Chapter Text
It had been hours. Hours of walking. Two before he finally left the forest near Dun Kilty. Then hours of avoiding the main roads. Hours of passing tiny villages. Hours of wondering where he would end up. Hours of doubting his decisions. Hours of living in fear. His heart in his throat each time he heard hooves and thought the royal guards had finally caught up to him. Panic threatening to consume him as he waited in his hiding place for the person to pass. A breath of relief when they were a simple farmer on their way to work, or a merchant transporting their wares. Hours passed, and with each step he took, his mind raised more and more worries. Questions. Then answers, which didn’t truly feel like answers. They only brought up more questions.
Was this the right decision?
Yes it was, you couldn’t stay there any longer.
But what if there was another option?
Like what? Getting yourself killed? I thought not.
What about Caitlyn?
She’ll be fine. She’ll miss you, but she’ll be fine.
What if Ferris turns on her now that I’m gone?
He won’t. He has the throne now. No reason for him to turn on her.
He’s unpredictable. I never imagined him trying to kill me, yet here we are.
His relationship with Caitlyn is different.
How?
Underneath him, twigs and leaves snapped and crunched under his booths. Above him, the treetops provided shade. They formed clouds, making it difficult for the light of the sun to reach him. Some moments he felt her warmth more than others. Some moments he didn’t feel her at all.
How is it different?
He loves her.
He was no longer walking. He was dragging his feet over the ground. His legs burned and weighed as heavy as lead. His head was light as a feather. Daggers dug in his shoulder. He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he had took a proper breath. He simply couldn’t. His lungs hurt, his throat hurt, his heart hurt. It ached and ached. It reminded him.
‘I’m still there,’ it said.
‘That’s not possible,’ he replied.
‘Why not?’
‘He ripped you out, remember?’
It did. Of course it remembered. How could it forget?
He loved me too.
See? Loved. Not loves. Loved.
Halt slumped down against the tree. He should take a break. But not here. He needed someplace safe. Here, next to the path trailing through the forest, anyone who passed could see him. There was a village close by, he had crossed that one half an hour ago. The risk of someone passing by was too high. He looked around, quickly made note of the fact that there was no good hiding place in sight, and decided he was way too tired to walk any further in search of one. The tree he had collapsed against seemed sturdy enough, and had its fair share of branches sticking out. Climbing up it was.
Halt had never had any trouble with climbing in trees. He had done that countless of times, much to his mother’s dismay. But not while injured. Especially not with only one properly working arm. He still managed to get himself up the first few branches, but not as high as he initially would have liked. Whatever. He was high enough that as long as no one searched for a teenage boy in the treetops, no one would notice him. He just needed to remain still. He could do that.
Not long after Halt had installed himself on the three branch, the sound of hooves neared. His heart rate spiked. Had someone been following him? Had the guards found him? Remaining as quiet as possible, his eyes fixed on the path where the horse and its rider would appear. They’re moving at a slow pace, he assured himself. Royal guards wouldn’t go that slow. And it seemed there was only one horse. He should be fine.
They came into view. The horse — or should he say pony? — was indeed taking its sweet time. It seemed to have no interest in going any faster, more than content with the pace it was going at. Its rider, an older white-haired man wearing a mottled cloak, seemed to have no trouble with that either. He sat relaxed in the saddle, the reigns loosely in his hands. The pair formed no real threat, Halt decided. Or wait, scrap that. Attached to the saddle was a quiver filled with arrows, and that thing around the man’s back? A bow, and not a small one either. He had no way of knowing how good the stranger was with the weapon, and he was in no mood to find out. Best to remain unnoticed.
There was something strange about the man too. Around his cloak, Halt’s vision seemed to go blurry. Was his mind playing tricks on him? Was he so tired he couldn’t see straight anymore? Why did it sometimes seem like the man’s head was floating? Halt carefully placed a hand in front of him, wanting to take a closer look. He leaned forward to shift his weight and —
CRACK
A boy fell down from the sky, taking Pritchard by surprise. Tillby neighed offendedly, displeased that her peace and quiet was interrupted. The boy yelled out in pain as he hit the ground, his ankle giving in under the weight of his body. He took a moment to gather his bearings, seemingly not having noticed Pritchard, and then looked up at him. Fear filled his eyes, and he quickly tried to get on his feet, but instead hit the ground again, a whimper escaping his lips. At the sight of the tears welling up in the boy’s eyes, Pritchard descended from his horse and walked towards him. He crouched down, smiling in what he hoped was a comforting way. ‘Are you hurt?’ he asked the frightened kid. The boy didn’t respond, but clutched his shoulder and pulled in his leg followed by a whimper of pain. Frowning, Pritchard looked at the sling around his shoulder.
‘You climbed in a tree while you were injured?’
The boy turned his gaze to the ground, not wanting to look in those all too seeing eyes.
‘That was not your brightest idea, now was it?’
The boy’s cheeks turned a bright shade of red.
‘What’s a boy like you doing around here anyways? Are you lost?’
His eyes were still stubbornly fixed to the ground, but the kid finally mumbled a response. ‘No, I’m not.’
Pritchard raised an eyebrow. ‘I see. Are your parents around perhaps?’
The kid’s head jerked up, a hint of fright in his eyes. Then he determinedly shook his head.
‘Alright then. I’ll take you to my cabin, get you patched up.’
Halt had been unsure at first. It didn’t seem like a good idea to go to this random stranger’s house, but the man had been friendly to him and hadn’t pressed on it. He had simply taken his horse by the reigns, gestured at Halt that he could mount if he wanted to, and waited until he had made a decision. Halt knew that he wouldn’t be able to go far with his injured ankle, which hurt at even the slightest bit of weight put on it, and even though this man was a stranger, he had shown no signs that he wanted to hurt him. Halt had then decided that he couldn’t really do anything else but accept the offer, so now he was laying on the stranger’s couch, in the stranger’s living room, in the stranger’s cabin in the forest. That stranger was now rummaging through his cabinets, in search for the needed medical equipment. He sat down next to Halt, his hands full with everything he might need. ‘Can you tell me where exactly you’re hurt?’
‘I landed on my ankle,’ Halt replied after hesitating for a moment. ‘And my right shoulder hurts. My head too. And I think my ribs are bruised.’
‘Pretty banged up, are we?’
Halt averted his eyes. He feared he would start to tear up again if he thought about his injuries and everything leading up to them too much.
‘Don’t worry, kid. I’ll take care of you.’
‘Thanks,’ Halt managed to whisper.
The stranger’s touch was soft and gentle, in contrast with his strong and calloused hands. But no matter how careful he was around Halt’s injuries, Halt still flinched when the stranger tended to his shoulder, and cried out in pain while he splinted his broken ankle. ‘It’s okay. You’re doing great,’ the stranger comforted him. ‘I’m almost done. It’s okay.’
When all of Halt’s injuries were finally tended to, the man stood up to put his supplies away, giving Halt a supporting pat on his good shoulder as he walked away. ‘You can close your eyes for a bit, if you’d like. I’ve got a few more things to do around the house, and then I’ll make dinner.’
Way too exhausted from everything that had happened the past two days to question the trustworthiness of the stranger, Halt closed his eyes and fell asleep.
After he had taken care of Tillby and given her something to eat, Pritchard re-entered his cabin. The boy, who had been asleep when he went to Tillby’s stable half an hour ago, was now slowly waking up, groggily taking in his surroundings. He suddenly jerked up, probably alarmed by the strange environment, but calmed down when he saw Pritchard, recognising the man who had helped him a few hours ago. He nodded in acknowledgement, and Pritchard smiled in return. Seeing the boy again suddenly reminded him of something.
‘I just realised I never asked you about your name.’ He didn’t know if the boy was actually going to answer. So far, the kid had responded to him exactly three times, so he didn’t estimate his chances too high.
The boy stared him down. ‘Halt.’
‘Just Halt?’
The boy nodded confidently, a look in his eyes that dared Pritchard to ask further. ‘The rest doesn’t matter.’
Pritchard nodded once. He didn’t expect the boy to talk about himself if he didn’t want to.
‘And yours?’
‘Pritchard.’
‘Just Pritchard?’ Halt replied mockingly.
A twinkle appeared in Pritchard’s eyes. ‘The rest doesn’t matter.’
The look in the boy’s eyes was somewhere between appreciative and wary. ‘Guess we’re even then.’
Pritchard smiled. ‘Are you hungry?’
Halt thought about it for a moment. ‘Depends on how good your cooking is,’ he then replied.
That earned him an insulted huff by the old man. ‘I can assure you, if it wasn’t good, I hadn’t survived this long.’
‘Alright then. What are you making?’
‘I was thinking of making a stew.’
Halt nodded. He then looked like he wanted to say something, but hesitated. Of course, Pritchard had noticed. ‘Something wrong?’
‘No.’
Accepting the fact that getting any kind of information out of the boy would be difficult, Pritchard turned around and grabbed the things he would need.
‘Can I help?’ Halt sounded a bit unsure, as if he was scared Pritchard might be angry with the question.
Pritchard turned around again, a small smile around his lips. ‘Of course you can. Peel the potatoes will you?'