He just couldn’t sleep, not when men he knew and liked might be languishing in jail, mayhap even dying from the wounds they’d suffered during the day. He rode Ham over the moor, keeping well off the road, and night was at its darkest when he slunk into Cumnock, a black shade that moved silently from one protective shadow to the other. He heard them well before he reached his destination; loud shrieks that spoke of pain, so much pain. His innards quivered like jellied eels, while in his head a small voice was telling him this was most unwise, and what could he do, all alone? The entrance to the garrison yard was well guarded, a group of four soldiers standing round a brightly burning fire. However, unlike in Ayr, this was not a purpose built barracks; this was a collection of houses and sheds that the powers that be had appropriated some years back and fenced haphazardly. There was no perimeter wall, no proper munitions house. Munitions; he pursed his mouth. Aye, there he had it: if he could set the powder ablaze, it might cause the distraction he needed.
