Pickett nodded. "Likely as not, they'll be seeing some more, sooner or later, Lo."

"It can't be long now." Armistead looked thoughtful again as he lapsed into silence.

Pickett sat in his tent, beginning to write a letter to Sallie, to inform her of the recent events and assure her he was well. In her last letter, she had sent her love and expressed concern for his safety, of course. Glancing at a small bottle of scented oil laying nearby, he smiled, recalled when they had gone shopping in Richmond together. She had taken a liking to that particular scent and he had bought it to please her. For the life of him, he couldn't understand why so many other soldiers considered it an offensive smell.

Alone once again, Armistead remained on the log, gazing out into nothing and still thinking of his friend, Winfield Hancock. He wished that the war hadn't pulled them apart and that they could see each other again, not enemies but as the friends they were.

Finishing his letter, Pickett sealed it, and stepped outside to summon a courier to deliver it. He handed it off to a young soldier, who saluted and assured him it would get to its destination safely, before mounting a horse and riding off.

Armistead noticed the messager ride by but didn't do anything about it. He turned his head and continued to stare into space.

((Edited, sorry about that.))

Richard B. Garnett strode silently through the tents, feeling the need to speak to someone after hearing the news of Jackson. The two had been at odds as of late but hearing that the General was wounded caused the ill thoughts to receed from his mind. He noticed Armistead, looking melancholy and thoughtful.

He cleared his throat as he neared, speaking in his usual quiet tone. "Hello Lo."

When he heard Garnett's voice, Armistead looked up and smiled slightly. "Hello **."

He nodded back towards Pickett's tent, "Saw ol' George, well, more like smelled." He shook his head with a smile, "Ever since he came back from Richmond it hasn't been hard to find him."

Armistead chuckled. "You're right about that. Sure is easy to trace that smell."

He nodded, suddenly quiet. "How are you Lo?"

"I'm alright," Armistead told him, "And how are you **?"

"Oh I'm doing fine I suppose." He sighed, "Waiting for orders, like always."

Armistead nodded. "Yup."

He looked away again, gazing around and thinking again.

Gregory patted his horse, Feather, then finally stowed her brush. Her coat was a beautiful silver that shimmered in the afternoon sunlight. He grinned at his small accomplishment. She had been caked in mud earlier from her little frolic around the camp, and he had finally been able to catch her and get her all cleaned up before sundown. His grandfather would be proud, maybe. He patted Feather one last time before heading back to his tent to shine her saddle.

Adam threw more kindling onto the fire he was building. The light flickering off his face in the growing darkness, he noticed Gregory passing not far from him.

Smiling slightly he spoke out, "Finally catch her huh? Looked like she'd been havin' fun out there."

Armistead looked at the two, then back at Garnett, wondering if the other man was going to say anything else.

Garnett heaved a sigh, knowing that with the recent news of Jackson no one had felt much like talking. He'd been caught up lately in seeing to his brigade. Though the spirit of the troops were high he felt far from it.

"Everyone's so quiet," Armistead remarked, "We're all worried about Stonewall..."

Garnett nodded, "Boys are waiting to hear news, want me to reasure them. Can't lie to them though." He looked out over the tents, "Seems like a bad dream, wake up some mornings forgetting that we're fightin' this war."

Armistead sighed. "This whole war's a nightmare, brother's fighting against brother's."

"We have to end it soon, seems we've been doing this an entire life time." He sat slowly on the log, the gloom beginning to darken their surroundings.

"Too long," Armistead agreed, "It'll be so much better when all this is over and when we can all just be friends again."

Garnett looked up at the sad tone of his friends voice, knowing exactly who he was talking of. "You hear of ol' Winn lately?"

He shook his head. "All I know is that he's out there, somewhere..."

Garnett shrugged, trying to lighten his friend's obvious worry. "He's a tough one, I'm sure you'll be seeing each other when this is all over."

"If we make it to the end of the war.," Armistead remarked.

He gave the other general a look, "Can't think like that Lo, you'll see him again." He leaned back a bit, stretching the aching muscles in his back.

"Why he's probably sitting somewhere behind their lines wondering about you."

Armistead nodded. "That wouldn't surprise me one bit."

Garnett was silent a moment, he didn't have any friends on the other side that close. He was somewhat thankful for that little fact.

"You two were inseparable."

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