Colonel Tavington sighed dragging his fingers through his thick brown hair, the lush amber ringlets spilling onto the tan skin of his broad shoulders, their ends slightly damp from his recent bath. He groaned stretching muscles that had become stiff from laying in the bath too long and sat down in a wooden chair and began to dry off his wet body. Reaching back over his shoulder he grabbed a piece of ribbon that had been draped over the back of the shay and slightly hesitated, the length of silk twisted through his fingers. He pulled his hair back tying the ribbon in a tight knot ensuring that none of his hair slipped loose. Sighing he glanced at his reflection in the piece of broken mirror that hung from one of the tent's support poles, and slightly paused. A malevolent smirk appearing on his lips as the words of General Cornwallis began to echo in his head. "I stand on the eve of the greatest victory of my career. Don't fail me."
Failure? It was a word that hissed through his mind like the lashing end of a whip making him cringe. It was not as is he had not gone through every measure of sacrifice to get the General where he was. His smirk melted into a sneer and he eyed the glowing face in the mirror staring back at him critically. He still looked severe, commanding, and dare he say it brutal? Ha! He turned stiffly; grabbing his thin white, lace up under shirt from the rim of the tub pulled it over his head. "Don't fail me." Kneeling down he grabbed his breeches and hastily tugged them on not bothering to lace up the crotch, and viciously pulled on his boots. He was suddenly eager to return his tent and review his maps, and charts a passionate rage was building in him now, a poisonous anger that made him laugh bitterly. Straightening he slightly hesitated at the tent's entrance, his nose inches from the white cloth. Absent of his uniform, he felt rapacious as if all rules that went with his rank his slithered from his body. Heh one could only wish.
Drawing in a deep breath of the thick steamy he savored the heat, so much like the vehemence that was smoldering in his chest. He exhaled slowly rolling his shoulders back before pulling back the flap of the canvass and stepping into the harsh, clawing cold of the night. A gust of howling wind greeted him, one that ripped and tore through his scant clothing making him shiver in intense delight. Ah the seer poetry that cloaked this miserable rat hole! Softly laughing he began to walk down the muddy path that was lined with small white tents, feeling the eyes of some of his men burning into his skin as he walked past. Heard them swallow, and their breaths softly hiss though their teeth, and shift uneasily in their blankets. He grunted in slight disgust rolling his eyes to the obsidian heavens. A women was hard to find in the days of war, so naturally a man's mind would stray the next most attractive thing he saw and that, the majority of the time was him. He could always feel their clawing gaze, dragging over his body, saw the glassy haze in their eyes when he stood before them giving them orders. Oh, he knew the look of animalistic lust, had seen it reflected in countless whores eyes as he pounded relentlessly into her body. Filth... He continued walking onward, coming to a brief stop as a young soldier, in a hurry to get back to the warmth of his blankets, almost ran into him. The poor boy slide to a stop landing ungracefully on his ass his cloths becoming splattered with mud. He was new, Tavington could tell by the way the younger man gazed up at him threw thick lashes his dark eyes gleaming from the moon showing a trace of fear. Seeing the annoyed look on his Colonel's face the boy quickly averted his gaze to the ground muttering stupid apologies, having the dignity to blush at his clumsiness. He slowly picked him self up still looking down, his nose barely reaching his commanders throat, his cloths dripping with dirty water, his body shivering with cold shivering from the cold. Hhmm how delicious. Tavington felt a cruel grin beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth and he reached down curling his fingers under the boy's chin, lifting his head so his icy blue eyes were staring down into black. "Didn't they teach you manners boy?" he softly hissed tightening his grip his smile widening when he felt the soldier flinch. "When standing before a higher ranking officer, you are to bow." The last word came out as a snarl and he shoved the young man down his hand catching him by his long hair before he fell face first into the mud. Hauling the boy up right, and ignoring the soft cry of pain that fell from his victim's lips he softly laughed. "That's better isn't it," he whispered his ruthless grip turning into a light caress, his fingers brushing stray strands of the boys hair away from his face. Delighting in the fear that glittered in the soldier's eyes, watching as he slightly nodded. "Good. See that it doesn't happen again." He leaned forward his lips barely ghosting the young man's ear, his warm breath caressing the side the boy's neck. "Or I may just have to drag you into my tent and teach you some manners myself." His words hung icily in the air for moment before he brushed past the stricken soldier, his fingers barely caressing against the boy's side.
The young man stood motionless his body quivering with fear and arousal, Tavington's feathery touch still lingering on his skin, his hissing breath still swirling down his neck. Watching the broad shoulders of his captain as he stalked off to his tent. "E Makes you wan to break the rules doesn't e?" Startled the young man looked down at the soldier that had spoken and found him self-staring into amused green eyes. "Don't let is gentle touch fool you lad, he is as ruthless as a bayonet and twice as deadly." The other man nodded and began walking back to his tent his commanders touch still lingering on skin.
Morgan groaned staggering forward landing on his knees in the snow. Shivering he slumped forward crimson oozing from between his clenched teeth. Blood dripped steadily from his side, and fire twisting through his body, making him jerk and twitch. Gritting his teeth he pulled him self back up weaving his way drunkenly threw the trees. Ahead of him rising into the steel gray sky were thin wisps of smoke marking the location of a British encampment. The weary man staggered on, crawling in some spaces of time, walking in others. Constantly muttering to himself occasionally humming broken phrases of some unknown song, jumping at every little sound, sobbing. Soon he lost among the trees the only sign of his passing was crimson splattered snow.
Tavington glanced up sharply when he saw a messenger step hesitantly threw the opening of his tent. He felt his lips draw back in a snarl "What's the meaning of this?" the young man slightly shifted his voice catching "Sir th-they have found a soldier from General Meirion's camp…he…he is half dead Sir and slightly out of his head. Babbling something about a Ghost." Tavington was already on his feet his voice a low growl "Well don't stand there gaping, moron, bring him to my tent." The young herald nodded scurrying from the tent in a swirl of red and blue, Tavington looked after him disgust written across his face, mindless idiots.
A short while later, a young man staggered in supported by two men, his side was partially bandaged and dark with blood and his long hair had been pulled from his young face in an attempt to make him look half presentable. They set the soldier down in one of the many chairs in the room, slightly bowing before they left the room. The young man sat deathly still staring at the white of the tent wall his eyes glazing and blank, his body trembling from shock.
Sighing Tavington walked over him and pulled him to his feet steering him to the extra bunk that lay at the back of the room. "What's your name boy?" he softly whispered pulling the thick blanket aside and easing his guest onto the cot. The young man was silent for awhile but when he spoke it was so quiet that Tavington had to lean forward to hear him "Morgan Sir…." The Colonel nodded gently pushing Morgan onto his back reaching under the cot and pulling out a pint of bourbon and some clean stripes of linen. He drew his ever-present dagger from his hip, glancing up as the soft whimper that fell from Morgan's lips.
The young man had pulled him self over to the side of the bed whispering raving words of promise. "N-No…no more…please I'll do anything you want. I will be good…please don't." Tavington slightly raised an eyebrow pulling the young man closer flinching at wail of fear that spilled form Morgan's lips. He placed a gentle hand across Morgan's mouth quieting his cries of protest and when he spoke his voice was tight with frustration. "I'm not going to do anything that isn't necessary. No stop that horrid wailing before I really give you something to sob about" His harsh words had the desired effect and the young man lapse into silence, a quite broken only by his pitiful whimpers. Tavington grit his teeth pain lacing from behind his right eye the silently berated himself for losing his temper. Swallowing back his anger he decided to take a different approach to calming the little whelp.
Taking a deep breath he began to talk in a soothing voice the words and falling gently from his lips, he spoke gently his fingers brushing against the young mans forehead. Watching as Morgan's eyes closed, then in a single skilled smooth movement ran the razor sharp dagger under the young mans tattered uniform and split it down the middle. Exposing tanned skin curved muscles and bloody bandages. Tavington could tell that the work had been done by the young man's own hands, it was sloppy and hung loose in some places.
Carefully, he began slice away the filthy cloth breathing through his mouth as the smell of puss and infection hit his nose. The wound was badly infected caked with dried blood and oozing puss, the skin around it a harsh red that faded into a sickly yellow. Morgan was lucky he had been found another day like this and he would have been dead. Turning his head Tavington shouted for some hot water and a clean cloth. Then returned to removing the rest of the bandages stopping only when the young man's voice reached his ears.
"It was the Ghost you know…." Morgan softly whispered turning his crazed eyes to look at the Colonel raising a hand to gently lay it on top of Tavington's arm "He came upon us in the night while we slept, slaughtered most of our regiment. I…I was made to watch…I…." Tavington lay light finger against the boy's lips his eyes showing pity, and slight scorn. "Be quite Morgan," he whispered his thumb going to caress the young mans cheek. "Hush now and rest." The soldier nodded relaxing slightly turning into the Colonels touch his eyes closing. Tavington drew his hand away, cutting away the last of the bandages glancing at the tent entrance as the soldier came in balancing a bucket full of steaming water and a pile of cloth. "Set it down beside me, I don't want to be disturbed for the rest of the night."
The guard nodded placing the bucket next to his Colonel before leaving. Softly muttering to him self, Tavington dipped the cloth into the steaming water and began to wipe away the clotted blood on the wound. The bullet had gone deep but thankfully had missed any major organs. He could see the faint gleam of silver through the blood and pushed the thin tip of his dagger into Morgan's body cutting away pieces of flesh. Swallowing at the odd sucking sound the bullet made as it was finally cut free. After cleaning the blood off he placed the bullet on the edge of the small table that was next to the cot. Taking the rest of cloth he wadded it up, sticking it inside the wound he dribbled the skin around it with bourbon making sure it was smeared around the edges of the slash.
Then carefully he began wrap the wound, making sure it was tight he tucked the end into the top of the dressing. By then he couldn't tell if Morgan had passed out or was just sleeping but at least some color had returned to his cheeks and his breathing was no longer ragged. He gently pulled the blankets over the sleeping man and tucked them in around his sides the last thing the boy need was to catch pneumonia while trying to heal from infection. Quietly Tavington picked up the bucket of bloody water and tossed outside his tent. He wearily pulled the ribbon from his hair and began to change for bed pulling off his uniform coat and shirt. Wearing nothing but breeches he shuffled over to his cot and burrowed under the covers. Outside the night wind howled carrying with it biting snow, the sky was gray and harsh, a promise to coming bloodshed.
Morgan slightly stirred under the heavy blanket opening his eyes, to a most interesting sight. Tavington stood not to far away naked from the waist up brushing his hair back with a long toothed comb. He pushed the thick strands away from his face tying his hair tightly behind his head so none of it would fall forward when he donned his hat. Morgan silently wished that Tavington didn't have to pull his hair back, and he suddenly longed to run his fingers through it…. His eyes strayed down to the Colonels well-muscled torso and he swallowed the commanders skin was tan and criss-crossed with scars. With a thin line of brown hair that trailed from his navel into the waistline of his breeches and despite him self Morgan slightly moaned. The noise immediately made ice blue eyes snap in his direction and Morgan quickly closed his eyes, slightly shifted under his blanket. He heard cloths slightly shift and felt warm breath wash down on the side of his face. A gentle hand was laid on his forehead followed by quiet murmuring, before it was drawn back. He heard the tent flap rustle as the Colonel walked out, Morgan didn't move for a few more moments making sure that Tavington was gone before he re-opened his eyes. He turned over on his back and stared at the canvas of the ceiling. Faintly Morgan could hear Tavington his voice harsh and commanding as he spoke to a pair of scouts that had apparently located an enemy camp. He sighed and felt safe for the first time in three days. Allowing Tavington voice to carry him away to sleep.
When opened his eyes again the tent was bathed in golden candlelight, and Tavington was sitting next to his cot a book propped open by his fingers, his long hair down brushing shoulders. The Colonel glanced down at him, shut his book and gently lay it on the floor. "You're hungry I suspect," he said standing, watching as Morgan pulled him self up into a sitting position. He nodded glancing down at his blanket his lips a thin line, looking up only when the weight of a tray was placed carefully on his lap. "Thank you Sir…." Tavington remained silent returning to his seat bracing his elbows on his knees he leaned forward watching the young man eat. Impressed that he ate slowly and didn't wolf it down shamelessly like most of the soldiers did.
When Morgan was finished Tavington removed the tray and ordered him to lie on his back. Morgan did so hesitant watching as Tavington drew back the blanket and began examining his wound. A soft blush crept on his cheeks. One that grew darker as Tavington glanced up at him a sly smile slightly tugging at the corners of his mouth. Morgan looked down embarrassed for thinking of a high officer in such a way. Tavington gently rested his hand against Morgan side and feeling him slightly jerk away, only increased his amusement. Nodding he pulled the blankets back up to the young mans waist but remained kneeling by his side. "Now that you seem to be feeling better… tell me of what happened to your regiment."
Morgan slightly paled and swallowed hard closing his eyes, "There really isn't much to tell Sir." Tavington smiled his voice suddenly smooth holding a certain venomous charm to it "You are a brave man Morgan…a valiant man loyal the Crown and England." He gently lay his hand on top of the soldiers his face calm and gentle. Morgan swallowed his dark eyes partially closing "The day before, we raided near by settlement weeding out the militia, traitors, killing most leaving only a few. But there was this man that laughed while we killed him, screaming out the vengeance of the Ghost would kill us all, we thought him mad and paid no mind relieved that a slit throat finally shut him up. But it was that night…we were all asleep, I don't know when the killing started only waking up and looking the blue eyes of a man who carried an tomahawk. I was hauled roughly to my feet my hands bound behind my back and thrown into a line of other men they head decided to spare. The killing when on for hours, some they tortured, some they didn't, some they mangled others they left where they lay.
The screams filled the night filled my skull until I thought I would go mad with the sound. Then it stopped the last man killed then, their leader turned to us a smile on his bloody face his voice terrifyingly calm 'Do as you please,' his men softly laughed and came at us. They slaughtered most us where we stood, but left two, another soldier and me. He halted his men then walking around us eyeing us as if we were slaves his fingers gently brushing against our backs, whispering horrible things in our ears. He forced us to our knees and drew the edge of his ax along our cheeks, a wicked smile on his face. Fearing the pain of torture I tried to break free and he shot me pressed his gun to my side and pulled the trigger. They he killed the other man slit his throat, and left thinking we were all dead…."
Tavington slightly nodded his eyes smoldering his hand absent mindedly squeezing Morgan's hand hard enough to make the young man wince. Tavington looked up at the young man "As I said you are brave…," Morgan bowed his head closing eyes against tears. Sighing when he felt gentle fingers on his chin lifting his head and lips softly kiss his own. He gasped unknowingly giving Tavington access to his mouth a tongue swept across his own, possessively.
The Colonel tasted just as he thought like expensive wine, and harsh winter he groaned opening his mouth wider, further accepting the kiss. Tavington broke away after a moment, his breathing, calm his face smooth his hands resting on Morgan's thighs. "A shame that you're wounded, else we could indulge in other more…amusing activity." Morgan swallowed still tasting the Colonel in his mouth closing his eyes as his commander placed a tender kiss on his throat. "Rest easy," he whispered and pulled away. Morgan sighed whimpering at the loss of contact as Tavington pulled away.
