Arthur travelled quietly with the group of British soldiers who were heading for a small American encampment to begin their attack. The camp was barely visible from where he currently was, giving him a lot of time to think.
He didn't want to come and fight the Yanks, but when asked to join the army to assist , he did not refuse. Refusal could mean jail and he didn't want to go to jail. However, when he did fight, he kept those he killed to a minimum.
He didn't feel that it was right to keep the American citizens from the freedom they so desperately wanted. England should just let go before things get out of hand. Of course, things had already gotten out of hand. The war, he was sure, had long ago gone too far, pushing both sides to their limits. A sigh escaped his lips. He had to kill more Americans today, on this soon to be battlefield.
Sooner than he expected, they were coming up on the small camp, getting ready to attack. They snuck around and tried to keep to the shadows so as to not be seen, but it was too late. One of their soldiers was unlucky enough to catch the eye of the watchman.
"Intruders!" The Yankee yelled as he began to ring a bell.
At that moment, the whole camp was bustling with movement as everyone woke up from their slumber and got ready for a fight.
The leader of the British forces wasn't happy about that so he gave the order to attack. "Fire at will! Send those Yankees to hell!"
The battle that was supposed to be quick and easy turned into a confused frenzy on both sides. Friendly fire was affecting both the Brits and the Yanks as some tried to create order.
As the bombardment slowed down, people began to make more sense of their surroundings. Arthur looked around to see if any troops needed help. Few who were on the ground were alive, but he looked anyway.
Soon he spotted a man struggling to stay awake and clutching at a bullet wound. It was his friend, William.
"William!" Arthur yelled, lifting the dying man in his arms. "Stay with me, please!"
Before he could help him, pain shot through his right shoulder and lower back. He dropped William and fell to his side, trying to focus on his breathing, but finding it extremely difficult. His eyes slowly closed and his breathing slowed down. A tear rolled down his cheek. He didn't want to die like this, but he knew it was his end. Finally darkness took him.
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Alfred ran across the field, enjoying the sun. A smile graced his lips for the first time in a few days. He had been traveling alone for almost two years now.
Before he left his home, British soldiers stormed into his house and murdered his mother and father. Because of that event, he hasn't spoken since then and found few reasons to smile. He was thirteen now and saw the beautiful scene around him.
A movement to his left caught his attention. A small rabbit hopped off when he took a step towards the source. He gave chase to the little creature and his smile grew wider. Soon he lost it, but the smile didn't disappear.
He sat down and took off his pack, setting it next to him and digging through it in search of the fox he had killed earlier. After grabbing the meat from the sack, he made a fire and cooked it. Once it was ready he pulled it from the fire and began his meal. It wasn't a large meal, but it was enjoyable all the same.
He couldn't always catch animals and instead would have to settle for fruit he found on trees or maybe, if he had too, some bugs. He rarely had to resort to the six legged creatures, though. He was glad about that.
The American boy finished his food pretty quickly and put out his fire. Their were few things he had to pack back in his bag so he was on his way quickly. It seemed as though nothing could dampen his spirit that day. That was, of course, until he small smoke rising from a near by field.
Alfred ran through the trees quickly, to find the source of the smoke and came out a few minutes later to find a military camp covered with blood and bodies. Upon closer examination, he found both British and American troops. It looked as though no one had survived the battle. The smile was gone and sadness had once again taken over.
He didn't like the scene before him, but he began to search throughout the wreckage of the battle, looking for food, cloth, and weapons. He found many useful items and stuffed as much as he could in his pack. As his search came to a close a groan from behind him nearly stopped his heart.
Turning around, he saw a British soldier, drawing in quiet, shaky breaths. Slowly approahcing the man, the young boy felt anger rise in his chest. This might not have been one of the men to kill his parents, but he was still an enemy who helped them.
Looking around, Alfred saw a bayonet lying at his feet. He picked it up and turned back to the Brit, lifting the weapon above his head to end his life. Right before he could, however, the man opened his eyes and gazed into his own.
After a few moments of both staring at each other, the soldier spoke, with barely a whisper. "I'm sorry."
The man fell back into a state of unconsiousness and left the American boy to think. His eyes widened when he heard those words. He never thought that a Briton would apologize for anything. The only experience he ever had with them was two years ago, when he lost everything. They seemed like they enjoyed what they were doing, like they lived to do it, but this man acted as though he never wanted to be a part of it.
Alfred dropped the knife-tipped gun and looked at the British man, deciding what to do next. Whatever he chose could change his life forever.
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Oh Gosh, so short! I will definitely try to shoot for longer chapters.