A/N Thanks to the wonderful anon who asked me to keep going, and for all the just as wonderful people who reviewed, and *excited squeal* faved and followed! Dedicated to you guys (of course). And, big oopsie, I forgot the disclaimer last chapter. Here we go: I do not own RA, Halt, Will, or the Rangers. The former is the property of one J. Flanagan, and the others belong to no-one, being HUMAN BEINGS. I do not approve of slavery, people.
Will was just putting two steaming mugs of coffee on the weathered oaken table when Halt emerged into the room, wearing a face that showed quite clearly that if Will even mentioned the events of last night he would end up shooting two hundred arrows at speed and running twenty kilometres in the following eight hours.
Unfortunately, his face also showed quite clearly that Halt was not in much of a better state than the aforementioned previous night. He had dark shadows under his eyes, contrasting sharply with his pallid face, and Will noted his hand had a tremor in it as he sat down and grasped the coffee mug with a grunt of thanks and raised it to his lips, momentarily ignoring the bacon, eggs and toast Will had cooked.
Despite Halt drinking two mugs of coffee, he picked at his food, glaring at Will as he opened his mouth to express his concern. Will closed his mouth quickly, but was still worried enough to wash the plates outside the cabin, instead of downstream as he usually did, to keep an eye on his mentor.
That was a good thing, too, as, half-way through scouring the pan he'd cooked the meal in, he heard a slight sound from the cabin. It was something not many people would notice, but Will, attuned to the sound spectrum of the forest, heard it and instantly knew it was out of place.
It was the sound of Halt crumpling to the floor, unconscious.
Yep, I'm cruel. But then, most of us authors are. Thanks again to everyone. hands out cookies with optional coffee*