Outside 95th's billet

Carty stood in the rain. He did not mind the rain at all - in fact, he rather liked it, for it reminded him of Ireland. Petrichor was a smell as familar to him as any other, and he stood swinging back and forth on his heels. He knew very well that it would be hellish to march through, but at a certain point one reached a happy knowledge that one could get no wetter, and there was nothing to do but enjoying standing still.

And he held the reins of a particularly lovely brown mare.

The man had said she belonged to Mister Sharpe, and Carty did not mind standing outside with her, so he was very much enjoying the wet morning while the rest of the 95th went to fetch their provisions - he had made Harris make several promises that he would make sure to remember Carty's food.

He waggled his fingers in front of the horse's nose, and laughed when she sniffed them. "Don't bite! My fingers, not food!"

He woke early, as he had, ever since he began to wear the green uniform with it's red collar. With all of his tasks done, his uniform cleaned up till not a speck of dirt was on it - a habit he had yet to shake off - he left the 60th camp.

Perhaps it was that he did not notice where he was going, so lost in thought he was with the other evening's talk, or perhaps the sleepiness decided to prolong its reign on him, but it wasn't till he nearly bumped into another green clad lad, that he even realised he'd ventured into the ground, reserved for the 95th.

"'scuse.." he started, his eyes darting up at the horse, whose warm breath was just as much a shock.

Carty came back to earth, and recognised the other rifleman immediately. "I know you! You is on roof in battle!"

Zachary looked startled a moment, then his face cleared and spread into a bright smile. "Yep! And you were the one who shot that man. Well.. many of them probably." He looked a bit awkward at that.

" But the one that just didn't want to go down too! Well, he didn't, till you've done it."

He recognised the lad. Of the 95th alright!

"You is shooting very good for new riflemen," Carty said with a grin as Noix nibbled his shako. He held out his free hand. "I am Mícheál Carty!"

"I'em Zachary Pye." The youth shook Carty's hand with a grin. He looked at Noix a bit weary of that nibbling mouth. It looked eager enough to devour a shako. And what a terrible loss that would be!

"Thanks. Was jus' luck though!" He blushed and nodded at Carty.

"You felled him anway!" His hand came up to clutch at his shako rather protectively.

"You best be careful there, he , er she...um t' horse is trying to eat it!"

"Ah?" Carty looked up, and started laughing. He gently pushed Noix's nose down. "No, no, bad horse!" He grinned at Pye. "She like to eat things - thinks they is food!"

Pye was quick to tuck his shako under his arm and his fingers right into his pockets. One could never be sure! The horse was smart though. Food was an important part of any day, morning, evening and night. Kept the mind alert and ready. Perhaps it wasn't important to that extent, but it certainly wasn't just a given thing.

He chuckled. "She's yours?" He paused then decided he asked a silly question. "Em, of yer captain? Officer?"

Carty laughed again, growing less shy by the second. "Me?! Hee hee, no, no, no, no. She is Mister Sharpe horse!"

He laughed softly. It was silly, now that he thought of it.

"Mister Sharpe? Oh, he your officer then!" He nodded, thinking he recognised who that was. He smiled. "Wait, you was the one that competed at the rifle's shootin'. Weren't you? "

"Ahh..." Carty looked at his feet, shifting his weight, blushing a little. "Din't do so good, but I am, yis."

"s' not what I've seen." Pye smiled, feeling very glad to have taken that walk. Sure his mind had been heavy with thought of the fellow German soldiers, and he knew not if everyone was like that, but now his heart was high, and his jaw might yet hurt from grinning as much, later on.

"But you'er can be humble, that's ok." He grinned awkwardly. There was silence for a moment before he gasped and nearly jumped away from the horse, which had looked all too interested in the cuff of his sleeve and might have taken a nip at it too. "Oy, I taste miserable, you beasty!" He scowled at her.

Carty grinned. "Din't be bad - she is officer lady-horse now!" Carty stroked the mare's nose. "My sleeve taste very good - not red, like miserable 60th sleeves."

"Hmph, red ain't bad you know. N' the 60th are jus' great..too!" Pye looked to sulk a little. It brought his mind back to the conversation the other night, and his smile faded a little. There was no way anybody would hear of it though. Especially not someone from another regiment altogether!

He reached out to the mare then thought better of it. It was an officer's horse and the last thing he wished was to anger an officer, be it that of the 95th or the redcoats.

He shuffled his feet, looking down at his shako. "Yours is a lil' different than our own. That'un. But we's both green, like that." He pointed at the coat and grew silent. "You're a batman of t' officer?" He inquired.

"Ah, it is joke, only, joke," Carty said, looking worried. "I am batman? I am no batman; just hold the horse for Mister Sharpe."

"Oh, thought cos' you did that." Pye shook his head, smiling. The worried look had Pye eager to remedy that. Carty looked like a good sort.

"A'right, a'right, ain't needing to have that look on your face. S' me who's been a' silly. " He grinned. "You's wetter than a river, yer know that?" He pointed at the boy's coat and trousers, chuckling.

Carty smiled again, though shyly. Wetter meant more wet, he knew, remembering Harris' lesson. "Is raining." He shrugged happily. "I think is more good warm and wet 'an no wet and cold."

"Mmm. True that." Pye nodded agreeing. Warm was always better than cold. Hot could be remedied more easily than having nought more to wear and shivering like a dried leaf on a cold autumn day.

"Though cold n' wet like ter walk hand in hand lots more, than cold n dry." He nodded tucking his shako back onto his head, his hair tamed only by the weight of the water itself. He looked at the horse as if to make sure the animal wouldn't suddenly decide to attack a rifleman of the 60th, perhaps in honour of the 95th. Although it would probably had been hilarious atleast to some.

Feeling at ease, he looked back at the young, soaked rifleman and spoke: "Yer have joined t' rifles fer t' rain?"

"I am in Ireland!" Carty said proudly. "From, from Ireland. But there is many rain in Ireland - this is only-" He made a dismissive gesture. "Little rain!" Only now being... two, three days? Ireland many many weeks raining!"

"Lots of rain?" Pye could imagine. Wet enough not to care for any additional water. The excess could do no more but to slip off you in little streams. It didn't look as if it was disturbing this boy much.

"Mmm' , very green then, Ireland." He nodded. " Colder though, isn't it?"

"In Spain very very very cold in winter. I am not see summer," Carty said pragmatically.

He had trouble understanding the last sentence, but rather than inquire and cause perhaps embarrassment he smiled and nodded.

"Cold's stinkin'!" He said it as fact and made a face.

"But In Ireland, is it as cold as in Spain in winter?"

"Is not! Maybe one two day, maybe, but all-winter in Ireland not like all-winter in Spain! Winter in Spain-" He held his hand upright, then bent it at the wrist, to imitate a man falling down. "Many many dead." Then he grinned as a more cheerful thought occurred to him. "I lost toe! Mister Sharpe cut it off."

Pye laughed at the imitation of a man falling, though it was quite a morbid thought and topic. He shook his head trying to stay his laughter as the boy went on. The cheerful expression made it sound as if Carty had lost himself a pebble or something hardly mattering at all. But then as he heard that the officer had cut it off he looked rather anxious.

"Cut it off? What did ye do, for him t' do sum'thing like that?" He blinked. "He's a cruel man?" He remembered what Hakeswill had said. He hated the rifleman terribly. Thought him nothing short of a criminal. Well, if he did something like that for pure fun.. was he not?

Carty leaned in, a serious expression on his face. "I said a bad word."