2 June, morning - finding the 60th

Burke cursed officers and his wounded arm under his breath as he moved through the camp. It seemed the 95th had been sent out on a special patrol - likely a term for one of the General's missions if he ever heard one - and Burke was "to march with the 60th, under the command of Captain Vickery". It had been such an honour to be one of the 95th Rifles, and it felt rather like a punch in the gut to be taken away from that.

But, he reminded himself, squaring his shoulders, it was still an honour to be carrying a rifle. Mayden had said that the 60th had some good men, and one of them had even outshot Hagman. Burke would be fine.

However, he was still tired and sore, and perhaps a little lost.

He sighed, before moving over to address a woman who was hurrying by. "'Scuze me, miss," he said. "D'ye know where th' 60th are billeted?"

The miss, one of the few lucky ones that had escaped the fate of imprisonment arched a brow, taking in the sight of the rather bemused rifleman. "Hm.. t' red n' green ones?" She asked and wondered how this one could have lost them.

"That'd be them," Burke said, blushing slightly at the woman's raised eyebrow. He probably seemed a right idiot, not knowing where to find the camp.

"Well." He did not look like he was teasing her. Had he lost a bet, by which he would have to appear a right lost fool infront of a girl? She studied him sceptically, looked about them and saw that there was no other man of his kind. Just redcoats.

"I'll show you, alright? How'd you manage t' loose 'em?" She asked, her smile friendly even if amused.

Burke's blush deepened.

"Didn' lose 'em, exactly," he said. "Was wi' th' surgeon, an' then sent t' find 'em."

He offered a smile in response to her offer of help. At least she seemed friendly enough. For all that she was probably laughing at him. Still, it meant that he'd find the 60th before they started to march.

"Much obliged t' ye, miss."

Poor dear. His cheeks were as red as the coats of most British soldiers. It must have been awful hard to go ahead and ask someone like he did her. She could have made it harder on the boy, tease him a bit more but that look of his, and then a charming smile made her mind up. She could still tease him, after he was back with his 'family'.

"Quite inconsiderate that they didn't go to fetch you you." She looked on at him in concern. "What got you to the surgeon, dear?" And while she asked she also motioned for him to follow. "They aren't far." She spoke kindly. " You've been goin' the right way." As if that might ease some of his embarrassment, which his cheeks were so openly showing.

Even then, she was leading the way, which hardly stopped her however, from chatting with the man as well.

"Jist a slight wound t' th' arm," he replied as he moved to follow to woman. "No' so bad."

As though waiting to be noticed, the throbbing in his arm increased a little. Blasted French, he thought again. Blasted French, and blasted surgeon, and thrice-blasted officers.

It was a relief to know that he had at least been going the right way. If he'd been walking clear the wrong direction across camp, he'd probably seem even more of a fool than he did already.

"Ah. Got it fighting?" Where else could he have gotten it, of course. That was a silly question, though it was perhaps a subtle hint at wanting to hear more about how he had gotten it.

She knew the way well enough, and only veered this way and that, when solid things were in the way, such as men or their property.

"So I did," Burke said with a nod. He ducked around a hurrying redcoat, not wanting to get knocked over. His guide weaved easily through the busy camp, being rather smaller than he was, and he was determined not to lose sight of her. "Got caught in th' arm when th' French attacked th' line."

He frowned slightly. "How'd ye avoid notice? Seems lots o' th' lasses got taken."

"I was one of the lucky ones." She slowed her pace a little, though she appeared quite smug about it. "Been 'further up t' line, when they attacked us. S' a terrible mess that happened there!...Shouldn't have gotten our wagons." She frowned as she knew that many of her fellow camp followers had gone and been caught by the French and who knew what they had to suffer because of it. Men were men, and those without restraint, were the worst! Poor dears. "Do you know whether anythin' will be done to get them back?" Ask a soldier, for a soldier knew better.

Her gaze dropped to Burke's collar and she paused in step. "You're not from the 60th. You sure you want t' find them?" Perhaps the boy got a knock on the head as well and was now confused as to which directions he needed to obtain!

"Don' rightly know what will be done for th' lasses," Burke responded with a frown. Didn't seem right to just leave them to the French. Nor did it seem right to just abandon the captured soldiers. But, the decisions would be up to the officers, he was sure. "They've no' said anythin' t' us yet."

He pulled to a stop as the girl slowed, fidgeting under her scrutiny. It felt rather like being a young boy again, with his older sister noticing dirt on his face. Certainly an odd feeling for an experienced soldier!

"Jist been sent t' march wi' th' 60th," he explained. "Was 95th up 'til now."

"Oh." Well she was right then. His collar wasn't the right sort for the 60th! "So this is your first time?" It did sound bad. Did it not? "With t' 60th." She added with a playful smile, tugging at the corners of her mouth. She needed to keep her humour when all else was lost. Despair changed nothing.

"..Say, would you agree to something of an um..agre...agreement?" She continued walking at the same somewhat slower pace. "..I'll get you t' your new men.. n' you tell me when you know." She hoped the women had not come to harm.

Burke nodded. That certainly sounded a fair trade.

"'Course," he said. Then he paused.

"What's yer name, miss?" he asked. "Might be good t' know, iff'n I'm t' find ye again."

"I'll tell you, only if you tell me your name first." The girl chuckled softly and swayed out of the way of a pair of large soldiers, carrying with them some firewood each. She placed a hand at her hip, her other tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ear. There. It was beginning to get rather annoying and it was certainly in the way of her vision.

"You aren't English. Hm?" She mused, curious if his name would support that claim. She'd heard an odd name in her time, and some that were quite tame.

"No, 'm no' English," he said with another smile. "'M an Irishman, me."

He hesitated again, not sure whether to salute or bow or offer to shake hands, and settled for touching a hand to the brim of his shako. "Brendan Burke, at yer service, miss."

"Irishman?" She nodded, her cheeks colouring a bit when he greeted her in such fashion that somehow flattered her, due to its suggested formality. "Anne McCoy at yours." She gave him a light bow, not at all as refined as that of a proper lady, but a pleasant attempt at such.

"... I hope our army does turn and attack them French." Her hand was balled into a small fist, knuckles white as she shook it with some passion. "And save our boys and lasses an'.. chase em all Frogs t' way to France!" Which she did not know where it would be, but wherever it was, the French had to be sent back there.

"Pleased t' meet ye," Burke said.

He was slightly taken aback at her sudden fury at the French.

"There, now, lass," he said, patting her awkwardly on the back. "French can't keep us down long, aye? Them folks'll be fine. Ye'll see."

"..If they don't get brought to France." She whispered and her earlier fury was quickly replaced by the sort of frustration one felt when they could do nothing against a thing they expressly wished to change. She arched a brow at Burke's tap, but then let it pass.

"They got some o' t' 60th rifles' men too. You'll notice. Even got captain's batman. The poor dear." She did not need to indicate the direction this time, for a green coat with red lapels , one or other, could be seen at that moment and the closer they got, the more frequented the area, like flies a carcass.

"Right, then," Burke said, looking over to the 60th men and frowning. They were likely to be in a fair state if they'd lost so many men. He could only hope that they would not be inclined to take it out on a new-comer.

"My thanks, Miss McCoy," he said.

"You are welcome." She gave the lad a small bow. "Should you need any clothes mendin' or t' sort. An' when you learn more, You can find me here abouts." She hesitated and wondered if there was a specific man of the 60th that Burke might have needed finding first. "Ah.. pardon me. You will know where t' find t' captain on yer own now, shall you?"

He sent her another smile.

"Reckon I can find 'im from 'ere," he said. "I'll be sure t' find ye iff'n I learn anythin'."

"Very well, young traveler." She said it almost as though the lad would have now taken his leave to go on a mission, perhaps to explore the distant lands, that no other had yet seen. "Good luck."

She gave him a slight wave and then moved off, her own business not yet half finished.

Roper was returning to where the 60th were bivouacked after filling the kettle with water - during the night, the picquets had discovered some of the animals that had been thought captured by the French. Among them had been Missis Cotton's donkey and the Captain's mule, with the kettle shared by the men of Cotton's mess still strapped to the pack-saddle along with the Captain's belongings.

The discovery had heartened them all, and Roper had lost no time in reclaiming the kettle while some of the other men unloaded the animal so it could rest for a while.

Roper was puzzled to see a Rifleman in the 95th's black facings coming towards him, and paused so the man could catch him up.

"You all right there, mate?" he asked genially, shifting the kettle to his other hand.

"Well as can be," Burke said, quickening his pace to catch up. Something about the man looked familiar, though Burke was having trouble why. Then it struck him, and he grinned slightly at the coincidence.

"Think I still owe ye fer th' brandy last night, mate," he said. "Yer lass made it back alright?"

Roper nodded. "Last night? Oh. Last night, of course." He grinned and held his hand out. "She ain't my lass - she's married to a friend who got took by the Frogs, so we's lookin' after her." He shrugged. "Captain asked if she'd take care of him - he got sliced with a Frog sabre and clouted round the head by one o' their horses and all."