Another hail of bullets fell. This time, even Captain Rachel, who was leading the way, failed to escape. He heard his soldiers cursing behind him, then heard his beloved horse whinny as it reared, throwing him off its back like a torn sack.
Captain Rachel landed on his back, twitching in agony. For a moment, he could barely breathe. Only when two soldiers hurried over and helped him up did he finally catch his breath.
He did not need to look back. The wails behind him, along with the faint sounds of sobbing, told Captain Rachel that things were going badly.
They had endured three rounds of fire. Although only the last two had caused casualties, taking fire without being able to shoot back had already begun to undermine the morale of Rachel's Company.
"Pick up the pace! Charge! Charge!"
Captain Rachel drew the saber at his waist, which had not been flung away in his fall, and shouted at the top of his lungs. No longer caring about his soldiers' formation, he led them forward at a run.
At that same moment, however, Isaac's Jaegers, who should have been standing their ground, turned and ran back at three sharp blasts of a whistle. As one side pursued and the other fled, the distance between them widened rather than shrank.
"Ah, damn it! You filthy bastards..."
Captain Rachel cursed furiously, but he could do nothing to stop the Rangers from pulling away.
His soldiers wore armor, while the Rangers carried practically no extra weight beyond the Flintlocks in their hands and the nine remaining Paper Cartridges in their pockets.
Once both sides started running, the latter, with their much lighter loads, were clearly faster.
Soon, Isaac's Jaegers returned to the foot of the hill. Isaac did not lead them up