Chapter Eight:

Friends and Foes

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"My apologies your highness, I do not."

The stable was plunged into silence as Harriet uttered those words, not a single man daring to move a muscle. Leopold's blue eyes stared into hers, blinked once, and then he turned on his heel to face the rest of the men, his back as straight as a rod and his fists clenched.

Harriet gulped. Had she made the right choice?

"Due to the fact that no one is willing to tell me the truth, regardless of how admirable it is to not want to rat out your fellow soldiers, you will all have to suffer the consequences for your dishonesty." Harriet suddenly found herself on the receiving end of several glares and bewildered looks. The glares were from many of the men who had not seen the incident while the bewildered looks were from Garreth, Matthew, and John.

"I will be splitting you up into groups to do work as punishment. All of the work is to be finished before you can have dinner." Leopold pointed to the men on the left-side of the stables. "You will all be helping with dinner." He pointed to the right side. "You will be polishing and cleaning the bridles of the horses." Leopold turned to face Harriet, the man beside her, and everyone behind them. "You will be on stable duty."

Harriet did her best to contain a groan, but she didn't have to worry, as at that moment Leopold walked away and out of earshot. She pressed her lips together to contain a frown. She had picked the only option she really could've. If she hadn't she would've just had more trouble with the other recruits.

She heaved a sigh, though not through her nose, more than aware of the stench rising from the horse manure covering her front. Her lips quirked into a bitter smile as she thought wistfully of a time long ago when she had put cow manure in her stepmother's tea. Perhaps this was poetic justice for that.

Shaking her head, Harriet glanced to look at the man who had given her the handkerchief, but found that he was already making his way towards the shovels nearby the stable doors. Harriet followed him, grabbing a shovel for herself, as she pondered giving back the cloth, but seeing the state of it, thought better of it. He would definitely not want it back, at least not until is was significantly cleaner.

They worked in silence, Harriet caught up in her own thoughts and wishes for a nice hot bath, or perhaps just a dip in a river to clean off the manure. The more she worked and sweat, the more the stench reached her nose, and her face was soon twisted into a scowl.

"So you sure got off on the wrong foot with them," the other man said, breaking the silence. There was no need to explain who he was talking about.

"Yes, though I have no reason why," Harriet responded, pleased just to have someone to talk to who wasn't tormenting her and wasn't a confusing King.

"That's just how they are. There are always a few like them in every group of men."

"Like them?" Harriet asked glancing over to him as she shoveled more horse manure out of the way.

"Bullies. They like to torment the new recruits, expecting them to be weak, meek, and useless... I think you might've surprised them."

"Surprised them? How? All they've been doing is tormenting me, I've hardly done anything of note."

"Except outrun them and then keep your silence when you had a chance to out them. I'd say you definitely surprised them. Most new recruits would jump at the chance to throw whoever was tormenting them under the cart, but not you." The man peered at her, as if he was trying to understand her more. "It makes me think you're up to something."

"And if I am?" Harriet said, meeting his eyes and stilling her hands so she could focus on staring at him challengingly.

"Then I advise you to be subtle about it. If they never hear about it or see it, the King and his advisors don't have to do anything about it. While you wouldn't throw those men under the cart, don't make the mistake of believing they will do the same for you."

"Don't worry, I won't make that mistake." Harriet paused, looking at the man. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Oliver Filbert. What's yours?"

"Harry Greenfellow," Harriet answered thinking absentmindedly over how easy it was becoming to say that was her name. Maybe after all of this was over she'd just go by Harry instead of Harriet. "Nice to meet you," she said, following common courtesy. However, Oliver just snorted, smiling bitterly at her words.

"I hope you don't blame me for wishing it was under different circumstances. No one wants to go to war."

"No one except the King of Carigan."

"Right."

They were both silent for a few moments, working hard to clear the stable of horse manure as well as to finish before dinner. Not to mention, Harriet was pretty keen on the idea of taking a dip in that river since she seriously doubted that a hot bath was an option.

All around them Harriet could hear the quiet murmur of other conversations, but she didn't focus on any of them, merely paying attention to the shovel in her hands and the way her muscles ached as she did her work.

She was just about to scoop up another pile of dirt and manure drenched hay, when a loud squeaking reached her ears. She paused, her eyebrows furrowing as she peered down. There in the manure was the little wiggling body of a baby mouse.

Harriet couldn't back her smile and immediately bent down and picked the mouse into her hands. As soon as her fingers closed gently around it, it ceased squirming, instead clutching onto her pinky finger for dear life. Harriet raised her eyebrows at the little animal, but nonetheless held onto it. It reminded her of a simpler time when the best thing was when her brother James adopted little mice to be a part of their "family."

"What've you got there?" Oliver asked and Harriet opened her hands to show him. Oliver gave her an odd look.

"A mouse? Are you going to let it go?" Harriet nodded.

"Yes, hold on. I just want to make sure it doesn't get lost in the mud again."

Harriet carried the mouse to the outside of the stable, placing it down carefully. With one last smile she turned around to go back to her work. She hadn't been working for more than five minutes when to her left Oliver gave a startled laugh.

"What?" Harriet asked, eyeing his apparent amusement with a hint of suspicion. Why was he looking at her?

"Look down," he replied, and when Harriet followed his directions, she let out a startled laugh of her own. There by her right foot was the mouse.

"What are you doing little buddy?" Harriet asked, picking the mouse up again as it gave high-pitched little squeaks. She shook her head at the little mouse, but when she tried to put him down, he again clung to her fingers. "What do you want me to do? I can't keep you..." Harriet trailed off, meeting the small pair of wide eyes staring back at her.

"You could, you know."

"What? Keep him?" Harriet said, turning to look at Oliver who was standing with his arms resting on top of the handle of his shovel.

"Yeah. You could probably sneak him scraps or something. Not to mention, look at him, he's a baby. If you leave him here he'll probably get trampled or eaten by some of the dogs." Harriet silently agreed, especially as she felt the almost weightless feeling of the small mouse in her hand.

"But where would I put him? I can't just hide him can I?"

Hold on," Oliver said, stepping closer. "Here let me take him for a second." Harriet passed the mouse to Oliver, watching as the mouse did his best to escape his grasp. "Okay, okay, hold on." Oliver placed the mouse on Harriet's shoulder, where it immediately snuggled closer to her neck and hid under her matted hair.

"So what? I hide him on my shoulder?"

"I think your pocket would work fine for short trips," Oliver stated, all while Harriet did her best to ignore the tickling feeling of the mouse's whiskers on her neck.

"If you say so," Harriet responded, heaving her shovel up from the ground and beginning to continue to shovel the mess out of the stables. She moved slower than before, aware of the feeling of the little mouse by her neck, but as she worked she was surprised to feel the mouse move with her, readjusting as her shoulders and back shifted.

For the rest of the time she was shoveling, she kept half of her attention on the mouse until she eventually got used to the little creature's movements.

By the time Harriet and Oliver were finished, she was exceedingly tired, smelt worse than before, and she was quite sure the baby mouse was as exhausted as she was.

"So you're going to keep him?" Oliver asked, as they placed their shovels back where they belonged. Harriet looked at the sleeping form of the little mouse and then gave a hesitant nod.

"I think so. However, I think we're both in need of a dip in that river," Harriet said, scrunching up her nose at the sight of her rumpled and brown-stained clothes. "I suppose I'll see you tomorrow?" Harriet asked, turning to Oliver as a small ember of hope rose up in her chest. It would be nice to have someone on her side.

"Yes, bright and early," Oliver answered before going on his own way back to the tents. Harriet watched him leave and then slumped her shoulders, glad to be alone.

The work was done, and finally she could get herself cleaned up. She raised her hand up to cradle the mouse in her hand, taking him down from her shoulder.

Taking in the sight of his whiskers that twitched while he slept, Harriet smiled at the animal fondly. It was odd how much the mouse reminded her of home, but she found she didn't mind. It was nice to have a reminder of her family in such a place as the military camp.

Harriet started on her way towards her own tent to grab a towel and a change of clothes, pleased to find it empty, and then went right back out to find the river.

She had overheard some of the men talking about it the night before, and so she figured it was the perfect place to wash off the results of the events of the day. If she had any luck, though at this stage she severely doubted she had any, it would be deserted. She could do with a little solitude after the long day.

The mouse seemed to perk up as Harriet followed the path, and eventually, Harriet could tell he was wide awake and so she put the mouse back on his perch. She was just rounding a corner in the path when the sound of raised voices reached her ears.

Eyes widening, she darted behind some of the shrubbery on the side of the path, doing her best to hide herself completely from anyone who might be on the path. She wasn't sure who they were, but with her track record, she'd rather be safe than sorry.

"As long as we keep him distracted it shouldn't be a problem," one of the men said heatedly.

"Shouldn't be a problem? What so we let him just raise his army? I don't think so. We need to do something about the good ones, especially that Greenfellow boy. He could cause trouble," another voice said, but his words were met with loud snorts of laughter.

"Right, that midget. I'm sure he'll do a lot of trouble for our archers, he's an uncommonly small target," the first man said derisively while one of the other's gave a chuckle. Harriet frowned from her place in the bushes. What on earth were they talking about?

Suddenly the mouse on her shoulder gave a little squeak, and Harriet snatched him from her shoulder, hoping they hadn't heard anything. However, it seemed like the men hadn't noticed.

"I don't think he's trouble, at least not yet, but we'll keep an eye on him in the mean time. Remember, we can't do anything until we have our orders from Richard,"  another man said, his voice sounding farther away as the group of men continued on their way.

Harriet's breath caught in her throat. There was only one Richard she knew of who would give orders and that was the king of Carigan. Were those men traitors? Harriet strained her ears to listen more to their conversation, but once they got farther away she could no longer hear their conversation.

She stayed still for a minute or two to make sure they really were gone, before getting out of the shrubbery. Standing on the rocky path that was still slicked with puddles from the day before, Harriet tried to ignore her trembling knees, instead placing the mouse back on her shoulder.

Those men were talking of treason, but if they followed the orders of King Richard, then it meant that they probably weren't on Ecrivenia and Marenta's side to begin with. She hadn't recognized any of their voices, but one of them had sounded oddly familiar.

Harriet's mouth tugged downwards. Could it have been one of her tent mates? Harriet shook her head, beginning to walk again towards the river. She would've known if it was Garreth or one of his cronies. At least she hoped that she would.

As she got closer to the river, she could hear the sound of running water, and after a few moments of fighting through some low-growing plants, she reached the river.

It was really more of a creek versus a river, as it was much smaller, but Harriet didn't really care. Putting the mouse down on the banking on top of the small bag she had brought with her, she made sure that both the mouse and the bag wouldn't get wet. Shooting a look around to make sure no one was nearby, Harriet peeled off her outer-layer shirt and trousers, leaving her in her underlayers.

She shivered as the cool air hit her skin, but tried to get used to it. The water would probably be much colder.

"Now, don't go running off," Harriet said to the mouse, her voice quiet in the night air. "I won't go looking for you in the dark." The mouse just looked up at her before curling up on top of her bag.

Harriet sighed, before turning around and slipping into the water, hissing as the chilly water surrounded her. She scrubbed at the mud and manure that had covered her clothes and skin hurriedly until her clothes were as clean as they were going to get and her skin was a light pink in the moonlight.

Grimacing from the cold, Harriet got out of the water in record time, glad to be free of the biting temperature of the water as well as the dirt and manure. Hurrying to her bag, she scooped up the mouse, earning herself a startled squeak from the little animal.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry, but we need to get you clean too," Harriet said, apologizing to the squirming creature. Grabbing a hold of a handkerchief from her pack, she got it wet in the creek and then proceeded to wipe away the grime from the mouse.

After a few moments of struggling and quiet apologies, the mouse was clean, albeit slightly upset with Harriet.

"Oh stop it. Would you rather sit in your own grime?" The mouse stared at her blankly. "Ah never mind."

Harriet dropped the mouse on top of her shoes, hoping he wouldn't run away, which for some reason, he didn't. Shrugging at the odd behavior of the animal, Harriet dragged her clean clothes out from inside her bag and put them on, thankful for the new feeling of warmth.

Fixing her hair so it was out of her eyes, and putting her soaking wet clothes in one hand, Harriet put her bag over her shoulder. Reaching down she put her hand in front of the mouse for him to climb on, more than a little surprised when he actually did and then scrambled up her arm onto her shoulder. Maybe he trusted her? Feeling him tug on her hair, she decided maybe he just liked her curls. That seemed likely.

Harriet tugged her shoes on, and started on her way back to the camp, more than ready for sleep and food.

She was still worried about all that she had overhead, but she knew she couldn't say anything to Leopold. At least not yet. She would need proof of who it was, and not just any kind of proof, proof that could not be denied.

Harriet frowned, thinking. How was she supposed to get proof if they were already keeping an eye out for her? She guessed they were right. She would cause them trouble, far more than they ever thought she would.

As she got back to the camp she scowled as she saw the lights were out in the food tent. It looked like there wouldn't be any dinner for her tonight, or for the mouse. Peeking down at the little mouse, Harriet realized she hadn't named him yet.

Suddenly, she smirked. She had the perfect name for him. It would be a way for her to remember both her older sister, who she already missed, and her best-friend.

"Looks like we'll be fending for ourselves tonight, Clark," she said to the lump on her shoulder, walking closer to her tent.

She crept in, making sure not to make any noise. She didn't want to wake her tent mates, especially after the events of the day. Throwing her pack down at the end of her bedroll, Harriet sat down on her roll, taking the mouse down from her shoulder and setting him beside her as she laid down.

"Night, Clark," she whispered, turning onto her shoulder to see that the mouse had curled up into a little ball close to the edge of the bedroll. She smiled at him and closed her eyes, willing herself to go to sleep despite her worries.

Maybe if she found her proof, it wouldn't be so bad in the army. After all, she now had two friends. Even if one of them was a baby mouse with a fondness for her hair.

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I know, I know, I'm sorry. Twenty-Two days without updating. Yikes! Anyway, who do you think the men were? What do you think of Oliver? Let me know your thoughts in the comments!

Also, updates will probably not be every Friday. I will do my best to update at least once a week, but no promises as school has started up.

Anyway, I hope you guys liked the chapter, and hopefully you'll be seeing an update soon.

P.S. the picture above is of Clark and Harriet's hand.

Edit* Also, please go vote on my story in sticks97 Undiscovered awards! I'll put the link in the comments and the external link (if I can figure out how to do it, that is!)