Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction, made possible by the Ranger's Apprentice by John Flanagan. I have only borrowed his creation and I make no money. For this story I have used several other Rangers from the books, though I've also added my own. I do this only in the hope to entertain…

Author's Note: No harm shall come to the characters that can't be fixed with enough coffee…

Chapter 22

Halt had tracked people before, he had tracked poachers, murderers, highwaymen, lost children and would be elopers with too many romantic notions and not enough common sense. He had tracked thieves, arsonists and his own apprentice when the fool boy had been misled in his second year.

He had tracked people he did not know if he would find alive, and he had tracked people knowing he would have to kill them. He had tracked boars, horses, pigs and man-eating bears.

Tracking the bandits now was the worst thing he had ever done.

It was easy enough, the tracks were plain as day, they did not seem to bother to try to hide where they had been. There were ashes and remains of fires, they did not seem to bother with a firepit, but every time they had stopped to eat, the ground was littered with bones, pieces of animal hide and innards. They did not seem to know what a vegetable was, and they did not seem to care what they left behind.

Most of it, Halt and Crowley rode past, it would take them too long to examine it all, but they studied the ground carefully, not wanting to miss a thing. Crowley dismounted to study an indentation in the ground while Halt gazed ahead. So far they had found no sign of Gilan, but that did not necessarily mean anything. They could be dragging him with him, and they could have disposed of the body in some way they had not realized. As careful as they tried to keep an eye out, they knew they were not infallible. They might have missed some small detail.

Sighing, his shoulders sagging Crowley mounted Cropper again. Glancing at his friend before he looked at the sky. "I think we have another two hours or so of light," he mused. "We should think about finding something for supper."

"We can have rabbit," Halt seemed to be staring off into the distance ahead of them. As if he could see his apprentice there, see what had happened to him.

"We finished it at lunch," Crowley reminded him gently. He was not surprised that Halt had forgotten, though it was not like him. This was wearing on both of them, every time they passed a corner of the trail they expected to see the dead body. Knowing that they might catch up to the band themselves, only to find out they had passed the remains of their friend and never known it. It was enough to make Crowley want to scream and he knew Halt felt the same way.

"Do we have any of those hand pies left?" Halt asked him and he shrugged.

"One, not enough for both of us."

Nodding slowly Halt looked around, trying to figure out what they might find. They were in the forested area where there weren't many farms, so there wasn't much chance of happening onto one. They might be able to find some small game bird, or another rabbit. Rabbit however was too lean to live on in the long run.

"I suppose we might find a creek, maybe catch a fish," he mused.

"Takes too long," Halt grunted.

"We need food," Crowley reminded him. "I think we should come to a creek in a bit, if we haven't found anything better by then, we probably should try."

"I suppose we might as well," grudgingly Halt agreed. They were making fairly good time. Even if they had to make sure not to move so fast they missed anything, the gang they were following were certainly in no hurry. They took long lunch breaks, made camp early and stayed late in the morning if they felt like it.

The creek was a little further away then Crowley had thought it would be, but he could see the fish jumping to the surface to take the bugs. Pleased with the notion he took his line from his pack. Moving downstream a little bit he made ready to cast his line. Halt waited where they had stopped, loosening the saddle girth on their ponies a notch or two so they could be more comfortable. He could not say he had much interest in fishing.

Gilan had liked it well enough, which would seem to go against his over energetic nature. Yet he seemed to find sitting watching the gently lapping water calming.

As he started to set up their small one man tents and gathering wood for a small fire he again felt the deep pang of grief. He missed Gilan, missed the way his brow furrowed when he was pondering something, the way he would pace when he simply could not keep still. Will had never paced, he was curious, just the same as Gilan, but he was not so energetic. He could settle down in the canvas chairs with Halt on the verandah as the sun settled. Gilan wanted to do something, and Halt had often sent him on errands and small tasks in the evening just to get him out of his hair.

There had been no need to do that with Will. He was calm enough to relax himself.

Sighing he used his flint and his saxe knife to set the kindling burning, fanning the small flame gently as he waited for the larger bits to catch. They would not get any further today, by the time they had eaten it would be too dark to track. Yet for the first time he felt the same incessant need to move as he had observed in his first apprentice. Gilan could be out there, or he was really dead, he did not know, and that was the worst part. If his apprentice was alive, and Halt sat here eating a well cooked fish while the boy sat cold and hungry…

It was enough to turn his stomach, but he knew Crowley was right, he had to eat. He needed to preserve his strength or if he did find him, he would do him no good.

It was hard though, he wanted to do nothing but mount Abelard and ride on, not stop until he caught up to them. He looked up as he heard the soft crunch of boots on the lose river stones, noting that Crowley was returning. Carrying a couple of nice looking fish in one hand, and a boot in the other.

"I found this tangled in a log," he stated as he laid the boot on the ground close to the fish. "It has got to be Gilan's."

Halt nodded grimly, it was Ranger issue alright, the soft sole boot was definitely Ranger issue, looking the same as Halt's and Crowley's own.

Picking it up Halt studied it, it was water logged and had obviously been in the water some time. The laces had been cut through, and the leather slashed in places. If there had been any blood, it had been washed away, and aside from some scuff marks and some nicks from sharp rocks. There was a worn seam that had almost split on the back that made him shake his head, Gilan always seemed to be needing new boots when it came to it. Even after he stopped growing he seemed to wear through them more rapidly than anyone else Halt knew, or, he was just telling himself that as the boy was never still.

Sighing he put the boot down, there wasn't much it could tell them. Either they had taken it from his apprentice, or, Gilan had thrown it to make a trail. Though he doubted that, if he was able to do so, he would not have taken anything as obvious as a boot, not to mention he would have known the gang left far enough tracks after them already. If Gilan was dead, one of the men could have taken his boots in the hope they would fit, and if they did not, it would be just like that kind of men to just discard them in the water. There was no way to know, no way of telling, and no sense for him to hold on to a ruined boot.

Setting it down again he exchanged a weary look with Crowley and moved to take the fish instead. "I'll clean them out so we can cook them."

His friend nodded, feeling the same way, and wishing there was some way to tell with more certainty. At first when they found no sign of a body, Crowley had dared to hope, though now he was not certain anymore. True, there had been no body in the original camp, at least not of a Ranger, but they could have disposed of it in many ways without the men following behind them being none the wiser. After all, given the time it had taken Will and Harcourt to make it back, then as he waited for Halt to return, and now the time it took them to catch up, it was more than enough to dispose of a body. Nor could he see any reason for them to keep the Ranger alive, but they were coming close to the border of the next Fief.

Digging a shallow trench in the ground to rake hot coals into he pondered the situation. They were steadily catching up, as they moved faster. He would however have liked to catch up faster. If he could figure out where they were headed, it might be possible for him and Halt to shave a few miles of the course here and there. The trick would be to make sure they would not overtake them, or lose them if they changed their direction for some reason.

Taking the prepared fish from Halt he wrapped it in leaves with some salt and a touch of garlic before wrapping it firmly in wet leaves and laying it in the shallow trench, raking more hot coals over it. It would bake nicely there, and what they did not eat for supper, they would have for lunch the next day, eliminating the need for a long stop.

While the fish baked in its own juice he took a map from his saddlebag and spread it on the ground.

"Thinking of taking a short cut?" Halt frowned.

"If we can, but I'm not sure if it will be possible," Crowley sighed. "If we had a clear idea of where they are going it might be possible, but I'm not sure. The only thing I think we can be certain of is that they probably will be avoiding the larger villages. They want to pray on the small ones and the farms." He pointed to the map with the tip of his saxe knife, "if they're low on supplies, they might head for this area, there are some small farms there. Another few days or so, they'll be in a new Fief, the question is, will they want to lie low, or raid a few farms?"

"If they had any brains, they'd lie low, given they just had a couple Ranger's after them," Halt mused.

"Or they think that makes it safe, that we won't come again," Crowley shook his head in frustration. "Frankly, I'm not sure if I'm willing to take the chance. If I was sure we would catch their trail again, I would. Or if they were moving much faster, but they're going slowly, we're gaining on them every day.

"If we suddenly had to search for their tracks, we could lose more time than we gained," Halt agreed. "As much as I want to catch up, I don't think I want to chance it."

Crowley nodded, putting the map away, "we'll keep an eye on things, if it looks like things are changing, we'll see what we do about it."

Halt nodded, cleaning off a couple of potatoes from his pack that they could bake in the coal and eat with the fish. He was eager to get on the way again, but they needed to let the fish bake, the horses could use a rest, and in the long run, it would serve them better to do so.

TBC Please review, the caffeine addicted Cricket is hungry…