Horseless horseman hampered

"Easy, there," Cotton said, holding the cavalryman's arm to steady him as a stone slid from under his foot, threatening to send him headlong, or sit him down with a jolt. He had slung his rifle so as to have both hands free, which he was glad he had done. "Mind your leg, there, we don't want you hurtin' that any worse than it is."

He looked down at his comrades, climbing up to them. "We'm fine, Joe. I think." He grinned. "Found us a horseman without a horse. Bit of an odd bird, that."

A horseless horseman? Newbury couldn't quite swallow a chuckle at such a thought. "Sounds it," he said, by now close enough to see the tattered and worn state of the cavalryman's uniform. "Been that way awhile too. Who's that other fellow?"

Ha, ha. The Hussar wasn't quite as amused as the two riflemen. He cleared his throat as if to alert them that he was indeed present and was actually not an exotic speciment, a peculiar strange new pet of hte riflemen, not present there with his mind, but that he could actually hear their musings quite well.

He smiled pleasantly at Joe, deciding an answer would make him a lot less like a trophy find:"..That would be a good friend, who this horseless horseman has stumbled across while walking quite unnaturally on his very own pair of feet. While utterly appaled and shocked by this not at all normal appearance, he was still able to aid the horseless horseman to rejoin his more land based, walking born military. In hopes of course that the unnaturalness of this may be quickly amended by equipping the horseman again with his most right a part, a horse."

While a small smirk played on his lips, he leaned heavily on Cotton's shoulder, easing his injured leg up ever so slightly to rest it while they were standing.

'That other fellow'. Calderón frowned, listening as Willoughby explained, in a far more roundabout way than was necessary. So many words to answer what really was a simple question. When it seemed the hussar was finished, Calderón said, "I am José," and left it at that. More questions could be answered later, if at all. He held out his arm to Willoughby, lest the poor lad lose his tenuous balance.

He looked at the man grateful, and eased his weight between them both, his balance regained. "Thank you." He whispered in a good fair shorter a manner (). Still slightly uneasy on the loose pebbles he had to adjust his footing again, sending a few stones happily tumbling down the steep slope. He has omitted the manner in which he had been made a rider, though rather than of a horse, a human. Jose might not have enjoyed being introduced as human cattle.

"Easy does it," Cotton said, taking the weight. "Come on, can't stand here chattin' all day. We ain't down yet."

Careful of his footing - this was the hardest point, where there was no grass to speak of - Cotton took another step forwards. He didn't want anything to happen that might jar the man and make his leg any worse, after all.

OOC - I got a mental image of Calderón with a tail and hooves when I read "introduced as human cattle".

IC -

At least the green-jacket on Willoughby's other side had some grains of sense. Calderón felt for a solid footing with each step, as he was completely without shoes. The sharp edges of the stones were digging into the bottoms and sides of his feet, aggravating whatever scratches were already there. Once he left the road and the very high risk of being recognised, he'd have to wrap up his feet somehow.

"Steadily," the scout hissed, as he nearly slipped on a deceptively loose rock.

Cotton paused for a moment, waiting till the Portuguese man had regained his footing. "Nearly down now," he said cheerfully. "There's a deal too many stones up here for my liking."

Back onto the grass, which made the going much easier, although from the way Willoughby's grip on his arm tightened, he didn't think the cavalryman thought so.

A few pebbles more were dislodged to bounce and roll down the slope, the sharp edged rocks doing little harm to the soles of their boots, unlike the bare feet of Calderon. He had shifted his weight carefully from the uninjured to the injured, then shifted again to the first. Few steps made were safe, if rather uneasy.

The next bout was certainly more dangerous for the trio atleast in the cavalry man's opinion. When he stepped on the blanket of wet grass, he spied a large rock that he thought was good to keep himself from slipping. A bigger one looking promising not to shift, the later did just so. His left leg slipped, his injured pressed against the floor but weakened as swiftly, sliding against the wet grass similarly as if it was greased through and through, all of his weight abruptly came down on the shoulders of the two men.

The big rock was thrown ahead, and bounced once, twice before settling itself firmly against the ground, sliding a few inches more.

"C'mon, Ben!" Newbury snapped, hurriedly slinging his rifle even as he quickened his stride up the hill. Loose stones be damned. Jacklin cursed and followed, less sure of his footing.

"Here fellows," Newbury said as he got up close. "Mind you your feet, Master José, I've got our trooper here."


OOC - Off to work for a work detail. New equipment = moving old equipment = fail. Back in a couple hours!