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Malcolm looked over his shoulder and waved at the retreating backs of Halt and Horace. The two of them were going to Macindaw, where they would be able to rest up in comfort before traveling all the way back down south to Redmont and Castle Araluen. They also had to arrange that patrol to find the bandit, but that was second to Halt getting some time in an actual bed. Distantly, Will could make out the two of them wave back just before they crested the hill and disappeared from sight. They would meet up the next day, when they would continue their journey south.

"He's going to be okay, right?" Will asked the older man. He had probably asked that twenty times now, all out of Halt's earshot, and Malcolm was probably sick of it. Just the thought of Halt falling sick again—slipping from his normally steady spot on Abelard, falling to the ground—upset Will. He couldn't stop thinking about it, in between the thousands of other thoughts flying through his head.

Snorting, Malcolm looking over to Will. "He'll be fine, Will," the healer said gently, leaning forward and down slightly to place a hand on Will's arm. The giant plowhorse he was riding dwarfed Tug, making Malcolm's seat on it nearly comical. "He'll be weak for some time, but he'll heal up," he said this confidently, as he had every other time. It was what Will needed to hear.

Will took a deep breath, looking forward into Grimsdell forest. He didn't know why he kept worrying over it, especially with Malcolm, the best healer he knew, constantly reassuring him that Halt would be fine. He just—just the thought of losing Halt made Will freeze, not wanting to think about it. It was too wild of a thought—losing Halt? Impossible—Halt would never die!

But at the same time, Will wasn't a child. He knew that Halt could die at any point in any of their missions. This was just one of their many close-calls. It was just a bit closer than they were used to.

Will needed a distraction from that thought.

"Malcolm …" Will murmured, not looking at the healer. They were still making their way through Grimsdell, and it would be a bit longer before they found their way to Malcolm's cottage. He needed to fill the air with conversation, lest he fell back into thinking about a life without Halt. He'd had so many questions floating in his head since arriving back in Macindaw, but there was one that kept popping back up, one that he couldn't let go of.

"Yes, Will?" Malcolm said, the tone in his voice telling Will that he expected the young Ranger to ask after Halt again.

"Where did you get the idea of the Night Warrior?" he asked instead, mind finally somewhere else completely.

The healer was silent next to him, considering the direction in which this conversation went. "Why?" he asked finally, turning once again to look at Will. "Also where the hell is this coming from?"

Will shifted in Tug's saddle, biting his lip as he thought about his next words. He hadn't said anything while Halt and Horace were present, just because he knew he'd never hear the end of it from them. But Malcolm knew about some of this stuff, obviously, and Will felt most comfortable asking the old healer rather than someone else—like Orman. "I … well, when I was riding here to get you," Will started, thinking through his words before saying them, "I had to travel through the barrows. I don't remember exactly where they are, but—"

"The barrows? They're north of here, not far from the border," Malcolm cut in, a thoughtful tone to his voice. "What about them?"

At first, Will didn't want say anything more. It already sounded childish and—and honestly, like a hallucination, now that he thought about it. He had been tired. He had been utterly exhausted but he had kept pushing himself. Maybe his mind had only created it to push himself further. As a healer, that was what Malcolm was sure to tell him. That he hallucinated the whole thing and to stop making mountains out of molehills.

"Will? What's this about?" Malcolm said, still looking at Will. "You sound … shaken. Like you've seen a ghost."

"You never answered my question," Will said, going around Malcolm's question and statement. "Where did you get the idea of the Night Warrior?"

His response was nearly instant. "I made it up, Will. It's not real—you know that." He was shaking his head as he looked away from Will. But something about the way Malcolm said that told Will that the healer wasn't being entirely honest.

"I wasn't saying it was real," Will muttered, shaking his head. "I was just asking where you got the idea."

"Why?" Malcolm shot back, an odd look in his eyes. Now Will was sure of it: Malcolm was hiding something.

Will was silent, now debating on if he even wanted to tell Malcolm. This was a stupid idea, he realized, knowing that he shouldn't have told anyone. That he should have kept it to himself. He wanted to know what Malcolm was hiding, but at the same time he didn't want a friend of his to think he was losing it. He hesitated, looking down to Tug as the small horse plodded his way through the winding trails in Grimsdell forest.

"You saw something, didn't you?"

Will froze.

Malcolm tipped his head, looking at Will with a look that said he knew everything.

"How did you know?" Will whispered, considering Malcolm now. He hadn't said anything that would have implied that, had he? He had only mentioned the barrows and the Night Warrior—nothing more, nothing less … right?

"Most things I make up, Will, have some sort of basis," Malcolm said, not really answering the question. "Like Serthrek'nish. I based him off of that Scotti legend to scare MacHaddish. Where do you think I got the Night Warrior from?"

"That's what I was asking you," Will responded flatly, mind racing. Serthrek'nish was based off the Scotti legend, sure, but what did that mean for the Night Warrior? How did that relate to the barrows and seeing things?

"I'm familiar with the barrows, Will, because I've been there," Malcolm said softly, "they're odd places. Almost like time flows differently around them, right?"

Will thought back to his brief time among the barrows. It hadn't felt right while he had been there—something had always been constantly off. It had felt like someone was watching him, but his eyes never saw anything that could logically explain that feeling. Well, his eyes had seem something, but it couldn't logically explain what he had been feeling.

"I know you saw something, Will, because I've seen things up there too," Malcolm continued, his voice low and thoughtful. "I don't even remember what I was doing there, so far north. But I was in the barrows when I suddenly couldn't remember the way out. It was so odd—one moment I knew where I stood, how far the forest was, and then the next—nothing. It was like I was in a different country." Malcolm looked over to Will. "And then there it was, right in front of me. Nearly exactly as I have him in my projections. I only call him the Night Warrior because I've only ever seen him at night and what he was wearing—armor, right?"

Will nodded, thoughts and movements numb.

"I haven't seen it every time I've been in the barrows, but enough to get a good picture of it in my head," Malcolm moved a branch away from his face, the plowhorse continuing on without trouble. "I don't know what it is, Will," Malcolm murmured, "but you're not alone in seeing it."

Again, Will was silent. He didn't know what to say as he was absorbing the information. His mind kept going back to what he saw, and how it had seemed so similar to Malcolm's Night Warrior. It was possible Will had been hallucinating, because how else would they have looked so similar? But Malcolm had brought up the only other way that they could explain the similarities: that he had seen it too.

Pulling the bridle, Will halted Tug in the middle of the path. It was a moment before Malcolm realized and he too pulled his horse to a stop, slightly in front of Will. Will looked at Malcolm, and Malcolm looked back at him, silent as he waited for the Ranger to say something.

"This is fucking crazy," Will finally muttered, shaking his head. He nudged Tug to continue going, jumping in front of Malcolm as he could see the clearing in sight. Malcolm watched the young Ranger leave him behind, thinking about the shade he had seen so long ago in those barrows. He would nudge Will about it later that night, but for now … he figured the boy needed a break. Malcolm moved his own horse forward, smile widening as he saw his people waiting for him.