Clara squealed in joy as Chesterfield lifted her up onto Arabesque, right in front of Blutch, who was already mounted. She latched herself to the horse's flowing grey mane and swung her legs back and forth against it's sides in excitement. Blutch shifted her carefully to ensure she would be safe for the ride, as he gathered the reigns and checked the supplies behind him.
Chesterfield stepped into his stallion's stirrup, effortlessly swinging over and into his saddle. The sergeant still couldn't believe they were actually going to do this. It was crazy! Of course, he couldn't remember one single day of his life in the army that hadn't been crazy.
The night before, when Chesterfield had first met Clara, Blutch had brought Clara and gone to see General Alexander. It was a miracle in itself that the corporal had even been given audience with the busy general. But it seemed General Alexander had a soft spot for children, and, with some heartfelt words from Blutch mixed with the pleading gaze of Clara, the general had soon granted Blutch and Chesterfield leave to help the little girl find her family. It would not be hard to follow their trail. In fact, tracks, mixed with left behind debris and belongings, would make the task fairly easy.
"Ready?"
The voice startled Cornelius out of thought. He glanced to his right to see a smiling corporal and a beaming child atop Blutch's grey mare, all ready and rearing to go. Nodding, the sergeant gave a click and a flick to the reigns and they started off. Soon, the camp was out of sight, and the wide countryside was all around them.
It was another cool morning. The fog gave a slight chill to the air, but a peeking shade of blue above it promised that it would soon clear, bringing fourth a beautiful day. Having left camp quite early, they had to stop for breakfast, before continuing on their way.
Clara kept up a steady stream of conversation the entire time, and, though Chesterfield personally didn't mind, he was surprised at how good Blutch was with children. He conversed with her at her level, but not in that annoying voice so many adults fall into when addressing the very young. He treated her as if they were the same age. No question was too unimportant, no conversation too boring. Chesterfield smiled to himself as he traveled, listening to their ceaseless chatter.
"Where did you find your horse, Mr. Blutch?" Clara asked, giving the mare beneath her a gentle pat. Arabesque whinnied with pleasure.
"Well," Blutch said with a chuckle, remembering the incident. "It's more like she found me. I had just joined the army, and was looking for a good horse." He leaned over and also gave Arabesque a loving tap. "I was sitting in the corral when I felt a nudge on my shoulder. She took to me right away and, well, here we are."
Clara smiled at the thought. Suddenly she became serious.
"How long have you been in the army, Mr. Blutch?"
The corporal though for a moment. "Nearly three years." Gosh, has it really been that long? he thought to himself. For the first time since their trip had begun, the two fell completely silent. Chesterfield began to feel uncomfortable in the quiet. He waited, hoping that Clara would come up with a new question. He immediately wished he hadn't hoped for such a thing when Clara's voice, small and quiet, spoke softly behind him.
"Have you ever seen someone die?"
Chesterfield winced as another long pause followed. He suddenly realized that he no longer heard the clip clop of the grey mare. Arabesque had stopped. Blutch had stopped her.
Bringing his own steed around he turned to see what had happened. What he saw shook him to the core. There the two sat, with Clara sitting in a twisted way so that she could gaze up at her friend, Corporal Blutch. Her face was serious and sad. It was like all the compassion in the world was beaming from her into the soul of the man sitting behind her.
Chesterfield was startled by her sudden solemn expression, but not nearly as startled as he was when he shifted his gaze to Blutch. The young corporal was rigid, tense beyond anything the sergeant had ever seen in the small soldier. He was very pale and he appeared to be shaking slightly. Chesterfield's mind brought back the night before. When Blutch had yelled, he had become much the same way. He really looked terrible.
The two sat with their eyes locked. Blutch trying to slow his racing heart, and Clara awaiting an answer to her question. The silence was unbearable. Finally, Blutch answered.
"Yes," he said shakily. "Yes, I have."
"Was it someone you cared about?"
"I...I..I think we better stop for the night." He began to slide of of his horse, clumsily because of his dizziness, which did not go unnoticed by his sergeant. "It's starting to get dark."
Blutch was relieved when he found Clara easy to distract. As soon as he lifted her down from Arabesque she began to explore the clearing they had stopped in.
Chesterfield was about to insist they continue, as there was still an hour or so left of day light, but then he remembered that Clara was no doubt tired from riding all day. They had't even stopped for lunch, eating on horseback.
"Alright," he agreed, and dismounted gracefully.
Clara was a short distance away, inspecting an old tree stump.
"Stay within our sight!" Blutch called, giving the glade a quick once over for anything dangerous. Clara smiled at him and gave a cheerful wave, before chasing after a frog that had just emerged from the rotten stump.
Blutch gave a smile and turned to start unloading Arabesque, when he bumped right into a, by now, familiar barrier. The impact again nearly throwing him to the ground, he looked up at his sergeant in annoyance.
"You know," he grumbled, regaining his balance, "I'm starting to think every time I turn around I'm gonna run into you. You really need to stop popping up in odd places." He started to untie his satchel from his grey mare.
Chesterfield gave a chuckle before his face became more serious.
"Are you alright?"
Blutch paused while reaching for the supplies on Arabesque's back. He felt his heart skip a nervous beat, as he turned to face the sergeant. He looked up at him. It was funny how Blutch never really noticed how much smaller he was than Chesterfield. He figured his tough personality made up for it. But there were times when he felt small; vulnerable. That was when he realized how easy it would be for the world to crush him.
"Yeah..." he lied, turning back to his task. "I'm fine. Why?"
Chesterfield looked honestly concerned. "Well," he began, "it's just that you, well...haven't quite been yourself lately." He noticed Blutch pause again. "Is something wrong?"
Blutch looked annoyed. "No, nothing's wrong."
The sergeant's concern transformed into anger. Leaping forward he grabbed the surprised corporal by the shirt and lifted the young soldier until they were eye-level.
"Look, Blutch, I know you're lying!" he growled dangerously. "I want the truth! The real, honest to goodness truth! Do you here me?! And THAT'S AN ORDER!"
He lowered Blutch down with a thump. He crossed his arms over his chest expectantly.
To say the corporal was startled by his sergeant's temper would be an understatement. It was very rare that Chesterfield intimidated Blutch, but every once in a while...
Blutch grumbled while smoothing his now badly winkled clothes. After a moment he sighed. "Fine. I haven't been feeling well."
Concern resurfaced on the sergeant's features. "How so?"
Might as well tell him, he thought to himself. And I don't really feel all that good. "Dizzy spells," he answered, then added, "Very bad dizzy spells."
Chesterfield frowned. "Any other symptoms?"
Blutch thought for a moment. "Well," he began slowly, "I start to feel kind of hot and sick." He paused. "My heart beats real fast too."
"How long has this been happening?"
"A week."
"A WEEK?! WHY DID'T YOU TELL ME?!"
Blutch gave his a frustrated glare. "You're not my mother, I don't have to tell you anything!"
Chesterfield felt his temper rising again, but then took a deep breath instead, choosing to ignore the comment. "How many have you had?"
Again Blutch paused, thinking back through the week. Finally he said, "I had a few small ones, barely noticeable, at the very beginning of the week. Yesterday was when I had the first bad one. When I was in our tent, gathering my gear...before I ran into you."
Chesterfield nodded, recalling only then how pale the corporal had been when he emerged from the tent. He mentally kicked himself for not checking to see if he was alright. "You also had one last night in the tent again, didn't you? When you grabbed my arm to steady yourself?"
The corporal blushed slightly. "Yes," Blutch replied, "And there was one before that one. When we were awaiting the order to charge near the village where I found-" Suddenly his eyes widened. "Clara!"
He began to glance about him frantically, but there was no sign of the girl. She was no where in sight. Blutch cursed under his breath.
"I told her to stay in sight!" he cried, drawing his pistol from it's holster and cocking it. A terrible feeling of dread was beginning to coil in the pit of his stomach. "She could be in danger! Come on!" He took off into the woods near where the child had last been seen. He could hear the footfalls of the sergeant behind him as he ran through the forest regardless of stone or bush.
Chesterfield tried his best to keep up, but desperation and fear had lent a speed to his companion that the sergeant just couldn't match. Panting and wheezing, he did his best to keep the pace, but before long Blutch was gone from sight. Slowing to a tired trot, Chesterfield noticed the trail his partner had left behind. It would be easy to follow, as Blutch had flattened most of the vegetation in his wild dash through the foliage.
The sergeant continued at a slower, yet steady pace, following the trail, and hoping that nothing bad would happen to his two travelling companions between then and when he found them. Fear gripped his heart when the tranquil silence was shattered by a blood curdling scream followed immediately by the sharp, resounding echo of a pistol gun shot.
Throwing cation to the wind, Chesterfield broke into a mad run. Not caring whether he followed Blutch's trail or not, he only followed the direction the two sounds had come from. It wasn't long before he broke out of the dense forest into yet another clearing. Gun drawn and cocked he swung it from left to right, scanning the area. The first thing that caught his eye was a dark, monstrous shape laying not five feet to his right. Furred and straggled, he recognized it at once: a grizzly. Leveling his weapon at the beast, he did his best to keep his aim steady. He stood, wide eyed, legs apart, and breathing heavily.
He stood that way for a moment or two, frozen in fear, tense and rigid. The creature did not move. In fact, it didn't appear to be breathing. Chesterfield slowly lowered his pistol. The grizzly was already dead.
He jumped slightly when he realized something was pulling frantically at his pant leg. Looking down he saw Clara clinging to him, trying to get his attention. The sergeant felt a twinge of guilt when he realized she might have been there for longer then he knew. That he had just been to tense to notice her. Her eyes were wide and she was shaking. Tears slid down her little rosy cheeks as she tried to pull him in the opposite direction.
"MR. SERGEANT!" she cried, "PLEASE...PLEASE HELP!"
She grabbed his hand and dragged him forward, going around the dead bear at a distance. Chesterfield felt fear rise in him again as Clara let go of his hand and ran forward to stand beside Blutch. The corporal was kneeling in the grass, shaking violently and gasping for breath.
"PLEASE, MR. SERGEANT!" she sobbed, "YOU HAVE TO HELP HIM!"