25th May Coming early

The horse pulled on the bridle then waited patiently, blinking at the riflemen behind the one holding him. He looked curiously, hearing the man raise his voice, but it wasn't in a scary sort of way, which would urge the animals into a run. It was stifled too.

Pye looked up, nodded quickly and made his way around the several of the riflemen, ducked between a pair more, hurrying towards Vickery. "Sir." He called to the man once coming somewhat closer. "Sir!"

Vickery was being called and looked up. "What is it, Pye?" he asked. It didn't seem urgent, from the tone of the lad's voice, but he couldn't think why he was wanted.

"Sir! Rifleman Cotton .. he'd like you to come to see the horse." He spoke nervously, his eyes at about the level of Vickery's coat buttons. "There." He didn't point to it, but waited and was ready to lead the moment he was given such permission, even if Vickery was able to see Cotton and the horse probably right over his shoulder too.

Vickery raised an eyebrow. That wasn't quite what he'd been expecting to hear. "All right, then," he said. "Lead on." He wondered why Cotton wanted him to go to the Rifleman, but, knowing Cotton as he did, it was dfor a good reason.

"Yes, sir." Pye lead quickly, glancing twice only, at Vickery to be sure the man actually followed. Confirming that he was still there, he stepped aside once reaching Cotton and the horse, being rather more quiet with the animal so close.

"What's all this about, then, Cotton?" he asked, unwilling to get too close n case he somehow spooked the horse.

"I'm fine, sir. Only I got a feelin' you might want to get some lads to check out the area over there, sir." He indicated the direction the horse seemed to want him to go in. "If I didn't know better, sir, I'd swear this creature wanted t ogo lookin' at summat over thataway."

The horse flicked his tail watching the three riflemen a bit more tensely than he had been before. Having been convinced that the first meant him no harm, he was only suspicious of the arrived pair.

Pye watched him curiously, and was witness to the horse yet again turning his head in the direction it had come from , then tugging on the pair of leather straps that held it in place. He stomped his foot into the ground impatiently and made a half turn, so that now his side was by Cotton's back. He could not strike Cotton with his tail just yet though it did not stop him to make such an attempt.

"Hey, hey, stop that," Cotton protested mildly, feeling the tip of the horse's tail swish against him.

Vickery's eyebrow shot up again. "He does look rather interested in it, doesn't he?" he said. "I would never have believed it, if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes. He moved to approach the horse where the animal could see him, holding his own hand out. "Nous sommes votre amis, mon beau," he said, which made Cotton roll his eyes, glad the Captain couldn't see him... though Pye, standing behind Vickery, probably could.

Pye bit his lip grinning. He managed to stifle a chuckle at Cotton's expression. Wouldn't be right if he made a sound because of that, or make the captain think he was doing so, thanks to his address to the horse. Pye shook his head and looked to the horse who jerked back first, looked at the hand extending towards him and then nudged it with his nose.

".. Sir, maybe we could take.." He bit his lip, more hesitant: "...the bags of him first and...then.." His voice trailed off and he dropped his gaze and then looked at the horse. The animal looked more restless but no more afraid.

Cotton nodded, still stroking the creature's neck gently, reassuringly. "Don't have to take the bridle off, though it'd be better if we could do it later, maybe, after the march, sir. Have more time to have a proper look at him then, an' we wouldn't have to worry 'bout how we'm goin' to carry everythin'."

Vickery nodded. "One thing at a time, though." He turned back to the waiting Riflemen. "Roper, pick some men. You're going with Cotton and Pye to investigate the area over there." He indicated the area concerned. "We can't risk there being any French lying in wait, after all."

Pye nodded sharply, and moved in line with Cotton, aware not to spook the horse. Perhaps all that care was not as needed, for the animal hardly felt ill at ease by now. He did though attempt to goad atleast one more carrot out of Cotton's or maybe Vickery's posession and nudged and nibbled at the coat of the one closest, about the height of where a pocket was. Certainly the horse was not dumb, although persistant in all that it had wanted.

The young rifleman on the other hand felt excited at being picked, and could barely contain this, behind a forced serious look. "We'er going." He uttered hushed to Cotton. "scoutin?" He added less sure.

"Scoutin', aye. The horse is interested in summat over there, an' if you look at his tail, you'll see it ain't docked. Means he ain't an English horse. Which means whatever's over there ain't English, which means it's likely summat French." He grinned. "All right, boy, we'm goin' to see what you want us to look at. An' stop tryin' to eat me coat, will you?"

The horse's ears both lifted at the sound, as if he knew that he was being addressed. He felt the hold on him slacken a bit and turned the rest of the circle so he was facing exactly in the direction from which he had come. Of course this meant that his tail - as if in response for the scolding about his nibbling on Cotton's coat -swished through the air right at the man who'd earlier complained.

"The horse sure likes you." Pye stiffled a chuckle and made full sure he was not standing in the way ,himself. He adjusted his rifle and watched as other men were picked to join the small group of green coated men.

Cotton shifted so he was still holding the horse by the bridle. "Don't you go standin' on me feet, neither. I need them, see," he said, and adjusted his rifle on his shoulder. "You cover me, Tom, if anythin' happens as shouldn't," he said. "And, Zack? Keep an eye on Tom here. He'll tell you what to do."

"Oh, thanks, Gabe," Roper said, checking the flint of his rifle. "All right, spread out a bit. Zack, you stick with me and Cotton. And Gabe? Anythin' happens, you let that horse sort itself out, an' get to firin', will you?"

While the riflemen set about in their given pairs, Pye moved to take side with Cotton and Roper. He was quiet, though he gave the rifleman a quick nod. He glanced at his rifle, giving it a good check , especially of the lock and its flint, before feeling satisfied enough with the weapon. It was kept dry, and the flint was in as good a condition as it could be. It would make a spark, of course, if it wuold not begin to rain heavily and then, no other would fire either.

The horse gave Cotton a sharper pull once it saw that the riflemen were moving. He didn't wait or slow down much, but seemed to think that the funny greencoated men could follow it quickly enough.

Cotton shook his head and started walking in the direction the horse seemed interested in, hoping it would follow him without any resistance. In fact, it gave a sharper tug and he shrugged. "We'm comin', don't you fret over that," he said and saw Roper's hand move to the lock of his rifle, ready to cock it at the smallest provocation.

The horse seemed to know exactly where it wanted to go and drew them further and further from the path that had so many soldiers. He took great care to walk properly and careful not to slip on a slippery stone or add pressure to his reins.

Pye followed behind Cotton and roper, glancing left and right for any indication of movement. They were still rather close to the army, and other than a spooked bird, there was nothing to suggest life. The further they went, the more alert they would have to become.

There was a sound of a branch snapping and a shuffle of leaves before the relative silence took hold of the rugged terrain again. The horse still continued, uncaring for the comfort or worry of the riflemen. Pye tried to thread as silently as he could, and when he was not looking ahead or around them, he was looking at the floor noting briefly where the horse had earlier passed to come to them.

Cotton couldn't believe he was off on some fool's errand simply because of a horse. He wanted both hands on his rifle, but was half-afraid that if he removed his other hand from the horse's bridle, the creature would simply bolt. If the worse came to the worst, though, he would - he'd rather Roper know he was there in support than end up worrying about what was going on, and have to keep an eye on Pye.

If they were both looking out for Pye, it would be better all round. He froze as Schroeder held up a hand. It was a cottage, out of sight from the road. Something wasn't right. He couldn't tell quite why, but there was smething that was not quite as it should be. "Pye, stick with Roper. I'll let the horse go if I have to." He hoped it wouldn't come to that.

Pye nodded, adjusting the hold of his rifle again. He'd had the 'sword' rest against his side, and as he walked, allowed it little movement. No clang at least. With a high bush and a low branch he found his coat caught for a moment. Tugging at it here, and then there, he made a step back and eased the strip of leather back from the branch that it wished to entangle itself with. He was quickly silent again, gazing ahead at where the horse was so willing to pull them to.

The animal seemed to pause as well. And then, with renewed energy it pulled forward, sniffing at first, then it snorted, air rushing from it's muzzle. It neighed and pulled forward again, cracking a few fallen branches on its way. The cottage seemed to be it's initial goal to reach. It was rather quiet all around it. There were hoof prints on one side. A pair of horses had had to be there earlier in the day. There were imprints of heavy shoes of the military as well, though stronger where the mud was softer, and almost completely invisible, where there were more pebbles and stones on the ground. There was even some grass that looked as though it had been threaded on by several sets of feet and a broken bit of wood to the side of the path , suggesting bodies had gone past.

The cottage itself though was still rather silent , while the door to it was half open. No man would've left it so, if they still lived in it and even if they have abandoned it, they'd have probably tried board the door up to prevent unwanted visitors.

The horse paused, and then tugged at the bridle, managing to pull free from Cotton's hand. The Rifleman shrugged and unslung his rifle, following it cautiously to the half-open door to the cottage, wondering what he'd find. The other Riflemen spread out to cover him.

"Stay with Bergmann," Roper told Pye, indicating the sturdily-built German. "He can speak English, so don't worry about that. I need to cover Cotton, and we dunno what's in there. I ain't riskin' you, see."

Bergmann smiled through his moustache. "Schroeder and me, we will see you right," he said, patting his rifle. "Stay close and watch what Cotton and Roper do."

Pye nodded quickly and moved to Bergmann's side. He wasn't sure if he'd known the man by name from before, but as the face did not strike him as familiar he just made a note not to forget it, the first or another time. With a look as obedient as that of a dog, who's just been ordered to sit and watch its master till told otherwise, he followed Cotton and Roper's backs, with his gaze.

He had greeted Bergmann in a whispered, " Will do!" Which was spoken in earnest, with nought but seriousness at what they were doing, their job, on mind. The horse walked to the open door, as if uncaring of the danger it might place himself under. Then he jerked back, looking spooked for he had heard noise coming from inside. He sniffed the air, but was wary of entering again and rather than passing through the door, or even attempting to, he walked around the cottage and went to mull on the grass. His ears were at sharp attention still, and there seemed a more nervous tensing of his muscles even as his head bent down.

Inside of the house the first room would have been empty, or rather the part which would have divided the door from the rest of the house, then further to the right, a door was closed and behind it sounds were heard. Sounds of something moving and another of a man groaning. Whoever it was that made that sound, had to have been in great pain. To the left there was another room, and that one was closed as well, with a creaking noise very soft and faint. It would've not held any man.

Cotton watched the horse go with a shrug, and cautiously entered the house, close behind Roper, their rifles poised. Roper paused outside the door where he could hear groaning, and nodded at the door-handle. Cotton twisted it, throwing the door open as Roper pointed his rifle at whatever was inside.

Inside lay a woman bound and beside her a man equally coiled up in rope, and to their side there was another man. Injured and bleeding some, clearly from a shot wound. He was pale and also bound as the pair, as if someone had been afraid that even such a weak man could attempt to free the other two, much sooner.

The girl screamed into her gag, as she saw the door swing open, the man threw himself up, as much as his position could allow him, so that he managed to partly hide her behind him, his eyes narrowing on the door darkly. Their wrists were rather red and the skin rubbed painfully raw, as they attempted to free them.

Roper blinked and lowered his rifle, propping it in the corner. "Get Bergmann and the others to check out the rest of the place," he said to Cotton, who nodded and turned to pass Roper's orders on.

Roper fumbled for his clasp knife as he crossed the room. "Ingles," he said reassuringly as the woman's eyes widened and she tried to squirm away from him. "Hey, easy now. Friend?" He reached out gently to cut the ropes holding her and untie the gag. "Cotton, can you get the other man?" he said, standing with the erstwhile gag in his hand. He crossed to where the old man was, and knelt to cut his bonds and dab at his wound with the bit of cloth he was holding.

Pye stood to Bergmann's left, and mostly out of the way as best he knew how. He kept glancing around, alert and silent, his rifle for the moment still pointed upwards though at an angle which would have allowed it be lowered quickly enough. The horse outside nudged it's nose against the window, gazing past it with his ears forward.

The woman shrunk away from Roper the moment that she was free, her gaze distrusting of him and his dark green uniform, with only a dab of faint red at the collar. Her fellow must've said something along the lines of that Roper would best keep his hands off of her. He did not look as though he was fully at peace knowing that they were the English. Perhaps he did not believe them, or for whatever reason he wanted first to be freed before he would spare a kind word to their savours.

The wounded man looked up at Roper, and sighed with relief as much as the cloth in his mouth would have allowed.