Angie followed the Ranger down the stairs and out of the keep. He whistled to his horse, which was exactly where he had left it, and just kept walking. At the gate they were joined by the little horse which tagged along like a dog. The Ranger never turned to make sure she was following. He never turned to see if the horse was coming. He just walked…
All the way down to his little cabin in the woods. Angie had been there before, she snuck out of the castle on a semi-regular basis and this was one her less frequented spots. She liked to try and figure out what it was that the Ranger did, but all she ever saw the Ranger doing was reading mail or playing a lute with a black dog lounging at his side.
Not very exciting.
Now her parents would never be able to save her, she was trapped with the weird Ranger. Could she decline his forced apprenticeship? Was that an option? Surely he would not keep her here if this was not what she wanted. Or not since this was obviously some form of punishment for all her wrong doings at the Redmont.
He climbed the steps, patting the dog on the head. The horse stopped in the yard looking expectantly up at his owner. Angie was still standing in the yard, afraid to pass a dog that could attack her and scared of what would happen once she entered that cabin. Would climbing those steps be the same as accepting that she was the Ranger's apprentice?
And why did the horse just stand there? It stood next to her with big brown eyes looking between her and the door. Was it expecting her to just climb those stairs?
It's a horse, she scolded herself. Horses are not that intelligent.
But he was still looking at her, and she knew it was with expectations.
Angie could admit the fact that sometimes she let her imagination run wild, she could also own up to the fact that she sometimes personified things. But the horse was really expecting something to happen. And as if to prove the point, he pushed her toward the steps. It was a coincidence, she told herself.
But the shaggy grey pony was insistent. When she still refused to climb the steps to the veranda the horse pushed her again. Then the dog became involved, it loped down the stair to her side and started pushing against her leg. Both of the animals, which Angie had never seen behaving in such a strange manner before, where trying to get her in that cabin. And Angie was just as determined not to go, if only to irritate the animals.
"Enough," the Ranger finally intervened with a swift hand motion. The dog sat instantly, sweeping his tail over the grass and smacking the backs of Angie's feet as if still trying to get her to cross the yard and enter the cabin. The horse stopped butting her, but it was still entirely to close for Angie's liking. "You don't have to come in right away, but I thought you would like some lunch before we get started."
As if on cue, Angie's stomach growled. She was hungry. But accepting the food would mean she approved of this whole situation. And Angie did not approve of any of this.
"If I eat, do I have to be your apprentice?"
"You don't have to be anything. I just thought you would like it," the Ranger said after a few minutes careful thought. Or perhaps he was just stalling, what if he was making her say these things, making the animals act strangely, he was a Ranger after all. And Ranger's had unnatural powers. "Not everyone is chosen to be Ranger."
"Not everyone is chosen to be sent to the Ward either," she returned. "No one chooses that actually."
"No," he spoke gently, as if he was blaming himself for her time in the Ward at Redmont. "But great people have come out of the Ward."
"Like who," she was a bit more intrigued than she intended, and maybe let it show a bit too much. There was hardly anyone in the Ward, Angie's group had been the largest in over thirty years, and there were only six of them.
"Well," he looked like he was actually thinking about who to tell her about. He stroked his beard, an action that made him seem almost normal. "George Carter grew up in the Ward."
The stuffy, know-it-all Scribe Master came from the Ward. That was impossible, he was ancient. And he was too important to have been an orphan.
"The King himself grew up in the Ward," the Ranger continued, nodding his head briefly.
"You're lying," the words were out before she could stop them. Angie had never really developed a thinking process. If the idea came to mind she said it, and that had caused her a lot of trouble. Like it was now, the Ranger's brow knitted together as he looked down on her.
"I would never lie about the Royal Family. King Horace grew up a Ward at Redmont," his tone changed so drastically, Angie was a little frightened. "I also grew up in the Ward, with Horace and George."
The Ranger grew up in the Ward? Not only that but he grew up in the Ward with the King and the stuffy Scribe Master. Made up or not, that was a pretty good story. One worthy of Angie's imagination, but how could this Ranger honestly expect her to believe that the King of Araluen was raised an orphan at Redmont? Kings were not orphans; they were mighty heroes, knights who saved damsels and competed in tourneys.
But, recalling what little history that had actually stuck with her, Angie could vaguely remember something about King Horace coming from Redmont Fief in the company of Rangers. And if she was actually recalling fact not her imaginative stories, he saved a lot of people in the company of the Rangers including Princess, now Queen, Cassandra. Angie was almost positive one of those Rangers had been called Will. And the grim faced Ranger before her was called Will. Maybe it was true.
"Why would I want to be a Ranger," she opted not to contest the Ranger any more about the Wards of Redmont. If amazing people came from there, they did; far be it for her to say otherwise.
"You want adventure don't you," the question took her by surprise.
Angie had never told anyone about her dreams of adventure, of seeing new places, of performing great deeds. She had always held that close with the images she concocted of her heroic parents. How could this Ranger know that she dreamt of something more?
"You feared today would come and you'd be sent to Wensley as some sort of serving girl," it was more statement than question, and it was too close to home to be a guess.
"How did you," she spoke before she could stop it, a grim smile touched his features again with single brow rising. Angie could tell he was trying not to smile, but he was failing miserably. "Why me? Johnny would have made a much better Ranger."
"You didn't leave," he said simply.
More riddles, Angie repressed a sigh. Would she ever receive answers straightly? Or would the rest of her life be spoken with a code she would never be able to decipher?
"I don't understand."
"The office, this morning. You didn't run off when I left you there," his tone was similar to the one that Thomas used when he was repeating things to Angie. She wrinkled the nose at the similarity.
Did he know she had thought about running away? Had he been watching, obviously; he had probably expected her to run for it so he could chase her down and curse her with his black magic. But she had stayed, and mentally she scolded herself. That was what had landed her here; too many lectures from Thomas about rules and responsibilities and a fear of the man in the dappled cloak.
"You would have come after me," she said weakly, beginning to doubt if he would have come after her.
"Yes, I would have. I would have taken you back to the Ward for Choosing Day and you probably would have been apprenticed to the Diplomatic Services." Angie felt her jaw go slack. "You would have been great as a Courier, but Lady Helena, the Baron and I all agree, you'll make a better Ranger."
She could be a Courier. She could walk back up to the Castle and tell Lady Helena that the life of the Ranger was not for her. She could spend the rest of her life exactly like she had planned with Mandy. She looked over her shoulder to the trees. Was it a choice or a ruse?
"So if I say no to this," she turned back to the Ranger and motioned to the cabin and animals with a wave of her hand, "and go back to the Castle, Lady Helena would apprentice me?"
"Probably not," he stroked his salt and pepper beard again. "She was very adamant that you become a Ranger. She said she'd not seen someone so inclined for mischief since I was a boy."
Lady Helena had been in the Castle when the Ranger was a Ward, if he was actually a Ward? That made her older than the wrinkly Scribe Master! "What does that mean," she decided to ask questions that seemed less rude.
"Nothing," there was a glint in the Ranger's eye. It was like he knew she was hooked on this conversation. "It's just that you have a tendency to sneak around."
"A talent you admire," she dared to hope. Perhaps she could do this Ranger thing. It seemed she already had skills they were after.
"With training yes, sneaking is a Ranger's specialty."

According to the grim faced man sneaking was a good talent to have. Angie agreed, she liked being able to eavesdrop on people, and she like having the upper hand on Johnny whenever possible. The actions of the Ranger, or an apprentice Ranger, were not what Angie had expected. They started with chores.
"It seems I forgot to fetch the water this morning," he said as soon as Angie had entered the little cabin. He had a look of shame on his face, but Angie could tell he was faking it. She was a master at feigning looks after all. The Ranger had purposefully not fetched the water so she would have too. "Why don't you take those buckets and fill the barrel while I start on lunch."
How he intended to start lunch without any water was beyond Angie, but she had the feeling pointing it out would only land her in trouble. So Angie took up the two wooden buckets and started out the door.
When she finally filled the water barrel on the edge of the veranda the air around the cabin smelled wonderful. The horse was no longer in the yard, and Angie could not see him in the paddock behind the cabin. He must have wondered off, she thought was satisfaction. It served the Ranger right after tormenting her all morning.
When she entered the cabin again two places were set at the simple table with two mugs. Angie frowned at the mugs? What was she expected to do, drink sludge water? That was not happening.
After she washed up they sat down to eat. The smell was nothing compared to the taste, this Ranger could really fix a mean meal, it might have been better than the Yule feasts at the castle. Angie felt like she inhaled her share of the meal and spent the rest of it eyeing the Ranger's plate expectantly.
"So, you're horse," she finally decided to breach the missing horse subject once the Ranger finished eating.
"What about him," the Ranger held in mug in both hands, breathing in the aroma wafting from the brown liquid.
"He's not out there," she was watching him cautiously, half expecting him to start shouting and ordering Angie up to go and locate him. But the Ranger's face did not change. He even took a long drink from his mug and smacked his lips in satisfaction.
"No, I don't suppose he would be," Will set his coffee mug down looking around the little cabin. "I imagine he went to visit Young Bob."
More riddles, Angie chewed on her lip. So the horse was just wandering around fully tacked, that seemed like a far cry from normal. "Shouldn't you go, I don't know, look for him?"
"I'm sure he's fine," Will smiled spotting something that required Angie's attention. "But those pots back there," he shook his head making a clicking sound with his tongue, "They could use some looking after."
Angie turned to see what pots Will was talking about. Piled by a small sink were the beginnings of a decent mound of filthy dishes. And "looking after" would translate into scrubbing, Angie's stomach dropped. Menial labor, just like she feared.
Only this was worse, she had a crazy Ranger watching her every move.
After scrubbing the pots, Angie dusted the rugs from all three rooms in the cabin. Then Will claimed that there were too many ashes in the hearth and his fire had no hopes of survival which was a problem that only Angie could rectify. After that there were ashes all over the floor, and that simply would not do. She swept the whole cabin and dusted one of the rugs again. After that Will discovered a shortage of fire wood, at least with that chore he offered some help, Angie had been unable to swing the axe to cut the wood.
At sunset, when Will finally felt she had cleaned everything that could be cleaned in the cabin he allowed her to sit at the table while he prepared the evening meal. Angie was exhausted, as soon as she sat down her head hit the table and she was fast asleep.