Snow crunched underneath their horses' hooves as Will and Halt rode slowly back home.
It was now several months since Harvest Day and the altercation between Will and Horace. Although Will had hoped to be able to contact Horace again, it was not to be. Halt had him training harder than ever in preparation for the Gathering, and most days, Will was too exhausted to even think about going into Redmont to see Horace. Any of the days he wasn't, Halt found something else for him to do or encouraged him to visit someone else - Jenny or Alyss or George - instead. Will wasn't sure exactly when it had happened, but he found that Halt seemed to be subtly discouraging him from speaking to Horace.
It was perplexing, but Will wondered if, perhaps, Halt was still miffed by what Will had said about Horace roughing him up when they were younger. Will rather thought that didn't make sense. Firstly, that was all in the past, as Will had attempted to impress upon his mentor. There was no need for Halt to be protective over it. Secondly, Halt still barely knew Will! He'd hardly be protective over him, even if there was something to be protective over.
Will side-eyed Halt at the thought, biting his lip. He couldn't deny that things between him and Halt had begun to shift recently, and for the better. Will wasn't sure what he had done to cause it, but things had definitely changed. Will was Will now, not boy. Halt listened to him now, giving Will his full attention when Will spoke or asked questions. Halt teased Will now in that dry way of his, although that was - like it always had been - far more to Halt's amusement than to Will's. It couldn't be that far-fetched to wonder if, perhaps, Halt was actually beginning to...
No. Will shook his head sharply, clenching his fists around Tug's reins. No, don't even think about that. Don't even begin to hope. Don't you dare.
He looked up at the sky and told himself that the bright sun was the reason he had to blink once, twice, three times.
"Could we possibly continue with our tracking, or did you have something more important to do?" came Halt's irritated tone, beside him.
Will jumped. Right! They were in the middle of a tracking lesson! That was embarrassing - Will had completely forgotten what he was doing. He darted a glance around his surroundings, scrambling to catch up. The snow was deep and thick, rising to Tug's knees and making for difficult footing. White coated the branches of the trees and the leaves of the bushes around them, and the sunlight shining on white cast a painful glare. On one side of Tug, the snow was clean and unbroken by all except the trees jutting out of it. That couldn't be where Halt had wanted him to look.
Halt cleared his throat impatiently. Will looked back at him sheepishly.
"There," Halt said, pointing to his left. Will dutifully followed his finger. He stood partway up in his stirrups to get a better look and nodded to himself.
"Rabbits," he said easily. He could recognize that in his sleep. "Two of them."
Halt grunted in grudging agreement. One of the few things Will had easily excelled in this time around was his tracking abilities. Unlike unseen movement or archery, tracking only need a good set of eyes, a good memory, and a bit of experience. Will had all those things. In fact, it had been difficult at first to pretend to not know some of the tracks. Now, Will was glad that he'd been taught enough that Halt wouldn't be suspicious by Will knowing things.
"Is that all?"
Will gave him a bird's startled jerk of the head. He'd thought so, but then, he'd been so occupied with thinking of other things...
He looked again. Instantly he was annoyed with himself. "A stoat."
"A stoat," Halt agreed. He opened his mouth, and Will already knew what he was going to say. "But you should have known there was something else there, Will. Look at how deep those rabbit tracks are. It's obvious that something had frightened them. When you see a sign like that, it's a hint to look for something extra."
Will sighed and nodded. He didn't attempt to make an excuse; he knew by now those would never work.
"You'll have to work on maintaining your concentration," Halt added, and then he nudged Abelard forward once again.
They rode on for a bit in silence. Will had been thinking about many things during the day, though, and he soon got courage to ask Halt about one of the Baron's new policies towards his tenants. His Halt had told him once, in passing, that as Rangers you needed to know intricately the relationships between the baron of a fief and his tenants and nobles. Most tension in a fief came from those parties, so in order to maintain peace, Rangers needed to be able to understand them. Will had asked this Halt about several minor policies during his apprenticeship, at first to Halt's pleased surprise, but now, sometimes, to Halt's tired exasperation. Given Halt's current mood, Will wasn't certain how this question would be received.
But Halt answered it easily enough, if not happily - although when did Halt ever do things happily? It was a rather complicated topic, as all policies were, and it took Halt the greater part of a half-hour to give a basic summary of the expected effects of it. Will was nodding along until, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something odd.
His gaze swept over to his right, scrutinizing, and then his eyes went wide. "Halt!" he cried. "It's-"
He stopped just in time. The tracks he'd seen to his right were not those of a common stoat or rabbit. They were boar tracks. The boar's tracks. Boar tracks that Will wasn't supposed to know were boar tracks, because he was not supposed to ever have seen boar tracks before.
"What is that?" he asked instead. Halt looked to where he was pointing and reined Abelard in, urging him abreast of Tug at the edge of the path.
"Hmm. That's one I haven't shown you yet. Don't see too many of them these days, so take a good look, Will." He dismounted, sinking deep into the snow and wading through it to the boar tracks. Will followed.
"Here, look," Halt said, pointing at the deep ruts in the snow. "These are a wild boar's tracks. A big one, at that."
Will frowned. A sudden thought jumped into his head. "Just one?"
Halt gave him a dry look. "Unlike some apprentices, I get my numbers right. Yes, just the one. Boars mate in the autumn, and we're well past that now that it's snowing. And given the size, I doubt it's young - old boars tend to live alone and not in groups. Here, see the edges of the rut? It's clearly only made by one boar."
Will examined where Halt was pointing and nodded. He had to agree, there definitely was only one boar who had made these tracks. Then, where did that other boar even come from? If it wasn't the first boar's mate, then...
He opened his mouth, but paused. He felt the sensation of someone watching him, and it was not Halt. Will frowned, eyes flicking from tree to tree as he tried to pinpoint the observer. He couldn't see a thing, though. The blinding glare of the snow made it difficult to make anything out with clarity.
"So you've noticed him too?" Halt asked. "Good. You've already begun to have a sense of being watched. Develop that. It'll save your life."
"I can feel someone watching, but I can't for the life of me pick him out. Where is he?"
In response, Halt nodded ever so slightly towards an unassuming bush on the other side of their horses. Right as Halt nodded, the leaves began to quiver. Deja vu struck Will like a slab of salted steak to the head. He wanted to slap himself. Of course - Salt Peter!
"Well," said Will, deciding to have his fun with what was about to be the most amusing part of his year. "Should I shoot him?"
Halt gave him a severe look. Unfortunately for him, Will could see the amusement hiding underneath. "Shoot him? For shame, Will! How could you even think of shooting that poor farmer behind the bushes?"
He pitched his voice loud enough for Salt Peter to hear. And just like last time, the poor man scrambled out, tripping and sprawling into the snow and crying, "Don't shoot, good sir! Please, don't shoot! It's only me! Only me, sir! No need for shootin', sir! Only me, I swear, and I'm no danger to the likes of you!"
Salt Peter recovered his footing, babbling all the while, and at last came, limping, up to them. His dirty, ragged farmer's clothes were smeared in dirt and leaves from the bush and covered in snow, and he swung his long, awkward arms around frantically, as though performing a ritual to ward off harm. The bald spot on his head gleamed bright in the snow-glare. His ill-cut beard even surpassed Halt's in its unevenness.
He wouldn't have a saxe to cut it with, Will mused, so how exactly does he cut it?
"Only me," Salt Peter said nervously. His voice quavered like an old sheep's.
"Why are you skulking there?" Halt asked sternly. "Who told you to spy on us?"
"Not spying, sir! No, no! Not spying. I heard you coming and thought you was that monster porker coming back!"
"Sounds like something a spy would say," said Will gravely.
Salt Peter's panic heightened. "No! No! Not a spy, sir, not a spy! Whatever a spy would say, I'm not saying it! I'm a honest man, sir, no spy!"
"What are you doing here?" Halt demanded. "You're not a local, are you?"
"Come from over Willowtree Creek, I do! Been trailing that porker and hoping to find someone as could turn him into bacon."
"You've seen the boar, then?" Halt asked, suddenly interested and not at all severe.
Salt Peter rubbed his hands together, glancing nervously from side to side. Clearly, Halt should've told him the same thing he'd once told Will - that Tug and Abelard would sense the boar far before they saw it, and would alert the humans of it.
"Seen him. Heard him," Salt Peter said. "Don't want to see him no more. He's a bad 'un, sir, mark my words."
Halt glanced at the boar tracks again. "He's certainly a big one, anyway," he mused.
"And evil, sir! That 'un has a real devil of a temper in him. Why, he'd as soon tear up a man or a horse as have his breakfast, he would!"
Will winced to himself. He'd experienced that temper firsthand. Tug had, too. Will laid a hand on Tug's shoulder, rubbing him more to soothe himself than Tug. He dearly loved his horse. Even the remembrance of Tug being in danger was painful.
"So what did you have in mind for him?" Halt asked, and added, "What's your name, by the way?"
Salt Peter gave a fumble of a salute. "Peter, sir. Salt Peter, they calls me, on account of I likes a little salt on my meat, I do."
"Me too!" Will said genially. He turned to Halt. "Hey, why don't you start calling me Salt Will?"
The look Halt gave him would've killed Will where he stood, but thankfully Will was walking towards the boar tracks and was therefore unaffected. He, very barely, managed to keep his expression straight.
"What were you hoping to do about this boar?" Halt asked, pointedly ignoring Will.
Salt Peter blinked a few times, scratched his head, shuffled a bit, and generally looked rather lost. "Don't rightly know. Hoped maybe I'd find a soldier or a warrior or a knight to get rid of him. Or maybe a Ranger."
"Has he been causing a lot of trouble?"
Salt Peter nodded repeatedly. "That he has, sir! That he has! Killed three dogs! Tore up fields and fences, he has. And as near as anything killed my son-in-law when he tried to stop him. Like I said, sir, he's a bad 'un!"
"Hmm." Halt rubbed his chin, frowning down at the tracks. "Well, there's no question that we'd better do something about it. How much daylight would you say is left, Will?"
Will glanced up. He'd noted the time before, so he purposefully took an extra few seconds before answering. "A little over an hour?"
Just as he'd expected, Halt glared at him. "Are you asking me, or telling me?"
"A little over an hour," Will repeated, biting his lip to avoid laughing.
Halt didn't even bother to tell Will he was right. "Salt Peter, I want you to take a message to Baron Arald."
"Baron Arald?" asked Salt Peter nervously.
Halt glared at Will. "See what you've done? You've got him answering questions with questions now!"
"Sorry," Will said, but wasn't quite able to keep back his grin. Halt's glare intensified.
"That's right," Halt said, shaking his head in exasperation. "Baron Arald. You'll find his castle a couple of kilometers along this track."
Salt Peter held a hand to his forehead, peering out under it as though trying to see the castle already. "A castle, you say? I've never seen a castle!"
"That's right," Halt said stiffly. "A castle. Now, go to the guard at the gate-"
"Is it a big castle?"
"It's a huge castle!" Halt roared. Will turned away, shoulders shaking.
"No need to bellow, young man," Salt Peter said, in a hurt voice. Young man!? Will thought, and covered his mouth against a giggle. "I were only asking, is all."
"Well then, stop interrupting me," Halt snapped. "We're wasting time here. Now, are you listening?"
Rather sulkily, Salt Peter nodded.
"Good. Go to the guard on the gate and say you have a message from Halt for Baron Arald."
Here we go, Will thought gleefully.
"Halt?" Salt Peter asked, eyes big and awe-struck. "Not the Ranger Halt?"
Halt closed his eyes. Will saw him discover and push through all five stages of grief in one go. "Yes. The Ranger Halt."
"The one who led the ambush on Morgarath's Wargals?"
"The same."
"Well," said Salt Peter. He glanced around. "Where is he?"
"I'm Halt!"
Salt Peter scrambled back in fright, but immediately shook his head. "No, no, no. You can't be him. Why, the Ranger Halt is as tall as two men - and as broad. A giant of a man, he is! Brave, fierce in battle, he is. You can't be him."
Halt's jaw clenched and he looked away, hands dangerously tight around his longbow. Will's shoulders shook. He just barely managed to keep his tone even when he said, in a quiet, embarrassed voice,
"That's actually the real Halt's twin brother, Dalt. He didn't grow up as big as the real Halt, but he decided to go by the same name. We think it's, you know," Will smiled awkwardly, "compensating for something. It's actually kind of a secret, so if you don't mind just pretending for now?"
"Oh!" said Salt Peter. "So that's what it is! Of course! Of course I'll keep the secret, young sir! I's mighty good at keeping secrets, I is! When I was a young 'un, see, I-"
"Tell the Baron," Halt interrupted, in the iciest tone Will had ever heard from him, "that Halt and Will-"
Salt Peter opened his mouth. Halt shoved a hand over it. He jerked his other arm, the one holding the longbow, towards Will. "That is Will. Although God knows what I did wrong to deserve him."
Will smiled innocently.
"Tell him Halt and Will are tracking a wild boar." Halt paused, then said icily, "You do know what the wild boar in question is, yes?"
Salt Peter nodded.
"Good. Tell him that Halt and Will are tracking it. When we find its lair, we'll return to the castle. In the meantime, the Baron should gather his men for a hunt tomorrow morning." Halt took his hand off of Salt Peter's mouth. "Have you got all that?"
Salt Peter nodded again.
"Then repeat it back to me."
The farmer took a deep breath as though he were about to go into a recitative. Halt closed his eyes briefly in consternation. "Go to the castle, tell the gate guard I have a message from you...Halt...for the Baron. Tell the Baron that you...Halt...and him...Will...are tracking the boar...the one that left its tracks there...to find its lair. Tell him to have his men ready for a hunt tomorrow."
"Good. Off you go."
Salt Peter obligingly started off towards the castle. With a wave and a promise to keep Will's "secret," he was off.
Halt gave Will a very, very calm look as he swung back onto Abelard. "I'm not the real Halt, am I? Overcompensating for something, am I?"
Will smiled winningly and hoped he wasn't about to spend the night in a tree.
A/N: Happy Sunrise Sunday! Honestly don't have much to say except, I hope y'all have a good week!
