It had been raining all day.

Horace was shivering in his saddle underneath his ice-cold chain mail, and Will wasn't much better. Like Horace, every article of clothing on his body had been soaked through in the downpour, and he was colder than he had been in a long time. Water streamed down their faces, and even Tug and Kicker shifted uncomfortably as they struggled to keep their footing in the blinding rain.

For most of the day they had ridden in a wide circle all the way around the edge of Redmont. Horace was in front, moving as quietly as possible, while Will was on high alert behind him with an arrow on the bowstring. It was an improvised version of 'look, shout, shoot', where Will watched from behind, ready to drop anything that appeared, and Horace, since his sword didn't have a fast reaction time like Will's bow, was on the lookout for anything Will might miss. He had only volunteered to go first because was more protected by his armor. It wasn't safe, but it was the only thing he could do for Will. Will had a lot on his plate, and he appreciated everything Horace did to try to help.

Even if he was making a bit of a ruckus. Will winced at every branch that snapped under Kicker's not-so-quiet hooves.

The two had nearly reached their limit. Being cold, wet, and on high alert for dangerous druids all day really frayed at their nerves, they discovered.

Will's eyes moved back and forth along the edges of the forest, his vision becoming blurry the longer he did. At this point, he was squinting, exhausted, and shaking from the cold. He seriously doubted his ability to aim at this point--his fingers wrapped around the bow had locked up and turned a bit blue. The way his shoulders and arms trembled, he didn't think he could hit the tree next to him, much less a surprise attacker.

"Horace, let's rest for a moment in the next clearing we find." He leaned forward, speaking softly enough that anyone nearby couldn't have heard him.

"What?" Horace turned clumsily in his saddle, his eyes dazed with the cold and monotony of the forest. In his haste, he spoke a lot louder than Will. In fact, he might have accidentally yelled it.

Will winced for the hundredth time that day, but then froze as his tired but trained eyes caught movement in the bushes. It was small, but he couldn't be sure if it was an animal or the retreating footstep. He could see it now--a druid turning on their heel to run off into the forest after spotting them on the trail, going to report to their leader, and their element of surprise would be ruined.

Will rose in the stirrups, his bow coming to full draw, arrow tip gleaming in the shadowy forest towards the direction of the rustling leaves. Tug stood stock still underneath him, and even Kicker stilled in place as he sensed his master's trepidation. Horace, who was still turned in the saddle, nodded silently to Will and put his hand on the dagger he carried in his saddle.

Will's eyes narrowed as the sound continued to move along the edge of the trail towards them, the leaves moving as the thing, whatever it was, drew closer. It was a faint movement, Horace couldn't even see it, but Will could sense it. Feel it.

The sound grew louder, and Will forced his hands to relax on the bow. His heart pounded in his chest, and he saw Horace's knuckles tighten on the hilt of his blade out of the corner of his eye. The forest had gone deadly quiet, not even a bird trilled in the trees above.

Or maybe that was Will's imagination--he could never tell.

He could see the shadow now, mingling with the bush and the dark patches on the ground from the clouds and leaf canopy above them. One more twitch, and he would have them...

There! He let the arrow fly, notching another before the first even hit its target. But he didn't need it. The first arrow hit the bush with a hiss-thunk, and a faint squeaking sound pierced the air.

Horace swung down off Kicker and crept forward, his dagger in his hand. "Come out, or he'll shoot again," he hissed into the leaves.

Will saw him bend down into the bush to look through the gap the arrow had cut through the leaves. Then he saw Horace reach in with one arm and grab hold of something surprisingly small.

Too small to be human.

Will let his bow relax and slowly, defeatedly, slid the arrow back into his quiver as Horace turned, a wide grin on his lips.

Hanging from his hand, by its limp fluffy tail, was a squirrel.

The arrow, much too large for such a small animal, had pierced its eye and ripped open its head. The poor animal had been absolutely destroyed by the size and sheer power of the arrow. Will felt a pang of sorrow as he saw what had happened to it.

"I can't thank you enough, Ranger Will, for saving me from a dangerous, bloodthirsty, fire-starting, murdering... squirrel." Horace mock-bowed to Will, brandishing the ruined animal as an offering.

Will rolled his eyes, slinging his bow back onto his shoulder. His shivers, temporarily stopped by adrenaline, were returned with force. His teeth chattered as he said, "Very funny, Horace. Will you put it down?"

He raised an eyebrow. "You want the arrow back?"

"Absolutely not."

His face wrinkled in disgust as he was forced to peel the remains of the squirrel off the arrow to separate them. He left the animal in the bush and brandished the bloody arrow, once dark gray, now stained black, to Will. "Are you sure? It's hardly used. No trouble at all."

Will gazed levely at him, down at the blood-covered arrow, and then back up at him. "Please, keep it as a memento. So you can remember how I saved you from such a dangerous animal."

As he turned Tug to maneuver around the stationary Kicker, trying to maintain a sense of dignity, he heard Horace finally begin to laugh.

He didn't stop as he swung up on Kicker and followed him. "You want to know the best and worst part about this?" He asked, still snickering as he nudged forward until the two horses trotted side by side.

"Not particularly." Will refused to look at him, shrinking into the back of his cowl.

"Even when you had no idea what was in the bush, when you were shivering with cold, and exhausted from the day's ride, you still managed to nail it right in the eye. A damn perfect shot." He shook his head in disbelief. "I'm cold enough I couldn't possibly swing my sword with any accuracy. But you still this the squirrel in the eye."

Will allowed himself a small smile. "I've had a few years to practice shooting under duress. And don't lie, you can always fight with ease, even now. I think you'd have to break your arm to have any trouble." Will pushed back his cowl as they came upon a small clearing, and he signaled them all to stop for rest. "And even then, you'd still manage it somehow."

"I'm blushing," Horace simpered sarcastically, a mischievous grin on his face. "But don't expect any mercy because of your flattery. You know Halt is going to hear about this one, right?"

"I expect nothing less," Will sighed as he searched around in his saddlebags for some food. It was a little past dinner anyway, he knew they would have another cold meal under the trees for shelter against the rain. They were both shivering again, their clothing dripping with water and their hair plastered to their heads. They put the blankets over the horses to try to help them stay warm, and the two men huddled in the driest spot they could find on the damp pine needles covering the dirt. They huddled together to try to share some warmth, and Horace even stripped off his chainmail to avoid pressing its ice-cold links against Will's already shaking body.

Will, not even slightly bothered by Horace's jokes, had been in his own world for most of the day. In the morning, fresh, dry, and energized, he had been intensely searching for the druids, excited at the prospect of finding them and figuring out his blasted puzzle, but the cold and rain had really beaten him down. Now he was freezing, sopping wet, exhausted, and worried. Scared about the fires, the strange images of the flames and the visions haunted him nearly every night. Terrified that someone else, someone he truly cared about, would become a victim before he could stop this. And anxious, more anxious than he had ever been in his life, about leaving Alyss alone.

He finished up his pathetic meal of dried meat, tearing at the tough strip with his teeth as his mind swirled with fear.

Not that she couldn't be alone, or that she couldn't defend herself if the need ever arose. She rarely needed Will's help on anything, and he respected that about her and never infringed upon her freedom and her job because of it. He trusted her, and loved her, and knew her abilities with a saber well. But now that she was pregnant, finally, after waiting for so long, he was fighting hard against the instinct to protect her like she was a fragile piece of glass.

He had been silently relieved when she agreed to stay at the palace with Halt and Pauline. He hadn't wanted her to be alone while he was gone, but more importantly, he didn't want her to spend any time in potentially flammable buildings. Like their cabin.

He couldn't live with himself if she just happened to be inside the next building they burned down. He would not let that happen.

His hands closed into fists, trembling with the effort and the cold, and Horace's brows lowered as he noticed.

"Will, you alright?"

Will immediately relaxed his hands, letting them fall down into his lap, and nodded stiffly. "I'm fine. Cold, is all."

"I'm your best friend. I know when you're not alright." Horace leaned in further, his thick shoulder pressing against Will's. Between them, a tiny bit of heat had started to grow and spread, even beneath their damp clothes.

Will sighed. "Fine, you got me. I'm worried."

He hoped, desperately, that Horace would accept that as an answer and let the conversation die. But he also knew that Horace wouldn't ever do that. He cared too much not to keep asking.

"Worried about what?"

Will figured he could count on all ten fingers things he was worried about. But he settled on one. "Everything. But mostly what will happen if we don't stop this in time."

"You're worried more people will die."

Will only nodded.

Horace shifted next to him. "Me too. That's normal, you know that. We'll stop them, like we always do."

Another nod. Will could feel Horace's frown deepen at his lack of words. "So it's not that. Is this about Halt, or Alyss?"

Will was finally startled out of his stupor. He squinted at Horace as a few drops of water dripped from his hair down his cheeks. "Halt? Why would I be worried about Halt?"

"It's your first big mission without him."

Will shook his head, rain flying in all directions. "I've done plenty without him, he's been retired for a year now."

"No, I mean save-the-world type missions. Big ones like this."

Will smiled lightly. "No, it's not that. If I'm being honest, I'm finally starting to get used to his retirement. It's normal for me now, thank god."

Horace raised both brows. "Good for you. It's still weird for me, but I don't spend as much time with you both as I used to. It's strange to see him sitting around the castle. Always throws me off to see him relaxing." He cocked his head as a knowing expression came over his face. "So it's Alyss."

Will raised both hands in mock surrender. "You got me."

Horace didn't miss the sullen lack of humor in his voice. "Worried about leaving her alone? With the baby?"

Will shrugged but didn't deny it. "I suppose. I feel like I'm just being stupid about it, that's why it's frustrating." He wrung his hands, watching water drip from his sleeves down his knuckles. "I know she's fine, she can fend for herself, and I'd never tell her what to do, but I'm just anxious about it. I don't like knowing these arsonists are out there, willing to kill anyone, and there's no way for any of us to know where they'll strike."

Horace's quiet voice interrupted him. "You don't want her to be next. Not after you've both finally gotten the chance to be parents after years of waiting."

Will hung his head. "You've read my mind. I don't know how, but you did."

They both sat in a neutral silence. The rain pattered softly on the leaves above, and Will winced as a large drop plopped down the back of his neck. He angrily swiped it away, and Horace put a gloved hand on his shoulder. "I know because I've felt it too. You don't need to feel guilty, it's only natural for you to be worried. Halt and Pauline will take excellent care of her until we come back. It's only a few days," he reminded him. His voice was comforting and calm.

"I know. I'm trying."

"You know something? You and Alyss are truly solid. You're the best couple I've ever seen, honest. Have you two ever even had a proper fight? Like a real argument?" Horace laughed incredulously.

"Not really, we always discuss it and compromise. We rarely even disagree." Will thought back to just a week ago, when she had oversalted their evening meal. He had been tired and worn down from a busy day, and she had accidentally ruined the chicken he cooked for them. But he didn't complain, and he wasn't angry, not even for a second. He salvaged the bread and they had a decent dinner anyway. They both acknowledged each other's flaws, accepted them, even learned to expect them, so that if something happened, the other wasn't surprised. They understood each other so well, how she couldn't cook and how he couldn't stop working too much, and compromised unfailingly, to the point that they never fought. Debated, yes. Discussed and planned everything out, absolutely. But fighting? With yelling or anger? Never.

"You and Alyss are inseparable, truly. Nothing could ever ruin that, not fires, or murderers, or your own anxiety. You know that, right?"

Will nodded. "I know."

"When we go home, talk to her. Tell her how you're feeling. It'll help."

"I will." He glanced gratefully at Horace. "Thanks."

"Any time."

Another short period of silence, much more comfortable than before, settled in the clearing before Will let a smirk creep onto his face. "Oh, and you and Evanlyn? You're just as good. You don't fight much, right?"

Horace rolled his eyes dramatically. "Not quite. Cassie's fiery, she is. Never let's me have the last word. We could have quite the shouting match if we really wanted to. But it's never angry, just playful. We're both very opinionated people, you know."

Will grinned wider. "Oh, trust me, I know."

"But I love her anyway. And we'd never shout in front of Maddie."

"Of course, you're perfect parents."

Horace missed the touch of longing in Will's voice as he turned, reaching into his cloak's pocket with a dangerous smile. "Why, Ranger Will! You flatter me."

Will flinched away in disgust as the bloody arrow, now brown, gummy, and quite rank, was brandished in front of his nose unceremoniously. "Sure you don't want it back? Your glorious spoils of war?"

Will shoved his arm away and scrambled up from the ground, ignoring Horace's uncontrolled laughter.

"I thought you were my best friend!" He called in disgust and mock betrayal as he started tightening Tug's girth.

Horace only laughed in the distance. "I am, and I have to put you in your place somehow!"

Good god, Will thought. Horace always knew how to end a special moment by making fun of him. He had been doing that to him since the dawn of time.

Some things never change, he thought.

They mounted up and trotted off into the woods, Horace still snickering occasionally. 

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A/N Sorry this is so late! I was feeling uninspired to write, and I didn't want to give you all anything less than my best. Writer's block at its worst. Plus, after writing 3,000 or more words every single day without fail for over two weeks,  I really needed a break. But I'm back! Thanks for waiting <3

What's your favorite Broadway musical? ;)