A/N: Here is the second and last chapter. I took a bit of creative license when it came to the size of the bear... though, to be fair, John Flanagan does that a few times himself with the giant boars and snow leopard respectively, so I feel that I can get away with it. Thanks to everyone who read, followed, favorited and reviewed. It really means a lot.

TheRanger'sDaughter: Thanks for the review! I've always wondered about it myself too—and the whole of his apprenticeship actually. Thanks again!

TrustTheCloak: I hope this is quick enough for you XD Thanks for the compliment and the review—I really hope I don't disappoint. Awww thanks, might I just say that you are one of my favorite writers in the fandom too.

Chapter 2

After Halt had found the site where the foresters had been ambushed, he had found tracks fresh enough to follow, and follow easily. They had led him deeper into the woods, heading eastward until they reached the edge of a deep dried out ravine. They had turned northward then, traveling parallel with the ravine. Halt followed the tracks for a few kilometers before he reined in and dismounted.

The drizzle that had set in earlier in the day, had already begun soaking into the loamy earth. He was grateful it was just a drizzle and not rain, for the prints were still easy to see. He looked closely at them, trying to judge just how long it had been since the bear had passed through here. The hunters had not been exaggerating much when they had described its size. The prints were massive.

He rose from his crouch, stroking Abelard's neck as he decided what to do next. The trial went straight ahead and into a large deadfall. This was why he had stopped. The trunks of long-dead trees covered most of the ground. In some places, they were set between the trunks of their still-living neighbors.

He wouldn't be able to take Abelard with him in there he knew. His horse would not be able to find good footing, and he could very well break a leg if he tried. That left only one other option. Halt would have to head into that deadfall and track the bear on foot.

He supposed that he could try to carefully skirt the perimeter to look for the bear's exit tracks. But that could take hours that he did not have. On top of that, those would be wasted hours if the bear's layer was somewhere in that deadfall.

Abelard shifted slightly and let out a low grumbling sound. It was more of a complaint than a warning call. Halt reached out to stroke the little horse's muzzle.

"I really don't like it much either."

And so saying, he dropped Abelard's reigns, gave him the stay signal, and then moved forward into the uneven ground. He stepped over fallen logs and sometimes walked on, or climbed over, them in places where they lay stacked haphazardly atop each other—like some larger version of scattered firewood. The light drizzle had made the decaying bark atop these logs slimy and fragile, so he often had to watch his footing. The way was slippery in paces, as well as unsteady.

So far, the wind was blowing from east to west. He knew that this was something he needed to be careful about. Bears had exceptional senses of smell; they could scent things from a kilometer and a half away. The wind had been a little finicky all day as it was slightly stormy. But he knew he was relatively safe at the moment—as the tracks were still heading north and the wind was not blowing in that direction. But if, as he was starting to suspect, the bear's layer was somewhere in this deadfall, he knew he would need to keep his senses on high alert. He gripped his bow a little tighter.

Halt continued to follow the tracks. He came upon a place where the forest floor was completely obscured by piled logs at the base of a hilly rise. They rose up a couple of meters above the ground level he stood on, sloping gradually up like a hill. They then leveled out for several meters until they reached the sides of the hilly rise that backed them.

As the trees had died on the hill over the years, they had fallen down to the base of the hill and piled atop each other. The bear's tracks went up this pile of haphazardly staked timber. But it was the cave situated in the hilly rise that really caught his attention. The tracks led just in that direction, and there were numerous other older tracks and signs all around that alerted Halt to the fact that the bear frequented this area quite a lot.

All the signs pointed to the fact that this was probably this man-eater's layer. He stood still and listened, eyeing the dark opening mistrustfully. But everything there was quiet. Was the bear perhaps sleeping off the effects of his meal the day before? Sleeping or no, Halt had found what he came for. It wasn't a good situation. This huge deadfall would make it very hard to bring armored knights here to corner the beast.

He was suddenly assailed with some warning sense; something was wrong. Then he realized what it was. He began backing carefully away. The temperamental wind had shifted suddenly, so that it was now blowing towards the north—not a good thing, if the bear was in his layer.

But the bear wasn't in its layer. Halt froze and looked up abruptly as he heard the crunching passage of something very large up ahead.

Up on the hilly rise, he caught sight of the largest bear that he had ever seen. Its coat was thick, black, and scarred in several places. Each enormous paw was heavily clawed…and that immense bear seemed to have caught his scent. Its focus was fixed on him. He saw the animal bunch its enormously powerful muscles as it moved to charge him. He felt his heart skip a beat at the sight. He had seen many bears over the course of his lifetime, but none like this.

It bounded down the hilly rise and across the top of the stacked deadfall. It moved in that lumbering but terrifyingly powerful gait that bears have. Halt could just make out its maddened looking eyes. He wouldn't have time to run, he knew. And, even if he tried, the huge creature would easily be able to outpace him.

He knew that, under normal circumstances, the best way to deal with charging bears was to stand your ground, make lots of noise and charge it or make yourself look large and threatening—prey ran, predators attacked. It was the law of nature. Usually, that would be enough to frighten off a bear. But Halt knew instinctively that that would not work with this one. He could tell that this one was half mad. Not only that, but this one was used to hunting humans, this one preferred hunting humans. No: Halt knew that only thing he could do was to stand his ground and fight back. He took an arrow from his quiver and placed it upon the string.

The bear bounded forwards and Halt readied his bow, stepping back into an archer's stance as he aimed for the monster's left eye. He did not think his arrow would penetrate deeply enough to kill if he shot anywhere else. He knew instinctively the moment before he released his arrow that the shot would be good. Then everything went wrong.

The place on the fallen log that he had stepped back on was nothing more than a rotted shell. It held his weight for only a few moments before it gave way, sending his left leg crashing through it. There had been no real indication that that one patch in the middle had been rotted away so drastically on the inside — no way he could have foreseen and therefore prepared for and avoided it. He lost his balance and his shot flew wide, sailing harmlessly over the killer bear's head whilst he tried to regain his footing.

As the bear charged downwards, his massive weight dislodged one of the larger logs and it rolled. The bear snarled as it also lost its footing and tumbled down the rise of logs. Its rapid fall, along with the fall of the first log, were like the first clumps of snow that start an avalanche. The whole pile began to shift and roll as they came crashing down.

Halt tired to move out of the way but his foot was momentarily held fast in the hollow log. He pulled desperately, broke free, and leaped to his side. The motion probably saved his life. A huge log slammed down right where he had just been, crushing the one that had entrapped him. Fast as his leap to the side was, however, it wasn't fast enough to avoid the rest of the tumbling wood.

He went down amidst the thudding crash of colliding and falling timber. He felt a heavy impact and bit back a cry of pain. When the rolling and shifting finally stopped, he found himself lying on his back, his legs trapped underneath two medium-sized logs. His bow lay about a meter to his left and his saxe and throwing knife were trapped underneath one of the logs that ensnared his legs—the one resting diagonally from his right thigh to his left hip.

Several of the logs had crashed into the enraged bear, but they did not trap it, or even seriously injure it. If anything, all it did was make the creature even more furious. Halt heard it let out a bellow of rage and pain as it tried to disentangle itself from the shifting unsteady pile. Once it freed itself, it turned its livid attention back onto Halt and began pacing towards him, building speed as it had done before. Halt tried to shift the logs off of him but it was no use. He bent as far as he could to the side then, desperately reaching for his bow.

The bear was barely seven meters from him. His fingertips brushed the very edge of the polished wood and he tried to sweep it closer to his hand, knowing that his life depended on it. For a moment it looked as if it was working... then it slipped from the grasp of his fingertips, falling further away from him than before. He glanced back towards the bear. It was directly in front of him now. It had come to a stop, raising one huge, heavily clawed forepaw up for a swipe. And Halt knew that there was nothing he could do to stop it.

Suddenly, he heard a shout and the deep-throated thrum of a longbow. The bear reared up, howling in pain as it whirled around, temporarily forgetting Halt as it faced its new attacker. As the bear turned, Halt saw the two goose-feathered shafts buried into the thick hide of the bear's back.

At the same time that he placed the shout and recognized the color of the painted shafts, he saw his apprentice standing about twenty meters away from the bear. Halt breathed silent thanks towards his young student as he let out the breath he had been holding. Somehow Gilan had managed to arrive to help just in the nick of time. In that moment, Halt did not really care how it had happened, he was just grateful that it had.

Another arrow was on Gilan's bowstring. It was already drawn back, the feathered ends brushing his cheek. Halt watched as Gilan stood, pale-faced, but unflinching in his archer's stance as the bear barreled towards him at top speed. His apprentice measured the movements of the bear's head and eyes as he prepared to loose his arrow; just as Halt had trained him to do: better to fire one good shot than several hurried ones.

He saw the very subtle change in Gilan's body posture as he reached the natural pause between the inhale and the exhale that rendered him completely steady for the shot. He saw the fingers on his apprentice's right-hand move as they began to release the tension stored in the string. Halt also saw the position of the bear's head from where he lay and knew that it would be a dead shot.

He felt some tension begging to drain from his body and just as suddenly build up again to a fever pitch. In the very moments that Gilan was preparing to release his shot, the bear's right paw hit one of the fallen logs on the side, causing it to move at an angle. Halt shouted his apprentice's name in desperate warning, but it was too late. The narrow log swept in an arc, slamming into Gilan's legs just as he let fly his arrow.

He was brushed right off his feet and he landed hard on his back, his breath leaving his body in a soft whoosh of air. His arrow, jerked from its precise aim, flew slightly wild, skimming across the bear's face and flying straight through its ear. But the bear did not so much as pause in its attack: its only thought to kill these puny creatures that had caused it so much pain. It moved forward in its charge, leaping up slightly to come down on where Gilan lay sprawled.

"Gilan!" The older Ranger pushed against the logs that held him fast, his teeth gritted.

The bear plunged downwards and Gilan rolled. The massive paws and teeth snapped down on empty air. Gilan finished the roll, rose to his feet, and drew his sword in one fluid motion. The bear was at close quarters, too close for his bow to be of any use.

It was like watching a nightmare dance, as his apprentice avoided and dodged the swiping paws and snapping jaws whilst trying to get in counter swings and watch his footing on the treacherous ground. He looked ridiculously small and thin compared to the massive muscled bulk of the monster. There were a few times that Halt lost sight of his apprentice all together, as he was blotted out by the bear's frame. Gilan's razor-sharp blade drove into the bear several times and Halt saw blood, but it was nowhere near enough to stop the maddened beast. Gilan just couldn't allow himself to get close enough to drive in deep enough to kill.

Halt heaved with all his might against the logs that entrapped him as the battle ranged far and wide, with Gilan giving ground most of the time, backing closer and closer to the ravine that cut through the landscape. Halt managed to free his lower legs and redoubled his efforts on the larger log.

His apprentice had nearly backed as far as he could go when one of the bear's attacks slipped past his guard. As Gilan dodged the snapping teeth, he was hit with a backhand blow. The weight of it sent him tumbling. He skidded to a stop on the very lip of the ravine. Halt saw Gilan's wide eyes flick from the monster bear approaching him and then toward a log that spanned the ravine. Halt saw his eyes narrow and his jaw set determinedly. In that instant Halt knew what he was thinking.

"Gilan, no!" he shouted, but Gilan either didn't hear him or ignored him.

His apprentice pushed himself to his feet and began backing out onto the log, his sword pointed towards his foe. The bear hesitated for only a few moments before following the youth out onto the timber spanning the open air, the two of them balancing preciously on the shuddering length of wood.

The bear's claws digging into the wood gave it purchase, unlike Gilan's soft-soled boots. Halt saw his apprentice teeter dangerously as he tried to keep his footing on the trembling beam. The log may have started out wide but it narrowed horribly as it grew closer to the opposing side of the gorge. It wouldn't hold all that weight for much longer.

Halt, using all the strength of his upper body, managed to lift the heavy length of wood that held him. It wasn't much, but it was just enough for him to squirm his way out. The bear raised a paw to swipe and Gilan just managed to duck and keep his feet as he continued backing. Halt grabbed his bow and fired arrow after arrow at the massive beast. Even from that distance, and odd angle, his arrows hit their mark, striking the monster in the side. It reared up a little, bellowing in pain. Gilan took the opening Halt had provided and hurled his sword with all his strength into the beast's middle.

Halt's heart seemed to stop beating as a shuddering crack split the air. The log, unable to support the weight atop it any longer, snapped. It splintered just under where the bear stood reeling, a little more than three-quarters of the way across. Gilan had turned after he flung his sword and had begun running towards the opposing side. At the splintering sound of cracking, he hurled himself forward. He leaped towards the opposing wall as the flimsy bridge and bear tumbled down to the jagged rocks of the chasm below.

Time seemed to slow for Halt as he watched his apprentice's leap fall short and he too plummeted downwards.

"No..." he breathed in a stricken whisper.

He slung his bow over his shoulder and made his way to the ravine as quickly as he could. He ignored the pain of his badly sprained left ankle and bruised legs as he staggered towards the place where he had lost sight of his apprentice. He had seen how deep that ravine was on his way in. A lump caught in his throat as he finally made his limping way to the edge and looked over.

Shattered chunks of wood framed a huge black body that lay twisted and broken upon the rocks far below. Its hide was littered with arrows and Gilan's sword protruded out from its chest. He swept his gaze along the bottom, but there was nothing else lying broken upon the rocks below.

Halt's gaze moved upwards with disbelieving hope. There was a second lip that ran for quite a long ways on the opposite side of the gorge. It was about four meters below the first one. The shelf jutted out from the cliff edge for about five and a half meters and was dotted with a few gangly shrubs. Amidst the sparse vegetation Halt saw a familiar shape.

"Gilan?" He called across the gap that separated them, not caring that his voice cracked slightly. He felt himself breathe again as the shape moved, and then rose to his feet, dusting himself off.

"I'm alright, Halt," Gilan called back, "…only, I lost my favorite sword." He added his voice sounding annoyed.

Halt felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his chest. For a moment, all he could think was that swords could be replaced. His legs suddenly felt week and he folded to his knees, blinking away the mist brought on by relief that had blurred his vision. He stayed that way for a few moments.

"Um, Halt, you don't happen to have any rope, do you?" Gilan called cheerily across the chasm.

Halt shot his reckless apprentice a glare that could kill even though he knew that he knew he wouldn't be able to see it from that distance. He was going to go grey far before his time.

Getting out, for Gilan, wasn't as tricky as it first appeared. Since they had no ropes, it consisted of him free climbing up to the first lip and then finding another log that spanned the gap. Within a few minutes, he was back on the other side.

The cheery grin on his face faded rather quickly however, when he saw Halt still on the ground where he had seen him last. His mentor's left boot was off and his pant leg was rolled up, revealing a very swollen and bruised ankle and fairly nasty looking bruises mottling the rest of his leg as well.

Gilan let out a pent up breath as he moved quickly to kneel beside the grim and grizzled Ranger who had come to mean so much to him over the years. As he bent towards his mentor, he was already withdrawing a bandage from the medical kit he carried on his belt.

"Are you alright, Halt?" he asked before he could stop himself.

"Do I look alright to you?" The grizzled Ranger asked, shooting him a glare.

As the shock of everything wore off he found that a small amount of anger was currently vying for a place among the relief of seeing his apprentice alive.

"Well, considering how you looked when I first found you, I'd say you look fairly decent." His apprentice said grinning, though the grin faded some when he caught the dangerous look in Halt's eyes. "Halt?"

"Considering how I looked?" Halt asked, his tone growing dangerous. "I've told you time and time again not to rush into things haven't I, Gilan? What exactly were you thinking with that stunt you just pulled? What would have happened if that ledge wasn't there?" he demanded.

"I knew it would be," his apprentice said calmly, correctly guessing the reason behind his mentor's anger, and simultaneously feeling the grin creeping back onto his face. "I just spent all morning copying a map of this area after all. I did have a bit of an idea of what I was doing."

And Halt, who had already opened his mouth to argue the point further, closed it as he realized that it was true. Not only that, but his apprentice had had the wherewithal and foresight to figure out exactly what was going on and where it was happening. And, on top of it all, he had probably saved Halt's life.

The older Ranger realized then that that wasn't at all surprising. Gilan really wasn't a boy anymore. He wasn't that kid that Halt had taken under his wing those five years ago. He had grown increasingly capable over the years and truly was a Ranger in everything but name. He had grown up, though Halt wasn't quite sure when it had happened. And he had grown up to be a person that Halt was proud of… and proud to know.

His expression softened as the anger left as quickly as it had come. He felt a sudden surge of affection for his student and put a hand on the young man's shoulder.

"Thanks for coming, Gilan," he said sincerely.

Gilan flashed him that wide familiar grin of his that Halt had somehow grown to be so fond of over the years. And then he caught a familiar spark of mischief in the youth's eyes as well.

"So does that mean you aren't going to be angry with me, despite the fact I followed you here instead of finishing the report you gave me?"

Halt raised an eyebrow, "don't push it."

He allowed Gilan to carefully bind the ankle and then help him to his feet. By the same token, he allowed the taller Ranger to lift him slightly so he supported him as they made their slow limping progress back to the horses.

He recognized that Gilan's slightly over-caring actions had sprung from a reaction to all that had happened: seeing his mentor injured after nearly seeing him killed, as well as nearly getting killed himself. And Halt couldn't deny that he needed the support; the footing to the edge of the deadfall was still as tricky as it had been before.

"So, when are you going to tell the Baron that you've spoiled all his knights' fun?"

"I seem to recall that you had a hand in it too," Halt pointed out.

"That's true, but it was still mostly your fault." Gilan chuckled. "I'll bet he'll make you fill out a report about it to get revenge—on top of the one you'll already have to write for Crowley."

Halt snorted, "I'm injured; you can write it for me."

~x~X~x~

Gilan lay reclining with his hands pillowed behind the back of his head and one leg drawn up. Halt was resting; there was nothing wrong aside from the badly sprained ankle and the bruises. And judging by his mentor's grumpy responses that evening, Gilan was sure he was going to be alright.

It had been a long day and he was tired, but he couldn't seem to sleep. So he lay awake, thinking, staring absently at the wall of his small moonlit bedroom with the clarity that often comes with hindsight. Gilan was no fool, and he was highly observant on top of that.

He realized now that Halt hadn't left him behind because he didn't think he was ready or capable enough. He had left him behind because he'd been mother-henning him… again.

Halt had been doing that an awful lot lately after all. And Gilan just hadn't realized it for what it was today because he had been so absorbed in his own problems. And with the newfound sense of perception, which came from finally having a clear mind, he realized why Halt was doing it.

He found himself chuckling. It was comforting, in an odd sort of way, to know that Halt was having just as hard a time with his eventual going away as he was… though perhaps it wouldn't be quite as hard as he previously thought. Today had taught him something.

He did still have some reservations: fear of making mistakes or failing somehow. And he knew that he could never be Halt. Those boots were too big for anyone to fill—despite their small size. He could not help snickering at the thought.

But he had had the privilege of seeing how his mentor worked through a problem for five years. He had learned as much as he could in that time as well. He could never be Halt, but he could be Gilan. He could make a life for himself and he could learn from his mistakes. It was still scary, but not as scary as it had been.

He still didn't think he was ready enough to be a Ranger like Halt, but he was perhaps ready enough to try—to try to live like Halt had taught him, ready to learn and improve. He knew he would probably make mistakes, but he would cross those bridges when he came to them. So long as he never made the same mistakes twice, he was fairly sure he'd be alright. It wouldn't be easy, he knew, but that wasn't why he had chosen to be a Ranger.

In the next room over, Halt also could not sleep. All that had happened that day had successfully driven sleep from his mind as well. He sighed irritably and then gingerly rose to his feet, deciding abruptly that he needed a cup of coffee.

As he limped out of his room, he caught sight of the doorway to Gilan's room. He could not suppress the unconscious urge to check up on him. He peered inside slightly, expecting to see Gilan asleep, but he was not. A familiar voice met his ears.

"Did you finally get sick of looking at your reflection in the cook pot and come in search of something better?"

"It's not really much of an improvement," Halt said gruffly, but Gilan could read the smile behind his grave expression. They were well used to each other. Gilan rose to his feet, an impish smile on his face.

"I'll make the coffee."

A/N: Thanks for reading! I really hope you all enjoyed this little short. As usual, feedback is really appreciated. Let me know if you think there's something I can improve upon. I hope you all have an amazing rest of the week!

I got a lot of inspiration for this chapter from all the hiking trips I went on when the weather was warmer (living by the mountains is awesome). Nature is super beautiful and deadfalls are pretty cool. I saw my fair share of black-bears too, but they were all fairly small and none of them were interested in charging me- thankfully XD Thanks again!

~ATGTJ~