Leaving Terpsy.

Padstowe caught up with Stephen again, and looping the reins around his wrist gently patted Stephen on the shoulder to wake him.

Stephen blinked, coming out of a wretched reverie. "How long do you think...?"

"Another couple of hours."

Padstowe brought his hand back down to the saddle and offered up his canteen.

"Only water, I'm afraid."

"Thank you," said Stephen; he had given his own to Yates. "I am sorry that we are slowing you down; I know that you are eager to return to your friends."

Padstowe gave a wry smile.

"That is not true," he said. "I would like to return to my duties as soon as is possible - yes, I would say so - but as to friends; I had much rather stay with the friends I have here than to charge off into the wild blue yonder where I may be decreed unfit for duty."

Stephen smiled weakly back. "Fit for light duties, I think."

"There are not really many 'light duties' to be had in my position, except perhaps paperwork, and I suppose there is enough of that about."

"Paperwork would suit very well," said Stephen, satisfied.

"Yes, I was afraid you'd say that," Padstowe said.

"It was not so long ago you had trouble writing at all," Stephen reminded him.

"I suppose so," Padstowe replied, sighing again. "I suppose I have been writing so much in my cabin on our voyage that I was hoping for some break for it."

"A break consisting of galloping around being shot at? Over my dead body, God forbid."

"Please, do not say such things," Padstowe said. "I was not so much considering the being shot at, but the galloping about. I might be of use as a messenger."

"I would be happier if you were to do the paperwork instead; Hogan will certainly need help with the logistics."

"I suppose," he said again. "Though the paperwork won't really start until after the battle."

"Then you will rest until after the battle, so that you will be able to fully devote yourself to the paperwork."

Yates was leaning back against Raoul's chest, his head turned into his shoulder, a heavy weight on his right arm. The mare was tired too - Raoul could sense the early stages - the stumble just avoided on the uneven path, the extra effort as the ground rose slightly. His own eyes were closing, and he regretted bitterly that he had not pressed for them to stop at the buildings mentioned earlier. For the boy's sake and for the doctor's, at least.

It felt wrong to be contemplating rest when he was only so slightly injured, compared to what men would be facing in battle.

"I may not have much say in that," he said quietly.

"But I will; I am speaking as your doctor, not your friend. There will be enough injured men when this battle is over; the army does not need you exacerbating your own injuries."

The guilty memory of Stephen's anger when he had admitted to removing the stitches of his own volition came back to haunt him.

"Perhaps I should not be so eager," he said, sighing. "Perhaps I should not be so cavalier when it is fortunate that I am here at all."

"That is my thinking in the matter," said Stephen, relieved that Padstowe finally seemed to be seeing sense. "For my part I would leap at the chance to rest, and recover..." His cheeks coloured slightly, and he looked away; no one knew of the full extent of his... illness.

Padstowe looked up, his face taking on a concerned expression on his face as he saw the colour rise in Stephen's cheeks.

"It has been hard going on all of us," he said softly. "Most of all you. There is no shame in wanting rest."

"I doubt it," Stephen said nonchalantly. "You were injured most severely, and the capitaine's life will never be the same, I think."

Padstowe fell silent, looking back again to the capitaine and Yates, and then further ahead Barnthorp.

"Perhaps," he murmured.

"It has not been an easy month for any of us," Stephen concluded.