Chapter 1: The scout
'Bugger, Bugger, Bugger', he whispered to himself as he ran through the forest. ''BUGGER" he screams once more as he hears a native war cry from his right side. He carried his musket in his left hand and had his hunting sword drawn in his right. His job at that point in time, (before the plan went tits up), was to scout out the enemy movements for his commanding officer and report back to him. Well, it just so happened that he had a cold at the time, so as he was counting the soldiers in the camp, he let out a single, soft cough. It was barely loud enough that he could barely hear it himself, but the native allies for the enemy heard it. They spotted him right away and here is where our story starts off. He knew there was a friendly camp not too far from his location at this point in time, and he knew there would be sentries stationed near it. There were 3 natives chasing and shooting at him now, and he used his musket shot to shoot at the enemy officer in the camp he was running away from. He tripped and fell on a stone and a native was on him at once. He pinned him to the ground and was just about to slit his throat when a musket shot rang out. The native was still for a moment. Everything was normal except for the gaping hole in his chest. He fell off to the side when 3 other rangers appeared out of the brush, saving his sorry ass.
Two hours later
He is sitting beside a small fire, cooking his measly dinner of parched corn and jerky in a watery soup. He sat against a tree, smoking a clay pipe, while he watched his meal boil away in a small pot. A ranger dressed in green and brown sat next to him, leaning his battered and worn musket against the tree. " you're a little young to be out here, boy. What are you doing out here?''. (now seems like a good place to describe our young hero. He is at this point in the war, 17 years old. I based the look of him off of me when i had long hair. He has long brown hair, almost a foot long and tied back with a leather strip. His eyes are brown, with a scar slashed across his left eye. He wore a green hunting shirt, with brown knee breeches and leather, beaded leggings tied to a thin belt he wore under his shirt around his waist. His moccasins were worn and patched in multiple places, greased to provide a small amount of water resistance. He carried a short musket, similar to the 1776 british trade musket, look it up if you're curious. Make up the sword if you like, i know what it's supposed to look like. He wore a black, wide brimmed hat pinned up in the back with a bit of trade silver. Okay, back to the story). His brown eyes shined in the firelight. " i was pressed into service, then volunteered for the provincials about 4 months ago. Line infantry wasn't my cup of tea, and i don't like the color red. It's too bright. ". he took his kettle off the fire to let it cool enough to eat. He noticed a group of girls, not much older than he was, if not the same age, huddling around a smoldering pile of sticks. They seemed to be trying to keep their friend warm, who was hurt. She had grey eyes, and silver hair, and what seemed to be a bow and a quiver of arrows next to her. She was dressed in grey as well, almost similar to the ranger garb, but with grey instead of green. It was similar with the other girls as well, except they wore different colors. One wore black, and she had black hair and purple eyes, which he could have swore were glowing, the other a bright green uniform, brighter than the rangers, who let her red hair flow instead of tying it up into a bun,and had yellow eyes , and one wore native style clothing, but was dyed a bright red, and she had blonde, almost yellow hair,and had eyes similar to the green girl. They were lightly armed, with knives and a pistol each accept the archer. The red one, instead of a pistol, carried a blunderbuss with a brass barrel. They had no pack, or even any pouch or horn to load their firearms. He sighed, " excuse me, major." he nodded his way and brought the measly meal to the girls. " you need to eat" he says, setting the pot down. He started the fire and brought his remaining firewood over to it." What are your names? " he asks them, setting the rest of his parched corn next to the unconscious one. The blonde one spoke, " Im blazette, and this is andr, cupa, and yurei, and we need to get home''. He leaned against a tree, taking off his hat. He slid the pipe out from the back where he kept it and he packed it with cured tobacco. " where is home to you, then?'' he asks, lighting the end of a stick to light his pipe. Andr replies quietly, " its west, past the mountain range. Near a massive lake." he puffed on his pipe more, " so in native and enemy territory. Got it." he blew a smoke ring and blew a smaller one through it, '' my home is near there as well. I know the lake. Can never go hungry there, so much fish''. He called the major over, " can i use that favor you owe me? They need arms and food and an escort into territory that i know very well. " . he shook his head, " how did i guess. Fine, you can escort them there. Take some time off as well, i dont want to see you for over 2 months. Bring some enemy scalps when you come back. ". he shook the majors hand, " thank you, major. And about the weapons and food?''. He points to a pile of enemy weapons and gear on the ground, " take what you like. Theyre shite anyway". They had a habit of talking smack on enemy gear, but it was more effective most of the time. He equipped them with muskets and a cartridge box each, for that is just what was there at the time. They were each given a ration of food and a canteen. " as soon as she is healed, we are gone. I want to get there before winter"