Gilan crawled along the forest floor, silently shifting his body as he watched Halt carefully. His mentor was scanning the forest for him, trying to see him. Gilan grinned, not today. He had decided that today would be the day Halt would not see him. He would slip past unseen and finally win one over on Halt. He slid across the ground and into a standing position against a tree. Halt spun around and peered into the trees directly in front of where Gilan was concealed. He resisted the urge to turn away from his mentor, knowing that any movement would be a dead giveaway. Instead, he remained stock still, holding his cloak tight around his body to keep it from blowing in the breeze. Finally, Halt turned away and continued scanning the woods, occasionally looking up. Gilan grinned and slid forward again, inch by inch making it past his mentor.
"You know, Gil," Halt's voice cut through the quiet woods, causing Gillan to freeze in his steps, "if you're in a tree it technically doesn't count as getting past me."
Gilan silently cheered. Halt was trying to smoke him out, make him mess up. Gilan grinned and continued to shadow along between the trees. This day was getting better and better! He slid through the trees to the south, until he was out of Halt's line of sight. His grin grew larger as he slid deeper into the woods, remembering the countless times that Halt had forced Gilan to find him after these exercises. Gillan, so focused on his mentor, didn't see the club until it was too late.
Halt looked around the clearing, scratching his head. It wasn't often that Gillan was able to get the better of him, and he didn't like it. 'Granted,' Halt mused, 'Gilan probably disliked constantly losing.' Halt allowed a small grin to slip through then quickly erased it and resumed his stony-faced demeanor. He looked around, and sighed. His apprentice was clearly no longer in this area anymore. Halt slipped his cowl up over his head and ghosted through the trees to the North, towards the cabin. Gilan would be getting hungry and so he would naturally move closer to the cabin. Halt grinned as he saw the tall, slim figure next to the clearing.
"Found you, Gilan," he called out, "I win again."
Halt frowned when Gilan didn't move, but instead remained focused on the clearing around the cabin. An uneasy feeling trembled in Halt's gut and he gripped the edges of his cloak. Something wasn't right. Gilan wasn't moving. Was he hurt? Was he scared? Did he see something? A thousand scenarios flashed through Halt's mind as he ghosted up to the figure. He dropped the concealment and ran forward as a horrible remembrance struck him. Two days ago, he'd received a letter from Crowley warning him to keep Gilan close. Two apprentices had gone missing in the neighboring fiefs. Had Gilan been attacked? He flew forward, then stopped in his tracks. The figure wasn't a real person. He could see now that it was a dummy that was tied to the tree, a ranger cloak hung around it. Halt grabbed it and ripped it off the tree, glancing it over before dashing back into the woods. His uneasy feeling enlarged into a feeling of dread that yawned inside him. There was something so wrong about this whole situation that it rocked Halt to his core. He ran through the woods, yelling or his apprentice. His apprentice, who didn't answer.
Gilan tumbled to the ground as the club rammed into his shoulder. A cry of pain escaped him as he stumbled forward. Black dots danced in his vision and he tried to crawl away, only to feel a heavy boot slam down on his foot, effectively crushing it. Gilan screamed in pain and fell to the ground. He heard the air whistling as the club swung down again. Instinctively, Gilan twisted and blocked the blow with his arm. His arm shattered on impact, causing the black spots to grow and envelope him. He fell to the ground and heard the club whistling downward towards his head. None of his training could have prepared him for this man's attack. He knew it. All his training flew out the window as blind panic took over. Not knowing what else to do, Gilan screamed.