27th May, morning; with wagons

Cotton shook his head, grinning. "I dunno where you get them ideas from, mate. Daftest thing I think I ever heard... though it's a nice enough thought, I'spose." He looked down as Pye dropped to his knees. "What're you'm up to down there then, Zack?" he asked curiously.

"I Ain't smart, can't say those sort o' things you'd read in books.. or hear from them educated folk." Pye answered with a faint laugh, which was quieter than before. This wasn't done because his mood might've changed, but rather as he was looking at ground about the bush.

".. nothin'. Though.. there's a hole here." He indicated as he lifted some leaves and grass away from it. It sat, well secured. "..Thought it didn't run anywhere's. ..not above ground." He stood with a small shrug. "But.. this is as good as....he's gone." He smiled again and straightened.

"I know what you mean," Cotton said. "You found yourself a rabbit hole. They live underground, rabbits." He scratched at his neck. "Be handy if we had a couple of nets and a ferret with us - though that can take a while. Tell you what. If there's any rabbits near where we camp tonight, I'll set a couple of snares and see if we can get anythin' for the pot. Can't promise anythin', mind, but we can try."

"You hunted with .. ferrets, didn't you? " Pye thought this to be something really that was probably really hard to do. He couldn't understand how a ferret would be willing to share it's catch with its master or how it would even want to do exactly that. Perhaps it was a bit like a dog. Those creatures were mindless in obeying the orders of their noble owners, they would strike at foxes as eagerly as at any sort of pray.

"Hm. I would like that." He averted his gaze back to Cotton, careful not to step in a puddle that was further along side the path that they were taking. "To see how you snare them." He added and a bit sheepishly: "I know a..way or two, but it's not right. I don't think. Not like you're trained to do." He turned quiet then gazing at the birds, which spooked further ahead of them. "..We're not expecting an enemy to stop, up ahead.. where our riflemen are, right?"

"There's no skill to it; you put nets over all the holes you can find, and slip a ferret in. The rabbits come runnin' out into the nets an' you knock 'em over the head. Only trouble is if the ferret don't come out - it's worth diggin' into the warren to find 'em. The jills - the females - are better than the males. Less likely to kill an' eat a rabbit underground, so they'm less likely to hole up an' have to be dug out." He grinned and straightened up. "Snares are all right - only problem is, either way, you don't want to be caught with the things on you. Though we was all right - there was a decent bit of common land we could go rabbitin' on."

"Funny name for a female. A jill." He wondered where he could find such a ferret. He could get a net somewhere, buy it, steal it or even attempt to make one, but without a ferret such an easy sort of hunting would not be possible. Of course there were no ferrets there, so perhaps he could forget about it after all. "What happened to yer ferrets? Why don't you have those with you here?" He asked, thinking that if Cotton used them he ought to have owned them too.

"Oh, you'd get in terrible trouble if you'd get caught... the gentry doesn't like you taking their rabbits, or things. Though... dunno why they should be their. It... isn't like they bought em n' let em go free.. or something." He dropped his voice."... Is.. i don't care 'bout it really.. jus'... an innocent.. question."

"They was Dad's, really. And what with how I left home, I couldn't have took 'em with me anyway - most land-owners don't like it if you've got ferrets, an' I was lookin' for work afore I 'listed into the 22nd." He looked up into the sky in time to see the hawk take wing and find an air-current to use to circle higher and higher. "I reckon that they think 'cause they own the land, they own the creatures that live there. Though some of 'em are a plaguey nuisance - like them pheasants. They'll eat the corn you've jus' planted in a field you've just ploughed, but you can't kill 'em 'cause they ain't wild birds - they belong to the Squire." He kicked a pebble in his path. "It's just the way things is. Can't change it, so you have to live with it."

" .. Or 'gainst it without gettin' caught for it." Pye reasoned with a warm smile. "Don't always need to be livin' with it. Though.. no, for you it has to. You've got her to think of now. N' you can't jus' get yourself in trouble now. Not any more 'tleast." He adjusted his grip on his rifle and listened. There was a soft merry song of a bird not too far from them. When the hawk had gone, and the coast was fairly clear, the bird dared to sing. It fluttered off that branch and landed a bit further ahead of them, chirping away. If not for the army below them, it could've been a normal, pleasant walk down a road, through an estate even, or just coming home from the fair.

Just, probably it would not have been them going, and Pye would be instead waiting for an opportunity to find his next meal. Perhaps he was fortunate the army took him. How long would have have managed to stay without getting caught or without starving?

"But ..any food looks t' same after it's plucked n' cut. Probably. So, after that's done, you are safe to eat it without getting caught, much." He looked ahead again and slipped a hand into his pocket. Of all the things he had placed in the provost's packs, he only kept a small spoon with an ornamented handle. He hadn't yet had time to sew it in and so fingered it in his pocket now absentmindedly. It was smooth and only somewhat more bent than it was meant to be.

"Did Joe come from the 11th?"He asked with a short laugh. "You came from the 22nd, n' me from 33rd. " He indicated, and then looked ahead again. Nothing to suggest that there were rabbits anywhere, nothing just yet.

"Well... does, a bit. We left all that sort of thing to Ma - after all, that's women's work, ain't it, cookin' an' the like, really." He smiled as a bird began to sing somewhere nearby. He lowered his voice. "If you can see that bird, watch what it does when we move back into the open."

He glanced at Pye and shrugged. "Dunno what reg'ment Joe come from - leastways, I never axed him, like. Be funny if it was, though."

"Woman's work?" Pye's attention was caught sooner than if an order had been shouted at him. "..Maybe. So's.. .you'll never go hungry if ye have one? A woman I mean, sure won't get hungry?" First hand he'd only have thought of the women in the orphanage, or one really, which filled their bowls when it was time to eat. For whom they waited like ravenous dogs, and cheered her arrival even if she was stern with them often, and at times just distant.

Even if he had eaten some in the morning, his belly had sounded its agreement to the food that was if not on offer, atleast in mind. He obediently looked to the singing bird and wondered what Cotton meant the bird would do.

"T' next man would come from the 44th then.. wouldn't he. Two fours." He showed them with both his hands, four fingers up on each. He knew the rule wasn't even there. Many people have come, from all sorts of places and regiments. It just so happened that Cotton had come from the 22nd and he the 33rd. The decision which he still very gladly supported. "Wish Wilton transferred too. Think he'd like it here." He smiled.

There was a muffled sound coming from the bush surprisingly close to the two men. Truthfully they had just passed it when the shudder of leafs announced that something was in it. Pye jerked his head about in time to see a fuzzy pair of ears shot out from amongst the leafs then the head and its body following suit.

The rabbit had spooked, and probably kept in the bush for so long, afraid of the predator flying up above of them. There wasn't a burrow where it had been hiding, but there was one to the left of them. It was that hole that it bolted for, right under the riflemen's feet.

In a flurry of motion the rifle came of his shoulder. It slid to the side, just slow enough not to receive an impact that might damage it.

The rabbit had thought to take the shortest path, but with the sudden attack it zagged sharp to the right startled. Then again to the left towards the burrow but Pye blocked its path. Unable to run for safety the rabbit nearly rolled over, having turned in such haste.

Pye twisted around, kicking up dirt and using his hands to push himself forward again. The rabbit hesitated with its decision to zag into the opposite direction again for just a moment too long. Pye leaped and dropped onto the floor and a sharp cry was heard. It had not come from the rifleman. The steep slope made for the heap of green to start rolling, loosing it's grip.


It was further at the bottom that it stopped and remained relatively motionless. This heap of green on the floor revealed two things. One, it was barely even green - mud covering the fabric liberally. And two, the rabbit was nowhere to be seen.

Cotton startled when the rabbit bolted, running nearly under Pye's feet. He barely had enough time to gather his senses when he saw his fellow Rifleman tumbling head over heels down the slope.

He didn't think a rabbit could make a grown man go tumbling that way, but couldn't think what else might have cause it as he darted down the hill.

"You all right, mate?" he called, sliding the last few feet to arrive at Pye's side a little breathless and still unsure exactly what had happened.

Pye was curled up, his arms gripping tightly and pressing something against his chest. The very same something had bit down into the fabric of his sleeve and then tried to bite again when some of the exposed skin came into view. Pye looked up grinning. "Slipped." He said as if that could explain the whole tumble.

"Ow." He added , while still grinning. The fuzzy thing was kicking, biting and trying to scratch its way to freedom. It had given the rifleman a good nip on the nose too.

Cotton blinked before bursting out laughing. "I ain't never seen anyone catch a rabbit like that afore, certain-sure I ain't," he said when he'd recovered himself. He drew his sword bayonet. "Give it here, then," he added, holding out his free hand.

Pye tightened his hold of the rabbit, so that the animal could not manage to slip between his fingers or under his arms and slowly got up. He held the rabbit in two places as firmly as he could while holding it towards Cotton. "..Is faster, n' don't waste no gun powder. " It was pure luck on his side and the the error of judgement of the fuzzy creature that made it possible. But Pye beamed with pride no less.

"Warn't goin' to," Cotton said. "When you've caught 'em, there ain't no need to, neither. Just hit 'em over the head, an' the only thing I've got that'll be heavy enough is the hilt of this here." He indicated the brass hilt of his sword-bayonet. "You crazy, though. Wait till I tell Joe 'bout the new way of catchin' rabbits."

"Jus hit it while I hold it or'un.. let me put it down so it'll be easier." He smile might've been somewhat disfigured by the scar running down one part of his face, but he still managed to portray the essence of that emotion. He was amused too, he was grinning like a fool, he was proud and happy it succeeded, he knew they'd have rabbit stew or something like that, to eat in the evening, and he didn't care if he was all black and blue thanks to the earlier tumble.

"'not me fault wot' sort o' people you're takin' in the rifles nowadays." He said with a soft laugh. "But we're eatin' sure fine today! Can't wait!"

"Gis it here - I don't want to hit you, an' if you put it down, it'll leg it." He held his hand out, reaching for the scruff of the creature's neck. "I ain't never in me life seen a feller catch a rabbit in his own bare hands afore. You watch you don't get called Rabbit Pye." He laughed again at the joke, only just realising what he'd said.

"Could make a rabbit pie too." The lad paused, only then figuring that Cotton hadn't suggested a sort of meal that they could make out of the animal, but rather a nick name for him. He flushed and chuckled doing first as Cotton suggested. He looked at the rabbit just to be sure it wouldn't manage to escape even if it attempted to. A nice plump specimen. Perfect for a ... boy he could already smell it, and taste it on his tongue.

"'Pst! We wouldn't want that. " But he didn't look to mind, too amused he was and too delighted at the prospects of the catch.

"Dunno - don't think we can do tha pastry right, out here. Mebbe Maggie could though; she's a fair miracle worker with her sewin'. Stands to reason she can cook proper, too." He shrugged as it occurred to him for the first time that he didn't know if Maggie could cook. Well, there was no going back now, and he didn't really mind if she couldn't. They'd muddle along somehow.

"Heard all of them lasses can cook, so Maggie ought to as well." He was near certain that when asking the girl she would bring forth something that they would not forget. The fact it would be a rabbit shared amongst four, meant that they each would have a much larger piece. "Though.. I'd go fer anything as long as it's hot n' its food." He glanced at the rabbit. "We'll need to bring it down either... or.. keep it somehow till we get to our packs." He looked about and frowned. "Me rifle?"

Cotton took the creature and thumped it hard on the head with the hilt of his sword. "There. No blood, no mess. An' you caught it, you get to put it in the pot. Well, after it's bin cleaned an' skinned, that is." He held the now-limp rabbit out, then shook his head, sheathed his sword and offered his arm to help the other Rifleman back to his feet. "You ain't too bashed about there, are you? An' didn't you drop your rifle back up the slope there?" He indicated the bush with a motion of his head.

"Thanks." He straightened and felt a few bruises made themselves known. A few long strides, some more walking and he could ignore it till evening. And by then it'd probably be gone too, atleast the hurt. He looked at the dead rabbit which now lay limply in Cotton's hand.

"Ah, thanks." He said distracted. "..don't tell anyone i dropped, it, a'right.?" He whispered and dusted at his coat. He was as good as having a proper madbath. "WHat do we do now?" Well for one, he had to fetch the rifle, but to the rest he didn't care as long as they did not skip meals.

"So long as you don't go makin' a habit of it, I won't need to," Cotton replied, and sighed. "I think that's our trainin' done for today - though I couldn't say what the redcoats thought of it. An' you'd best put that there coney some'rs safe." He'd defy anyone to tell them that catching rabbits was poaching, out here, but better to be safe than sorry, after all. He grinned at Pye's appearance. "You'll look just that same as me an' Newb'ry afore you know it, Zack, lad," he said, "an' that can't be bad."