With Horses, 25 May

Another dawn, another day of chasing the French. Trooper William Stubbins swept his palm over the soft bristles of the brush before resuming the steady work of brushing down his horse. The cleaner a horse was before being saddled, the better. With a quiet whicker, the mare bumped her head against his shoulder. Stubbins grinned and gave his horse an affectionate pat on the neck. She was a good beast, if a bit grumpy in the morning. Not unlike him in that respect.

"No more of that," he admonished, pushing the mare's head away when she tried to nip at his arm. He was finished with the brush and she knew it. It was all part of the morning routine. Saddling her was easy work and within a few minutes, Stubbins was free to drift toward the guttering campfire in search of some half-cooked breakfast.

"Any you lads got a dry bit of biscuit for a hungry fellow?" He asked, using his cloak to help keep his trousers as mud-free as possible when he sat down.

"If you're willing to wait a little you could even be eatin' something warm." Kenley replied. The fire barely burned and it had been an effort to bring it to start. Wet logs had smoked more than anything, and a foamy like trickle now came sizzling down a few of them. If they hadn't managed to bring a few logs from a relatively dryer source, the fire might've just been so much weaker if there.

"Where's a log o' contribution, eh?" Forbes asked, and nudged the fire with a small laugh. Others were busier with making their ration count for something and bit into it. Another trooper, the one who had still ridden the mismatched horse, broke off a relatively dry piece and offered it to Stubbins. "If you're alright with breaking your teeth on it." He added and shrugged.

"Don't care if it's warm," Stubbins answered, reaching out to accept the offered biscuit. "Here's hopin' them Frogs got somethin' better in their baggage."

It wasn't too hard to chew, he thought after using the heel of his hand to break up the biscuit. Just needed some working on.

"We'll find out soon enough." Kenley grinned clapping his chest with his hand. The manner was such that it suggested he might've wished to present his courage and confidence that by night fall they would all be feasting on pheasants and peacocks.

"One run at them Frogs, and off to the wagons. Have them centrepedes take care of the rest! If there's any really. The frogs will flee like their feet were on fire seein' us!" He didn't looked too bothered about the idea that the regiments of foot would have to do much of the work. Not when the wagons, a prime target infact, were concerned.

He knew, as many did, that the French were retreating. Another reason that it might be much easier to achieve more with less of an effort. ".. they'll probably try to destroy as much as they can.." Willoughby murmured leaning back. "Once .err... if they find some order in the chaos that their army's in right now."

Kenley scowled: "Cannons maybe, not the stolen goods, surely."

Stubbins grinned. "Long's we get to 'em first. I don't want no dirty foot-dragger havin' first crack at anythin' good."

He managed to swallow some of the crumbled biscuit and shrugged. This was all assuming they were permitted to ride ahead of the army again, instead of being relegated to the role of flank guards.

"That's what we got horses for. Faster than them.. n' better of course." Kenley grinned and leaned back a bit. He was nudged but to the man's disappointment, he did not fall backwards.

"Got a mug ready for this poor 'soup'?" Forbes asked as he stood up and held his hand out for the first who was willing to take a taste of the broth he had made. It was warm, it probably had some taste,but it wasn't a delicacy.

That was nothing but God's honest truth. He'd nearly been corralled by some infantry recruiting sergeant, but of course Stubbins knew where the brightest future lay.

"Dunno if it's safe to be eatin', if you've made it," he teased, rising to his feet to retrieve an old tin mug from his saddle bag.

"Nobody ever died from my cookin'." Forbes replied with a laugh as he poured the first man his fill. He held it out, and the lad took it taking a seat on his log. Kenley murmured innocently. "None ever got fat either."

Willoughby gazed at Forbes. "...Almost none." He said and ducked to look at his piece of dry biscuit, biting hard into it. Forbes rolled his eyes at the jesters. "Oy, if you'll complain any more these fine gentlemen here will have all your portions n' you can well forget about having it yourselves!"

"Nobody yet," Stubbins amended, returning with his mug. "This is better'n what we was fed back home anyways. Serve it out, Forbes, an' forget them others."

If some of the lads didn't want any of the soup, that left more for those who did.

"Greedy bastard you are Stubbins." Forbes responded. "Come Willowy, make that man stand in line." With a smirk he held his hand out and Willoughby, scowling though, held his mug out.

" Need to learn some manners Stubbs." Forbes teased glancing at the cauldron just to make sure how many more men could eat before they'd have run out of food.

"Ain't greedy," Stubbins said. "I just knows how to get everythin' I can outta somethin', if I needs it."

"..Same ol Stubbins." Forbes shook his head and made a comment which ought to have been amusing, and was only to himself, while others watched him silently, allowing the corners of his mouths to twitch upwards just to be 'kind'.

" Come, give me your mug before you wilt n' die, Stubbs." He said handing Timothy his own. "N' you fancy talk, don't let us see you sippin' that soup like it was tea, pinky up." Timothy withdrew silently and took a seat beside Kenley.

Grinning, he held out the mug. "Which I'll do, if you takes much longer."

"Don't want that to happen, do we?" Forbes smirked and filled up the mug. He held it back out to the trooper, careful not to burn his fingers with the hot broth.

"Heard anythin' of use from the officers, Stubbins?" Kenley asked, with his mouth full. The food wasn't best, but it was better than nothing, and better than the fodder they got sometimes.

He shook his head and took a sample taste of the soup. It was certainly not the best he'd ever had. Still, it was food and he was hungry.

"Nothin' really good. Just somethin' 'bout how we ain't s'pose to be lootin'."

"..Ain't suppose to be looting? What else can we do but that?..'other than riding gloriously at t' enemy of course." Kenley asked and sounded quite appalled by the suggestion. He recieved a light playful tap over the head.

Willoughby ate silently, dipping his spoon into the soup. He looked up at the men, then gave a slight shake of his head. "Hope they won't leave us at the rear.... "

Kenley nodded: " Yeah. Nothing to pick there that them leggers hadn't picked up already. Nothing valuable for sure!"

Stubbins shook his head. "We won't be at the rear. Not the place for this troop!" He licked his spoon clean and held out his mug. "Got any more in that cursed pot of yours, mate? I'm still growin', remember."

"You poor child." Forbes said, amused and reached with his hand to take Stubbins' mug. "There's some left, saved all for you. Since we don't want you to end up all scrawny and tiny." The man said with a laugh and filled the mug. He'd filled the mugs of other men around the fire, while they had talked, and so now what was left, was meant for any volunteered seconds.

"Mm.. anybody got a spare horse shoe?..Mine lost one coming here." Kenley piped in, having thought the question through, carefully.

Grinning, Stubbins dipped his spoon into the newly-refilled mug. "Ain't natural for a man to be scrawny and tiny. Least not for a cavalryman. Might want to ask Corporal Tunney, he always seems to have an extra shoe."

Nearby, the horses' ears pricked forward at the distant sounds of screaming.

"...scrawny isn't ever good for anyone. "Kenley murmured. He was about to add something, and opened his mouth before he stiffened. "Oi lads, " Being the youngest, his choice of words wasn't very appropriate. "Did anybody just hear that?" He asked and stood, lifting his hand to silence the others.

Willoughby lifted his gaze, lowering his mug. He was quiet too. Forbes was about to pour some more of the strange broth into a mug and stopped. "If that's a French soldier.... i'd be appalled." He murmured.

Kenley shook his head: "No.. sounds like a girl!"

The half a mouthful of soup left in his mug disappeared in an instant, even as Stubbins got quickly to his feet. "Won't find out what it is for sure just sittin' around," he said. His horse was alert, ears twitching. She knew something was up. Good girl. Stubbins pulled up her picket line and hastily stowed it.

"That's us off patrollin' sooner than we thought, ain't it," he muttered to her before pulling himself up into the saddle.

Willoughby was quick to his horse's side. Herrero twitched his ears and looked at him. Forbes clasped a hand on Kenley's shoulder as the boy wanted to run for his horse." You ain't coming, lad. First, you need to inform our officer..., second, your horse is missing a shoe. Have that solved first." When the lad wanted to protest, Forbes looked at him sternly. "no buts... Go!"

And then he moved towards his horse :" Oh, and watch the fire for us." He said to Kenley before pulling himself into the saddle. "Stubbings, be quick with you!"

"I've been quick since I was born," Stubbins answered, spurring his horse forward. There were several other men likewise mounting up to accompany them. Most of the troop, in fact.

Willoughby spurred his horse onward, followed by more horses and men. There was another scream that they could hear. Which had a few of the lads kicking the sides of their horses, to make them go faster. It was a woman's cry. There was no more doubt in that.

"Spread out." Forbes shouted. "But, don't get yourself lost. We're saving the women, not you bloody, stinkin' lot!"