1758 (8 years old)

A flash of red caught his eye. He had her now. Waiting for the right moment, he jumped up, arms in the air. "Got you!"

She let out a light scream as she spun round. "Ichabod," she yelled, hand covering her heart. "You scared me!"

With a triumphant laugh, he started down the street at a full run.

"Ichabod! Come back here."

"Catch me if you can," he called over his shoulder. Finding his destination, he bolted around the corner and waited, his heart pounding in his chest. After a few moments, he carefully peeked back out to see if she was close and frowned. Where was she? Just about to give up his hiding place, he suddenly found himself crashing to the ground.

"Caught you."

Her giggles incited a glare up at her as he looked at his cut hands. "Ichabod," she gasped. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you."

She knelt down and used the hem of her dress to wipe the blood from his dirty hands as he huffed out, "You didn't."

Jumping up, he began to walk in the direction of his home just knowing his father would be furious with his ruined clothes. His eyes started to tear at the thought of his father yelling at him, the thought causing him more worry than the painful gravel filled cuts.

"Are you mad at me?"

"No."

"Then why won't you talk to me?"

"Because I don't want to."

"It's not my fault you're not as good at the game as me."

Abruptly spinning around, he narrowed his eyes at her. "You're not better than me. I just don't feel very well."

Her eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Then, why are you crying?"

Turning and once again continuing his trek home, he wiped angrily at his face, doing his best to wipe away the evidence. "I'm not crying."

"Yes, you are."

"No, I'm not."

"Is it because I pushed you down?"

Growing frustrated, he shouted."I'm not crying!"

"I won't tell anyone. I promise."

Her sorrow filled voice caused him to stop as he looked down at his bloody shirt. Sighing, he, too, spoke in a small voice. "My father is going to be mad. I'll surely get a thrashing."

"Oh." Without warning, she grabbed his arm and began dragging him quickly down the street. "Come with me. My mother can fix it. She can fix anything."

As they reached her house, she flung the door open. "Mother! I'm home! Where are you?"

Mrs. van Tassel stepped around the corner wiping her hands with a towel. "Katrina, dear, don't shout in the house."

Still holding fast to his hand, Katrina gestured to him. "You have to help, Ichabod. He's hurt."

With a raise of her eyebrows, Mrs. van Tassel walked forward and took in Ichabod's cut hands and dirty clothes. "Well, Mr. Crane, what has happened to you?"

His eyes glanced at Katrina, then back to Mrs. van Tassel as he answered. "I tripped and fell."

Katrina gave him a bright smile, clearly relieved she wasn't getting into trouble, as her mother began to usher him through another door. "Come with me and we'll get this cleaned right up."

Following her into the kitchen, he took a seat at the table as Katrina reassured him, "Don't worry, Ichabod. Mother can fix anything."

That she could. By the time she was finished, Ichabod's hands and clothes looked good as new. "Thank you, Mrs. van Tassel. I'd have been in a lot of trouble if my father had seen my clothes."

Patting his hand with a smile, she pushed herself back up. "It was my pleasure, Mr. Crane." Turning and grabbing a plate behind her, she set it before them. "Now, how about you and Katrina finish this plate for me while I clean the kitchen?"

With little hesitation, he and Katrina dove right in to the treats. As they ate, he observed Mrs. van Tassel. She looked exactly as he imagined Katrina would when she was older. Flaming red hair. Green eyes. Pale skin. She was honestly the nicest lady he'd ever met. He loved coming here. Snacks were always at the ready and Mrs. van Tassel would teach he and Katrina how to make different meals, something he just knew his father would disapprove of. He always wanted Ichabod studying, stating there would be time to have adventures another day. Ichabod, however, took more than enough adventures. Between he and Katrina, he wasn't sure who got into more trouble. Why just in the last month, he'd gotten three thrashings for returning home filthy. He simply couldn't help it. Katrina had a tendency to drag him all over the place, often resulting in ruined clothing, but the adventures they had were well worth the punishment...after a time.

"It's getting dark out, Ichabod. I'm sure your parents will be looking for you soon."

Nodding his head and standing, he thanked Mrs. van Tassel once more for helping him.

"Of course. Katrina, see Ichabod to the door," she said, before turning back to her work.

"Ok. Come on, Ichabod."

Once again, she grabbed his hand and began pulling him along. As he exited the house, Katrina called after him. "I'll see you at school tomorrow."

"Alright. Goodnight, Katrina."

Hope you enjoyed the start. Sorry it was so short. They get longer a few chapters in. :)

And a note: for the sake of not driving myself crazy with addition and subtraction, Ichabod and Katrina are the same age.