Will/Alyss

"She was supposed to be back four days ago," Will whispered. He stared longingly out the window, ignoring both of his friends behind him. Gilan and Horace exchanged a worried glance, but didn't say anything.

Alyss was missing. Supposed to have returned from a mission down south a few days ago, her husband had immediately gotten worried when she didn't show up. Gilan, there because he was filling in for Halt, and Will was recovering from an injury, had promised to keep an eye out for her. Horace, who was visiting to do classes at the Redmont Battleschool, spent most of his spare time with his friend anyway, and shared his worry for her.

Nothing was dangerous about her mission, just routine check-ins with a few people. So it didn't make sense why she was gone.

Everything was dusty.

Alyss felt something coarse around her wrists, which were wrenched painfully behind her back. She was laying on her chest, her cheek pressed up against some rough wood flooring. Something itched her. Hay.

Something moved underneath her. On a second floor, then?

Trying to turn onto her back, she shifted around, kicking around her feet, only to find them tied as well. Kicking some more, her boot connected with a wall, making a loud bang!

"Hey, bitch, quiet down, or I'll make 'ya!"

She fell silent, suddenly realizing that she wasn't exactly in the safest position at the moment.

"She was coming in from the south, right?" Horace said.

Gilan realized what he was saying, seconds too late, "Horace—"

"Yes," Will murmured, seemingly oblivious to Gilan's restrictions.

Sighing, Horace glanced once to Gilan, but back to his friend, "Well, today's just started. I'm not doing anything, neither are you. I don't know about you, Gil," Horace started, motioning towards the taller Ranger, "but we could just ride for, a day, maybe, and look for signs. She had a full guard with her, so if someone . . ." He hesitated, but continued when Will turned with a curious look in his eye, ". . . if someone took her, then it should be obvious to professional trackers, like the two of you."

Will sat up, pushing away from his perch on the windowsill.

"So you think someone took her," he said bluntly.

The despair in his eyes hurt Horace, but he continued anyways, "We-Well, it's a possibility," Gilan shot him a death glare, "but it's also a possibility that they just ran a little late, and are coming up the road right now."

Silence stretched between the three of them. Gilan, already armed, stood to the side, knowing that either way, he would be dragged into this. Horace was dressed, and only had to grab his sword. Will looked between the two of them, before walking past them, and into his room.

She could hear them moving around below her. Since she had woken up, she'd figured that she was in a barn, in the upper hay loft. She had no clue as to if her guards were dead or alive, or if they were in the barn with her.

They made clanking sounds, wood against wood, sometimes steel against wood. Chopping wood?

Shifting around again, Alyss tried to turn onto her chest again, finding it hard to breathe being shoved onto her face. Plus, hay was getting down her shirt, making it all the more uncomfortable.

Steps made their way up the loft ladder, so she went still.

"Hey, bitch, you better stop moving around or I'll end it faster than you deserve," a gruff voice said.

The steps came to rest next to her, and suddenly she felt hands go around her waist. She gasped, and began to kick once more, but whoever held her was too strong.

Will sat atop Tug, his cloak wrapped around him, his longbow resting on the saddle in front of him. Horace rode beside him, high above him on Kicker.

Gilan rode in front of them, ever vigilant.

They were only a few kilometers south of Wensley, and already they were wary. Right when they were leaving, a band of Redmont guards were riding in, most of them walking. Most were bruised or battered or both, and none were okay.

And Alyss wasn't with them. Will had recognized some of them as being her guards. They remembered being attacked. They didn't remember what happened to her. They woke up, unsure on if it had been a day, or a few days.

The trio sent them back to the castle to report, and to tell the Baron that they were already dealing with it.

After they continued on their way, Will dropped his head. What happened to her?

The man pressed her to his chest, and even as she struggled, she felt him move deeper across the loft. He laughed, she felt it, a deep rumbling laugh, one she would normally associate with a friendly grandfather character.

She didn't think this man was friendly, or a grandfather.

He threw her down, and even though she once more landed on her chest, she was able to use the momentum, and turn herself around. Not that it helped, but she could breath.

Looking up, trying to see the man's face, she was dismayed to see his back already receding down the steps. Even if she did get out of this one, she wouldn't have a face for Will to look for.

Will.

Panic crawled up her throat, choking her. Were they going to kill her? Why? Was it something she did, or Will?

Was he looking for her?

"That's her horse," Will pointed towards a white mare, saddled, and tied to tree. Nearby, an old barn sat empty, abandoned.

As they watched, a group of men filed out, the barn apparently not empty. The last man out, a big burly guy with dark bushy hair, turned around, and crouched briefly at the door.

"What is he doing?" Horace whispered, coming up next to Will. Gilan sat numbly beside them, taking it all in.

The man stood, a bright stick in his hand. A torch. Realization dawned on them moments too late.

Before Will could gallop forward, Gilan snatched out, grabbing Tug's reins, and dragging his head back.

"NO!" He screamed, sliding off Tug's saddle. He landed on his leg, which crumpled underneath him at the sudden pressure, the wound ripping back open. Horace jumped from Kicker's saddle, kneeling beside Will.

Gilan was the one to ride forward, an arrow already released, and chasing after the man who had lit the fire.

As they watched, the old barn succumbed to flames already digging deep.

It fell.

Alone, Horace sifted through the wreckage of the barn. Gilan was left to deal with the few people they caught, and Will was barely awake after the shock of reopening his leg wound, and what happened—what happened to Alyss.

They hadn't been able to do anything about to fire. It was too big, and they were only three people. It was an old barn, filled with hay, so it burned fast.

Horace kicked at another piece of scorched wood. The barn collapsed, and put out a lot of the fire, but that didn't stop it burning.

Will was curled on his side, a fresh wrapping of bandages tight around his knee. His back was to the barn, where he knew Horace was looking for her body. Gilan was away from the camp, dealing with a few of the prisoners.

He didn't want to be there at all. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, shoving his face into Horace's pack, which he was using as a pillow.

"Will?" A voiced said from in front of him.

A chill went up his spine, and he looked up, opening his eyes.

Alyss stood in front of him, riding clothes dusted with hay and soot, hair a mess and singed. Shaken, but otherwise—

Alive.