Coffee and Gunpowder

Wood met with leather drums. Bannermen waved their flags as companies marched. Line infantry moved to the drum’s beats as their bright red coats shined with the sun’s rays. Bushes rattled with long sticks protruding out in front of them.

In the small army’s flank, next to the smoking canon batteries, a soldier exhaled deeply and the person next to him snickered, saying, “You shan’t be worried, Kaffee. The chances of them hitting us is slim, and so is vice versa.”

Kaffee felt comfort from the use of his nickname. ‘Leicht Willus Wilhelm’ just did not appeal to him. He also hated that his name actually repeated itself. ‘Leicht Wilhelm Wilhelm’ showed precisely how creative his parents were.

“But, I’m a specialized marksman, one of the captain’s guard,” Kaffee squeaked, not even paying much attention to his own argument. He slouched under the trees’ shadow, flinching at the sound of his horse stepping on a twig.

“And how is that bad, comrade?” He gave off a big, comforting smile as he wove through bushes and fallen branches with his light charger.

“Okay, I thank you for your effort in comforting, Red.”

Jasper Redsword raised his head at the sound of cannon fire. “A Royal Dragoon should not be worried by a small skirmish with deserters leftover from previous battles. Those subpar excuse for target practise should rethink their choices before facing off with one of his majesty’s companies.”

“Ye—yes. They should,” Kaff stammered.

“Did you hear that, gents? Even Kaffee has spirit. So why don’t we rise up to his level of morale!?” He raised a musket to the air to emphasize. “To his majesty’s guard!”

“To his majesty’s guard! Let Brittain never fall!” every other dragoon roared, and birds flocked from their nests from its volume.

Still seeing Kaff in discomfort, Red neared and spoke, “Remain calm, Kaff. Stand by our routine: I slash, and you provide cover fire. A few months past, and you were ecstatic to finish basics.”

Kaff remembered those first days. He missed having that ignorance. “Yes, but… back then I know not of the realness of… the real thing.”

The hails upon hails of bullets were more than enough to cause his squadron to fall into disarray. He learned from it, but much of his classmates weren’t alive enough to use that knowledge. It was certain that breaking formation would only lead to death, and his classmates learned that the hard way.

Not far away, a bugler sounded his instrument, alerting the squadron of an order. Kaff halted his march and dismounted, his left leg jolted by a sudden shock of pain, almost causing him to fall. He hastily bent down to correct its angle.

A prosthetic change was in order. The wood down there had already started to rot under Northern Americas’ forest climates. Soon, parasites were bound to start appearing, and he wasn’t not letting his left leg get infected.

“Are you certain you do not wish to use your personal leg, instead of these cut-prices the military provide?” Red raised an arm up for Kaff, which he gladly took after the corrections were made.

“Yes, ...I am certain. I do not want those to be damaged. They weren’t made to sustain the user on wet grounds, and the swamps we marched through proved that point.” As he made his way to the lineup of of infantry, he looked from one place to another with unease.

Red placed a gloved hand on Kaff’s shoulder, being sure to not stagger him. “Perhaps you could ask for a replacement from that one baroness fellow of yours. The lady was generous enough to gift you your current.”

Kaff, for a quick moment, gave a small smile, before stress loomed back over him. “You should not ask a noble for more than what you receive.”

“Fair enough, Kaff. Fair enough.”

A man wearing lighter colored, and more ornately decorated clothing began pacing in front of the lineup of dismounted cavalry, a pouch of tea leaves attached to his holster. “Listen clear, lads! We are to fire a Fool’s Volley, and reload. After a single wave of fire by rank, we will remount and head west. This illusion will grant the enemy further fears of our ‘reserves’.”

They were deep inland. The thirteen colonies already called for their return, but some officers refused to comply, seeking glory in men’s desertion. The only reserve they had were the few mailmen connecting them with settlements nearby.

A soldier next to the officer pulled out a bugle, relaying the captain’s orders to men on the far side of the line. Moments after the bugle call, the first line let loose their volley, continued by the second line of men over the crouching and reloading first. Both were soon followed by the third, before the first started to remount their horses. A few minutes later, and squadron was off to the west flank of the skirmish.

“That was not at all difficult, was it not, Kaff?” Red’s smile was replaced by concern when he caught Kaff staring at the ground, as if there was a ghost there.

Kaff jerked at the question, almost dropping the rein wrapped around his wrists. “Huh? Oh, y—yes, it might have had been, I think.” He continued to look at the ground, counting every rock they passed over in an effort to keep composure. His breathing was loud enough for some riders to feel pity, though he still left a few annoyed.

“You have done this before, Kaff. You have kept calm when protecting your masters before, what is the difference now?”

Without awareness, he glared at the mere comparison. “The difference is that then, I was a valet, and the opponent didn’t have weapons that had high chance of causing amputation!” He glanced at his rotting leg, admitted to having teary eyes. “I can’t concentrate while legions of infantry fire waves at us. The best I could handle is a knife by some… some criminal that did it to survive out on the streets!”

“Quiet back there! We have no information on this area,” one of the other soldiers hollered through the squadron, uncaring however much more rank Kaff had over him.

Kaff bit his tongue, all eyes on him. Their cold, judging eyes meeting his scared and watery ones. He looked all around him, not seeming to catch a break. Branches waved a mocking farewell to signify his incoming demise. Birds atop their nests stopped their chirps, gazing their eyes to the frightened soldier. Clouds above blocked the sun, already mourning for the soon to be fallen.

Even nature taunted him.

Bang. Everyone’s head turned up at the sound, their eyes locking to the north. A faint whistle could be heard, its volume increasing as time passed.

“SCRAM!” The captain galloped away from the still squadron of cavalry, not caring for the rest of his men.

Boom, Bushes just meters away went up in a torrent of flames. The shrieks of critters ripping away at what’s left of their lungs with beggs of relieve.

Bang, another ball of fire erupted, careening into one of the dragoon’s chest, and taking a few others to their scorching demise.

Crack, the tree next to Kaff shattered into splinters. The horse beneath him jumped at the shock of a few fragments that dug deep into its skin; nature’s bullets doing the same with the rider.

Kaffee shivered and rattled in place. If he were in winter baring nothing, there wouldn’t be a difference. The tremble on his arms moved to strike the rein. “Ya!” He could feel the wood digging away at his body. Screams of ‘run’ filled his head as he pulled out a big chunk of wood in his arm.

The mount whined from the pain; he didn’t care about that. kaff was not going to be part of this for any longer. But, one last look at his friend was something he needed as he ran further from the group.

“Get that soldier back here!” The captain glared at Red. “You!” The saber in his hand raised faster than Red could even blink. “Get that bastard back in formation or you’ll be hanged with him!”

In a mere second, Red was on the chase. Kaffe saw it, but he kept riding onwards. Bleeding or not, the horse under him was no equal to Red’s charger. Its shaky hooves pounded the ground as the woods became denser with each step.

“Do not do this, Kaffee!” Nearer and nearer he closed distance, but it would not matter. It was all futile to catch Kaff without a change of mind. “Come back while you still can. The captain might spare you some mercy.”

“No, I’m done with this. I can’t handle another day. I can’t handle another wave. I can’t handle another limb!”

“Yes you can.” Over a fallen tree, he rocked from the jump, quickly regaining balance not long after. “I will always be here with you. I will keep protecting you till the end of every battle. I will be by your side on every meal!”

Kaff stared back into Red’s eyes. Long, drawn-out seconds flew passed them, much like the forest did. Both pairs of eyes began to waver, until Kaff shouted, “I’m not dying so far away from home! I’d rather fall by the Ottomans’ hands than be forgotten in the Americas!” When he faced the incoming branches, he swore that his vision became blurry.

“You will only make this worse by running away!” Red sniffed, but it wasn’t from the bugs or foreign plants that glazed him.

“I… I’d…” Kaff choked. He swallowed the broken words down his throat, and spat it back out, “I don’t care!”

Finally, Red was close enough that shouting Was no longer needed. “Choose the correct path, Kaff.” He idly looked beside Kaff, patiently waiting for him to process what came next, though the chase prevailed.

Kaff only glanced at Red. “No!” He won’t change his mind.

“Kaffee…”

He didn’t spare the energy to pass another look. Though, he kept attention to every word of Red’s argument. “No,” his voice started losing the vigor it once held.

“Kaff…”

“No…” His heart pounded away at his chest, but his lips quivered from forming soft answers.

“Comrade…”

“...” He slowed his pace, and the mount whined at the needed rest.

“Friend,” Red‘s whispers flowed through his ears.

He fully stopped.

Eye contact was something he couldn’t gift to the one who called him friend. He hadn’t the will for it. “...Yes?” It was clear from the tears caressing his cheek, the posture on his tremor-edged body, the arms that hugged the poor mount that now had splinters deep within itself; he was in distraught.

Red neared, and did the only thing that came to mind. His arms needn’t be told what to do either, as they had already wrapped themselves around the crying soldier, being careful as to not let pressure meet with the bloody splinters. “If you go, you’ll cost us both our lives.”

“I… I can’t do this, Red. Sniff I was not born to be in battle.” The motion of weeping on his friend’s shoulder felt painful, yet it was oddly comforting.

“Then we will push through this together.” The coat on his chest, along with a few of the decorations, were drowned by Kaff’s tears. But, no matter came to that. The two just sat on the mounts, one horse at attention for its master, while the other stood strong with a few gashes.

“I feel cold...”

Red looked down to find the splinters had made wounds deep into Kaff’s body, and were letting out continuous streams of blood. The pupils of his eyes shrank, scouring for cloths of any type to craft a tourniquet with. They quickly fell on the sash on his own shoulder.

The fabric parted away from his coat. Despite being careful, Red’s knife still managed to pierce a few extra holes by accident. As he tightened the knots around Kaff’s limp shoulder, the thoughts of hanging by the gallows and losing his friend left him. He breathed a sigh of relief as Kaff could only moan from the blood loss.

“Head… camp…” It was a short and simple answer, one that was understood by Red.

They fled the site as much as time fled from them. Unfortunately, the horse that stayed true under Kaff’s rein had to be abandoned. Red couldn’t waste precious seconds on the animal. But, Kaff kept his eyes at the shrinking companion till only the forest could saw it.

Already, he missed his travel partner.

“Hang tight!”

As Red galloped through the woods, Kaff gazed at the passing scenery half unconsciously. On the edge of his vision, a white furred horse stood in silent stillness. That was off. He didn’t recall anyone leaving their mount out here. Especially a mount that looked to be from the General’s Bodyguard. Wait, wasn't the general with the infantry battalion?

“They’re within sight!” Kaff could feel Red’s arms raising up for a wave. “We’ve an injured soldier!”

Heavily, Kaff tried to bare open an eyelid. His vision may be distorted, but he was sure there weren’t any men in the artillery camp. No sound of wad-screws cleaning canon bores entered his ears. Not a trace of smoke came up his nose. At dawn, he didn’t even hear a single mouth utter ‘desertion’, for if there was some sort of plan, he would most definitely be asked to join.

“Hello?” All around the camp, the charger went through. Every step knocked Kaff further into reality. Red didn’t voice anymore concern for him either, his focus solely concentrated in finding a medic. “It’s an emergency, the duke’s valet is in danger!”

It was all futile. Neither voice nor body came to greet the two. Though, Kaff’s ear picked up the sound of two boots splashing against mud.

“Why hello there, redcoats.” Ever so slightly, Kaff cracked a glance at the voice. It was a French, a deserter of the nation that once challenged his own. It was an officer by the stride of confidence in his walk. “How rude of us to ignore thy plea. Please, do handover the duke’s valet, so that we may hand him to the proper keeper.”

For a moment, no air met any lungs, beats of hearts jumped, and the atmosphere so tense, it could withstand a cavalry charge. Soon, other footsteps began to form all around them, and Kaff could make out the sound of another officer ordering for a surroundment. Also the order of steady fire.

“Let us make this quick and easy.”

“Let’s.” Red’s hand was gentle when it wrapped that tourniquet, and so pulling a knife was no task for his dexterity. “I’m sorry.”

Slit

Both of Kaff’s lungs began to fill with choked blood. His mouth gurgled every drop, and they dripped onto the already stained uniform below. The pristine gloves that once held the steady aim of a marksman was now dirtied by holding an open throat.

He was drowning.

Though surprised, Kaff understood the deed Red had done. Even in dire moments, Red gave him relieve. His mouth wanted to form words: A goodbye, a thanks, and an apology; these were the things Kaff could no longer give to his comrade. In his last breaths, he could only watch in horror as to what came next.

“Quite mortifying: A soldier killing his own. Though, you are the smart type, I will admit. Such a shame that you were on the Brits’ side.”

The knife forgotten like the horse, Red’s hands held Kaff’s free, coldening fingers. “I am, and always will be.”

The act of comforting did not go unnoticed by the officer. “Take your sentiments with you.” His brow furrowed, while his arm raised in opened palms. Soldiers all around them raised their muskets to eye level, and the officer’s palm closed.

Wet, it was something Kaff hadn’t perceive death to feel like. The coldness of water gripped him into consciousness. Twas not the kind of response anticipated after one’s life had been lost. If this was Hell, Kaff surely can withstand it.

Hurk.

Perhaps he had thought too soon. Hell didn’t seem to possess any oxygen. It felt that Hell wanted to choke him with some sort of light liquid. It didn’t taste much of anything, not of copper, thankfully. He started to feel the torment of the afterlife.

“Hang tight!” a distorted voice shouted. Did Red follow him into Hell as well? Surely his act of heroism earned for a place up above. “Hmmph!”

Kaff’s chest felt air being heaved out of him. He screamed for the action to be stopped, arms flailing wildly. The tightening on his chest weakened, but it felt as if his body began to descend deeper into whatever place this was.

Once again, the pressure returned. This time it was not leaving, not by a longshot. Both his arms pushed for the offending appendages to let go, but it was determined to do whatever acts it desired.

“Nghaaa! Quit trying to drown yourself!” the voice said. Was that the sound of water splashing around him? “Please, I can’t drag you to shore by myself!”

Both his eyes shot awake, and quickly regretted it. For the split second it was opened, the offending bright colors of the outside pummeled his corneas. Blinking rapidly did not do him much help, as it only encouraged the assault to be rapid in succession.

“Please, mister!”

Kaff’s mind reunited with reality. It took no time to process the events happening before him. He was in a body of water, clearly in danger of some sort. His head moved to face the source of voice, greeted by two gigantic, purple irises attached to a… woman by the sound of it.

“Uh, yes, of course!” Kaff’s instincts finally kicked in, responding by putting motion into his legs. Again, he felt a discrepancy. He was sure that knees bent the other way, but he had also tried to drown himself. So for the time being, it was not wise to trust his personal observations. Thankfully, shore didn’t seem to be far, and luckily, it consisted of soft sand rather than pointy rocks.

Face in sand, he paused for a breather. The sand caressing his cheeks felt like a touch from Heaven, opposite of the Hell he just escaped. Fresh air filled the once choking and liquid-filled lungs. His body embraced the sunlight, and the heat dried his fur. It felt nice for his fur to finally be rid of water.

Fur.

The obvious didn’t click. But, his mind raced to find a conclusion: He was naked. In front of a lady, no less! While still facing the ground, both his arms hurried to cover his privates, face gaining a shade of burgundy.

“Are you okay?” the lady said with a foreign accent, followed by a twinge of innocence sprinkled all over. Sweet, merciful lord, he was naked in front of a young lady.

“I… am not sure,” Kaff answered, the sand muffling his voice. Perhaps it was the water, but his touch felt oddly cold and… flat. He raised each hand up for inspection, crossing both legs tight in doing so. Mouth spitting sand, he turned to face the world for the first time since death.

A squint was far easier to handle. He may look silly, but that had no matter in his situation. Taking an eternity, his eyes finally adjusted. He gazed at his hands, finding that they were not present.

Maybe if he found a favorable position, he could comprehend the situation better. He hoisted himself to a sitting position. Still, no hands on either limb. The only thing he found were black fur on some sort of stub at the end of his arms.

“What are you doing over there, mister?” the voice called to him.

He turned to look, and something strange met his eyes. A small horse with reddish-orange fur confused by something Kaff was doing. Where did that lady went off to?

The horse, for some reason, broke its stare to paw at something by its side with a small frown. “Why are you looking at me funny?”

He didn’t seem to have escaped Hell. Though, why did this demon rescued him? Whatever Hell this was, he pondered what he had done to deserve it. Kaff raised an arm up, mimicking an index finger pointing to the sky. “Pardon me.” All he felt afterwards were two more stubs pushing against his back, and feathers cushioning him as he met the ground once more.

“Mister?”