(A/N): This is my contribution for the Ranger's Apprentice Fanfiction Challenge over on AO3. I'm just posting it over here so all of my readers could have a chance to read this. If you're interested in joining in on the second RA fanfic challenge, we can either chat about setting up something similar here on FFN or y'all can join in over on AO3! Just let me know!

Either way, my piece got a little bit out of hand. This was meant to be a lot shorter than it was, so I'm uploading it in a few parts so it will actually be posted during the challenge. Still a Beast at Bay is a rewrite of the short story called The Most Dangerous Game by Richard Connell, but translated over into the RA world with Will getting stuck instead of Rainsford. Let me know what you think!

Halt leaned against the side of the ship, looking across the dark sea and into the black fog that surrounded the ship. "There's an island out this way, somewhere," he muttered, eyes scanning the horizon that neither of them could see.

Leaning forward, Will looked up from his sitting position on the deck to his mentor and father. There wasn't much to do on the ship, and now that Halt was feeling better from his seasickness, Will had someone to talk to. He didn't know where Halt was going with this conversation, but he would take it over sitting in silence. "What island is it?" he asked, his mind going over the maps he had studied over the years. They changed often, but the area they were traveling through hadn't changed much. They were currently sailing past Iberion on their way to Arrida for treaty negotiations—their ship was already late, with the rest of their party already waiting for them at Al Shabah.

"Our maps left it unnamed," Halt said, shrugging, "but the Skandians call it 'Ship-Trap Island." As he said that, Will stood from his sitting position so he could look over the railing. He wanted to see if he could see the island. "It's a suggestive enough name and the Skandians have an odd dread of the place. Some of their old superstitions, I suppose."

Will frowned. "I can't see it." He was trying to peer through the dark night, the fog so thick that they could feel it passing them by. It left the wolfship in a thick, warm blackness that made Will's skin uncomfortable.

Halt snorted, shaking his head fondly at Will. "My eyes might not be what they were, but even you can't see four miles in fog like this."

"I can't even see four feet, let alone four miles, in this weather," Will grumbled, gesturing over the water. The further south they went, the warmer it got, but when the fog came out, they knew it would only get worse. "How can they steer a ship in this?"

"Very carefully," Halt sighed and looked over at Will. He knew why the younger man got restless aboard ships, a combination of nightmare fuel from his first ride to Skandia and being stuck in a limited area for a long time. Some mornings, Halt would find Will had climbed the mast and was helping the Skandians with raising or lowering the sail, and other days Halt would find Will hanging upside-down off the side of the ship. He had to stay occupied or else the memories would catch up. "It'll be better in Al Shabah, Will. Gundar said we should be there in a few days. We'll have time to deal with all the politics, catch up with Selethen and the Bedullin, and whatever else you want before we jump back on this damned boat."

Will crossed his arms along the railing of the boat and leaned over far enough to rest his chin on them. "Umar and Cielema told me in our last letters that they wanted to take me hunting in the deserts," he murmured, eyes searching in the dark. "I think they wanted to talk to me about something else, too, but they only really hinted at it."

Halt nodded his head, remembering when Will first told him about the letters from the Bedullin couple. Since they had saved Will years ago, the couple had grown close to Will, and always made sure to stay in contact with him and would take him out into their encampment for a few days whenever the Rangers had to come out to Arrida for whatever reason. It hadn't gone unnoticed to Halt the similarity Will had to other Arridan people—the color of his skin, the build of his face, his eyes. Halt had never really considered it, but when he thought back to it, he could have sworn that Will's mother had been Arridan, or at least from the southern area around Arrida. She had been brown-skinned, and it had translated over to Will. It was no wonder Will had felt some affinity towards the Bedullin people, and why they seemed to have the same sense towards him. Maybe that's what Umar and Cielema wanted to talk to Will about.

"I'm sure you'll enjoy hunting with them," Halt murmured, his mind far away into the past. "They're a good group to learn from."

Will gave Halt an odd smile, raising an eyebrow in his direction. "You saying that I don't know how to hunt?"

Halt shrugged and didn't answer Will's question. "Just be careful out in the desert, Will. I don't have to remind you what happened the first time you went out there."

"I know what I'm doing, Halt," Will laughed, "My first time may have been a wreck, but I've been fine since then."

"I don't mean that, Will," Halt said, "I'm talking about whatever Umar wants to hunt. There are some dangerous animals out there in the desert, and they're only more dangerous when they're afraid of something."

"Afraid of something—like the hunter, you mean?"

Nodding, Halt turned to look at Will closer. He knew Will wasn't stupid, but he couldn't help but remember what Umar had told him, quietly during the banquet after they'd been saved, how they had found Will and what had happened. "Maybe they're just an animal compared to us, Will, but I think they understand fear—the fear of pain and the fear of death."

Will smiled, sensing the change in his mentor. "That seasickness and this weather must've made you soft, Halt," Will murmured, his grin spreading. "There's the hunters and the huntees, and, luckily, we're both the former" Will looked away from the older Ranger and back out over the dark waters. "Do you think we've passed that island yet?" he said, changing the subject.

"I can't tell in the dark," Halt said gruffly, shaking his head at his young friend. "I hope so."

"Why?"

"It had a reputation—a bad one. I don't like the feel of that island, and I'd rather us get away from it as soon as possible."

Will's eyes widened, and he looked back out over the water. "Cannibals?" he asked, curiosity in his voice. Halt didn't even have to turn to look at Will to see the mischief in his eyes.

"Hardly," the older Ranger muttered, "Not even cannibals would live in such a horrid place. It's gotten into Skandian lore for a reason. Haven't you noticed how the crew's nerves seemed jumpy today?"

Will turned to study the Skandians that were working around them. Some were on break, but even they kept glancing over their shoulders and over the side of the boat Will and Halt were on. Gundar, at the rear of Wolfwill with the rudder, also seems slightly on edge, and he was still pushing the last shift of rowers past when he normally would have stopped. He wanted past that island. "Now that you mention it—"

"When I spoke to him, Gundar's eyes held a look I've never seen him with before, and all I could get out of him was 'this place has an evil name among sailors.'" Halt looked over to Gundar himself, his lips pursed. "And then he said 'Don't you feel anything?'—as if the air that touched that island was poisonous."

"Most Skandians are superstitious in some way," Will pointed out, eyes going back to Halt. "Even Erak has some old superstitions, Halt. It's just their imagination, and you've said much the same thing."

Halt snorted and pushed himself away from the railing. He looked at his former apprentice. "One superstitious sailor can taint the whole ship with fear, Will. Fear is infectious in tight quarters like these." Halt shook his head, putting a hand on Will's shoulder. "Sometimes I think Skandians and sailors have some extra sense to tell them of dangers while at sea. Either way, Will, I'm glad we're almost out of this area. I'm going to bed."

Will patted Halt's hand on his shoulder, nodding at his response. "I don't think I'm tired enough yet. I'll join you later, though," Will murmured, watching his mentor walk away. Smiling, he shook his head, entertained by the conversation. He knew what Halt had been saying, why he had said it, but Will had thought it fun to poke fun at Halt now that he wasn't terrified of his mentor. Glancing over to the Skandians, Will saw that Gundar was finally dismissing the last shift, meaning that they would rest for a few hours before the next one would take their places.

Moving back, Will sat back where he had been before the conversation with Halt had started. He leaned his back up against the cabin, stretching his legs up to rest on the railing just above his head height. It stretched his legs enough to feel satisfying, although he would have to move out of that position before too long. There wasn't much he could do to stay active on the ship, but he could stay flexible.

Suddenly, over the calm, black waters, a scream split the air.

Jerking up, Will turned in the direction he had heard the scream, ears straining for something more. Anything more. He placed a hand on the deck of the ship, feeling the ship go still as the final rowers got from their seats.

Slowly, he got fully to his feet, instincts kicking in to stay low, but to find the source of the scream. He moved along the side of the boat, but froze and went back to where he had been. Another scream came again, in the same general area the first had come from.

He noticed immediately that he was facing in the direction Halt had said the island was in. Absently, Will stepped up onto the railing, using a nearby rope hanging from the mast to keep his balance.

He waited, listening for the scream again.

There were some mutterings from behind him, the Skandians around him having heard the same thing too. He didn't glance back to see what they were doing, though, sensing they were moving around the ship. Gundar yelled something from the far side, but Will didn't pay attention to what he was saying, instead straining his ears for any other sounds. He considered waking Halt up, but decided against it. It was unlikely the Skandians would stop, so it wouldn't be their problem to deal with.

It still caught Will's attention, though, and he knew that after they were gone from the area, Will would be racking his brain for what that scream could have been.

Suddenly, the ship jerked underneath him, ripping Will's grip from the rope and knocking his otherwise firm stance from the thin railing. His back middled the railing as he fell, jarring him. He tried to reach around to grab something before he fell overboard, but before he could, his body hit the water and he went under.

Distantly, under the water, Will could hear the sounds of paddles hitting the water and pushing the ship away from him. The currents pulled him under the ship as it rocketed from it's still position, and Will, instead of fighting it, covered his head and waited for the current to let him go.

His head broke the surface just as he saw the wolfship disappear in the distance.

"HEY!" Will yelled, throwing his arms up in attempts to catch Gundar's or another Skandian's attention at the back of the ship. His legs kicked to keep him above the surface of the water, cold but not deathly. His hair stuck to his head as the water dripped down his face, and as he watched, Will realized that the ship wasn't going to come back for him. It was already far in the distance, the fog hiding even the light from the torches from him. He dropped his arms, letting the water fall still around him.

It was dead silent, he realized, noticing that he couldn't even pick out the sound of the rowing. The fog swallowed up all the noises around him, to the point where he didn't even know which direction he was facing.

"You have got to be kidding me," Will muttered, turning in his spot, trying to see if anything was visible around him. He knew that, after a while, Halt or Gundar would realize that he wasn't aboard the ship. He also knew that the ship was probably just getting out of the general area after the screams had been heard, and that it would anchor for the night somewhere not too far. They would realize he wasn't there in the morning, and come back to where they had last seen him.

The only problem, Will realized, was that he couldn't tread the water for as long as it would take them to realize he was gone. He could do it for a few hours, sure, but it wasn't likely that in that time, Halt, who was asleep, or one of the Skandians, who had other things to worry about, would notice that he wasn't there.

Will would have to swim somewhere to wait for them to come back.

Reluctantly, Will wrestled himself out of his cloak, sensing that it was pulling him down. It would just soak up the water and make it impossible for him to get anywhere as he swam. It was water resistant, but not water proof, and he could feel that it was already getting heavier as the water soaked into it. He threw it out in front of him, hoping that it would float long enough for his friends to see it the next morning and to know that he had been there. He had no doubt that Halt would follow his logic, and force the Skandians to the closest landmass he could think of—Ship-Trap Island.

Halt had said it was some four miles away, but Will had heard the screams clear as day. He reckoned that, because of the fog, his mentor and the Skandians hadn't been able to gauge correctly, and that they were closer to the island than they thought. He hesitated for a moment, though, realizing that he had no idea what direction he was facing. It was too dark and the fog was blotting out all chances of using the moon or stars to navigate.

Will was stuck.

He couldn't just start swimming in any direction, knowing that it was possible he was just swimming out to sea. Or he could start swimming towards another coast, but it could be anywhere from hundreds of miles away. Swimming randomly was just asking for death.

He was considering his limited options when it happened again.

The scream ripped through the fog, coming from his right. Will swallowed, knowing that swimming in the general direction of the screams were his best bet of survival. But at the same time, Will didn't want to meet whatever was on that island, making or causing the screams.

Will started swimming in that direction, knowing that he still had his knives on him and that he would be able to defend himself well enough. He could simply stay on the coast for the night, and hope that whatever was screaming or causing the screams would be more inland and not bother him. And if they did bother him, he thought as he swam, Will felt that he was more than prepared to deal with whatever he had to to survive the night.

Periodically as he swam, he heard other sounds steadily getting closer to him, and he used them to keep his course towards the island. Barking wolves or dogs, another scream, something falling into foliage. After a seemingly endless time of swimming, fighting the roiling waves the entire time, he heard the distinct sound of waves crashing on a shore.

Then, he heard the final scream of the night, just down whatever coast he had found, loud and animalistic and blood-chilling to his core. He froze in his swimming, treading against the waves to pinpoint where the scream was coming from. It kept going for much longer than the others—until, abruptly, it was cut short.

That made Will hesitate. Whatever had been screaming was definitely dead now, and he didn't know what was causing it. It could be possible that whatever was on the island was more deadly than staying in the water.

But even as that thought entered his mind, Will shook it away. He had been swimming for over an hour already, probably more. It had all blurred into one, monotonous pattern of kicking just a little further, pushing himself just a little longer. Even pausing to tread right off the shore was draining him, and he knew that he wouldn't be able to maintain this for much longer.

He had no choice. He had to go ashore Ship-Trap Island.

Will was almost on the rocks of the shore before he saw them; if the water had been any less calm, he probably would have been thrown against them before he could do anything, killing him before he could do anything. With his remaining strength, Will pulled himself from the water and onto the craggy, jutting outcroppings. He was tempted to just pass out right then and there, but his instincts told him to push himself further—he didn't know the tides here, and for all he knew, the waters would come up and swallow him while he was unconscious.

Pulling himself upwards, Will fell into another monotonous pattern. He could climb while practically asleep, he knew, and this was no different. He put one hand above him, found a foot rest, and pulled himself up, over and over until he made it to the top. He pulled himself up and over, crawling over the edge with his remaining energy.

He was in a dense, forest-like area. The familiar look of the place filled Will's mind, bringing him back home to Redmont and it's green forests. Instead of thinking to get to someplace safer and pushing himself just that much further, he collapsed where he was, on the edge of the precipice.