| Halt's Ranger Apprentices | This is War | Volume 2 |

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Annabelle was trained to fight, to use her skills she was taught against her enemy. she was trained to react on instinct without hesitation, but how could she react on instinct against her enemy when it Devon her friend and all her instincts were suddenly thrown out the window in the time between the three steps Devon had taken toward her, the lethal weapon dangling in his hands, the sun glinting off of it in a teasing manner to show what she was up against with her bare hands. 

But even without weapons, Annabelle was skilled in hand to hand combat, but it was all she could do to lift her hands up in surrender. 

"Devon, please." It was all that could venture out of Annabelle's eye lids as she watched her friend become her enemy. Annabelle focused on the smudge of dirt on Devon's left cheek, watched as it was disrupted by a tear strolling it way down his face, all the anger and grief filling that single tear, and suddenly it felt like she was no where near Devon, like she was standing among trees where moss grew at their trunks and the smell was so familiar it hit her with nostalgia. It was home in Araluen and she was didn't know who Devon or all the people she had met before she was caught by the Wargals were.

And, it took a second for Annabelle to realise that she was whispering. No, not whispering, sobbing. It was like a constant repetition of the same words over and over again.

"Where's Will?" It came out of her mouth in a cracking voice. "Where's Will?" Annabelle tried to stop herself, but it was like her entire body was forcing it out of her, like it was necessity. 

Annabelle blinked, Devon coming into vision once again, but this time closer, the Saxe Knife inching closer to her chest, but the words still echoed in her head. Devon didn't rush reaching to her, his steps slow with the emotion almost pouring out with the revenge he was seeking with ever crack of a twig he stood on. 

Scanning her surroundings, blades were pressed against everyone's chests, a smile too bright among the grim faces catching Annabelle's eye, the realisation hitting her like one of the blades pressed against the skin of her friend's skin. 

It was Loran grinning like a fool as he watched his nephew angry and ruthless in his state of mind staring at her, the gloom swallowing the once gleaming light that the sun had reflected off of. 

Annabelle was the only one who stood with out a blade against her, apart from Will who still lay unconscious and yet she couldn't push herself to move. 

Where's Will?

The words bounced off the inside walls of Annabelle's mind, as she took a long gaze upon the scene. Wargals were no where too be seen, but instead bandits held her friends, familiarity striking Annabelle of the leader, Sarge, now realising that this was the same group of bandits that had helped catch her a while ago. 

Where's Halt?

"I knew there was something special about you." Loran's words laced with evil glee. "First you were just interesting to be a girl with fighting skills, then you were intriguing when you didn't speak a single word after all the torture Morgarath put you through." Annabelle blinked away the memories of the pain that sang to the tune of the whip Morgarath had slashed upon her back.

Where's Duncan?

"And then you became suspicious with my nephew taking an interest in you, but now as you can see that interest has crashed and burned." A laugh so cruel escaping through the Skandian's lips, as all eyes fell on Devon with his chest heaving from the emotions exploding through him. "And then you escaped, and that's when you just became annoying."

Where's home?

Standing up, Loran strolled happily toward Annabelle, and stopped once he was close enough for Annabelle to feel his warm Ale stinking breath blowing his hair. Bending down he whispered in her ear, so quietly she could barely hear him. "But now you're the heir to the throne of Araluen." Loran then licked his lips to emphasise his interest that had now bloomed in him.