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Adelaide Beckett doesn’t think of herself as a very brave person. Her childhood on the outskirts of Redmont tending to her family farm was never too interesting or dangerous, so she didn’t have to be brave. The most adventurous thing she did was going into Wensley village as a teenager and setting up a stall at the local market every week. Her parents trusted her, and she took the duty very seriously. Despite this, she was always a little late, and tended to get a stall near the end of the road.
The location of her market stall never got as much traction as others, so she stayed open a little longer just in case she could squeeze in a few lagging customers. It only worked half of the time, but it was a trick she was proud of.
This routine followed her well into adulthood, into marriage, and into motherhood as well. She eventually took over her parents’ farm alongside her husband, Sebastian, and raised her own daughter there. Sebastian is warm, with tan skin that’s a little lighter than Adelaide’s. Their daughter, Edith took after her father more, with looser curls and light freckles that appeared in the sunlight. They were a close, happy family. They led a simple life, a good one; at least, they used to. Edith was full of adventure and energy; at least, she used to be.
Edith was the best thing that happened to Adelaide and her husband. Though taking a break from the Wensley market hurt Adelaide’s pride, she had a new pride and joy. After a year of sudden unexplainable lethargy, Adelaide was able to get up and raise her daughter properly. Edith’s childhood was undeniably the happiest yet most tiring part of Adelaide’s life. Still, she returned to her market schedule as soon as she could, combining the old normal with the new normal.
It got even more interesting, though, whenever Ranger Halt came into the picture.
This phenomenon had started when he first settled in Redmont, and he approached her stall after most of the other farmers and merchants had begun heading home. Adelaide was planning on packing up her own stall, almost losing faith in her usual method of waiting longer. Then the ranger appeared, basket in hand.
The street was pretty quiet, but Halt was even quieter. She froze up, looking around to see if anyone else was around to help her—no luck. A ball of nerves wound up in her stomach.
He was fine to deal with, being perfectly polite if not a little dry. Adelaide has had more pleasant interactions with customers, and she’s also definitely had way worse, so she really didn’t mind the man as much as she thought she would.
She went home that evening a little shaken up, but still eager to tell Sebastian and Edith about the encounter.
Halt came back a week later. Then the week after that.
On the third visit he stretched his right arm a lot, opting to carry his basket with his left one instead. Adelaide kept her gaze dutifully on her goods, but she couldn’t ignore the bit of dried blood on his sleeve.
It was both terrifying and comforting to see a ranger injured; it wouldn’t be her first time, either.
Halt muttered under his breath, low and frustrated, in some language Adelaide didn’t know. It sounded like a spell of sorts, but she quickly dismissed the silly notion. She’d never been one for paranoia, so why start now?
Her nerves slowly calmed as the ranger finished his selection and paid the appropriate amount, like any other customer would.
The mysterious ranger Halt, just another person who bleeds and needs to regularly buy produce to survive. Adelaide turned this sentence over and over in her head as he walked off, and she quite liked the sound of it.
Then he came back, again and again.
Soon enough, she knew his taste in produce and their exchanges became faster, easier, and something to look forward to.
Edith begged to be taken to the market more often after hearing stories of the ranger, and Adelaide was always quick to give in to her daughter’s passion. Parental love is one of the few things that can persuade a truly stubborn and focused person.
Adelaide watched as Edith grew up throughout those market visits. She wanted to help count coins, recommend certain fruits and vegetables, and even insisted on advertising down the street.
Her little girl, filled with uncontainable energy, so eager to grow up.
Not too long after Edith began attending the market, Adelaide met Halt’s first apprentice, the tall one who sported a sword alongside his bow and arrow. Edith was still around then, and as a kid she loved to hide behind her mother’s skirts and watch the way their mottled cloaks waved in the breeze.
The apprentice always spoke more than his mentor, and it created quite a contrast. At that point Halt and Adelaide’s weekly song and dance had become instinct, and the young boy threw her for a loop.
The boy, whose name she quickly learned was Gilan, would chat with her as Halt counted out his coins. This tendency appeared to annoy the older man to some degree.
Again, Halt muttered under his breath in that foreign melodic language. This time, it was infused with a sense of amused exasperation, the kind only a parent can both harness and recognize. It made Adelaide wonder how she could ever hear his unknown words as anything other than nostalgic.
Once, Gilan asked what her name was. Halt perked up at that, and it made the woman realize that she never properly introduced herself.
“Thank you, Adelaide,” Halt had said while leaving on that late afternoon; she stared at him, stunned.
Edith was there for that, sitting on the back of their cart and observing with wide, curious eyes. As soon as Halt and his apprentice left, she ran over and tugged on her mother’s hand excitedly.
“Mama!! I want to be a ranger!”
Adelaide couldn’t help but laugh a little at that, but Edith didn’t look discouraged. Instead her determined smile only widened, which made Adelaide laugh more. That’s my girl.
In all honesty, Adelaide was never too scared of rangers to begin with. Living in the countryside meant she never encountered one too often, if any at all. Her childhood friend next door told her about a ranger from another fief knocking on her door one night asking for directions, and that was all she knew; from what she heard, the man was pretty polite and friendly.
She could almost consider herself friends with Halt, in a strange way she could never explain to Sebastian. Adelaide would set aside the best produce for him on slow days, and Halt could pay her extra coins from time to time.
Their relationship was a series of unspoken favors, Halt being too withdrawn to mention it and Adelaide being afraid of ruining their calm.
Some days only Gilan would come, especially when the apprentice got older. He would come in the morning as opposed to Halt’s later visits. While Adelaide did enjoy Gilan’s pleasant conversation and the occasional excuse to complain about other customers, there was something comforting about Halt’s silence.
Sometimes Adelaide had to remind herself that she barely knew the man.
There was a reason she never pursued conversation with him: he didn’t welcome it and she didn’t want to risk it. Mutual respect and exchange was enough for both of them.
She absolutely couldn’t tell what was going on with him and Gilan. They could act like family one day, and then act like family friends the next. They definitely weren’t related, since she heard a rumor that Halt’s Gilan was the same as Sir David’s Gilan; she never cared too much for speculation, though.
Edith never did let go of that dream of being a ranger. She tried practicing unseen movement around the market, sometimes going to the edges of the farmland with Adelaide’s permission. Adelaide suspected that she would venture further from the way Edith would return at the end of the day with a leaf stuck in her hair or her clothes smelling of river water. Edith ran around the forest near home too, always active.
Adelaide considered stopping her once. She thought about the dangers Edith may encounter, but Halt always crossed her mind alongside those worries. She imagined the steel in his eyes, the length of his powerful longbow, and she also remembered how he used to accompany Gilan to the market early in his apprenticeship.
Besides, Edith was smart—smarter than Adelaide was at her twelve years of age. So, the next time Edith ran off along the cobble street, inevitably turning towards the trees, Adelaide simply waved.
“Be careful!” She’d call after her daughter, as if that could change anything. It was the thought that counted.
It wouldn’t hurt to let her dream, would it?
Gilan eventually graduated and moved on around to some other fief. That's when Edith got sick. To get money for the right healing herbs, Adelaide still had to go to the village and sell their harvest. She couldn’t stand still that day, pacing back and forth at the mere thought of Edith’s illness.
Halt came late as usual, this time alone. He had a similar look in his eyes, a sense of restlessness and aimlessness. He’s not a man for eye contact, but that day they locked eyes for just a second.
Adelaide composed herself best as she could, but felt that she didn’t need to do as much with Halt as she did with other customers. He went on with his business, carefully picking up the produce he intended to buy, sliding over the amount of money he knew it was all worth, then—
“Have a good day.”
The ranger strode off immediately, faster than usual, leaving Adelaide staring after his mottled cloak.
Usually she was lucky to get a hello from the man, much less a goodbye.
It was…nice. Adelaide went home with the pressure on her chest slightly lifted.
Edith, on the other hand, only got worse. Just months after Gilan had left and Halt had wished her a good day, she began to deteriorate rapidly. Adelaide and Sebastian watched as the sickness grew to be too overpowering, too uncontrollable. The smell of lavender calmed Edith down, so Adelaide sewed a little pillow stuffed with lavender for Edith to hold at night, the most comfort she could offer. It wasn’t enough.
The young girl died at thirteen, shivering and asleep in her mother’s arms. Edith looked peaceful; Adelaide did not.
Adelaide didn’t visit Wensley for the whole month after Edith’s death. Some mornings she couldn’t even get out of bed. Sebastian was equally as weighed down, but he got up and dragged his feet to the fields to bury his grief and misery in the fertile dirt. All Adelaide could do was watch from the window, watch her husband bend over and silently cry into the soil, wishing she could do the same.
She wanted so desperately to get out of bed. She felt so heavy, like she did right after she gave birth to Edith and the weight of her responsibilities suddenly crashed down on her. The bags under her eyes were just as dark, her sleep just as disturbed, and the guilt even worse than the first time. A deep sense of failure set in her chest, all too familiar and suffocating.
Back then, Sebastian reached out to a friend of a friend who once felt the same way and she carved out time to talk. Back then, she could at least watch Edith grow up, even if it was difficult to feel any sense of accomplishment. But it wasn’t back then. Now her baby is dead, time marches on, and money has to be made.
The first day Adelaide returned to Redmont’s market, her hair messy and her face gaunt. She squeezes Edith’s little lavender pillow, slipped into the pockets of her apron where it would stay for years to come. Halt was waiting for her.
“Adelaide,” he greeted her as he stepped out of the shadows, making her jump.
She smoothed out her skirt and attempted a weak smile. “Hello, ranger,” she replied, forcing nonchalance into her voice but only ending up sounding half asleep. “You’re early today.”
Halt only grunted in response, his eyes scanning her face briefly enough so they don’t have to stare at each other.
Adelaide nodded, then turned around to begin setting up her stall and unloading the produce from the cart onto the table. She was lifting a basket of carrots and onions, arms shaking from lack of consistent meals, when the weight was suddenly lifted. She looked to her right to see Halt hefting the basket into his arms and taking them over to the table without comment.
It felt stupid to her at the moment, but she wanted to cry. She held it in and grabbed a lighter basket instead, letting the movement take her mind off of things. Adelaide and Halt quickly fell into an easy rhythm. Once, she looked down the street and saw someone walking by, watching the scene with wide, unbelieving eyes.
For the first time since Edith’s death, Adelaide smiled. It was small, but it was something.
She turned around to get the last basket, only to find it already loaded onto the table. She also found a few items missing and some money on the counter, overpaid as usual.
She laughs a little, thinking to herself, and people say rangers are scary.
It felt good to laugh.
Halt has a new apprentice now.
Adelaide should’ve seen this coming with the way Halt has acted in the five years since Gilan left, plus the fact that he’d been buying more food than usual for the past month. On top of that, Halt started to act with a little less professionalism than usual, as if his patience was being a little more worn down these days.
Adelaide didn’t want to assume anything. She’s been trying not to think about children lately anyway; Edith would want her to move on, to find joy in things.
It’s easy to find joy in the way Halt’s second apprentice first walks up to her stall with stars in his eyes and a warm grin. Adelaide is so surprised by the amount of energy the boy has that it takes her a second to register his ranger cloak. She turns her attention to a familiar shadowy figure behind him, and she smiles.
“Good afternoon, ma’am,” the apprentice greets her with a small wave, his dark brown eyes flicking back and forth along her table.
Halt, just behind him, gives Adelaide a courteous nod that confirms her suspicions. The farmer has to hide her curious smirk behind her hand, the mere sight of the strange duo being enough to make her laugh. She’s almost gotten her face under control when Will reaches out to pick up an apple, feeling for its ripeness.
“Don’t touch it if you aren’t going to buy it,” Halt lightly scolds the boy, nudging his arm so he puts it back.
“Oh!” The apprentice looks a little embarrassed, but unbothered by his mentor’s tone. As he returns the apple, he looks up at Adelaide apologetically. “Sorry, ma’am.”
Halt shakes his head, exasperated, but Adelaide can see the amusement and a hint of fondness behind the gesture. She continues to stare, transfixed by the interaction. It reminds her strikingly of when Edith used to try and sneak a bite of dinner while Sebastian was still cooking it; he’d always lightly slap her hand away and shake his head at her mischievous smile, unable to suppress a smirk of his own.
She snaps out of the memory, a little winded by it. Halt’s apprentice continues to look at the apples with the seriousness of choosing a gift for a king, but Halt is looking at Adelaide with an intense expression. She squirms a little under his gaze. He may only be two or so years older than her, but the intimidation factor never fully fades.
Halt’s calculating gaze passes quickly, and he nods towards his apprentice. “This is Will,” he explains, and the boy, Will, waves in response.
“Nice to meet you, Will.” Adelaide laughs a little when he sticks out his hand over the table for her to shake. She takes the offer, deeply amused by how polite Will acts despite his age.
The rest of the exchange continues in relative silence, passing easily as it usually does, and the pair are off before Adelaide knows it. She watches Will make some comment as they walk off, and she can’t help but smile when she sees Halt raise an eyebrow at whatever Will said.
Adelaide had just met the kid, but he seemed to be a good fit for the grim ranger.
Adelaide sees more and more of Will over the next few weeks, and it’s hard not to like the kid. When he comes alone, he makes excellent conversation. When he comes with Halt, he gets a little quieter, but is still pleasant. With Halt, it’s like Will can appreciate silence and sit with it as a friend—a good skill to have.
Adelaide passes time at the market by watching passing strangers and trying to discern their stories from the snatches she sees, and it’s no different with Will.
She notices how the boy is more nervous, how he puts himself out there but tends to draw into himself a bit when taken off guard. He seems so unlike Gilan, who carried himself with a much more self-assured air than this second apprentice. Will tries to talk to Halt, who responds in grunts, but he doesn’t look very offended. Gilan used to be more teasing about it, more willing to joke.
As Adelaide had noticed when she first met Will, he was also exceptionally polite. He gave out the kind of politeness and friendliness you master when you’re either taught to by your parents or you teach yourself from the sidelines.
It was much easier to read Will than Halt, Adelaide found. But she also found that understanding Will is a gateway to the other.
Just as Will grew more confident and ranger-like as the weeks passed, Halt also shifted. Sebastian laughed in disbelief when she came home and told him, but it’s true. The thing is, you have to know Halt to see it: the way he’s better at keeping an eye on Will than he is at holding eye contact, the way his posture eases when Will is in a good mood, the way he comfortably hangs back when Will leads a conversation.
He acts happier. It’s as if he was meant to mentor Will.
It’s as if they’re family.
One day, Adelaide hears a story about a boar hunt. She tries her best to ignore it, but that changes when she hears Will’s name thrown in the mix. One morning, she’s pretending to be very focused on brushing some dirt off of a potato as two people walk by in vivid conversation.
“I heard the apprentice ranger charged both boars and stabbed them straight in the heart at once!” One gestures wildly as they speak.
“I wouldn’t be surprised. Who knows what those rangers train for?” The other shudders at the mere thought.
Adelaide doesn’t believe that for a second. The mental image of the short boy taking down an entire boar by himself makes her laugh, and the two strangers turn and look at her weirdly.
They walk off with a little more secrecy than they came with, and Adelaide is left with her thoughts until one or both of the rangers arrive.
Will comes alone this time, looking a little tired but still his lively self. He smiles at Adelaide and she returns it easily.
“Good morning, Will.”
“Good morning,” he replies as his eyes begin to scan her stall. He’s making an attempt to focus on his selection, but his mind is very obviously elsewhere. Adelaide is bothered by this lack of conversation, becoming a little distracted herself.
He painstakingly picks out everything he needs as Adelaide pretends to be invested in counting the coins in her purse. Will begins to get his own coins out when Adelaide has finally had enough of silence.
Might as well ask the obvious: “So how was the boar hunt?”
That makes Will freeze before sheepishly looking up to meet Adelaide’s curious yet patient expression. “Whatever you heard, ma’am, I’m sure it was blown out of proportion.”
“Oh, I know. I’m no gullible young thing like yourself,” she lightly teases the boy, which seems to make him relax.
“Well, an apprentice knight and I just distracted the second boar. His name is Horace, he was very brave. And it was really Halt who made the killing blow.” He shrugs, looking over his shoulder back at the woods as if he could summon the man.
Adelaide raises her eyebrows with a chuckle. “Why do I get the feeling you’re underselling yourself?”
The apprentice's face turns a redder shade of brown, only confirming Adelaide’s accusation. “Ma’am!”
Before he can explain, Adelaide is walking around to the front of her stall, examining the apple basket with an expert eye. She hums victoriously as she picks up the most vibrant and shiny one she can find. Turning to Will, she slides it into the baffled boy’s basket before he can stop her.
“A gift for the hero’s horse,” Adelaide insists with a wink. “Our secret—and you better not try to pay for it.”
“O-Of course,” he stammers, holding out the payment in a cupped hand. Adelaide quickly adds the coins up in her head, finds it sufficient, then takes it.
Once Adelaide walks back to the other side of the stall, she waves Will off. “Have a good day, Will!”
“You too!” he replies, looking slightly hurried as he walks off. Adelaide laughs a little, shaking her head fondly.
A few minutes later, another customer stops at her stall. Their eyes widen at something out of Adelaide’s sight.
“Excuse me ma’am, did you spill some coins in your apple basket?”
“Oh!” Adelaide frowns as the customer scoops up a coin or two and holds it out to her. She accepts them, imagining Will looking triumphant as he rides back home. “I guess I did, thank you.”
She sighs, deeply amused, as she adds those coins to her purse. Like father, like son.
The next visit, Will doesn’t mention the payment at all, and neither does Adelaide. Halt also joins him this time, letting Will take the lead more than usual.
As Adelaide watches them depart, she sees Will make some comment with a cheeky smile. Halt responds rather casually, but it’s hard to tell what either of them are talking about from so far away. The thing that surprises Adelaide the most, however, is Will’s response: he laughs.
It's the first time she’s ever seen Halt make anyone laugh. Though she does have very limited exposure to the man, something feels significant about that.
That moment sits in her mind when they don’t come back next week. And the week after that.
They’re rangers, she tells herself, of course they’re busy; they have dangerous jobs. That only makes her feel worse.
Will and Halt return eventually, looking a little worse for wear. Will is still bright eyed, though, if not in a nervous way. The boy approaches Adelaide’s stand with an air of both restlessness and relief while Halt trails behind at a slower pace, noticeably limping.
“Well if it isn’t my favorite customers,” Adelaide greets them warmly.
“It’s nice to see you again, miss Adelaide.” He sounds so genuine it makes the woman’s heart glow.
“You as well. And it’s just Adelaide, Will. No need to call me miss,” she corrects the boy. Though the extra respect does feel nice, she finds it undue.
“Right. Sorry.”
Adelaide shakes her head, laughing. Man, I missed this kid.
The rest of the routine is like seeing an old show for the first time in ages, the kinds they put on during annual festivals. When a routine is so familiar, however, it’s easier to notice discrepancies: Will won’t stop rubbing a spot on his pointer finger.
Suddenly, it’s the sole thing stealing Adelaide’s attention. When Will reaches forward to grab an onion, she can see that his skin looks unusually dark and red on the side of his finger. Adelaide knows a burn mark when she sees one, since Edith once—no. Not now.
Will’s hand luckily pulls away, handing the onion to Halt before immediately going back to that incessant rubbing motion.
Before Adelaide can say anything, Halt gently touches Will’s agitated hand with his own sturdy one. Like magic, Will stops at once, looking slightly surprised but mostly sheepish.
“Sorry,” he mumbles in Halt’s direction, although he doesn’t move his hand away and neither does Halt. Adelaide watches, stunned, until she remembers to tell them how much their produce cost all together.
Only then does Halt move his hand away from Will’s to collect coins from the pouch at his waist. Adelaide feels like she ruined an important moment, but neither master nor apprentice act like anything happened other than the fact that Will has stopped rubbing at his skin.
She watches them leave after Halt pays, and it hits her that she never asked why Will looked so nervous.
Adelaide gets her answer soon enough when she hears word of a ceremony taking place to commemorate Will’s brave actions while he was gone for those two weeks. From what she hears, he delivered an urgent message and single-handedly took down a wargal, saving the life of not only his mentor but Baron Arald himself. The Baron is a good man who is much more responsive to his people than other Barons are, so she understands why everyone is in such high spirits over Will’s deeds.
The ceremony takes place in the Baron’s audience hall, the seats reserved for Craftmasters, knights, ladies, and trademasters. This leaves Adelaide waiting at the drawbridge of castle Redmont alongside other commonfolk, hearing the roaring applause inside and not knowing what prompted it. She keeps a firm hand on Edith’s little lavender pillow in her pocket, wary of the crowd’s jostling motion.
Others casually turn their ears towards the commotion with curious ears, but Adelaide acts desperate. I deserve to be in there! I know Will better than all nobility combined! She had insisted to Sebastian before she left. Her husband had calmed her down by reminding her that they didn’t even live in the village, but instead in the countryside, but that didn’t stop her from huffing.
Eventually the doors open and knights clear the way for the audience hall inhabitants to walk through. The village crowd bursts into conversation, but mostly with each other.
Adelaide, on the other hand, needs to know what happened. She spots a courier apprentice, a nice looking young man, and squeezes through the crowd to tap him on the shoulder.
“Hm?” he turns around, trying to get out of the way of others walking by. “Do you need something?” he asks, confused, as Adelaide catches her breath.
“I’m so sorry to bother you, but will you please let me know how the ceremony went? I know that apprentice ranger, I’ve talked to him many times,” she has to raise her voice a bit to be heard over the crowd, and she tries to sound as polite as possible while doing so.
The apprentice courier’s eyes light up with understanding and a hint of excitement. He has to shout equally as loud over the crowd. “Ah, yes! He got up on stage and we all applauded him, but then he was offered the opportunity to train as a knight!”
Adelaide’s heart stops. “A…knight?” A thousand thoughts fill her head at once. Why would Will become a knight? Surely he wouldn’t leave Halt like that?
Eventually she finds her voice again. “He remained a ranger…right?”
Fortunately, the courier nods. “Yes, but the Baron didn’t mind at all. I wish you could’ve seen the smile on both of their faces.”
“Of course.” Adelaide lets go of tension she didn’t know she was holding. The Baron is a kind, understanding man, of course he would respect the boy’s loyalty to Halt. “Thank you for telling me.”
Adelaide watches the courier nod and disappear into the crowd as a proud smile settles across her face. It’s about time the rest of the fief caught up to how great rangers are.
A few days later, Will and Halt arrive at Adelaide’s stall as if nothing is out of the ordinary. A grin breaks out across Adelaide’s face. The moment Will sees her, his face is already turning a deep shade of red.
“Will, congratulations! You’re always doing some new incredible thing, aren’t you,” she tells him before he’s even done walking over.
He laughs a little. “Please don’t make a big deal out of it, the ceremony was enough already.”
“Alright, alright, you’re just another customer right now,” she reassures him, composing herself as much as she can. Will instantly relaxes at that.
And just as promised, the trio goes through their little routine. Adelaide looks over at Halt, holding a basket quietly behind Will with an unreadable expression, per usual. This time, he catches her eye. For a second she sees the pride in his gaze, and he undoubtedly sees hers. The connection ends as quickly as it began, neither of them accustomed to such direct communication.
Will starts to chat a little, so Adelaide busies herself answering his questions. The rangers pay, she waves them off, and she counts the coins. Will walks off with a confident stride, a far cry from the first unsure steps he approached her stall with. He sure does grow up fast, huh?
A few months of market visits go by, and something definite has changed in Will. The shine of youth remains bright in his eyes alongside a new sort of confidence. Adelaide looks forward to his visits even more now, which makes it extra concerning when he doesn’t show next week and Halt’s begins to act rather restless.
The gruff man is more irritable than before, grumbling under his breath over a broken cobblestone. Adelaide frowns when he reaches her stall.
“Everything alright, ranger?” she asks a bit timidly, unused to being so direct.
Halt only grunts in reply.
“I don’t suppose Will is here right now?” Adelaide ventures.
Halt pauses this time, then he shakes his head quickly. He gives no more information than that, as secretive as ever. Adelaide doesn’t really mind, but she does feel a seed of anxiety.
“He is okay, right? He’s just with someone else?”
“Yes.” This time he actually speaks, and Adelaide hides her surprise. He’s as unreliable as ever, but with a hint of worry hidden underneath his deceptively flat tone. The entire time he picks out his produce with practiced rhythm.
“I’m sure he’ll return safe. If he’s with another ranger like yourself there’s no doubt he’s okay.”
Halt stays silent after that, perhaps realizing he’s revealed too much. After a second, though, he nods, hands her some coins, then leaves without a word.
Weird, Adelaide thinks. Halt must be missing Will.
A sudden pang of grief strikes her, reminding her of a feeling she thought was long buried. She stares at the spot Halt once stood, her hand unconsciously drifting to the lavender pillow in her pocket to rub the soothing smell onto her thumb. I can understand the feeling.
Halt is gone for the rest of the month. Whatever business he was called off to ends up being extended, and Adelaide is left anxiously waiting every week only for no one to visit. At night she buries her head into Sebastian's chest and mumbles her worries away. He always rubs her back, understanding without a hint of suspicion or jealousy. They’ve always had each other.
This long period of absence only makes Halt’s return more excruciating.
Adelaide has never seen Halt more tired. As he approaches her stall, his eyes look somewhere else entirely. A dark cloud follows his features, a storm inevitably on the horizon. It’s the look of a king going to war; it’s the look of a determined father.
Adelaide has an inkling of what happened. She heard something about a Skandian ship, and Will hasn’t been seen since. There’s an undeniable connection between the two events. Adelaide never liked rumors, and she sure as hell didn’t like this one.
“Ranger Halt,” she greeted him quietly, unable to stop the small shake in her voice. For the first time since they met, she was scared of him.
He didn’t reply, not with a nod or a grunt and definitely not with words. His gaze locked onto the vegetables laid out before him, his hand holding his basket with an iron grip.
Something is wrong. Terribly wrong.
Halt began to pick his produce, moving slowly and deliberately, his motions too controlled to be natural. It’s like he’s held together by routine, by the necessity for food and the basics of survival. It’s like his own life isn’t his priority right now, it’s only an obstacle to a greater goal.
This isn’t Halt’s usual quiet: this is a dangerous kind.
The silence is killing her. Adelaide desperately wishes for Will to be here with them, bright and talkative. The thought of the young boy, now lost to god knows what, brings back another memory, a softer one. It’s a memory Adelaide once shied away from, but she’s tired of running. She has to be strong when Halt looks so distraught. “I’ve never thanked you before.”
A second passes. Halt looks up, genuinely surprised. “Pardon?” His voice is polite but low and lacking energy.
Adelaide forces a small smile on her face in response to a look that muted. “I don’t know if you remember, but my little girl used to run through the farmlands pretending to be a ranger whenever we came to Wensley, and through the forest at home too." She finds her smile growing more genuine at the thought of Edith, nostalgia breaking through a wall of old grief. “I used to be worried sick, of course, but knowing you were out there made me feel better. She always loved your visits to my stall, even if she never spoke to you. So thank you, ranger.”
She pauses again, winded by her vulnerability. Her words hang in the air, as does Edith’s young face, shining and framed by dark swooping curls.
Halt stares, his gaze landing on the air right above Adelaide’s head. Then, a grunt and a small nod. Adelaide could cheer at the sound, familiar yet so much different than his usual response in a way only detectable by her.
He reaches into his pouch of coins to pay, putting the correct amount onto the counter of her stall. His hand lingers for a second, unsure, then pulls away, palm up.
Then, before Adelaide can regret it, she reaches into her pocket for the small lavender pillow, pressing into the ranger’s departing hand. He freezes. “Here,” Adelaide whispers. “Edith’s illness used to give her awful night terrors, and the smell of lavender always helped calm her down when she woke up.”
Adelaide pulls back and wrings her hands nervously behind the table as Halt slowly lifts the pillow to his face and smells it. She watches his shoulders relax, then smiles nervously when he sends her a confused look.
“For your boy when he gets back. My Edith would’ve been a little older than him if she were still here,” she explains.
Something about that makes the man flinch, and Adelaide feels like she just pierced steel with cotton. His eyes unfocus for a second, and his fingers tighten around the pillow.
Adelaide wonders if this is how it ends: losing a customer—no, a friend—over an attempted favor.
Eventually, Halt lets his hand fall to his side, gaze carefully following the pillow as it goes. In a tone so low that Adelaide strains to hear it, he mumbles, “Thank you.”
Adelaide lets out a sigh of relief. “Any time, ranger. Have a good day.”
Halt walks off, but stops a few feet away, one hand on the hood of his cloak and the other still tightly clutching the lavender filled pillow. He turns his head just enough where Adelaide can see his mouth slightly agape, about to say something else. However, his face quickly returns to its default taciturn expression, and he gives her one small nod before covering his head and leaving.
And though no one would believe her, she swears she saw the ranger’s eyes water.
Adelaide doesn’t think of herself as a very brave person, but she does think of herself as a friend.