Halt refused to carry the body back on his horse. Crowley carried Gilan's body on the back of Cropper and watched Halt's tense shoulders ahead of him. The Hibernian born ranger refused to even look at the body. He wouldn't even entertain for a second that the body was Gilan. It hurt Crowley to see his best friend in such painful denial, but he knew Halt wouldn't be forced to believe anything. It was horrible to be the third party in the situation but Crowley was glad it was him. Anyone else wouldn't have been able to handle Halt's anger and grief.

Halt refused to believe that Gilan was dead. The body on the back of Crowley's horse was not Gilan. It couldn't be. Halt knew the body wasn't Gilan. Crowley thought he was just in denial, but Halt knew the truth. He also knew that they had lost the trail completely. Besides, now that he knew where they were taking his apprentice he needed to get some supplies from his cabin.

"Halt," Crowley spoke up, "do you want me to tell Ronan and David?"

"You tell them whatever you want," Halt waved a hand at his friend, "that's not Gilan."

Halt heard the red-head sigh, "Halt-"

"It's not him, Crowley," Halt insisted, why wouldn't he listen, "I'm telling you it isn't."

"And pray tell, how is it not?" Crowley questioned, irritation creeping into his voice.

Halt whirled Abelard around, "look, his hair is blond, yes, but Gilan's is a lighter shade," he gestured to the body, "his shoulders are too broad and his body's too filled out to be Gilan's especially after a week in captivity. And look at his left wrist," he ordered.

"There's nothing there," Crowley sighed, turning the wrist around in his hands, "it's bare, Halt."

"Exactly," Halt persisted, "Gilan has a small scar on his left wrist from where he got bit by a dog when he was little."

Crowley frowned thoughtfully, "well, maybe-"

"It's not Gilan," Halt snapped, turning Abelard and urging the horse to the small road that led to his cabin, "i know it."

***Line Break***

The large man stood over Gilan and grinned maliciously, "you recognize where we are, boy?"

Gilan stared at the ruins and slowly nodded his head, every movement sending shooting pain throughout his whole body. He grimaced, trying to hold back his creams of pain that wanted to release themselves.

"Take a good look around," the man sneered, "this is the last you'll ever see of the outside."

"Halt will find me!" Gilan snapped, wincing as the man slapped him.

"You mentor thinks you're dead," the man snapped, "don't test my patience, boy. Couren, Jason, take Gilan to his new home," the an spat out the last word, "and make sure he stays there."

The two bully-boys approached the apprentice, grinning maliciously.

"Stay away from me!" Gilan shouted, forcing himself back away from them, wincing with every movement, "don't touch me."

The men ignored his protests and dragged him across the ground, making sure to drag him over every sharp rock on the ground. Gilan couldn't stop himself from crying out in pain as the movements jostled his broken bones. The men paused to light a pair of torches and Gilan felt his heart sink as they dragged him into a small tunnel next to the ruins. Gilan felt tears drip down his face as the pain became nearly unbearable. The cut on his arm flt like it was fire, and Gilan was fairly sure he had a fever. The men took no notice or care to his agony, instead pulling him harder and faster. Gilan sobbed as the sharp gravel on the floor of the tunnel dug into his body. His shirt had become to thin to even keep out the slightest chill, and it was freezing underground. Gilan realized that he couldn't get out. This tunnel was too small. It was too easily guarded. Even a ranger couldn't get out of it.

***Line Break***

Leander rode swiftly into the clearing, his twisted knee ached in protest as he flung himself off his small bay horse, Sugar. He strode quickly to Halt's cabin and flung the door open.

"Leander!" his body was propelled backwards as a familiar voice rang in his ears.

"Ronan!" Leander breathed a sigh of relief as he wrapped his arms around his apprentice and buried his face in his hair, "oh thank goodness. You're safe."

"Le," was the boy's only response, as he buried his face into his mentor's chest.

Leander tried to hide his tears of relief at seeing his apprentice again, he felt Ronan's shoulders shaking and knew the boy was crying. He pulled away slightly and held Ronan at arm's length, kneeling to Ronan's small height to look him in the eye, but keeping his hands on the boy's thin shoulders.

"Are you okay?" he questioned earnestly, scanning his apprentice for injuries, and gently wiping the boy's tears away.

"I'm fine, Le," Ronan wrapped his arms around Leander's neck, "I'm just glad to see you again."

"Me too, buddy," Leander sighed, all the stress and anxiety he'd been feeling the past week finally disappearing.

"They still have Gilan," Ronan said, "he's the reason I got away. He distracted them and let me get away. I'm scared Le, what if they hurt him bad!"

"Hey," Leander pulled away just enough to see Ronan's tearfilled eyes, "Crowley and Halt will find Gilan. You know Halt would burn down the whole dang world if it meant he would get him back. You don't have to worry."

"You promise?" Ronan's young eyes were wide and worried, "you promise they'll find Gilan."

"I promise," Leander held his young apprentice tight, relieved to finally have Ronan finally back in his arms.

***Line Break***

Gilan didn't know when he'd finally stopped screaming. He didn't know if it had been five minutes or five hours. His hands were bloody from where he'd been banging on the iron cell door. The two men had ragged him possibly hundreds of feet below the surface and through a row of old iron cells. They had thrown him in an open one and then locked the door. Gilan, ignoring his pain, had beat on the door and screamed for what felt like hours. Now he was leaned up against the door, breathing heavily and sobbing. He was never getting out. He was trapped here and never getting out. Everyone probably thought he was dead. He was underground where no one would hear him. And he was injured and surrounded by guards. No one would ever find him. He was trapped. Gilan pulled his uninjured leg up to his chest and hid his face in the thin, broken up pants that now supplied now warmth for his legs.

He wanted Halt. He missed his mentor. His Hibernian accent, his strong arms, and his comforting words. Gilan sat in the oppressive silence and dark, allowing his memories to overwhelm his mind and ignoring the tears that came as a result. He pictured the meadow with the targets and his small room in the cabin. He missed the comforting weight of his knives and bow and quiver. He remembered a specific night when he'd woken up from a nightmare to find Halt hugging him, trying to wake him up. He remembered the comforting feeling of his mentor's safe embrace and his tears began again.

Gilan spoke quietly to himself, refusing to lose himself to the dark madness that tried to engulf him, "my name is Gilan Davidson. I am 17 years old. I am an apprentice ranger in my third year. I live in a cabin in Redmont fief with Halt, who is my mentor. Ronan is my best friend and also a ranger. Sir David is my father, my mother's name was Lavinia. I serve King Duncan of Arulen and Crowley, the ranger commandant. Halt is closest friend, I won't forget. I won't forget Halt."

He repeated these words over and over again to himself, trying in vain to remember. Gradually, he succumbed to his fever. His words became mumbles and his memories became nothing. The only thing his mind retained... was Halt.