Ranger's Apprentice One Shots

Bound

The arrow hit its mark, flying to the target board and smacking dead center. His arms slowly dropped, relaxing all strain from holding the bow. Will smiled grimly, appreciating his sixth perfect round of shots in a row. It was getting boring. He'd need a change of target soon.

Yellow leaves drifted around him, like bright snowflakes, peppering his hair and landing in his cowl. With a grunt, he pulled free the arrows and placed them back in his quiver that rested just below his thigh.

He glanced back at the cabin. It had been unusually quiet, even though he knew no one was in it. His mentor, Halt, had been called away for urgent business in Seacliff fief for a few days, and had instructed Will to practice. Will found it odd; why hadn't his mentor taken him along? They seldom separated on missions like these, as it was good for and part of the training of an apprentice.

But Halt brushed him off, telling him that his need was in Redmont. With him gone, Redmont now needed a Ranger, and Crowley couldn't afford to place another one there, forcing that fief to be empty.

Will took it as a huge compliment — that he was enough for the fief. He was, after all, a third year Ranger, and he looked it. There was no sense of unfamiliarity with his weapons or cloak, and as he rode through Redmont Village every morning and evening, the villagers appreciated that. As young as he was, Will clearly had enough training to watch around for a few days.

He wandered back to the shooting point and narrowed his eyes, then in a swift moment, dropped to one knee, nocked, drew, and shot, then before the arrow hit it's perfect mark, he rotated to his other knee, bending in what would be a dodge form a punch, and knocked, drew, and shot. To arrows thumped satisfactorily.

He rolled, as if to avoid an arrow shot at him, then back on one knee again, shot. Two arrows on the line, left knee. Crouch, and shoot. Run and shoot. Will tried every shot in the book, varying up his shooting angles.

Will shot the last arrow and sighed in relief. All shots made it into the innermost ring.

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"Are you insane, Will?" Halt exploded. "You know how bad that looks on you?"

Will lowered his head, suitably chastised, but nevertheless tried to excuse himself. "Halt, I didn't think—"

"No, you didn't!"

" —But am I not allowed to have friends? To go out with them?" Will fought back, standing up. His words slurred together, creating a jumble of letters, nearly indistinguishable.

The night stood still, no wind in the trees, and the air thick with a coming rainstorm. Raccoons gathered their food, scrambling away and birds quickly flew to their nests, awaiting the storm. The air was fraught with tension, and indoors was no different.

The cabin, which usually was quiet and cozy, now was anything but. The fire was out, darkness crept over the surfaces, as if the angel of death had appeared, and the older man's face was ghostly pale, only anger sparkling in his eyes.

"No, Will," Halt said."You can't have friends. Not like that."

"Well, then I don't have any friends at all!" he shouted, his head swimming at the noise. "You think you have all the power, don't you, Halt? Well, it's about time I have a say." His tongue mumbled, his "S" slurring.