Ranger's Apprentice 12: The Royal Ranger by John Flanagan

looked around her, taking in the sight of the little clearing. It really was a beautiful spot, she decided. The sun was just beginning to show over the tops of the trees, and the air was fresh with the scent of early morning.
    She washed under the rudimentary shower bath in the wash house, shivering as the cold water hit. Then she towelled herself briskly, donned the bathrobe and returned to the cabin. Back in her room, she hesitated, wonderingwhat she should wear. She had discarded her clothes on the floor the previous night but, of course, Rose-Jean wasn’t here to pick them up and fold them, and lay out fresh clothes for the day ahead. In fact, her clothes were all in the valises, which were still in the stable.
    Finally, she decided she’d don the clothes she’d worn the previous day. Dressed, she went back out into the main room.
    Will looked up, nodding a welcome. He was laying a plate on the table.
    ‘I didn’t know how you’d like your eggs,’ he said. ‘I scrambled them.’
    She wrinkled her nose. ‘I don’t like eggs at all.’
    Will took a deep breath. ‘You don’t like eggs,’ he repeated. She shook her head. ‘How about bacon?’ He glanced towards the cooking stove, where another pan was spluttering cheerfully on the hotplate over the coals.
    Again, she shook her head. It struck him that it was a fussy little gesture but he held his temper.
    ‘We have a special air-cured ham that’s made for us by a pork butcher at Castle Araluen,’ Maddie said. ‘It’s so light and delicate. It just melts on your tongue. But bacon?’ She shivered dramatically. ‘Yuck!’
    ‘Well, we don’t have any air-cured ham. Maybe later we could go shopping in Wensley Village and pick up some larks’ tongues instead?’ Will suggested, the sarcasm heavy in his tone. She shook her head, ignoring it.
    ‘I like fruit,’ she said.
    Will heaved a small sigh of relief. ‘Fruit is good,’ he said. He selected a large, shiny apple from a bowl on the kitchencounter and placed it on a plate in front of her. She looked at it uncertainly.
    ‘Apples aren’t fruit?’ Will asked.
    Maddie made a small gesture. ‘Well, usually, the servants peel it and slice it for me,’ she said.
    There was a long silence. They looked at each other. She could sense that, once again, she had annoyed him. Suddenly, he moved, taking the apple off the plate and setting it on the rough wood of the table top.
    There was a hiss of steel on leather as his saxe knife leapt from its scabbard at his side. Then he brought it down with a resounding clunk , chopping the apple into two halves that oscillated gently on the table.
    ‘Consider it sliced,’ he told her.

    Breakfast continued in a strained silence. Will, relenting somewhat, produced a fresh loaf of bread, along with butter and conserves made from raspberries. The conserve had been a gift to him from Jenny and it was his favourite. He wondered wryly why he was giving some of it to Maddie.
    She ate it with relish, realising how hungry she had been. Will, for his part, ate the scrambled eggs and bacon that he had prepared earlier. As Maddie finished her bread and jam, he reached behind him to the coffee pot steaming on the stove hotplate. Coffee would set everything right, he thought. Nobody could maintain a sulk when they had a cup of hot, sweet coffee before them.
    ‘Coffee?’ he said, already beginning to pour some of the fragrant liquid into her cup.
    ‘I don’t drink coffee,’ she told him.
    Will’s eyebrows arched in surprise. ‘Why not?’ he asked her. ‘Everyone drinks coffee.’
    ‘Not me. I don’t like the taste. I’d prefer milk if you have it . . . please,’ she added, after a pause.
    He accepted that the last word was a major concession on her part. There was a jug of fresh milk cooling under a damp cloth. He fetched it and poured it for her, shaking his head as he watched the creamy white liquid filling her cup.
    ‘How do they expect me to make a Ranger out of