Following the French - 25th Morning, Afternoon, Night

"...Hardly." Before he was to comment further though, the two men he'd sent to fetch the horses returned, with their hands as empty as at the time that they've gone to retrieve them. He hid disappointment well as they saluted.

"We couldn't find them.."

Inwardly, Saint-Hilaire cursed, though all that was seen on his face, as he nodded was a bare twitch of a muscle. " ...change sentries.. get your fill of food and water.. and turn in for the night..." He jerked his head in Hunter's direction his irritation still hidden, but for the expression in his eyes. " It's the army. They don't make exceptions for flogging you miserable beasts.. why give you 'vacation'?" His hand latched onto Hunter's collar and yanked at it, to have him bend lower, face to face. "Want to live? Start speaking the truth."

Hunter grinned at the Frenchman: "Oh no, dear, you are going to have to find me another incentive."

"..Oh?..Don't make it harder on yourself, Hunter. We can kill you now,.. we don't need you any longer." He motioned to one of his men. "He discovered the tracks. We know where our army is...If you would like to spend the rest of the war alive... and comfortable, you would be better to cooperate." His grip on the collar tightened even if he had to lift a bit on his toes to come face to face with the other man. "Though I'd hate to do it..."Which was true:" you will suffer if our army or ourselves may benefit from it."

He relaxed his grip. "..I am sorry for that." And looked more human as he said so.

Hunter narrowed his eyes at Saint-Hilaire. "If really are, then you are a fool."

"I may be a fool...but I'm no monster." He answered coldly. "...However....I cannot choose, should you refuse to answer my questions. Where are they, how far from here have they been, before you left them.. are they moving to follow my army?" Some of the questions he could answer himself, some he could guess, but only know more certainly with Hunter's answers.

"I could ask you, what your position is in the army, to see what worth you may carry, alive or dead." He averted his gaze, his fist curled, his knuckles white.

"Really, why waste your time on these questions? You know, I won't answer." Hunter finally sat down and stretched his legs out.

"... I ask you kindly one last time... Hunter. I urge you to answer my questions, else you will force me to take more drastic measures to ensure... your cooperation." He had to pause there. He did not seem to feel much remorse at it, but then, Hunter had probably wounded his pride by his 'less than proper behavour for a prisoner'.

The lieutenant remained standing, gazing down at the man.

Hunter smiled softly at the Frenchman.
"I won't answer. You know I won't."

"....Yes." Saint-Hilaire turned his back on Hunter as he looked at two of his men, Pierre grinned, clearly all for the idea that their prisoner might be dealt with at last.

"Gag him...give him a beating... and then I'll ask again." The lieutenant ordered not looking at Hunter. "Two guards will be placed, and no shouting.."

Pierre remained with Hunter, and two additional Frenchmen grabbed at the prisoner's arms, to secure him in place. The aforementioned man cracked his knuckes and waited till the lieutenant disappeared out of sight.

Two guards stood not far away from them, thus making it altogether five out of the original ten men. The remaining four had their own duties, although two of them were still gulping down their first proper ration. The lieutenant joined them and took a small piece. The next bit of terrain ahead of them would be precariously difficult. He drew himself a map in the mud marking where they had gone, where he thought they were even if he failed to have a paper that could confirm it.

Back with Hunter, Pierre walked closer with a bit of dirty cloth that he meant to force into Hunter's mouth to keep him more quiet.

(hey, if there's anything you want changed just tell me and I will, or write it till the part you feel like, and i'll change later!)

"Idiots." Hunter grinned and suddenly lunged his body backwards, falling off the log and taking the two guards with him. He was back on his feet in moments, wielding his sabre. "Should have taken my weapons away first." In moments the two men on the ground had been skewered throught their guts, and Hunter lunged with his sabre forward, sticking the blade into the one with the rag. At the same time he whistled as loudly as he could. If Firebird was indeed following their little group, hopefully she'll hear him.

[OOC: same here! Tell me if he is being too cool! XD ]

(poor Frenchies! :p 2 down, one injured, two coming!)

The two men gasped, clutching at their wounds as they sagged to the floor.
Pierre jumped back. The fall of his fellow Frenchmen had ironically given him enough time to be both stunned and snap out of his stupor in time to avoid the strike aimed at his body. He cursed.

Perhaps he was not just quite fast enough, as he just then felt the pain that had gone through his left arm. Lucky that it was in the front and had guided the blade slightly of the side and had saved his life, still unlucky that he hadn't avoided it altogether. He gave a shout and then drove his fist at Hunter's throat.

The other two men, that had been meant to guard them and notify them should the enemy arrive, now charged at Hunter, one with a blade drawn, the other with his musket, bayonet fixed at the end. "The prisoner!"

Hunter moved a little to the side to avoid the fist and slashed the approaching hand with the sabre. Then jumping back, he drew a dagger from his boot and threw it at the Frenchman with the musket, aiming for his chest.

Pierre stumbled back, unable to decide whether he was to nurse his left or his right hand. Few fingers lay on the ground, where they have been sent flying once the sabre severed them from his body. He was in agony and made only a half hearted attempt to keep it quieter.

The knife sank into the fabric, leaving the unfortunate soldier to stumble over his feet, and fall, few leaps short of his target. The other man jumped around him and made a stab at Hunter's side. "Kill him, kill him!" Pierre hissed, his hands shaking.

Hunter parried the thrust and slashed at a steep angle trying to cut through the man's shoulder.

"Kill the bastard!" Pierre felt faint, sagging against the body of one of the dead men.

Chevalier, who was the man that had earlier spotted the horses, a short lad but more agile than his much taller fellows, parried that strike. He allowed the blade glance of his own. Just as he did so, he twisted and thrust his elbow at Hunter's back at about the height of his shoulderblades.

Saint-Hilaire had heard the shouting, he and the rest of his men were rushing to the scene, and the lieutenant was enraged.

Although the blow got Hunter off his balance, and he stumbled, bent over, he hadn't lost the presence of his mind, and as he was already in a suitable position, reached for the second dagger and drove it deep into the frenchman's calf.

Chevalier reached down his leg and grasped at the arm which had caused the injury unwilling to have it twist at the knife. He grit his teeth, momentarily dazed by the pain that the deep injury caused. His leg buckled under the weight.

He was going down, but in due time of it, he still attempted with his other hand to bring the prisoner to the ground. The blade flashed in the dim light as it was thrust forward. A stab rather than a slash, aimed at Hunter's leg. He was too unbalanced that he could try higher.

The rustle was heard ahead of them, the remaining five were nearly arrived.

The blade reached it's target and Hunter grunted from pain. Thankfully the wound wasn't deep enought to disable him. The hand that held the sabre was still free and he brought the weapon down on the Frenchman's neck.

Chevalier choked as blood spurted from the wound on his neck. He twisted at the blade then released it, as he did the other hand.

"Enough!" It couldn't have been Chevalier who spoke, as he was rendered unable to do much, let alone that. A shot rang out, and the ball skimmed past Hunter, going rather close to his head.

Saint-Hilaire was standing there, his blade drawn, eyes narrowed at Hunter. He saw the bodies of the fallen men. His guesses had been confirmed. Hunter wasn't an ordinary man, or an ordinary civilian, or even...a simple soldier.

"You think so, Saint-Hilaire?" Hunter stood over Chevalier's body, his clothes spattered in blood in some places.


[OOC: how many prisoners are left? XD]

(lol .. you mean how many Frenchmen? .. well, there's Etienne and his four men. Um.. i think the rest are dead. Pierre, Chevalier and three nameless. )

Chevalier had been in Saint-Hilaire's unit, served under him and so the loss of that man had hit a nerve.

"You shall die for this!" More quietly he added the simple word of - bastard - . He raised his blade a notch then lowered it again. "Load...Take aim at that man. Fire at will." He said coldly as the remaining pair of firearms (one was a musket, the other a civilian Portuguese sort) was being made ready.

The dagger that struck Chevalier was still in Hunter's hand, he threw it at the man with a muske, then turned and ran as fast as he could for the trees, following a zigzag path. He whistled for the Firebird again as he ran.

[OOC: shall we have the horsie come? ]

(ooc: can do, I think the other horsey has returned to the army, or is around, who knows, but yours is coming!
So..that would be six down.)

One shot fired while the other failed to go off, its owner caught in the process of ramming the rod down its barrel. They could hear the distinct thumping of hooves. "Follow him!" Saint-Hilaire shouted while already jumping over the log, and one of the bodies, avoiding the other by a short turn.

He quickened his pace, ducking a low stretching branch. His foot slipped on a stone, but it seemed that he'd barely made a stumble before his pursuit returned to full force.

His remaining men had picked the fallen weapons, but were somewhat less eager to follow. Still at a run, their own had been slower. They weren't of the 17th light.

Hunter at first heard, then saw Firebird. "Good girl!" He thought as he ran towards her. There were still three frenchmen left not counting the liuetenant, and he did not intend leaving them alive. The moment Firebird was close, Hunter jumped into the saddle and drove her straight at the Frenchmen.

Saint-Hilaire dove to the left. The Frenchman that had his musket bear a bayonet at the end, dropped to his knee, planting his weapon into the ground , butt first, the sharp end aimed at the horse. His two companions weren't as certain of that course of action to be effective. While one stopped and looked nervously at the advancing man, the other made ready only to get out of the way when the horse was close enough. The shock of seeing this one man defeat several of their fellow brothers in arms, must not have yet worn off.

"Stop him!" The order was only partly heeded. "Shoot him if you must, just stop him!" Saint-Hilaire reached for a rock that lay at arms length, and hurled it at the damned man. Perhaps if he hit the horse it would rear and throw its load off, and if he'd hit the man he might fall due to the pain. He hoped for either, something to happen.