13 June; Morning Muster

The dog wasn't just running, was it? Cotton was sure he'd caught sight of footprints in the dust. He came to a stop and paused to look at the ground.

Definitely footprints. Two sets, from what he could make out. He measured one against his own shoe, and then measured the stride. Could it be the two Riflemen who'd made them?

"All right, dog, you'd better have this right," he said grimly, reaching for a cartridge to begin loading his rifle. "This'd better not be a wild goose chase, that's all I'm a-sayin'!"

He slowed down to glance back after some distance and saw that the human chasing him had stopped. What was he doing? The dog halted as well, the blanket dangling from his mouth. Maybe the human was finally understanding what the dog had been trying to do. Feeling hopeful that this was the case, he wagged his tail.

"All right, I'm comin'," Cotton said, returning the ramrod after ramming down the powder and ball. The officers were still following him, and he wa heartened to see a group of Riflemen following, too.

He turned back to his study of the trail. It did look hopeful - neither of the two had taken much trouble to hide their footprints.

"All right, dog, lead on," he said, straightening. He shook his head. The animal looked almost as though it understood him. Must be a trick of the light, he thought.

There were two Things with Hard Feet coming after them, with several other earthy humans too. It was the Things with the Hard Feet that worried him, though, and he turned quickly about to dash off again. Those big beasts were dangerous to normal-sized animals like him.

To run was undignified, but a brisk marching pace settled the difference well enough in Blackwood's mind. His batman had come stumbling into his tent, stammering nearly incomprehensibly about the Rifles. Only with an effort had Blackwood calmed the man down enough to be understood. Once he caught the bulk of Darling's news, however, he snapped out an order for Sergeant Northcut to muster a dozen men at once. Trust the Rifles to get up to something!

He and his little detachment were now following the swifter-footed Riflemen toward the picquet line. Now what, Blackwood wondered in surprise, was going on this far from any camp? He wished he had thought to call for his horse, but his batman probably couldn't have coped with that task. It might be asking too much of the man to have him along on this errand, in fact. They'd know once it was over.

"It seems as though it's more than just the dog that Cotton's following," Vickery pointed out, noticing the man's deliberate pause to scan the ground. "Let's just hope it's the right trail after all this, though."

This certainly was very different from Scottland. If men went missing there, one usually only had to tell a sergeant to find the next hedge tavern, drag the men out of there and dunk them in the river until they were sober enough for punishment.

But as much as he was worried for his batman, Edward didn't deceive himself. The thrill of mystery and danger, the action he could take now himself, were a strong drug. Small wonder some men chose this as their profession. Now that he had a taste of it, he wanted it to last. He just hoped that this feeling was strong enough to carry him through when the realities of war hit him.

When some orders in an unknown voice were suddenly barked behind his back, Edward twisted in the saddle. With raised eyebrows, he turned back to Captain Vickery.

"Either the Guards are missing some people as well, or they have decided on a bit of sight-seeing. I'll inquire."

Suddenly realizing that he had completely forgotten that Captain Vickery was his superior here, he quickly amended: "If that is alright with you, Sir?"

"Hmm." It was possible, of course. He turned in the saddle to see a redcoat behind them. He turned back to Torrington. "Certainly you may." He gave a rueful shrug. "We are both Captains, you know - I do not out-rank you."

The idea that he could outrank a fellow Captain was almost amusing.

Ahead, he could hear the dog barking. "We may have cornered our quarry," he added, dryly.

Edward considered this for a moment, then shook his head.

"This is your company, my orders are to hold myself at your disposal, and I fear you take military precedence as well. Not to mention that you probably are more senior."

With a touch to his head, he then turned his horse around and trotted off towards the officer in front of the red-coated contingent following the riflemen. There he wheeled his horse again, saluted and asked:

"Captain Torrington, Sir. Might I inquire whether you are missing someone from your company?"

This was certainly not the most polite phrasing, but Edward hoped that it would produce quick results. He had debated to try a more covered approach, but had decided against it: Even if he managed to get enough information without revealing the cause of their own search, the Guards simply needed to follow and sooner or later they would find out. It was more sensible to find out quickly whether there were additional facts that could shed some light on their current problem before they all together stumbled into an ambush.

This was... unexpected. An officer in blue approached, momentarily halting the detachment's progress. He had noted this fellow's presence with Vickery's lot, but did not know him. Accordingly, Blackwood's initial feeling was of suspicion, however mild.

"Blackwood," was the Guards captain's slightly cautious response as he returned the salute. "I am not, sir, but any alarm amongst the Rifles is of interest to me. They being attached to my regiment."

He paused and, despite being tempted to, did not glance back at his men. "May we press on, do you think?"

"Certainly, forgive me."

Edward set Trueno into motion again. He pondered whether it would be appropriate to volunteer the cause for their alarm or rather keep it within the company. He didn't know enough about the man besides him to make a guess how he would react to such an information either, or how his rapport with Captain Vickery was. Opting for caution, he kept to polite conversation.

"I am sorry that I did not present myself to you earlier then. Until further orders, I am attached to the rifle company to survey this region and lend such engineering expertise as might be needed."

If that was so, it was nice to know about it now, of all times, Blackwood thought dryly. He wondered if Colonel Trevor was aware of this. It was possible. So was the colonel's failing to make such an arrangement known to Blackwood. The dismissive treatment his company had received since that last action was beginning to annoy him.

"An honour then, sir." Now he glanced back at Sergeant Northcut and in a moment the little patrol was in motion again, the collective pace once more very brisk. "You may find ample opportunity to survey with the Rifles, perhaps."

"Likewise, Sir."

Edward offered his hand to the Guards officer. The man did seem a reasonable sort. Polite, and probably not inclined to mock the rifles because they had lost the two boys. His men might be different, but they didn't necessarily need to know. It was perhaps better to take a small risk in telling him what they were about instead of a larger one by letting him go forward into an unknown situation.

In a low voice, Edward said:

"Two young riflemen were found missing at the parade. We do not know what has happened, but it is unlikely that they have deserted."

Better make that clear.

It was difficult to shake hands when only one of them was mounted and both were moving, but Blackwood made an admirable effort. Courtesies had to be returned, after all.

The engineer's quietly-offered explanation was to the point, but then, he hardly needed to go into much detail. Blackwood understood the problem immediately and for an instant regretted having interfered.

Then he set his jaw. "We would do well to locate them as quickly as possible, then." Before the provosts did.

They had nearly caught up with Vickery and his fellows anyway, and by the look of it, the Rifles officer had caught up with something else.

"I hope we just did."

Edward reached for his glass, then remembered that he had given it to Vickery. Politeness dictated that he didn't take off at a gallop, but it was a struggle to bow to it.

Trueno, sensing his mood and not liking to be kept at a walking pace, snorted and tried to plunge on, but was held back and settled for shaking his head.

(They arrive here.)