Jack looked out the open door as the sun glaring in his face. It nearly made him warm, despite the crisp air of that winter morning. The rapid change in light stung his eyes. The boy blinked a few times, trying to readjust his sight. The family shotgun was strapped firmly around his back, and for once in his life, he was wearing a pair of well-made shoes. Jack raised a foot outside the door, but a familiar voice beckoned him to stop.

"Jack, darling, wait!"

His mother was scurrying towards him from the kitchen. She she was distressed and disheveled, to say the least. Little strands and pieces of hair were untamed and set loose from her usually neat bun, and she seemed to shake so terribly that the nearly lost the sack bag she held in her arms. She held it out to the boy and gestured for him to take it.

"If you forget these, you'll be half dead from starvation just by the time you get there."

Jack nodded and took it from her. She brushed her wearied hand on her apron.

"Now. There really isn't much, so you're going to have to ration your food. Inside are two loaves of cornbread- your favorite, two changes of clothes, and a quill and book to write your letters in. That means no excuses, Jackson. I don't care how 'tired' or 'miserable' you feel. You will write to us every night, got it?"

A sad (and somewhat befuddled) smirk crossed his face as Jack's eyes shifted from the back to his mother.

"Well, what about the ink?"

His mother blinked. "I'm sorry, what?"

"You know, so that I can actually write the letters?"

The mother let out an exasperated groan as she swerved around to find it. Jack waited for her, patiently. It was probably the first time her didn't mind waiting. In fact, he wouldn't mind so much as to wait forever. He chuckled as he saw her rush back to him, appreciatively enjoying her concern. The boy took the ink bottle and dropped it in the bag.

"Hey, you be careful, Mister! If one drop of that gets on your food, you'll end up starving yourself."

"Mother, I'll be fine."

"Jackson Robert Anderson, you check that bag right now."

"Come on, Mother, it's fine. I'm an adult now. I think I can handle it myself."

"JACKSON."

"But-"

"DO IT."

Jack rolled his eyes and checked the bag. He opened it up so that she could see.

"There. Everything's fine, alright?"

His mother silently nodded. Her face was heating quickly as she could feel her eyes begin to water. Her only son was leaving her.

Jack saw the broken look in her eyes. He dropped the bag, careful not to break anything. He embraced her tightly and felt his mother's shoulders heavily heaving up and down as she whimpered. She clutched her son's back tightly, wishing that she could somehow force him to stay. She knew that she was being selfish, that it was Jack's duty to serve for the sake of his people, but she couldn't let him go.

She refused to let him die.

"I'll be home by the beginning of next Summer, I promise."

She kissed his cheek.

"You better be."

They parted from the hug and Jack picked up the sack from the ground. He nodded to her, indicating that he begrudgingly had to leave. She sniffed and return it, with a sad smile strung across her lips. She leaned herself against the doorway as watched her son walk off. All of a sudden, the mother heard a door creak open from behind, and she glanced back to see what was the matter. A little girl came stumbling from her room, rubbing her droopy eyes. She dragged an old, rickety husk doll, it's blank face staring nowhere in particular. Still waking up, she looked up at her mother with a lazy expression.

"Momma, where's Jack?"

The woman bent down to meet her level. Taking a deep breath, she placed her hand gently on the child's shoulders.

"Emma, sweetie, Jack had to leave this morning."

The little girl's eyes widened in horror.

"BUT HE SAID HE WOULDN'T GO. HE TOLD ME TO BELIEVE HIM."

The Mother burrowed Emma's head deep into her breasts, trying to comfort her.

"I know, honey. But some things we just have to do, whether we like in or not. Your brother didn't have a choice."

Emma's heart was racing. Jack had betrayed her; he had lied to her. He had promised he wasn't going to leave- ever. She tore from her mother's grasp and bounded out the door, chasing after her brother.

"Emma!"

He little, bare feet trekked through the snow as she searched for him. She saw a vague figure not too far off in the distance and called out to it.

Jack could have sworn he heard his name. He swung himself around just as a tiny girl attached herself to his legs, sobbing furiously.

"E-Emma?"

"How could you do this, Jack?! You promised you'd stay. And you said you NEVER break a promise!"

Guilt surged through Jack's veins. He knew she was right. He had promised her that he wouldn't abandon her. Perhaps he had just been trying to convince himself that this wasn't going to happen, but in the end, there was nothing Jack could have done. The draft was law, and he had only wound up breaking his sister's heart in the end. He held his sister closely, a tear slipping down his cheek.

"I'm sorry Emma. I wish ...I wish I could change the way things are. I don't want to leave you behind. But I will be back before you know it. Believe me."

"B-but you broke your promise, Jack. I-I can't"

Jack pulled the girl away, staring deep into her eyes. He took a hand a gently pushed it against her chest.

"I won't be gone Emma. I'll always be with you."

Emma sniffled, rubbing her frostbitten nose, which had turned bright red.

"B-but i-it's not the same..."

As Jack rose to stand, he felt something rigid in his pocket scratch his thigh. He reached in to take it out, staring at it for a moment as he rolled it around in in his hand. An idea crossed his mind.

"Hey Emma. close your eyes for a moment."

His sister cocked her head and looked at him strangely. She pursed her lips at her brother, pouting. Jack chuckled and rolled his eyes.

"Just do it, silly."

After a moment of hesitation, she listened to him.

"Alright, now stick out your hand."

Jack waited for her to do so, and laid the stone on her palm. Emma opened her eyes and looked down to find it laying there. It was moderately large for a throwing stone, and it took up about half of her hand. On it was painted the less-than-pleasant face of a redcoat, it's large eyes staring back up at her with charming hatred. She giggled and looked back up at her older brother.

"This is your special stone, Jack. The one you use when we play hopscotch everyday. But...you never've let me hold it before."

Jack closed her hand around the rock and grinned.

"I know, but I want you to keep it, so that every morning when you wake up, you'll think of me and that I'm showing those lobsterbacks who's boss."

She was shocked at her brother's actions. After a moment, she fumbled around for a and presenting her doll to him. Jack blinked with the same surprise as was planted on his sister's face.

"But Emma, that's the husk doll father made. You love it more than anything."

The girl nodded before extending her arms a little further towards the boy.

"Are you sure?"

She nodded again and smiled reassuringly.

"That way I never leave you, too."

All that could be heard against the frozen red sky were wretched cannon roars amidst the screams. Plucked daisies, both dead and dying, were spread across the crimson field, it's sharp blades destined to be their bed. The British were advancing, and the general's orders were next to impossible to here. Every man was for his own.

A boy laid there, clutching his stomach. His howls could not be heard against the bangs of gunfire; he was just another faceless body. He had torn his dripping coat to stop the blood, but the flow was too strong and the wound too deep. With a shaky hand he dug underneath his vest and pulled out a strange object, pressing it into his chest with his final breath. It was a worn husk doll.

And it was dyed the most brilliant shade of red.