Hey all! Just adding a little bit of "magic" into the Ranger's Apprentice world. As Halt claims, there may be no such thing – but I'm making a little exist. No, not in the form of witches and warlocks or superpowers or anything like that. It's just a few small things like minor shapeshifting, telepathy, and the such. After all, Wargals can use telepathy in their own way and the Kalkara have their "freezing stare" (a form of hypnosis). I'm simply expanding this outward to other beings.

As the character list indicates, this does not involve Will or Gilan (yet…). This story takes place during the Early Years. It features an OC that I hope you all will fall in love with – she combines Jenny's happy, loveable personality with Alyss' intelligence, loyalty, and perseverance. However, she does have a not so pleasant past. There will also be a few slight tweaks to Halt and Crowley's characters. No slash – but both do gain a fatherly, protective nature (all of the rebellious Rangers do).

Eventually I want this story to cover both Early Years books – so if you haven't read them then this is your spoiler warning (I will not be sorry if you continue to read then complain that I'm spoiling things – you have been warned!).

I have some changes to Rosalind's character as well – don't get me wrong, I absolutely adore Rosalind but that's why I'm making the tweaks that I am. The moment she was introduced, I always saw her as a lady (with her beauty, grace, dress, and persona) but I feel like she has a strong personality at her back – which is why I think Duncan fell for her – that allows her to match wits almost anyone (even Halt and Crowley). I personally saw her getting along well with Lady Sandra and Lady Pauline, both strong and intelligent women in their own right. I just wish we could have gotten more of her (other than being introduced as Duncan's wife and Cassandra's mother). Therefore, I'm giving my head canon of Rosalind more to do – and she lives a little bit longer too (but still dies early in Cassandra's life).

Though, frankly, almost every character will be changed a tad bit. Don't get me wrong, I love each and every one of them. Especially a younger Duncan – I was put off by the slight changes at first (especially his rescue scene) but then I realized he was young but grew into the great king I wished was real and that I could meet. (Don't judge me) But as this is an AU with slight world changes due to me adding a tad bit of magic, it is inevitable that the characters become altered because I'm not John Flanagan (though it is a dream of mine to meet him – again, don't judge).

So I appreciate any nice and helpful critique you might have to share. Please relax and enjoy the story. And remember, this is an AU story based on my head canon so I'm not forcing you to agree with me.

Without further ado – The Early Years: Ranger Raised

Chapter 1: An Unexpected Meeting

Halt and Crowley were busy getting their camp set up. They had a lot to do before the Tournament at Gorlan, where Morgarath was planning to become heir to the Araluen throne. The false Duncan was wreaking havoc to the north. The real Prince was being held by Morgarath's supporters at Castle Wildriver. Time was of the essence. There was a lot they needed to do. More hands were required for this to work. Currently, they were traveling towards a recently dismissed Ranger by the name of Leander. Both men hoped beyond anything that this older Ranger would aid them – adding drive and approval to their cause.

A fire was going, slowly boiling water for a stew. Greens had been gathered from the forest to make a bitter salad. Halt had already unpacked his cooking kit in preparation. Crowley was busy skinning and cleaning the rabbit he caught several hours prior. With him busy, Halt busied himself by scouting a perimeter, bringing in another bucket of water for emergencies and refilling their water skins, ensuring the horses were well-cared for, and setting up their tarpaulin. Clouds were building in the sky. Neither man thought it would rain but it was better to be prepared – especially after the downpour they suffered through while fleeing Morgarath's men. Halt's dark eyes roamed over the carefully cleared campground. Mentally he checked off what had been done. Crowley entered the area, having gone to check the main road. The redheaded Ranger shook his head. Despite being a major road, there was no one on it. Halt gave a grunt. All the better for them.

Crowley checked the pot of water. Finding it boiling, he added the rabbit along with herbs and spices from Halt's cooking supplies. Declan snorted quietly as he carried on a conversation with Cropper. The shaggy Ranger horse shook his head and mane in response. Halt felt his lips twitch. Before meeting and joining Crowley, he would have sworn horses couldn't communicate, let alone carry on a conversation. Now he assured himself that they could, if they so wanted. Not that he would tell anyone that revelation. Seeing Crowley turn to him, the grizzled Hibernian raised his left eyebrow. The Ranger tilted his head in a southwestern direction. Halt nodded once. He shifted his bow more securely on his shoulder before setting off. Once in the bushes, he dropped into a crouch.

Pritchard had trained him well. To an outside observer, there was nothing out of the ordinary. Halt easily ghosted from one patch of shadow to the next. Feet carefully picked their path. The ex-prince zig-zagged silently. Eyes constantly searched the land. Ears listened for any anomaly. If there was someone nearby, his methodical approach would find them. Like a hunting dog sniffing out a fox. A hand was always near one of his knives, ready to draw in a heartbeat. His bow was likewise ready. At random intervals, he would stop and listen while his eyes scanned back and forth. He kept a wide focus. If someone did move, the wider focus would spot the movement. His stomach growled, reminding him that Crowley was cooking dinner. Halt pushed the thought from his mind. It was better to be cautious. Rushing a perimeter scouting like this could lead to serious consequences in the future. Though he and Crowley were certain they were alone out here, it was safer to thorough. One never knew when something would happen. Pritchard taught him to always plan for the worst-case scenario. That way they were prepared for anything.

His feet stopped moving. Muscles instinctually tensed before he forced them to relax. Dark eyes slowly scanned the land to his left. Ears listened to the quiet forest. A soft breeze blew past him. The Hibernian didn't relax. Some would assume the breeze made the noise. Halt knew better. There had been no breeze when the sound was made. The sound of a twig snapping. The sound of something stiffening and retreating. The breeze died away. Halt's eyes narrowed. He could swear he heard something…panting. Quietly he pulled closer to the sound. Indeed, there was something panting nearby. The ragged edge meant the creature was thirsty and exhausted. A squirrel made its chittering noise at another creature, probably an intruding squirrel. Halt heard his target gasp, fear clearly evident. He frowned. His mind raced with questions. Cautiously he moved another few feet closer. The bushes shook. Somehow he had been heard. The bushes had shaken when his target spun to locate him. He forced himself to breathe calmly through his nose. His right hand found his saxe. In this dense undergrowth, his target could disappear before he fired a shot. Close range was the wiser attack method.

Halt inched a little closer…

A few more steps…

Suddenly his target took off. Cursing, Halt shot after it. Even in the mad dash, Halt remind as silent as possible. The running figure practically threw caution to the wind. It was moving as fast as possible. Dark eyes spotted patches of blood. These patches soon became a steady trail. Whatever he was following, it was bleeding badly. The mad dash had reopened some wounds. His ears picked up the sound of a creek. Halt's target had headed directly for their campsite. Twigs snapped and bushes shook violently. Then the figure was racing more to the left, towards the creek and away from the main road. Halt turned to follow. Obviously, his target realized there was a campsite and veered away. A flash of movement appeared between two trees. Soft, light footsteps soon came from behind. Halt didn't bother to look. It had to be Crowley. He had heard the commotion, probably spotted his companion, and joined the chase.

Water splashed as the figure bolted across. Halt sucked in a breath. The target had been slowing considerably as they approached the creek, allowing the pursuing Rangers to catch up. Before the target could disappear in the bushes across the creek, Halt had seen it. Or rather, her. The target was a young girl. Her shirt and pants had appeared dirty and torn. In the fading light, Halt couldn't say if her hair was black or brown. Crowley dashed past him, leaping the creek easily. Halt did the same without breaking stride. The redhead had a frown of worry and confusion. He had spotted the girl as well. They were far from any villages or towns, even further from any castles. The Ranger, trained to protect, instantly felt that this girl was running because of something…

Or someone.

Halt felt a tree branch smack his face. His eyes began to water but kept going. Crowley had disappeared in the trees and undergrowth ahead of him. They could hear the girl panting. She was running out of steam. This chase was almost over. Halt suddenly felt his heart go into his mouth. The blood trail flashed before his eyes. The girl was wounded and bleeding out. Exhaustion and thirst, possibly starvation as well, would be working against her. This chase may have done more damage to her than what Crowley and Halt could correct. Thinking this, Halt forced himself to go faster. Time was running out for Araluen but time might be up for this child. A massive crash shattered the silent forest. Halt heard Crowley grunt in pain. He burst into a tiny clearing. The young girl, no more than seven years old, was just wriggling free of Crowley's grasp. The redhead Ranger had a bleeding scrape on his neck, curtesy of the girl's kicking feet. She was about to bolt when her exhausted body sagged. That gave Halt the few seconds he needed to seize her collar.

Instantly the girl whirled on him. Prepared for an attack, Halt easily twisted her around so her feet met air. He snarled in pain as her sharp nails dug into his hand and wrist. Despite the pain, he refused to release her. Seen up close, he found his fears realized. This girl was starved, evident by protruding ribs and thin belly. Chapped lips and dried skin proclaimed near dehydration. Brown eyes were dark and rimmed by dark bags – evidence of little sleep. Yet it was a blood-stained, ripped shirt and pants, previously white and a shade of brown respectively, that told of a darker story. Halt knew what constant, unrelenting beatings looked like. He could see it now and it made him angry. Carefully he dragged the kicking, scratching, wriggling young girl to the forest floor. Then Crowley was on her. His normal, cheerful voice was soft and soothing. His eyes, usually bright with mischief, were clouded with worry. Every stiff muscle proclaimed his rage at whoever had harmed the child. Halt gritted his teeth, wrapping his arms around the girl's alarmingly thin and exhausted body. A hot, sticky liquid ran onto his hands and arms. He refused to acknowledge it, refused to let the sense of a revolting stomach deviate his plans. There was no need to look. He knew it was blood. His fingers could feel the deep cuts of wounds and hard lumps of healing bruises. Closing his eyes, he forced himself to remain calm. Crowley, holding the girl's arms and legs, continued to speak softly and calmly. They had to wait her out. They had to let her exhaust whatever adrenaline energy she had. Only then could they act to heal her. Only then would they get through her scared, exhausted mind. Maybe then she would see them as safe and trust them enough to take care of her.

The girl calmed within a few minutes, which seemed like an eternity to the men. They both knew that time wasn't on her side. Brown eyes, full of fear, closed then reopened. She was fighting off sleep. Halt gingerly ran his right hand thru her greasy, knotted brown hair. Carefully Crowley put his arms under her shoulders and knees. Halt helped his friend to stand, even though it wasn't difficult. The girl was extremely light. Yet both felt a protective urge well up inside them. Even if she was light as a feather, they would treat her gently. Crowley bit his lip. Eyes told Halt he was thinking the same thing: treat her as if she was about to shatter. Halt felt another stab of anger. In her current condition, the girl was liable to break at any moment. He quietly guided Crowley back to camp. Dusk was fading along the distant horizon. Night had come. Back at camp, they didn't care that their stew was cold and overcooked. They ate enough to quiet their stomachs. Each bite was hurried, only taken when they passed by to grab extra medicine and bandages. Halt had very carefully given her water. Brown eyes gained a desperate gleam right before her hands reached for the waterskin. Halt, lump in his throat, shook his head. Too much water would be more harmful than good. Like food, she needed to have a little at a time. Slowly they would work on getting her back to normal but it would take time.

It was midnight by the time both men were happy with her condition. They had gotten some food in her stomach. Her body had made several attempts to reject it but it was too exhausted to finish. She had been given enough water to start with. All injuries had been carefully cleaned and bandaged. Instead of using swallowed medicine, which her body could reject along with the food, they used pastes. Several wounds were older but had never healed due to infection. The infection was cleaned up before medicine was put on and held in place by bandages. Halt wrapped his spare gray cloak around the girl's frame. With the chilly night, she had been shivering long before dusk had fallen away. The girl shivered one last time then settled with a weak, nearly silent sigh. Her head collapsed against Halt's chest. Both eyelids drooped.

"Thank you…"

Her voice was cracked and weak. Yet those two words made Halt and Crowley slump in exhaustion themselves. Neither had realized they were tense. Neither realized how hungry or thirsty they were through the whole endeavor. Now that the girl was asleep against Halt's body, both men finally could focus on themselves. They had done everything they possibly could. No longer was the girl on the brink, time running out. Both set to eating their cold stew and salad. Upon an unspoken agreement, neither strayed more than a few feet from the girl. Two sets of eyes stared at the glowing embers, minds far away. Both wondered who the girl was, where she came from, and who had hurt her.

An owl began to hoot. Both men collapsed on their bedrolls. A few clouds dotted the night sky but no rain would come. Declan and Cropper, both of whom had been interested in the desperate proceedings, took up posts to watch over their masters and the small girl. Ears were pricked. Noses sniffed the air carefully. Declan, sensing a prowling badger, snorted and stamped a front hoof into the ground. The badger immediately headed off in a new direction. Cropper bobbed his head approvingly. Crowley smiled at the horses. He shifted his grip on the bundled girl. His cloak fell over her, adding a new layer of warmth. She stirred briefly, only dreaming. Halt laid opposite of them, saxe knife in his hand. He was ready to defend if needed. With that, Crowley let sleep overtake him.

Please leave a like or a review! It lets me know if people are interested.

When describing the girl, I gave a tiny hint to her previous life. Can any of you guess what life she had before this night (besides a bad one)?