"Halt did what?!"

"You heard me - he tied the man to a tree while he dealt with his friends, then he bound and gagged them all and tied them up by their necks like a bunch of dogs and led them all the way back to castle Redmont."

Will was having trouble breathing, he was laughing so hard. Halt groaned.

"Gilan, stop poisoning the boy's mind with your exaggerated tales. You know they're not true."

"Nonsense, Halt - I was there, after all. You tied those seven men up and dragged them across country. You even made me help."

Halt sighed. "There were six, and they weren't gagged."

"No, until you stuffed the leader's mouth full with your sock when he wouldn't stop babbling."

Halt began to protest, but Will was holding his sides with laughter, and pained tears were streaming down his face. Halt's lips pressed together in annoyance, and he cocked a pepper-grey eyebrow at his apprentice.

"Think that's funny, do you?"

"F-funny?!" Will sounded out between giggles, "It's stinking hilarious! I didn't know... Tree... Dogs... Socks!" He dissolved into another fit of laughter.

Halt stood from where he'd been sitting. "If you weren't sick, you'd have a sock in your mouth right now." He grumbled. Begrudgingly, he took Will's half-eaten breakfast plate back to the kitchen, mumbling about disrespectful apprentices as he went.

Gilan was sitting back in his seat, smiling and looking particularly amused with the situation he had brought about. Until, that is, Will started coughing.

It started as lingering laughter, but Gilan's eyebrows twitched together in concern when he heard the rough wheezing noise that came with each breath Will took. The younger boy noticed it, too, and his expression changed from a wide smile to a mixture of pain and confusion. In a quick turn of events, the laughs melted into coughs - Rough, painful, deep-chested coughs that made Gilan wince at the sound of them. And they didn't stop. Once one cough was over, Will was so out of breath that he had to inhale, but his body refused to exhale in any other way besides another harsh cough, and the cycle started over. Realizing his predicament, a sense of panic overtook Will's features, and he sent a quick, pleading look up at Gilan. Immediately, the ranger was on his feet, and stepped over to Will.

"Breathe, Will." Gilan urged. He could tell that Will was already trying to breathe normally, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. His face grew more alarmed as Will started choking and gagging, taking in sudden breaths as if he was going to suffocate. Gilan grabbed the boy by the shoulder and guided him to bend over his waist to reduce the convulsive action that came each time he coughed. The coughing and gagging didn't stop, however, and Gilan patted Will firmly on the back, not knowing what else to do.

Desperately gasping for breath between coughs, panic having set in, Will reached out blindly and grabbed at Gilan's shirt, clinging on to it as if it was his lifeline. He bent almost flat over his lap at a particularly jarring cough.

Halt entered the room, his previous annoyance gone, concern in its place. He quickly stepped around Gilan and grabbed Will's forearm.

"Hold you breath, Will. It will delay the coughing." He said firmly, making sure that Will heard and understood him. Will tried to obey, but his immediate attempts were broken through by more coughs. "Keep trying." Halt urged. Will did, taking quick breaths in between. Slowly, the coughs dissipated, and Will's breathing was reduced to desperate, tired gasps as he tried to fill his lungs with clean air. He still clung to Gilan's shirt, and now exhausted and out of breath from the fit, he let his head fall on the tall ranger's shoulder, shaking and heaving for breath. Instinctively, Gilan put a protective arm around the boy's shoulders and his free hand went up to Will's head. Even through his shirt, Gilan could feel the heat radiating from Will's forehead where it touched his shoulder.

"Good Lord, Will, you're burning up." He said quietly, not really speaking to the boy who was clearly paying no attention to him or anything else beyond each breath he took. Gilan looked down at the bright red face at his shoulder, then sent a worried look up at Halt. He didn't have to say anything.

"Get him laid back down, and keep him breathing." Halt said, rising. He left the room and returned a few minutes later with something in his hand. He held it out to Will.

"Eat this." Halt said. "It'll help with the fever." Will bit into the medicinal biscuit, ignoring the bitter flavor. After he was done, Halt handed him a glass of tea. It was cold and quickly brewed, and Will could taste the medicine mixed in with the tea leaves. He'd had this particular medicine before, and knew it would help with his cough. He was grateful for the fact that Halt kept the medicines handy. It could never be said that Halt wasn't prepared. After he'd finished gulping down his tea, Halt looked him in the eye.

"You alright?" He asked. Will nodded.

"I think so. Thanks, Halt." He said quietly, hoping he wouldn't start coughing again.

Halt simply nodded. "Good." The ranger straightened. "You've had your breakfast and your medicine. Now lay down at get some sleep. Lord knows you need it." After getting Will situated under more blankets and putting a damp cloth across his forehead, Halt darkened the room with a second set of curtains made for the purpose. He gestured Gilan out of the room and shut the door behind them so that Will could finally sleep. He hadn't told Will, but Halt had added a sleep-aiding drug to the tea.

Once out of the room, Gilan was babbling on apologetically.

"Halt, I'm so sorry - I shouldn't have made him laugh, I didn't know what to do - I didn't know he was that sick, and he had a fever that bad and I just-"

"Gilan." Halt interrupted, firmly. He made sure the other man was looking him in the eye. "It's not your fault. You didn't know. It was an accident. Just be aware that we have to be careful - we don't know just how sick Will is." Gilan nodded. Halt nodded back, and then turned his gaze back to Will's bedroom door. "I just pray that he won't grow any worse. If he can last a day without falling back into another horrible fever like last night, I think he'll be on his way back to health. But we need to keep a sharp eye on him. Halt said. He gave his former apprentice a reassuring pat on the shoulder, then moved over to sink down into his designated chair by the hearth. "But in the meantime, we'll have to wait."

The rest of the day passed relatively smoothly. Gilan and Halt shared a late lunch consisting of light sandwiches, and Gilan composed a letter to Crowley while Halt went out to fetch water and cut firewood - The grizzled ranger hadn't realized how useful the boy had been around the house until he was unable to do his chores. Will awoke once or twice, usually asking for water to quench his dry throat. Gilan tried to coax him to eat something, but he maintained that he wasn't hungry. Much to Halt's relief, Will's fever had gone down, and was now only a lingering temperature. The sleeping draught that Halt had gave Will earlier seemed to be doing its job well, as Will slept soundly at varying intervals throughout the day. Gilan commented on how easily the boy was sleeping and Halt had admitted to drugging his apprentice. Gilan had looked at him as if he'd committed a crime in not telling the boy he'd been drugged, but then shrugged and conceded that it was for the best.

Late in the evening, Gilan was setting up his bedroll on top of the couch in the living area, and Halt was helping to get Will situated for the night before all three rangers went to sleep. Will had had a meager but filling meal of stew broth, and despite the amount of rest that he'd had already, was exhausted. A yawn split the young face for a few moments.

"I've been sleeping all day, but I'm so tired." He said, his voice hoarse.

Halt nodded. "Your body needs the rest. If you're tired, sleep. It'll help your recovery." He touched his hand to Will's forehead for the umpteenth time and was satisfied that it hadn't changed from the miniscule fever that had been present for the better part of that day. "With any luck, your fever will dissipate entirely by tomorrow."

Will smiled weakly at the prospect. "And I'll be glad for it." He said. "Shivering is surprisingly exhausting." As if to emphasize his point, a feverish chill ran over him, and he gave an involuntary shiver. Halt looked on with a touch of pity in eyes.

"Indeed. Now go to sleep. There's plenty of water in that pitcher there, if you should need any more tonight." Halt motioned to the clay pitcher on the bedside table.

Will nodded and huddled himself underneath his pile of blankets. "You know, Halt, it feels strange to have you telling me to sleep all the time. Usually you're complaining that I sleep in too late." He said.

Halt had to smile at his apprentice's comment. It was a rare, pleasant expression on the face of the reputably gruff ranger. "Go to sleep, Will." He said, affectionately ruffling his apprentice's hair.

Will smiled. "Good night, Halt."

"Good night."

Halt shut the door behind him as he left the room. He hadn't given Will any kind of medication since mid morning. He hadn't seen much need for it, and he didn't want to administer any kind of drug that wasn't needed - bad side effects could stem from that. He stopped outside of Will's door for a few moments, listening to the boy's even breathing, and assured himself that this wouldn't be a repeat of last night. Shaking off a shred of doubt, he went over to see that Gilan was making himself comfortable in his makeshift bed.

"I see you're situated nicely." He said.

Gilan nodded. "Quite. This is a nice couch you have here, Halt. You must have gotten a new one - I don't remember it being this nice when I lived here. Playing favorites with your apprentices, aren't you?"

Halt rolled his eyes and sighed in a despairing kind of way. "Good night, Gilan." He turned towards his own room, the shadows of the evening hiding his smile.

Gilan knew Halt well, and was able to read through the rough exterior and interpret his actions as Halt's equivalent to a fond smile and an affectionate pat on the shoulder. He smiled widely at Halt's back. "Good night, Halt!" He called after him. Then, he settled down to sleep.

Soon, all three rangers were sleeping quietly. But it wasn't to last very long.

Fire, heat, burning; now a cool breeze chilling his shoulders. Sweat? No, no moisture. His eyes darted around aimlessly beneath his eyelids. He was back at the bridge, he was sure of it. How, he didn't know. But he could feel the heat of the fire all around him, and could hear the Skandians yelling in rage. Horace was screaming at him urgently from the other side of the bridge - what, he didn't know, but the other boy was motioning for him to hurry. Evanlyn was beside him, working quickly as she tried to kindle the fire ablaze. It couldn't work. It wasn't. Suddenly, inexplicably, Evanlyn got up and darted back across the bridge, back to Horace, and the flames around him grew so high that Will could no longer see his friends through the smoke. He coughed in the dark, thick air. The heat was overwhelming, and was growing stronger. He looked around, and could see nothing but flame on either side, and a deep yawning abyss beneath him. He heard creaking, and snapping, and suddenly, the bridge had given way altogether, and he was falling through space, together with burning remnants of wood, rope and pitch scorching his skin. As he fell, the air rushed by him with a painfully cold force, and his eyes snapped shut. The mix of the fire and the cool air was torture. He spun around in dizzying circles and he feel deeper in to the chasm. Deeper, deeper, deeper still.

He sat up. He was still falling, still dizzy, still burning and freezing at the same time. And yet, he was seeing his room. The rushing air had robbed his throat of any moisture. Burning, fire, heat. He needed something cool. Something... Something... He threw back what looked like blankets from his legs, and stumbled over to his window. It was night. He threw back the curtains and snatched open the window. Cool air brushed across his cheeks. No, no. Too cold. Too much. Stop the wind. He slammed the window shut again. Falling... Falling... His vision swam dizzily across the room, searching. His eyes landed on the clay pitcher, and he stumbled for it. His throat tingled at the thought of water. Cool. Douse the fire. Kill the heat. He reached for it, but his fingers refused to support the weight of the full pitcher. It slipped off the table and fell to the floor with a crash, sending water flying.

The coolness had escaped from him - he had to get it back. He would burn without it. Something in him felt horribly guilty about breaking the pitcher, and he reached for a broken shard, which cupped a small pool of water. He drank from it, and then yelped when the sharp edge sliced into his palm. He dropped the object, and looked down at his hand. A noise startled him, and his vision swam back up.

"Will, what's going on?"

The crash had woken him. Halt had heard the clay pitcher fall from the table, and rose in alarm. After that, he'd heard Will's cry of pain, and he'd immediately gone to Will's room. When he opened the door, the sight that met him both confused and alarmed him.

Will was kneeling in the soaked carpet over the shattered remains of a clay pitcher, and was clutching his right hand, which was bleeding from a long cut on the palm.

"Will, what's going on?"

Will's head lazily tilted back to look up at his master, and Halt's gut twisted in alarm as he saw the delusional, feverish glaze over his apprentice's eyes. He cursed under his breath and knelt to inspect his apprentice.

"Too hot..." Will said in a weird way, his words slurred, his voice sounding oddly childlike. "Need... Cold. Cold's... Broken... Sorry." He said, his head rolling down to look at the broken shards of clay at his knees. Halt put a hand to Will's head and almost recoiled at the heat radiating off the boy. He cursed again, and refrained from palming himself in the face. He should have given the boy more medicine to keep down his fever. He should have known this might happen - but he didn't. He cursed himself and his stupidity, and inspected Will's hand. It was a relatively shallow cut, but it was bleeding badly.

"Gilan!" Halt called urgently in a carrying voice. "Gilan, get up! It's Will!" A few moments later, he heard the other man stir, and then Gilan's feet were padding across the floor to Will's room. His trousers were tied on loosely, his shirt was hanging open, and his eyes and hair further testified to the fact that he'd just been roused from a deep sleep.

"What? 'M up, Halt, I'm up... What in the name of- Oh good Lord!" Gilan's tired eyes managed to double in size at the sight before him - Will, feverish, injured and soaked in spilled water with Halt kneeling over him.

"Gilan, you need to ride to Castle Redmont. Get a physician. Now." The urgency in Halt's voice roused Gilan from his drowsiness. "The man's name is Aaron Fletcher. Ask for him by name and get him over here as quickly as you can manage. Will won't last much longer without help."

Halt's last words were what really got Gilan going. He pulled on some riding clothes, strapped on his weapons, and marched out the door. Blaze's head shot up as he sensed his master's urgency. The other two horses' ears shot up as well. The three equines watched anxiously as Gilan pulled a saddle onto Blaze and mounted. Tug whinnied, and Gilan shushed him gently.

"Come on, boy." He said hurriedly, and urged Blaze into a quick gallop, setting his sights for the iron red castle sitting clear in the distance.