13th June: Locusts and honey

"There." Pye murmured, quite excited that they have reached their destination. He then turned towards their French prisoner and Friedrich.

"Wait with him." He indicated the man. He may have been young and inexperienced in some ways of the army, but he knew that on the street one did not trust anyone completely. No matter what word they might have given. To trust on the street, could get you killed, and to trust this man here, even as an officer, might do the same. he did not know about their honour and though it was all the rage with their superiors, he personally doubted the logic behind it.

"Watch him, an' don't let him get to ye." He said sternly, giving the Frenchman a look of warning. "Shout if he does so much as think of something he shouldn't." He adjusted the hold on his rifle. "I'll check me snares and get the rabbits, if we got any, A'right?" he did not want to leave Freddie alone with their prize even for a moment. Although he trusted his friend enough to know he would not let him run, he felt any Frog would try just that.

Freddie grimly nodded and motioned the Frenchman to keep standing three paces away. He wasn't sure whether he trusted the man either, him being a frog and all, and although the prisoner seemed meek enough now, he accepted that Pye's upbringing in a town might give his friend some insight into the situation he didn't have.

So he kept a cautious distance and his rifle levelled at the man. The thought that after the man had given his parole his guards were perhaps expected to treat him as if he was only a guest occured, but Freddie shoved it out of his mind.

They hadn't hit him or anything, and if he complaint to Captain Vickery ... then the Captain could hardly get any more angry than he would already be, if he believed the Frenchman at all.

He didn't take his eyes of the Frog, but with his ears he followed Pye's progress, ready to react should his friend require him to.

"Do we have luck?", he inquired curiously. "When have you maked the slings?"

"Rabbit!" It was bloody luck it was. When considering that one should've set atleast five snares and be patient, to have caught one now, was stunning. Pye would not question his luck however and grinned. "We've got one." He made sure the animal was dead, then got it out of the snare. He looked ponderously at his uniform and then decided to hide the creature too. Lifting his shako, he squished the rabbit in, and then pulled the headwear as far down as he could.

He'd have to be careful as, unlike some hats, the shakoes weren't the finest place to hide things. Space was really not great in there!

"We've only placed them here yesterday, I think. Been more fortunate 'bout it than I had hoped." He laughed softly as he approached the two men. "Ready to go." His snare was put away as well. No use to leave the material behind when it could be used as a snare another time.

Freddie grinned and motioned the French to start walking again. "If we find some Kastanien - you know those big brown nuts with needles - I can make rabbit stuffed with them and painted with honey. That is a very good food! Or we can use apples and small nuts from the bush with funny branchs." He drew a spiral in the air with the muzzle of his rifle. "Haselnüsse, we call them."

His voice was alright, but his eyes looked a bit feverish. It was such a nice dream to cling to!

Damn! The lads were careful. Perhaps he had underestimated them a bit. But short of running from two boys and letting them continue to fire at French soldiers, he didn't think he could have done anything differently.

Well, he could have shot Cheeky there and not just redecorated his shako - damn that bloody inanccurate musket - but Nosey had fought back quite skilled, and while he would certainly have prevailed in the long run, there hadn't been any chance to end that sooner. And the sous-lieutenant knew that plans never did go wrong just because a musket shot had missed. If all hinged on that, then the plan was a failure in the first place. Sometimes you had to take those chances, but you didn't grumble when it did go awry.

Well, sooner or later there would be another guard, perhaps an officer who took his parole more seriously. His chance would come.

Suddenly he smiled. Perhaps he might even get some favours out of Cheeky and Nosey during his stay in the British camp. After all, it was up to him what he told about their exploits.

Amiably chatting, he probed:

"So what are you boys doing out of camp?"

"Check if there's trees like that around... is it time for them?" He did not know when they could get these Kastanien, or the other ones.. but he did wish they could. Food as described was just the best thing to imagine and Pye felt that his tummy would all but agree it was time for it!

But not yet. They had to get back first and hope that their absence would not be too upsetting to others. What appeared a splendid idea earlier, was slowly beginning to be.. far from it. If they had just gone, got the honey and returned they might not have been missed, but so long?

He glanced at the Frenchman, who spoke in English again - something rather unnerving in Pye's opinion. "..Takin' you back." He answered. "What were you doin' all the way out there?" He returned. There was one problem, wasn't there. He only couldn't figure out what it was, but it had to have something to do with this man.

"Following some deserters. Yours, not ours. Didn't want to get arrested and shot at us."

Not quite the truth, but not to far of either.

"You should have been helping instead of shooting at us. Isn't your army rather harsh in dealing with them?"

"Our army wants to deal with its escaped on its own... we do not need your help." He answered stiffly. "How did you think to label them deserters when they might have only been a foraging party.. or something of t' like."

Of course, desertion happened. On both sides, at various times, depending of what triggered it. Just because he had not done it, did not mean that he did not know of it, or its reasons.

"..Deserters are killed, yes." He said after a moment. There had been cases when they were spared. But so rare, that to count on those, would be to be a down right fool. Anyway, just to think of Captain Vickery's disappointment was enough to convince Pye not to want it.

His goal accomplished, the Frenchman didn't answer. Now that little English twig would be pondering what might happen if their little adventure was misunderstood. He had not sounded too happy just now, so probably he had already been thinking along those lines.

Better not say anything more, though. At least not before some other people were in sight. Otherwise those two might just realize that putting a bullet into his head would solve a few problems.

Trying to present the picture of a prisoner resigned to his fate, the sous-lieutenant trod on, the occasional stumbles now disappearing from his walk.

From here.



He had attracted quite the following, he noted when he paused to look back. At last! Maybe these humans could be trained after all. The dog dropped the blanket, not having a need for it anymore, and stirred back into a run. They were close to where he'd last seen the Angry Human.

As he went, he bayed like a foxhound on the trail of its quarry.

Pye was about to demand an answer, when he heard the familiar yapping. It brought back memories of the hunts even if this was singular and barely like the hounds he knew. But the darn thing was back! He saw the blur of white bolting in their direction.

"Git lost!" He shouted, even if the dog might not have been near enough to hear them yet.

And then the dog dropped the blanket, allowing Cotton to scoop it up.

He froze as someone yelled at the dog. It was a very familiar voice, too. He dropped the blanket, returning his hand to the stock of his rifle, and moved his right hand to the dog-head screw, ready to pull it back to the full-cock position.

"Pye!"

He had, hadn't he? He'd been caught right in the act of deserting now. Cotton tightened his grip on his rifle.

He'd found his quarry, not far from where he'd left it. All that remained was for the other earthy humans to come take over. In the meantime, the dog saw to it that the Angry Human and his friends didn't go anywhere.

That had been quick. The other members of the company must have been searching for those two boys. And the man who had discovered them didn't sound pleased at their sight at all. Was this now good or bad for him?

Just to make things absolutely clear to the newcomer, the sous-lieutenant lifted his arms high. In his rough voice, he called:

"Parole!"

What the...?

That was a somewhat unexpected complication.

"What've you two bin up to?" he asked, moving the rifle to cover the Frenchman. "You was missin' at p'rade an' the Captain ain't best pleased, I can tell you!"

Freddie had his rifle ready even before he had consciously realized what had just happened; when his mind caught up with his hands, he exhaled deeply. For an instant he had been close to shooting the Frenchman.

Easing the lock back to half-cock, he looked at Pye. Now they would have to face whatever was coming. With a small smile he made a polite little bow, then turned to Cotton.

Now what to say? Perhaps stating the obvious would buy them a bit of time.

"He tried to kill us."

The look Cotton gave Rottländer was one of frank confusion. "Who? What? The Captain?!"

Freddie looked equally confused for a moment, then his face cleared and he stabbed the muzzle of his rifle towards the sous-lieutenant.

"No! The Frog!"

"Oh." Well, it hadn't sounded quite right, even as Cotton had asked the question. "That still don't 'splain why you an' Pye was out here in the first place - he ain't s'posed to leave camp. Captain's orders, that."

His gaze never wavered from the Bad Human, at whom he was growling. Even his dislike of the Angry Human paled in importance to keeping this two-legger in one place. This sort of human were never anything but mean. He had tried being friendly with them - many times, in fact - but always they chased him away with loud words. Sometimes they fired at him with their long sticks, even.

"C'm 'ere, Dog," Cotton said, his gaze never moving from the French officer. He slipped his hand from his rifle stock and patted his thigh beckoningly. The animal probably hadn't been taught how to heel, of course, but calling him was still worth trying.

He moved his hand back to the rifle stock, carefully easing the flint back to full-cock. There was no sense in taking chances.

Pye glared at the dog, but he was obviously frightened of the thing more than anything. There was worse to be had. While he had hoped they would be back before they were discovered missing, this would not be so.. as was clear now. He wondered what Cotton thought first seeing them, and guessed it was nothing good.

That he had been under supervision of the other lad, didn't make it any better,...as they were both where they ought not to have been. "...Cotton, we've.....we've ..brought him."

The Frenchman eyed the dog warily. It was bad news. It obviously didn't like him, and it could follow one's scent. But it was good that it had appeared now before he might have made a mistake.

Now for the other rifleman. He had said that Nosey and Cheeky had both been missed and that their officer was angry. That boded well for his plane. The ready stance the other had taken spoke of experience, and that in turn didn't. He seemed well acquainted with Nosey, too, so perhaps he also knew how to fight dirty. Which meant: In future, avoid if possible.

Not wishing to draw any attention to himself and disturb this interesting conversation, the officer continued to stand there, hands still half-raised.

He did not trust this Bad Human, nor the Angry Human. But the Earthy Human was calling him back. It was confusing! What if one of these two did something quickly, intending to do harm? It didn't matter if either might try to run, for there was no human alive who could outrun a dog.

Very slowly and at first only a single step, the dog backed toward the Earthy Human, who had, he saw after he'd finally drawn even, his short stick levelled on the Bad Human. That was something, perhaps.

"What ... what do we now, Herr Cotton? Do we go to our camp?"

Freddie asked the question with a curious mixture of eagerness and dread. He was afraid to go back, but to stand out here, knowing that the Captain would find them soon, and just waiting, that was even worse.