This story: Somebody threatens Horace during one of the rare times he's unable to defend himself, but luckily Will's there and...

"How's your arm doing?" Will asked, breaking the silence that had stretched on for minutes between them.

Horace shrugged and glanced down at his arm in the sling. "It's okay," he said. "At least this road isn't too bumpy, and it doesn't hurt if I don't touch it."

"There's a town coming up a few miles ahead. We can stop there for the night and get up early tomorrow."

Will and Horace's destination wasn't too far ahead. Will knew they could reach it in the next day or two, even behind schedule. Like the knight said, if Kicker moved too fast or they traveled on a rough shortcut, it would jerk his arm around too much and hurt him. It only cost them half a day, at the most to go the normal route. Horace protested "no, it's fine, let's just get to Norgate as soon as possible; I'll deal" but Will couldn't agree.

"Great," Horace said with a smile. "If they ask, make sure to tell them the story, okay?"

Will rolled his eyes. Horace had invented a fake explanation for why his arm was broken. First he planned to say that he punched somebody so hard he broke his arm, but Will told him that was stupid so Horace thought of something better. The story was, a couple of assassins tried to launch a surprise attack on the two while they slept. One out of the five shot Will's arm before he could get to his arrows, so Horace stepped in front of him and fought the five men all by himself.

He was strong enough to defeat all of them. The last man disarmed Horace, but then Horace punched him in the face when he saw on open target. (For the record, Will said that was also stupid but Horace wouldn't listen.) It took him by surprise and knocked the man's sword from his hand. With both their weapons gone, Horace and the assassin fought hand-to-hand. Horace won, but broke his arm in the fight. Weird how everything was so detailed and thought out, up until the actual breaking of the arm, which ended up being unconvincingly vague.

Well, that was the story, anyway. What really happened was much different: during one of their midday breaks Horace thought he heard something stirring around them, hidden in the bushes. Naturally he went to go check it out.

Everything seemed normal, but Horace was still on edge. It wasn't the threat of danger that put Horace on edge so much as it was his physical and mental tension at the moment, but he got very anxious. He turned around, slowly, and saw an animal behind him that hadn't been there before. His heart lurched in his chest. He almost screamed, but it came out a small squeak. It didn't matter that that animal who'd startled him to the point of a small heart attack was just a bunny.

Horace tipped off balance and fell, backwards… down the steep slope of the hill behind him. Somewhere along the way he hit a big rock and it broke his arm, or the impact of the landing when he finally stopped rolling broke it. Either way, when he got to the bottom, Horace had a broken arm.

Somehow he managed to get up the hill by himself without alerting Will about anything. He only got around to mentioning it to Will a few minutes later, after Will finished feeding Tug and Kicker… to which Will yelled, "WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME SOONER YOU HAD A BROKEN ARM?!" Horace honestly didn't have an answer.

"Fine," Will sighed, in response to Horace's question. "I won't tell them a bunny broke your arm…" He grinned.

Horace looked away, growing red in the cheeks. "Shut up," he said. "It could've been an assassin or something. Someone out to get us."

"Thank God it wasn't. You would've still fallen if it was."

They got to the town as the sun was going down, and checked into the best looking inn they saw. It wasn't the best place ever, but it didn't look infected with every disease on the planet, so it'd have to do.

Horace immediately went down to the restaurant to get some dinner, and Will joined him after putting up his weapons in the room. He took a small combat knife with him down to eat, but nothing too obvious.

One of the catches of this mission was that Will and Horace were going undercover. Therefore, Will had not brought his ranger cloak, Horace wasn't carrying anything on him that could be easily traced back to the king, and neither had brought any unusual weapons. They invented fake names and backstories on the way up to make themselves believable. Will doubted they'd have to use them, though.

Will sat down in a chair next to Horace, just as the waitress was taking his drink order. Will still didn't want to drink any alcohol, so he ordered water and Horace got a glass of ale.

Things were normal for a time… Will was facing the door, to watch it in case somebody familiar or suspicious walked in. It was common procedure for a ranger, and it paid off. Minutes after they got their drinks, two, at least six foot tall figures stepped in the room and caught Will's attention.

Just looking at them, he knew they were trouble. They had that aura, and Will had that flawless ranger intuition that made him dangerous even without his bow.

Horace noticed his friend's suspicion raised and followed his eyes to where the two new arrivals were. "Don't stare too long," Will muttered, his words barely audible. If both of them were looking, then the two men would definitely notice their table.

"Do you know them?" Horace asked.

"No, but I know they're trouble."

Horace snorted. "You rangers," he said, "you're like hunting dogs."

"It helps."

Will never fully took his eyes off them, but the men never made a move. They just sat down and ordered their drinks like everyone else. At one point they did give Will a quick glance when they felt him staring, but Will immediately pretended like he was looking at someone else and then laid low.

He and Horace had a good, hearty dinner, perfect after a day of traveling. Will was ready to head up to their room to sleep, but Horace insisted on feeding Kicker a spare apple from dinner first. The knight spoiled his horse way too much… but Will used to, too. They walked back to the stables.

"Theeere you go, boy," Horace cooed, petting his horse on the side of his head as he devoured the snack.

Will leaned up against the stable wall with his arms crossed. He smiled, looking at Horace. He was too kind sometimes. Kicker nuzzled Horace's broken arm with his nose, and Horace grunted. "Ow, what'd you do that for?" he asked. Kicker looked at him, confused.

Will faintly heard the restaurant door opening, but he didn't pay attention to it. He was too preoccupied laughing at Horace and his horse out to get him. Fortunately he was alert enough to spot, out of the corner of his eye, a large shadow approaching the stables. His grin vanished. Then the shadows split into two.

Will didn't make any big moves yet… If he acted too hostile before they even did anything, they'd know something was up. Normal people didn't threaten somebody that tall, or that dangerous-looking, especially when there were two of them. If they didn't notice that, then they'd assume he was bluffing and attack him. Then Will would have to beat them, and they'd definitely suspect him, and… everything would go bad. Will had to keep his identity a secret. Still, he kept on his feet and reminded himself of where his knife was on his body.

"Oi, horse boy," one of them said.

Horace turned only his head around and looked at them. It took him barely a second to recognize them as the two men inside. Even so, he hid his suspicion like a pro and greeted them with a light, friendly tone. "Oh, hello," he said, "can I help you with something?"

"I'd imagine you could." The two men stepped into the stables, and Will flattened his body against the wall shrouded in darkness. He wished he had his ranger cloak. If he kept still, though, he could stay out of sight without his cloak. He was wearing dark clothes for a reason.

The other man, the one on the right who hadn't spoken yet, reached into his belt and drew out a well-sized knife. "Put up your hands, and give us your money," he demanded.

Horace's eyes widened just a fraction of a centimeter. Like he was scared of two ordinary street robbers. Nevertheless, Horace was smart and knew that if he didn't do something they would attack. He put his good arm up.

Will wasn't worried; Horace had beaten guys bigger, taller, and tougher, with bigger knives. But they realized at the same time that Horace's right arm was unusable. Will almost gasped out loud.

It wasn't such a big deal before because what they were going to do on their mission, hopefully, wouldn't involve a lot of fighting. They hadn't expected this. It was up to Will if these men decided to get violent.

"Hey, easy," Horace said. He was a little more scared now but it didn't show. "I-I don't have anything."

"What'd you pay for dinner with, then?" the right man spat.

Horace couldn't resist. "Money," he answered, smirking. "Money I don't have anymore. You see, I paid with it."

The men sneered. "Don't be smart," the left one, the slightly smaller one, snapped. "Reach into your pockets and give us all you have!" The right man stepped forward and jabbed his knife farther out, closer to Horace's throat.

They didn't even hear Will sneak up behind them. He pressed the blade of his knife to the right man's throat, almost but not quite drawing blood. "Didn't you hear him?" the ranger growled into his ear. "He doesn't have any."

Both thieves were startled by Will's sudden appearance. "Where'd you come from?!" the left one gasped. He fumbled around to pick out his own knife and hold it threateningly at Will.

"You guys didn't see me when you walked in," Will said. "Now put the knives away. If you're nice, I'll be nice too."

Although it was a little off-putting that Will just appeared out of nowhere, the men were smart enough to realize that it was two against one. They gave each other matching glances, and knew the other was thinking the same thing. While Will was waiting for an answer, the right one, the taller one he had his knife against threw an elbow back into Will's stomach. Will grunted, and the man took that chance to slip out of his choke.

"Put up your hands," the thief ordered. "Give us your money."

"I don't think so." If Will was right, then these men were impulsive and impatient, like most criminals were. He waited for them to attack first.

Then, out of nowhere, Horace ran up beside Will and tightened his good hand into a fist. "Two against two," he said.

Will looked at Horace like he was mad. "What?" he asked. "No, your arm is broken. Broken."

"I have two arms."

"It's your right arm! Get over there!" Will exclaimed, meaning over to Kicker. If Horace got involved with this, he would most surely not come out of it without a scratch. Will would die before he let Horace do that. "I can take care of them by myself!" he said.

"Like hell!" The taller right man yelled it, then launched forward with an attack to Will's throat. He was going right for the kill. What ruthless thieves they are, Will thought.

Even when his guard was lowered because of Horace, Will was still ready. He pushed Horace to the right and leaned left, far enough to avoid the knife.

He was still not going to kill them. Will had the perfect opening, and the perfect opportunity to stab the man in the stomach and let him bleed out, or let his friend run to get a doctor, but instead he butted him with the hilt of the sword and knocked the breath out of him. Then the elbow of that same arm came up and hit him in the chin. The man stumbled away, dropping down to one knee, but clearly alive when he could've been dead. Lucky for him, Will only killed in desperation.

But Will didn't get a second of rest. The other thief was attacking as soon as his partner got hit the first time, with a different strategy. He moved around Will, almost avoiding him, over to Horace to take him hostage. Or kill him. Either or. Despite how calm he was, Will's heart jerked in his chest, just enough to trigger his emotions. He willed himself to do something, but by the time he saw what was happening it was too late.

Horace put up his fists to hit him, but his only strike came from one hand and couldn't be followed by another. Meaning, he couldn't fake him out, and he couldn't throw combinations.

The thief almost didn't avoid it. He angled it away, with the bottom palm of his hand, but it was so off-target the punch slid off his hand at the last moment. Luckily for him, it slid off where his head wasn't.

Once he (badly) blocked it, he swung around behind Horace and held him in a choke. Horace's arm was bound too so he couldn't hit him if he tried. The knife was shaking threateningly towards the skin of his throat, and Will got the impression he wasn't bluffing.

Will usually tried to be as emotionless as possible when he fought, because sometimes feelings got in the way of his better judgement. Halt had taught him that.

But rage boiled inside him when he saw that blade next to Horace's neck so much he wanted to scream. He clutched his knife tightly in his hand, so hard his knuckles turned white, but he stopped himself before making any sudden moves. There was no way he could reach him before the thief could kill Horace.

Meanwhile, the hurt man from before was standing up, blood running from his mouth and all. Will had one knife. Horace was being held hostage. Two against one, now. He felt trapped.

The taller man, farthest away from Horace, snickered. "Not so cocky now, huh?"

But Will had a plan.

He looked back and forth, from one man to another, only moving his eyes. His body stayed completely still, but loose. He was stiff, but agile. We're getting out of this alive, he told himself.

"Try me," Will said.

Don't mind if I do, the right man said, smirking. He came right at Will, gripping his knife confidently in one hand, running at full power.

It was too fast for him to see. Will looked at Horace and, without hesitation, threw his knife at his head. His arm and the weapon looked like a blur when they moved. Will threw his knife before the man reached him, and then turned around in just enough time to see the thief's body, analyze it, and place his body in the perfect position to counter.

The thief's arms were already moving and he couldn't change his attack by the time Will had thought of exactly how to beat him. Will didn't stop his arm, but redirected it to the side of his body, out of the way, and left himself enough space to counter. The right man was smart this time, and had his other arm guarding his body instead of just down at his side. It didn't matter, though, because Will was facing his back and not the open side.

He threw a fast knife hand strike to the back of his neck (to substitute for his own knife…), which may have been a little harsh, but dammit he wasn't going to play nice anymore. He didn't give guys like these second chances.

It all came so naturally to him. His muscles moved in perfect clockwork, hips opening in the opposite way to hit the man's stomach and take him completely off balance. He was a tornado, a whirlwind. As soon as he swept the man's foot out behind him, as soon as he threw another hit to his stomach, he hopped on that same leg, with perfect, unwavering balance and lifted his other. The man was too close for him to throw a full kick, but he hit him with a just as powerful knee right to the gut. He could've put a hole right through him. The thief hit the ground like he was falling from the top of the building.

Will felt like he overreacted, but it didn't matter now. He was never going to see him again.

"Two against one," Will muttered. "Sure."

He looked over his shoulder at Horace. The man behind Horace was already slumped down against the wall, dead or dying as they spoke. Will's knife had gone straight through his forehead.

Then the ranger's emotions overtook him. He rushed over to his obviously frightened friend. "Horace!" he gasped, putting his hands on either sides of the knight's arms. "Are you okay?"

Horace nodded. "Yeah, I'm fine…" He was talking, but his mind was somewhere else. "Will… just, whoa."

"I didn't plan to kill them," Will said. "But when you're in a situation like that, two to one…"

"No, I get it. I think you did the right thing." Horace glanced from body to body. The taller man, who attacked Will last was out cold. "You think he'll come get revenge?" he asked. Smart question.

"No," Will replied, shaking his head. "It's dark enough in here that they couldn't have seen my face too well. Plus, I doubt they'll ever want to come near me again…"

Horace nodded again and smiled. "Yeah, they know not to mess with us."

Will rolled his eyes. On his way out of the stables he called back to his friend, "Us? You were their hostage."

"I tried to help!" Horace ran after him. "I have a broken arm!"

"Which you got from a bunny."

"I told you to shut up about that!" Will laughed.

They headed back to their room, and slept like the dead that night. Will couldn't help but be a little bit paranoid, and stayed up an extra hour or two just in case anybody wanted to take another shot at them.

But nobody came. Will smiled. He had protected both of him.