One thousand miles.

They had to have walked at least one thousand miles by now.

Alfred looked down at his feet. He was positive they were blistering and bleeding at this point, only because of the numbness, which made it feel like little needles were pricking his toes and heels. He sighed quietly and looked at the men around him. They all looked as tired as he felt.

"You okay?"

Alfred's head snapped to the right."Yeah I'm good."

The man next to him looked forward again, but his attention remained on Alfred. "You don't look okay."

"Matt, I'm fine."

"Matthew."

Alfred rolled his eyes. "That takes too long to-."

"Jones. Williams. Quit your taking!" Both men immediately shut their mouths and nodded. The tall man in the front narrowed his eyes and turned back around to lead the platoon.

Alfred chuckled. "Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed." He mumbled.

Matthew frowned. "You're going to get us shot, and it won't be from a Brit either." He whispered harshly, occasionally shooting glances at the lieutenant
in the front of the platoon of men.

Alfred chuckled. "Alright, alright."

The officer in front called the men to a halt. "We'll camp here for the night. A few of you get some wood and water, the rest of you, start setting up the tents."

Alfred smiled. "About time!"

"Don't smile yet, Jones." The lieutenant walked up to him and smirked. "You're on watch."

Alfred frowned. "Perfect."


"Get up."

Alfred groggily opened his eyes only to find the unfriendly end of a bayonet pointed at his face. He gasped and quickly squirmed up on his elbows. "I said, get up." The bayonet was nudged closer to his face. Alfred's eyes snapped to the side. His gun was gone. A chuckle filled the air. "Looking for this?" Alfred's blood ran cold. That was definitely a British accent and that was definitely his rifle glistening in the moonlight on the man's back.

Well, that's what you get for falling asleep on watch Alfred.

The man nudged him lightly in the chest. "Let's go. Up." Alfred shakily stood. He could barely see the red uniform of the British soldier in front of him. "Right. Hand's where I can see them!"

Alfred rolled his eyes. "You took my gun-." The man's grip on the gun tightened and he cocked it. Alfred sighed and lifted his hands up. "Alright fine."

The man gave a quick nod forward. "Walk."

The moonlight finally gave Alfred a good view of the man's face. His blond hair was ruffled and popping up in all directions, his disheveled appearance matched his eyes which were wide and afraid. Alfred scoffed. "Do you have any idea what you're doing?"

"More than you do, yank! I am a trained British soldier, not just some farmer who decided to join your makeshift army!" The man's expression became dark. "Move."

They man had prodded Alfred for the location of his camp and as expected, Alfred refused to tell him, forcing the Brit to lead him back to the Redcoat camp.


Finally the warm glow of a fire came into view. Alfred smirked. Stupid limeys had made a fire, completely exposing them.

Alfred was led into the camp and forcefully shoved into a large tent, causing him to lose his balance and land on his knees. He shook his head, quickly noticing he was now in front of a small wooden desk.

The man behind him walked around him and approached the desk. "Sir."

Papers shuffled and a pair of black boots walked around the desk, stopping in front of Alfred. One of the boots came up and tilted Alfred's head up. A blond man above him grinned. Alfred glared daggers at the man who only snickered down at him. "Well, what have you brought me, Peter?"

The soldier behind Alfred, apparently known as Peter, smiled proudly, puffing out his chest. "He was on watch I suppose sir. Sleeping, I might add."

The other man scoffed and turned Alfred's head with the toe of his boot. "Sleeping? My, you Americans may be more idiotic than we had originally presumed."

Alfred growled and yanked his head off the man's boot. "You have no room to talk limey. Lighting a goddamn fire at night? It's as if you're begging to be found." Alfred smirked up at the man.

The man frowned and looked up at Peter. "I told you, fires are not allowed."

Peter shuffled his feet. "S-sorry sir-."

"Put it out!" The man hissed, sending Peter running out of the tent. Alfred chuckled as the soldier ran out but was quickly sent flying on his back as the other man's boot was forcefully brought up into his stomach. Alfred groaned in pain, curling in on himself. "I don't see what you're laughing about." He growled as he walked around the wincing man. "Because of your idiocy, your camp will be found in a mere few hours. I'm sending men out shortly after we chat."

Alfred glared up at the man. "You bastard. You don't even know where my camp is, I didn't tell that kid shit."

He laughed. "Yes, but you had to be close to it. Therefore, we will search the perimeter around where you were found." He bent down, nose to nose with the American. "And we'll take them all in as prisoners."

Alfred growled and spit in the man's face, causing him to recoil back and send another painful kick into Alfred's stomach. He scoffed in disgust as he wiped off his face. "So immature." He shook his head and slowly made his way towards the opening of the tent. "Oh, and just because I am a gentleman, and that you'll be staying here for quite a while, I should introduce myself." He walked back towards Alfred and squatted down in front of the American who had come back to sit on his knees. "I am Lieutenant Arthur Kirkland." Alfred sneered at him. "Well, don't you have manners?"

Alfred glared at Arthur, sending as much of his hatred at the Brit as he could. Arthur rolled his eyes and began shoving his hands in Alfred's uniform pockets. "Hey!"

Arthur smiled, pulling out a small notebook and examining the front cover. "Alfred F. Jones? Alfred's blood boiled as the Brit snapped the book shut and shoved it into his own pocket. Arthur smiled evilly. "Pleasure to meet you."