"Asmodeus! Get back here!" Tavington was trying to corral the loose mount, who had run away with his leadrope and was prancing about in the middle of camp. Asmodeus snorted and shook his head, tossing his mane.
"Asmodeus…"
The Thoroughbred took off, loping down the row of tents, sending a group of soldiers scattering before he turned suddenly and toppled a tent at the end of a row. Asmodues stopped, and the colonel caught him as he looked at his master in surprise.
"Fool. You'll break a leg running with a lead like that."
Asmodeus groaned and swished his tail. William made to lead him back to his post but the horse planted himself firmly and refused to move. Tavington's eyes narrowed and he shook the reins. The Thoroughbred resisted.
"Oh come off it!" William leaned into Asmodeus, giving him a hard shove to his rump and he sidestepped, nickering.
"You!"
Asmodeus bobbed his head, lollygagging on the line.
"I'll have none of it," Tavington shook the reins sharply once more and Asmodeus reluctantly fell into step, nudging his master apologetically.
William swatted the horse on the neck and led him back to his post. When he had the animal secured, he searched for the herbs that Gillian had given him. Asmodeus had healed well enough, but William found that the herbs also gave the horse an extra boost of energy and strength. Finding the bag, he noticed that it was empty and frowned. He couldn't very well just ask Gillian for more. Tavington would have to get them on his own.
Wandering over to Gillian's tent, he found it unoccupied and snuck inside. There, he dug through her trunk and found the bag of herbs he was looking for and left her a couple of coins and a short note. It read:
I let you go because you didn't deserve it.
-W.T.
With that, he took the herbs and returned to feed them to Asmodeus, who took them gratefully.
"Don't get too used to these."
Asmodeus snorted and butted Tavington with his head. He wanted to go for a ride, and nipped the colonel's shoulder.
"All right, all right! But just a short one."
William gave Asmodeus a quick grooming and then saddled him, sticking to a deerpath that did not go deep into the woods. An icy wind wound through the trees, making the hairs on the back of the colonel's neck stand up. Asmodeus tossed his head but continued to walk. As they turned a corner, William spotted Capt. Bordon a short distance ahead on his mare. The Thoroughbred tugged at the reins, but Tavington held him firmly.
"Captain…"
Bordon turned and addressed the colonel.
"Sir. I was out for a short ride. Belle needed to stretch her legs."
Tavington nodded.
"Understandable. Stay close to camp. There's rabble about."
Bordon nodded and trotted off, turning left at a fork in the trail.
Tavington did not follow the captain but turned right instead, riding along a dense part of the trail, draped in fog and shaded in trees. Within minutes, he and Asmodeus were the only ones on the trail. Dead leaves cracked and the earth was disturbed under the Thoroughbred's hooves. Something rustled amongst the tree bows and the stallion jerked his head up. Tavington followed his gaze to a crow, moving in the branches. He pushed Asmodeus on as the bird let out a squawk before fluttering into the air. Fog swirled around them, clouding the path. The Thoroughbred stepped on a large twig and it snapped, causing him to whinny.
"Easy, Asmodeus," Tavington assured him, patting his neck, guiding the stallion further into the fog. The end of the trail was near, and there, the fog should lift.
The stallion jogged uneasily a few steps ahead, eager to get to the end of the trail until William held him at a walk. They wandered a mile on the trail until they reached the exit and found themselves at the other end of camp.
"See boy? No harm done."
Asmodeus chewed the bit and Tavington led him into a jog around the camp, giving the animal a light workout. The stallion was considerably more relaxed now that he was out in the open, away from the foggy woods.
William guided Asmodeus back to his post, unsaddled him, and gave him a quick grooming before heading off to the mess tent for food. He took his time with the rations. They tasted stale, but they were what he would eat for the evening. Once he was finished eating, he returned to his tent, keeping warm by a lantern he had lit as the wind howled outside, shaking the tent. The candle in the lantern flickered. Tavington longed for the warmth of the blankets of his cot but was too restless to sleep, so he retrieved his journal.
Fall
Things are not going as expected. I have yet to capture the Ghost, and he proves even more elusive as time passes. Cornwallis is hardly better to deal with. I am too brutal, he says. Just like my father. Rubbish! That Ghost will not be caught with simple gentlemanly tactics! No, he'll take a good burning!
The days grow colder and shorter here. The wind is bitter at night. I have awakened a number of times to frost on the ground. The Colonial militia was spotted nearby, so orders are to stay close to camp when not on duty. We will have them yet.
Tavington finished writing just as a gust of wind blew through the tent, snuffing the candle in his lantern. He crawled under the blankets of his cot, shivering, and fell into an uneasy sleep.