A/N: Hi guys! I hope you will all enjoy this; I've enjoyed writing it a lot.

A quick warning for any of you who might be able to relate to Will: this story will discuss everything in the tags in detail, such as drug addiction, depression, anxiety, PTSD, and suicide. There are also brief mentions to other things Will underwent as a slave, such as starvation and whipping. If these things are triggering to you, please do not read this story.

For those who are alright with reading these things, I hope you enjoy this story. Please leave a comment, if you want - I love constructive criticism just as much as normal reviews, so please don't hesitate to leave them!

People say that words don't hurt. They're adamant about it, in fact - adamant to the point of making a nursery rhyme about it. Sticks can hurt, they insist, and so can stones, but words don't. Words have no power. Words can't hurt anyone.

How wrong they are. Words have the power to do anything. All you need is two to start it off.

"Hey, Will."

The aforementioned boy was sitting on the floor in the old hunting cabin the two of them had made their shelter for the time being. He leaned against the wall, eyes half-closed, idly running his hands over a flimsy hunting bow that sat in his lap. At those two words, he forced his eyes open and glanced over at his friend, Evanlyn.

"What is it?"

Evanlyn visibly hesitated. Whatever she was about to say was obviously a sensitive topic. Will tensed automatically. There were a lot of sensitive topics between them nowadays. Evanlyn's true identity as Princess Cassandra of Araluen was one of them. The Skandians' capture and enslavement of them was another. Will's subsequent slavery, beatings, and drug addiction was another, and probably the most sensitive topic of them all.

"I was wondering," she started slowly, "how much are you planning on telling Halt and the other Rangers about our time here?"

Will took a deep breath. He didn't like talking about any of this - really, he'd much rather they put all of that behind them and never speak of it again. However, Evanlyn had asked a valid question.

"Everything, I guess," he said with a shrug, eyeing her keenly. "There's no way I could lie to Halt, even if I wanted to."

Evanlyn shifted. As a Ranger's apprentice, Will had been taught to identify the uncertainty in her body language. She wanted to say something but wasn't sure how to, he guessed.

"What's wrong, Evanlyn?"

The girl hesitated again. It wasn't like her to hesitate at all. She was always confident and strong even in the midst of danger. The fact that this conversation cowed her was not good.

"It's just," she said finally, "it...might be in your best interest to...keep some of the details secret."

Will raised an eyebrow, confused and a little defensive. This had come out of nowhere. "What do you mean?"

Evanlyn looked at him for a second. He wondered what she saw. He certainly knew he didn't feel like the same person who'd traveled through Celtica with her so many months ago. That boy back then had been cheery, naive, and honest to a fault. Now, after everything he'd been through, he was struggling to retain even the scraps of that personality.

"Even as a prin- even with my rank I wasn't privy to the secrets of the Ranger Corps. But...I'm not sure how well they'd take your story. Your, erm," she waved a hand awkwardly, "stint with warmweed."

For another moment, Will stared at her, brain still slow from the effects of the drug, even weeks later. Then, finally, something clicked. "You think they'll expel me?"

The sheer horror in his voice must've been too much, for Evanlyn winced. Her voice was gentle when she responded, "From what I've seen of the Rangers, they aren't a sentimental or forgiving lot. Halt might not care, but what about the commandant, Crowley? What about the other Rangers? We have no idea how they'd react to being told one of their own..."

She trailed off. She wouldn't meet his gaze.

"But..." Will tried weakly, "But it wasn't my fault. Was it?"

Even now, weeks later, he wasn't sure. He'd been the one to take it, after all. He'd taken the warmweed of his own volition, put it under his tongue himself. Did it matter that he'd not known what he was doing? He'd still done it.

"Of course not," Evanlyn assured him vehemently, "but will the Rangers have the same point of view? They might well decide that you're...that you're not..."

She broke off awkwardly.

Will's shoulders slumped. "I guess you're right," he murmured, so quietly he barely heard himself. "But I can't keep it from Halt."

"Will," she said softly. He saw the pain in her eyes. "If you tell Halt, he'll tell Crowley and the rest of them. You can't mention the warmweed. At all. It isn't safe."

He stared at her for a long moment. The urge to get angry, to refuse with cutting, caustic words was almost overpowering. But finally he mastered it. With a sigh, he voiced his resignation.

"Very well."

Unable to bear the conversation anymore, Will stood. He placed the now-unstrung bow against the wall and walked over to the door. "I'm going to sit outside for a bit, Evanlyn. Catch some fresh air."

Evanlyn sighed. "I just want you to be safe, Will. I couldn't take it if something happened to you."

Will's lips tightened. He stood for a long moment in silence, before finally turning back to her. His eyes were tired. "I know."

Then he turned and left.

Will had never known deeper despair.

He was exhausted, weakened, alone, basically unarmed, and facing six armed men. The effects of the warmweed still clawed at him, clouding his mind, chilling and dulling his senses. His hands shook around the poor excuse of a bow in them - its arrows could hardly kill an animal, let alone an armed man. In the small clearing several meters away, Evanlyn sat, helpless, as her killer's curved sword began its descent.

As he watched, shame overwhelmed him. Everything Halt had taught him had flown clear out of his head, and what little he remembered was useless with a puny bow and a bunch of sticks for arrows. He was helpless and useless. There was no way he could kill six men with a handful of sticks. The situation was hopeless.

But still he forced himself to stand on weak, trembling legs. Evanlyn deserved better than a useless Ranger's apprentice, but at the moment, he was the best she would get. He would not let her die without a fight. He would not give up.

Will took a deep breath and drew back the bow. His hands were still shaking even as he sighted, aiming for the exposed wrist of Evanlyn's murderer. Will hesitated, then released the arrow with a twang, watching as it flew across the clearing and sank into the man's flesh. He nocked another arrow an instant later, aimed, and let fly. The second one barely glanced the man's sleeve.

Worthless,his mind muttered. If Halt were here...

But Halt wasn't.

The third arrow was a miss. The fourth, as well. Will grit his teeth and drew his hunting dagger to face the oncoming men. He knew already he would lose, but he'd made a vow to Evanlyn to keep her safe. He would keep it or die trying.

But before the first man came within reach, a familiar, deep thrum split the air behind Will. With a resounding thud, a black arrow buried itself into the swordsman. Another thud and the next one went down, too. The third man turned and ran.

Will stood there for a moment, unable to process what had just happened. Then, wild hope surging in his chest, he turned.

His mouth half-opened in shock.

Halt.

A rush of emotion cascaded through him, but he forced himself to more important matters. Two of the warriors were dead, and three more in hurried retreat, but Evanlyn's original attacker was still there. She now fought bravely with a stolen saber, but Will knew that wouldn't last long. She was still tied to the tree. She'd be killed in seconds.

Entirely forgetting about greeting Halt or running towards him, he motioned wildly in Evanlyn's direction and yelled something he hoped gave away the amount of danger she was in. But Halt's view of her was blocked by the trees, and he knew the Ranger wouldn't be able to change position fast enough.

Then hope came in the form of a tall, well-built figure wearing chain mail and a white surcoat with an image of an oakleaf on it. He seemed familiar to Will, but no matter how much he strained to remember the newcomer's name, he came up blank. Will's memories had been hazy ever since what he called the Incident. Anything past his arrival at Skandia was gone, and even memories before it had been encroached upon.

In all honesty, he thought bitterly as the young man engaged Evanlyn's would-be killer,it was probable that the warmweed had permanently scarred his mind. After all, there was a reason drugs were highly frowned upon in Araluen. Although Will hadn't heard much about them before Skandia, there were rumors about some drugs turning people into mindless drudges. Or worse. It was little wonder the Rangers didn't like drugs.

Of course, he reminded himself, he'd never actually heard that they didn't. But if the rest of the kingdom shamed those who wasted away to them, and those unfortunates were taken to prison, it made sense they wouldn't like it, either. Never mind that Araluen's idea of prison was reformative, not punitive. The shame was real. Those who were imprisoned were forced to beg for food and money in order to get out, while given little medical care to get better. The idea that that could be Will was revolting.

But at the same time, if he were found out, Will would not try to run from his dues. Everything he'd done since being taken by the Skandians only threw shame onto the name of both his country and his Corps. It was the least he could do, to take it like a man.

A rapid flurry of movement forced Will back to the present. The oakleaf-bearer had rapidly gained the upper hand in the fight, with strokes that were so swift as to be completely bewildering. The other swordsman lunged clumsily with his curved blade; the younger man deflected it easily, throwing the other off balance, wide open to the retaliatory backhanded cut already on its-

"Don't kill him!" came Halt's voice from behind Will, just in time. The young man twisted his wrist so the flat of the blade slammed into the man's head, knocking him unconscious instantly.

"We want a prisoner," Halt finished mildly.

Disaster averted, any thoughts of self-doubt or shame flew from Will's head. He ran, uncaring of anything else, straight into the Ranger's arms. He slammed into Halt with a force that made the other stagger backwards and flung his arms around his master. A sob worked its way up his throat, and suddenly he began to cry.

Halt held him as he cried, until the shame inside Will grew stronger than everything else. Then he forced himself to stop, taking deep, heaving breaths until his tears dried. His head was still buried in Halt's chest, and he could feel the Ranger's heartbeat. He forced himself to breathe with it and cursed himself for losing control like that. What was he thinking? Worse, what was Halt?

Yet Halt still held him close.

Finally, Will gathered the courage to look up at him. His shame was growing stronger by the second. He felt the instinct to shrink away from Halt's gaze and touch, but fought it.

"Halt," he said. His voice came out cracked and he winced. "I'm..."

He stopped. He wanted to apologize for everything he had done: failing to keep himself from getting captured, failing to keep Evanlyn safe, failing to keep from getting addicted. And he wanted to apologize for being someone Halt would be ashamed of, for having to lie to everyone in order to keep himself safe. But he could say none of that. So he trailed off and wished he had never spoken.

"I'm glad you're safe," Halt said quietly. A trace of a tear ran down his cheek, but a trace of a smile stood there as well.

Will had never seen Halt cry before.

It was because of that that Will realized how much Halt had missed him - how much he cared. He had traveled all the way to Skandia to find them, after all. He hadn't known about the Vallasvow; if he'd wanted the princess only, he would've just waited for her to be ransomed. No, he had come for Will.

A bitter mix of guilt and shame churned in his stomach and he felt nauseous. Yes, Halt had come alright. Come for a worthless drug addict, a useless apprentice, a broken man. How long before Halt realized it, and regretted what he'd sacrificed so much for?

"Are you all right?" Will heard a voice behind him ask. It was too far away and pointed in the wrong direction to be aimed at him, but he took the distraction to disentangle himself from Halt and turn around to see who the familiar man next to Evanlyn was.

He still couldn't recall the name, he realized bitterly. Until Evanlyn repeated Will's earlier actions with Halt and threw her arms around the man, exclaiming, "Oh, Horace! Thank God you're here!"

Horace, he thought. The shame burrowed into his gut. That's right: his fellow wardmate, his friend he had known for over a decade. How could he not have recognized Horace?

Behind his roiling emotions, Will felt the distinct sense he was being watched. It was probably Halt scrutinizing him: either because he was concerned Will was injured, or because something about his mannerisms was suspicious. Perhaps Will had already given too much away with his blank, unknowing stare at Horace.

Horace and Evanlyn finally pulled apart, none too soon in Will's mind. Halt stepped forward, furtively wiping his cheek with the back of a hand, and called, "If you're quite finished, we should get out of here. There's no telling when the Temujai will return with reinforcements."

The two young people gave a start. Horace sheepishly retrieved his sword from the ground where he'd put it, wiping it off and sheathing it. He looked over at Halt and asked, "Where are we going?"

Will felt a bit of relief that, for once, he wasn't the one asking all the questions. At least now, Halt would have to get mad at both of them.

"I want to get some distance between us and this place. If the Temujai return or if their army starts marching, we're in for a rather unpleasant situation." Halt smiled grimly. "Let's retrace our steps and head back across the border. We should be able to find a good camping site somewhere around there."

Halt was, as usual, correct in that assessment. At about midday they found a hilltop with a fairly large depression that would both give them shelter and a good vantage point. As soon as they set up camp, however, Horace complained how they hadn't eaten since yesterday, and Evanlyn instantly picked up the plea. Will, not really all that hungry but not wanting to draw attention to himself (or worse, the suspicion of Halt), joined in.

Grudgingly, Halt started a fire and began to cook a stew. While he was doing so, Will drew Evanlyn off the side, out of earshot of both Horace and the Ranger. "They're probably going to want to know our story," he whispered so softly that even he could barely hear himself. "It's the perfect opportunity to hear it with minimal distraction. Have you thought of anything?"

Evanlyn gave him a weird look. "All we have to do is leave out the part about being a yard slave and..." she glanced cautiously around, unwilling to reveal the reason for Will's state even with the other two several meters away.

Will shook his head a fraction, in case Halt was watching. "That will leave far too many holes. It doesn't explain why I don't remember anything about Skandia. If they ask me something, I won't know it, and it'll get suspicious if you're the one doing all the talking."

Biting her lip, Evanlyn conceded the point. Will was right. They needed a plausible story. "We'll keep in the part about you being a slave. That's something that can't be taken out. The rest, I guess I'll have to fill you in on as many details as possible."

Although she'd told Will the events of Skandia in their days in the cabin, he couldn't remember actually living through them. Because of that, it was possible that Will, knowing all that information only secondhand, could easily forget something and contradict Evanlyn's story with his made-up details. And although Horace might not realize it, Halt most certainly would. Finding contradictions in a witness's story was something all Rangers were trained for. And Halt was one of the best Rangers ever to live.

Talking as quietly as possible, she filled him in on as much as she could: the freezing temperatures, the drudgery of the yard slaves, Erak and Slagor (for the warmweed had even begun to infringe on his memories before he came to Skandia). Then as best she could, she told him all she knew about how he got addicted to warmweed. Although the knowledge was unnecessary for their scheme, she felt she owed him that much.

Before she'd completely finished retelling their escape, Halt called them over for dinner. Will carefully reined in his urge to look guilty and startle and walked with Evanlyn walked to sit down next to Horace and Halt.

"What were you doing over there?" Halt asked. "I'm sure you've developed a certain fondness for each other in the past months, but-"

"No!" Will squeaked, cheeks stained red with embarrassment. "Nothing like that, Halt! Honest!"

"I was thanking him for his bravery earlier," Evanlyn said with a princess's dignity, but her face looked a little pink as well. "It was courageous of him to try and save me with what little weaponry he had at his disposal."

"Yes, I saw that," Halt said. "He's gotten a bit slow, but nothing a few weeks of practice won't remedy."

Will went cold, then hot again with shame. Had Halt also seen his hesitation, his trembling hands, his shots that had flown wide?

"Even with that little bow, those were great shots, Will!" Horace said, eager to try and make the apprentice feel better.

Will managed a smile, but it felt forced and fake and the humiliation he felt at how out of shape he'd gotten made Halt's words feel harsher than they otherwise would've.

"Only one of them actually hit anything, Horace," Will reminded him quietly, taking up his bowl of stew. He suddenly felt famished. What little game he and Evanlyn had managed to scare up had not been nearly enough for Will to rebuild all the weight he'd lost. He ate the whole thing in what felt like seconds.

Covertly, Evanlyn nudged him. He knew it as a warning to eat slower. So Will pretended the dregs of his bowl were really far more than they were, taking his time with the last few drops.

"Seconds already?" Halt inquired after Evanlyn finished her bowl a minute or so later, holding it out. "You finished that faster than Horace, and some days he seems more like a huge stomach on legs than anything else."

"Me, too, please," Will added, careful not to seem too eager as he gave the empty dish to Halt.

He barely restrained a sigh with the thought. The strain of putting on a show was already getting to him. Will prided himself on his honesty, and the thought of having to lie to his mentor - for years - was not one that sat well with him. But there was no other choice.

A few seconds later Horace held out his bowl as well. With a sigh Halt refilled all three, muttering something under his breath that sounded like youngsters.

"So," Evanlyn started after she'd finished her second bowl, "what have you two been up to this past year?"

"You really mean Horace is some kind of hero in Gallica?"

To Will's surprise, Halt was nodding his head emphatically. "A regular figure of respect."

Evanlyn turned to Horace and leaned forward, fingertips grazing over his own. "I can believe it. Did you see the way he took care of that Temujai soldier who was trying to kill me?"

Her eyes were alight with warmth - a warmth, Will noticed with a pang of jealousy, that she'd rarely directed at him. If ever.

As though that wasn't bad enough, Halt then turned to Will. "We've told you our story. I want to hear yours, now."

Will swallowed.

Thankfully, Evanlyn kept her gaze from locking onto Will's. Instead, she just took a deep breath and began, starting with the tale of their lengthy voyage to Skandia. She glossed over anything that had been particularly dangerous or that she sensed Will might not want to be told. To Will's eternal gratitude, she spent a prolonged amount of time on Slagor and Will's impressive knife throw at the keg.

He felt he should look up from where he was sitting, gaze fixed on his hands in his lap, but the guilt and shame weighed so heavily he could barely take a breath under it. It took Halt's laying a hand on his shoulder for Will to finally look up and lock eyes with the Ranger. Halt gave him a nod. Despite everything, Will couldn't help but feel a warm sense of approval and accomplishment settle in his gut.

Of course,he reminded himself, that was before the warmweed. He probably wouldn't even be able to do that anymore.

He forced himself back to Evanlyn's story.

"Then," she was saying, "we arrived in Hallasholm. Erak decided not to sell us off as slaves, instead making us work in the capital itself. I got stuck with kitchen duty, but Will..."

She hesitated. Anxiety thrummed in Will's veins as he wondered if she would really lie to them.

"Will got assigned as a yard slave."

"What's that mean?" Horace interjected. "You make it sound like it's a very bad thing."

Will only barely managed to keep his face from showing any emotion, then, realizing that Halt might think his lack of expression weird, adopted a pensive look. At least, he hoped it was a pensive look. He'd never been the best actor.

"House slaves, at least, always have the warmth of the hall," Evanlyn said slowly. "We also get more food. And although the work is still exhausting, it's not nearly as bad. We also get a warm room to sleep in at night. Yard slaves, on the other hand..."

Figuring he should speak up around this point, Will started hesitantly.

"We work in near freezing conditions - no, just plain freezing. While there are older house slaves" - he paused, hoping he was remembering what Evanlyn told him correctly - "I never once saw a yard slave older than thirty. We just don't live that long."

Halt's expression was grim. "How did you escape?"

Will said nothing, waiting for Evanlyn to take the lead again. She did.

"It was Erak who helped us. He realized that Will" - she hesitated for the slightest instant - "was being worn down by the conditions in the yard, and he knew Will would be dead soon if he didn't stop it."

Horace's eyes widened in horror. Halt's jaw tightened . Will just ducked his head, wishing he didn't have to be there to hear this.

Evanlyn continued on with her vastly edited version of events. When she finally finished, everyone was silent. Even without the warmweed and glossing over the worst parts, it was a dark tale.

After a long period of quiet, Will felt Halt's gaze burning into him. He slowly looked up and then wished he hadn't. In Halt's eyes were such sadness and guilt that Will's stomach turned. For a moment he wanted to tell Halt the truth just to see that pain end. Even though Will knew it would be replaced with contempt or shame or disappointment.

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," the Ranger said softly.

It was hard to meet the Ranger's eyes, but Will forced himself to do it. He nodded. He was sorry, too.

Behind Will, a warm presence made him instinctively relax. Tug. Will had missed him almost as much as Halt or Alyss. He loved the shaggy horse in the way only a Ranger could, and perhaps even more than most did. Will twisted around, reaching out a hand to stroke Tug's ears and scratch the spot between them how the little horse enjoyed.

Tug snuffled softly. Something in his brown eyes seemed accusing, worried even. Ranger horses always seemed strangely human and Tug was no exception. Will didn't doubt that Tug knew there was something wrong with Will. That word - wrong - hurt to think, but it was true. Even thinking objectively and not self-deprecatingly, Will was a mess. He had memory problems, nightmares, tremors, anxiety attacks, and was practically skeletal.

A prickling sensation came over Will and he realized Halt was watching him. Again. In the year since they'd seen each other last, Will had forgotten how much Halt watched him. Now that he thought about it - assuming he could even trust his mind anymore, which he wasn't sure he could - he had felt Halt's eyes on him a large part of the day, no matter if they were training or not. Not that that was wrong, but Will had forgotten how unnerving it felt to be so conscious of your every move.

Even though he hadn't minded it back in the calm, peaceful forests surrounding Castle Redmont, a year had changed him quite a bit. Now he found that he hated the feeling of being looked at. He hated having to second guess every move in case Halt would get suspicious. He was enough of a wreck just trying to function properly, let alone keep up a perfect facade of normality as though he'd never been a drug addict or worked into the grave.

"Do you think you could persuade that horse of yours to stay with the other horses for a minute or two?" Halt said. His tone was severe but even Will's slow brain realized it was feigned. "Otherwise he'll wind up believing that he's one of us."

"He's been driving Halt crazy since we first found your tracks," Horace put in. "He must have picked up your scent and known it was you we were following, although Halt didn't realize it."

Halt raised an eyebrow. To someone who didn't know him, it probably would've looked menacing.

"Halt didn't realize it?" he repeated slowly. "And I suppose you did?"

Horace just shrugged, not taking the bait. "I'm just a warrior. I'm not supposed to be a thinker. I'll leave that to you Rangers."

All of a sudden Will saw his vision blur. He wasn't a thinker, not anymore. His brain felt like a foreign entity to him: utterly unfamiliar and entirely uncontrollable. Worse, Will wasn't a warrior anymore, either. Being overworked and starved had stolen that from him as well.

No, Will was nothing. And he was most definitely not fit to be a Ranger.

If Halt noticed Will's expression, he said nothing about it. "I must admit it had me puzzled. I've never seen a Ranger horse behave like that. Even when I ordered him to calm down and be silent, I could tell there was something on his mind. When you first stepped out of the trees to shoot, I thought he was going to take off after you."

So Halt had seen everything.

Will felt disgust settle into his bones. But, he knew, it wouldn't do to let the others see it. Even Evanlyn didn't need to see that. She'd seen enough of his weakness already. She'd seen him at his lowest, and he had no right to bother her with that anymore.

So he forced a smile and looked at his three companions, and for a moment, he even fooled himself into thinking it was real.

"Will."

It was Evanlyn's soft voice from beside him. On the huge black steed Horace had taken from Deparnieux, she towered above Will. Not that she wasn't already taller than he. Regrettably, even Halt was a half-inch taller than Will, and Halt was, by the standards of everyone, Araluen, Skandian, or otherwise, very short. Not that Will would ever tell him that, of course.

"Yes?"

"How are you?"

If it had been anyone else, Will would've given her his best grin and a joke. But this was Evanlyn. She was the only person who knew his secret. And although he didn't want to burden her, he sensed that if he didn't answer, their argument would get more heated and attract the attention of others - more specifically, Halt.

"Well, one good thing about not sleeping for two days is you don't get the chance to have nightmares."

Evanlyn gave him a sympathetic look. She'd started getting them, too, a few weeks ago. "And what about..." She raised an eyebrow meaningfully.

The gesture reminded him of Halt, and the familiar stab of guilt hit his chest. He abhorred lying to Halt, but there was no other way. He couldn't risk being kicked out of the only place he'd ever felt he belonged. He couldn't risk Halt finding out and becoming ashamed that an apprentice of his was stupid enough, weak enough, cowardly enough, to go through all the things Will had gone through.

"I'm fine," he said quickly. Then he realized he said it too quickly and Evanlyn was giving him a skeptical look. "Really. And besides, we have bigger things to worry about right now."

With a sigh, she conceded defeat. With Halt, Erak, and Horace only a few meters away, she couldn't risk arguing with him.

Then Evanlyn's eyes widened. "Will, we haven't told Erak and his crew."

He realized what she meant with a surge of horror. He grimaced, frantically thinking through options. It was a much-needed exercise of his Ranger's brain, as unpleasant as the subject matter was.

"If one of us goes to ride beside Erak," he said, "it'll look suspicious. We need a plausible excuse to get close to him, but we can't wait until Hallasholm; who knows what he might say. And- oh. Evanlyn...I don't remember Hallasholm."

"Yes," she said slowly, unsure what he was getting at, "we've been over that."

He looked at her levelly, trying to suppress his fear. He'd been getting better at hiding his emotions lately, but they still showed at times like this one. "No, what I mean is that Halt and Horace will expect me to know my way around Hallasholm. Erak won't because he knows what I've been through, and the rest of his crew doesn't care, anyway, but those two will. And I don't remember any of it."

She paled considerably. "You worked as a yard slave, right? You weren't allowed far off property; it'd make sense you didn't know your way around. Besides, we've haven't been there for several months. You can claim your knowledge is fuzzy. We'll just need to make sure you're not nearby Halt while you relearn the ins and outs of the buildings."

He nodded slowly, face caught up in worry. He exclaimed softly, "Evanlyn, this is impossible! I've never been able to trick him before, not even for a moment. What's to say he doesn't already know?"

She let out a rather unladylike curse. As silent as Halt was, it was entirely possible he'd already figured out their whole ruse, but- no. That wasn't possible. He had no reason to believe Will had taken warmweed, if he even knew the existence of the drug. Sure, he might think Will was acting weird, but he had other things on his mind right now. When she tried to tell that to Will, however, he looked less than convinced.

"We have no idea how much Halt knows, Evanlyn."

"Well, what do you suggest?" she asked, a little acerbically. "Have a nice, open conversation with Erak about your past, right in front of Halt? Look, Will, there's still a chance he doesn't know. We need to take that chance. Plus, even if he does figure it out, there's no reason for Horace to know, too, is there? I mean, Horace probably wouldn't care, but-"

"No." Will's gaze was steely. "No one can know."

Evanlyn reflexively shifted away from him, hands tight around her mount's reins as she stared at him.

But Will couldn't bring himself to feel bad. He knew the words weren't the ones Old Will would've used; he knew Old Will would never have used that tone or stared at her with that coldness. But he had gone this far already. He would not turn back now, and he would never let Halt know of his disgrace.

"Alright, Will," she said very quietly. "I'll try to find an opening to talk to Erak. You occupy Halt."

As soon as the words came out of her mouth, Will instantly felt guilty. He opened his mouth to apologize, but Evanlyn had already turned away. He stared after her, feeling the shame and self-reproof inside him multiply.

As it turned out, occupying Halt wasn't difficult. A few minutes later, Halt called for a brief stop. Once they dismounted, he drew Will out of earshot of the others to speak to him. Out of the corner of his eye, Will saw Evanlyn discreetly edging Erak out of the group of his men.

"This fellow Erak," Halt said softly. "What do you make of him?"

Will frowned, hoping Halt would think he was considering the question and not desperately racking his mind for anything he remembered of Erak. Coming from his own memories, it wasn't much. He remembered Skorghijl and the passage to it, but after that it became increasingly harder and harder to remember anything. But from what Evanlyn had told him, he'd been instrumental in their escape. Besides, Erak had a certain rough kindness that Will found hard not to like.

So, taking a deep breath, he looked at Halt and said, "I like him."

Halt nodded. "Yes. So do I, but do you trust him? That's a different matter to liking."

He stiffened. He honestly had no clue. The correct answer, from what Evanlyn had told him and his vague memories, should be yes, but Will no longer trusted his own mind. It was his mind that had gotten him hooked on warmweed. It was his mind that tortured him nightly. It was his mind that disabled him with panic.

But, knowing what he should answer, he opened his mouth and said, "Yes."

Halt nodded again, rubbing his chin. "I must say, I agree with you."

"Well, he did help us to escape, you know, Halt," Will pointed out, thinking that was probably the right thing to say, and was relieved when Halt tilted his head in approval.

"I know. That's what I was thinking about."

A little confused, he sent a curious glance at Halt, but the Ranger said nothing more. Having learned to expect that by now, Will said nothing, either, and the two stared off into the forest. It was almost peaceful and Will found himself longing for those days back at Redmont fief where everything had been so uncomplicated and right. No Skandians, no death threats, no Temujai and wars and lies.

As they mounted back up again, Evanlyn found her way back to him.

"I filled him in," she said in a lowered voice, knowing all too well that Halt was a mere four meters away and possibly watching them. "I didn't have time to tell him why, but he understands and promised not to mention it and to help make excuses or distract Halt when necessary."

She grimaced. "Now that I think about it, asking him to help make excuses was probably a big mistake on my part."

Despite himself, Will couldn't help but smile. It was the first genuine smile he'd made in months, albeit fairly small. "Well, what's done is done."

There was a tiny pause. Will had just opened his mouth once more to apologize-

"And what might that be?"

Fighting his body's instinctive freeze, he turned to look at Halt. Rapidly improvising, he said, "Evanlyn was trying to get Erak to ride a horse again so we could make better time, but he refused."

He wasn't sure if Halt's look was skeptical or accepting. He swallowed and continued, "He told her to, put politely, screw off."

Surprisingly, it worked. The barest ghost of a smile flitted across Halt's weathered face and Will knew that he'd succeeded. Torn between guilt at lying to his mentor and satisfaction that at least his mind could still work, he decided on a blank expression and continued riding.

This could work, he thought. Just until he could get back home.