He was wearing himself out, desperate and forlorn.
Halt sat watching from under his cowl, thankfully making use of the shadows casted on his face to hide the worry and concern he knew were glistening in his eyes.
It had been three months since their return from Skandia. Two months since they came home. And in those two months, his apprentice had done nothing but practice, practice, practice, and practice.
Halt sighed and shifted the papers in his lap. He was restless. The boy was pushing himself farther than he liked, but so far he had remained unable to stop him.
Will was now almost buckling under the weight of stones that he was carrying through the obstacle run and Halt grimaced. When the apprentice stumbled, then fell, the grey-bearded mentor jumped up. He recognised the symptoms way before Will even knew they were there.
The panic started like a tightening of the chest, as if the muscles were trying not to let another breath in, but instead die. Then the breath came, shallow, lungs unable to move much against the suddenly heavy ribs. And then Will's mind became static, thoughts making no sense, replays of horrors never forgotten. But sinking to the ground, limbs giving up on movement, it was no option. Will was small and so the only way to go was up. Up in a tree, higher and higher and higher, up until the tiniest of branches that were out of reach of the tall bullies from Battleschool. Out of reach of the Skandians.
A sigh escaped the mentor's lips, but it was one of concern rather than annoyance. He glanced up, but the boy was far gone. Barely visible through the densely grown branches of the top, the deep brown eyes gazed into the woods, seeing nothing but the horrors locked inside his mind.
Halt made himself comfortable underneath the tree that Will had chosen to hide in. It would take some minutes, hours maybe, before his apprentice would be ready to come down. Until such time, he would sit there with him, a token of the support he found himself unable to provide. Just sit there. So far, the older Ranger had found nothing that prevented the unexpected episodes of panic and anxiety. Despite the many sleepless nights, the songs, the talks, and the hugs, the attacks had not grown any less frequent. But he would continue to sit here, under the tree, until such time that his apprentice was ready to come down, and never climb back up again.