm talking with a horse. But at least I know I'm not dreaming it.

I climb back on the hay bales that were my makeshift bed just as Aron walks in. "Good. You're up. Let's get going. Your training starts today, Halt."

Quinton leads Aron and me from his cabin in the woods to Castle Araluen. It's at least three times the size of the castle at Gorlan and twice the size of Dun Kilty, but it doesn't even seem to faze the two Rangers. The guards let us pass unchallenged, though it could be because they recognize Quinton.

We stop at a nondescript door in a hallway that looks nearly identical to all the others we've seen. Quinton unlocks it, and the room is filled with an odd array of longbows, knives, and several things—presumably weapons like the rest—that I don't recognize.

"Take what you need," Quinton tells Aron. "I'll fetch his cloak and some more clothes."

"Pick a bow. Low draw weight at this end, higher draw in the corner. I'd say start with the third section and see what you think."

There are nine distinctly different sections of bows. I head to the one Aron indicated and choose a bow at random. It feels clumsy once I've taken it out of the case, especially compared to the one I learned to shoot with in Clonmel. I was never very good with aim, but I could shoot the arrows twice as far as Ferris ever could. As I look closer at it, though, I realize it's just thicker than I'm used to.

Sorting through the bows more carefully now, I find a thinner, more delicate bow than the others. It's closer to what I'm used to shooting with, but it's obviously much stronger and more durable than any I've used before.

I show it to Aron, who nods once. "Looks like a good choice. It's a shame you can't test it until your shoulder heals." He hands me a simple quiver, unmarked except for the single oakleaf design stamped into the leather, and a double scabbard holding two unusual knives. "I'll show you how to use them back at my cabin. You get to learn left-handed until you can use that shoulder again."

Quinton walks back into the room and hands me a large sack. "Your clothes. Has Aron told you about the cloak yet?" I shake my head and he continues. "It's standard Ranger issue, just like everything else you're carrying. I'll let him explain the rest to you." He hands me a mottled green and gray cloak and ushers us out the door.

Aron thanks him and gracefully turns down his invitation to lunch, insisting he needs to start my training.

"Would you at least stay for a mug of coffee, then?" Quinton finally asks.

Aron considers for a moment, then shakes his head. "We really must be going, Quinton. Halt has a lot of work to do before the Gathering if he has any intentions of passing his first assessment."

He's right, of course, and Quinton reluctantly lets us go. "He's had an apprentice up until just about a year ago, when Crowley graduated," Aron tells me as we ride away. "There's suddenly much less to do in preparation for the Gathering without an apprentice who thinks he needs last minute practice sessions."

Abelard and Gone practically fly home, stopping for breaks only twice on the way. Even the horses of Dun Kilty, as fit and battle-ready as they are, could never have managed that feat.

We're home by dinner, and I'm slightly more help in preparing it this time. I'm going to learn how to cook because no one expects it of a Hibernian prince. Rangers, on the other hand, seem to be able to do everything for themselves.


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