The smell of fresh porridge filled the small cottage in the woods. It reached the half-unconsious girl whose stomach rumbled at even the thought of any food at all. She tried to pry her eyes open, her lids were so heavy however that they kept falling aclose. Far away in a cold distance she heard voices, she knew they were speaking the language she understood, but she did not know what they were saying.

Her back ached, her arm stung, her legs were weak, to summarize: she felt like a limp noodle. With great effort she managed to wake herself up, and she swung her legs over the side of the table. She knocked down several pots over and fell to the floor as soon as she tried, standing up. Dark spots swamped her sight, the world seemed to keep on spinning even as she painfully hit the ground.

The warbled voices got louder, but still they seemed muffled, as if she had moss in her ears.

"Don't rush yourself there kid," she heard Crowley assure her as his arms pulled her to her feet and as he gently put her on the table again.

Her surroundings became clearer, she saw the cobblestone walls, the dark beams, the deep oak floors, the shelves upon shelves stocked with glass jars containing all kinds of suspicious squishy brown and red objects. The young girl hoped it was nothing of the sorts which popped into her mind.

"How do you feel?" the red-headed commander asked, eyeing the girl with great concern, "do you think you're poisoned?"

She frowned and assessed everything she was feeling in her body. Her mouth wasn't dry, she could feel all of her limbs and her breathing was okay. "I'm fine."

Crowley nodded, sighing in relief. He ran an ink-stained hand over his beard. All morning he had been writing letters, communicating with all Rangers that the appearance of the King should be cancelled. So far all the official correspondents of His Majesty were not as concerned as he and were only willing to postpone his coming.

"You're awfully rude," a strange woman with bright red curly hair walked up, handing her a bowl of porridge, "not even offering the poor girl some breakfast."

The young woman gratefully took the steaming oats, stuffing her face with it. Moments afterwards she realized that maybe it was rude not to thank the kind stranger first. "Thank you! It tastes amazing." she mumbled with a crooked smile and her mouth still full.

"That's because you're starved," snorted Crowley, "otherwise you would never be able to stomach her cookings."

Charlotte smacked the back of her brother's head violently, "watch it or you're going to have to find a healer to go to for yourself."

With a confused look the girl looked to the two red-heads, "how do you know each other?"

"She's my sister."

"We met in my mother's womb," she put a hand on her hip, "crazy how you run into people there."

"You cannot act normal for the one day I bring in one of my Rangers?" Crowley sighed like a tired older brother. He was older by just fourty minutes, but it still counted according to him.

A sad smile played on the young woman's lips, a sudden overwhelming ache pained her chest. She watched the two siblings interact attentively, it had never been like that at the barn where she grew up. She had had too much responsibility and not enough time.

"You never told me you had a sister." The girl stirred through the porridge before taking a bite.

"As a Ranger it is never good to boast about your personal life to too many people," his grey eyes fixated on her with a serious, stern stare, quite unlike him, "it can be dangerous. Keep it limited to a few who you know you can trust."

She swalllowed thickly, partially because of the porridge (which had a wonderful cinnamon and sugar taste, catering exactly to her sweet-tooth), also because she knew what he meant by those words and it hurt. It actually hurt to know he trusted her, she would have never thought it possible after all she thought he considered her just another of his Rangers.

Turning her porridge again mindlessly, she disappeared into her thoughts. Crowley watched the girl look into her breakfast with such intent that he understood his words had had the impact he wanted. The message was clear in his opinion.

"Right," Charlotte cleared her throat loudly and shoved some pots aside to get to her door, "I'm going to gather herbs out in the forest. Some of us actually have something to do." She looked at her brother when she said it.

Crowley threw a cloth her which she caught with ease. "You gotta try harder old boy, don't let those old bones get to ya." She then disappeared before he could fling anything else her way.

"When are we going back? " the Ranger's apprentice asked casually, before shoving another spoon in her mouth, "maybe if we're early we can catch Gil, maybe he knows more about the cross-bow men? He grew up here after all, as they can't be Genovesians right? They would have poisoned their arrow-"

"We're not going back right now." The words hit her as hard as a bow-string repulsing into the flesh of an upper arm, "Gilan can't know about this, because these are Ranger matters."

She had forgotten. "Oh," putting her porridge down onto the table, she rubbed her arms, not watching out for her wound and regretting everything immediately.

"It would be better if you kept your distance anyways," he told her softly, "the Scoti don't care much for ethics, but they are big on loyalty."

"I'm not loyal to them," with a sharp huff she crossed her arms, "I couldn't care less about them."

"You don't have to be, no," the commandant pointed out , "but Gilan does."

That night she couldn't sleep. Crowley had ordered her to stay at the cottage for the remainder of the tournament. She had nodded, but in her head she was already planning her escape. If there was one thing she would not do right now, it was stay still. There was too much happening and too many questions that needed to be answered. Her mind kept wandering to the men at the church. Her heart pounded up to her throat at the thought of them and immediately she imagined them gliding around the cottage.

The creak of the door alarmed her and she shot up in her bed. Sweat poured from her forehead as she clutched her stomach with her one good arm. She peeked out of the window where through the gap in the curtains she saw only the darkness of the trees stretching out as far as she could see. Over the treetops she recognized the glow of Caraway castle. Her body shook at the thought of going out there, but she threw on her cloak nonetheless. Crowley would probably suspect her sneaking out, which made it all the more difficult, but she had a plan.

She confidently walked out her room and headed towards the little meadow bordering the cottage where Vacker stood, grazing of course. Whisteling a high tone, the girl called the black horse to her. The familiar sound of hooves travelling the earth, the smell of fresh rain and cold night winds filled the air, easing the nerves rushing through the young woman's veins.

The mare halted abruptly before her owner and snuffed at her arms, lingering at her wounded arm, then nudging the other.

Good. You are not dead, yet.

She stroked the little black nose, that tickled her good arm with warm breaths and soft fur, and chuckled. "No thanks to you, what were you doing when those daemons popped up? Eating bark I presume?"

We warned you several times, if you don't hear it then that's not my problem.

The female apprentice started: "Well I-"

"Isn't it a little late for a talk?" A voice exclaimed from behind her, just like she'd anticipated.

"Jezus Crowley," she glanced over her shoulder quickly, "you really know how to sneak up on someone don't you?"

He shrugged. "Well there's a rumour that I'm quietest Ranger, I guess I have to live up to that don't I?"

"Yeah, I suppose you do," her hand slid over the velvet neck of the glowing horse in front of her, "at least the corps talks about you." The words had slipped out despite her reservations against pronouncing them. They made her feel small, smaller than she ever wanted to be again.

"What do you mean?" The Ranger wanted to lean against the old wooden fence, then decided to just stand still when he remembered the maintenance skills of his little sister.

He thought he saw tears glistening in her eyes in the harsh shine of the moonlight, but that might've been his imagination. To say he was surprised at her sentiment was an understatement. In the four years she had been with the Rangers' corps he had not considered that maybe, she wanted to be a part of the big family too. He figured that Gilan had been enough for her.

"Nobody even knows me," she started as she fiddled with her mare's manes, "I've learned most of the names and faces from descriptions my mentor painted for me. He'd always tell a funny story about them too. Berrigan has his music, the cut off leg, he's basically a legend."

Her eyes dimmed more and more, the curl of her lips faded; her face seemed a solemn mask right before shattering. "No one will tell stories about me, there are only a few people who have ever even seen me let alone."

Crowley contemplated her words carefully. The arrangement was clear: no one was supposed to know about her apprenticeship. Otherwise it could compromise her missions. If she wanted that to be different, then who was he to stop her?

"Do you want the corps to know?" He asked, genuinly curious for her answer.

She shook her head and smiled sadly. "I am just feeling what it really means to be a Ranger, I guess."

Nodding he patted the run-down fence. "Right. Should we go back inside? I think a good-nights sleep will help more with that inner turmoil of yours than the cold night."

"Yeah," the young woman shook her head as well, looking over to the small shed bordering the cottage where the peacefully roaming animals could seek shelter. She knew her saddle, bow and knives were over there. During the day she had seen Crowley carry her belongings there. Stress crackled through her chest and throat as she said the following: "I want to spend some more time with Vacker, after all she maybe helped save my life."

Saved her life.

It sounded heavier than it felt to her, but Crowley's stomach dropped like a stone. He swallowed and put on a proud father's smile watching his baby take their first steps. "You did good. Had it been anyone other apprentice there with me I would not have even dared enter that church. I'm proud of how far you've come" He slapped her on her right shoulder and for a moment she got a look at his glittering grey eyes, then he left towards he cottage.

Her heart ached.

She went to the cottage and waited to be sure he had went back to sleep. Once she heard the soft snoring coming from his guest assigned bed-room, she called Vacker to her softly.

"Sorry Crowley, but it's time for some truths now." She mumbled to herself as she rode with her black mare towards the abandoned church.

In the night it looked even spookier. The moonshine reflected oddly on the enigmatic building, overgrown with ivy. It seemed to come from another age. She knew from her history lessons that once Araluen had been one large kingdom ruled by the Scoti. They had never gotten over the loss of 'their' land, and had left many vacant establishments throughout the country. She traced the stones looking for hints. The archway was overgrown with ivy. Had she been but a bit taller she could have wiped it away and seen the inscriptions under it. With her damned arm she couldn't climb either so she was confined to the ground and she had to circle the church like a wolf circling her prey. The materials were old, they had been worn through years and years of rain and wind, it had torn all the sharp edges blunt. Cracks decorated the left wall tearing right through important structural points. The whole place could have collapsed over their heads.

A thought popped into her head, an important one at that. The intruders. Those figures, they probably were still laying around somewhere or someone would've had to move them in which case she could track the trace that person would've inevitably left.

She hurried to scan the small clearing, of course she did not really know where to look as her mind was thoroughly occupied with the arrow at that moment. In the distance she spotted a dark heap. While observing her surroundings sharply she approached the black bundle on the floor. When she turned it over her memories were scattered.

She knew this person.

A/N: it's late so I haven't proofread this I'll do that at some point, enjoy!!