I keep forgetting to thank you guys for your wonderful reviews! I've loved every single one of them! I'm really happy to share this story with others who also enjoy it! This chapter was particularly interesting for me to write, so I hope you enjoy it as well! Onward!

~~GF~~

When Jack came to, it was still light out, but the sun had changed position. He had passed out sometime around noon, but now the sun was in the early-morning position. For a moment, he sat there, confused, with his arms tied to the post. His back was stiff and felt as though it were on fire, even in the chill. He didn't remember the Brigadier doling out Walsh's fifty-lash order and he was glad of that. According to the pain he now felt, it had been brutal.

As Jack sat, trying to think of how much he remembered from the last time he had been conscious, it started slowly coming back to him. Mary… Cook stabbing him… everything. Only when his mind had cleared as much as it could did he realize that the sun was in the early-morning position because he had been tied to the post throughout the remainder of the day, into the night and up to the next morning. General Walsh was bound to be furious that he was still alive. He couldn't see Cook being too chuffed either. Jack was surprised himself.

But one thing had come of his extended time outside; he was immensely sick. He couldn't control the shaking of his extremities and his head felt hot and stuffy. His throat was raw and his nose was stinging.

Finally, Jack tried to gain better control of his limbs. He straightened up and began stretching as much as his bonds would allow him. The passing soldiers took notice of him.

"Well, look who's still alive," one of them said and Jack looked up at him through unfocused eyes. His ears were plugged, so the man's words sounded muffled and distant, "Bet the General'll be surprised to hear about this."

The man nudged his friend, "Better go tell him."

Jack coughed and tried to swallow to whet his throat. No saliva was left in his mouth, so all that came of his attempts was another hacking cough. After his coughing attack, he opened his eyes and saw two shiny boots in front of him. Slowly, he lifted his head to look at the owner of the pair of feet, though he could already guess who it was.

"Good morning," General Walsh said, before rounding back and kicking Jack in the face. Jack went momentarily limp, already weak from everything that his body had been put through in the past twenty-four hours. As he regained his senses, he forced his body to hold its own weight again, but two soldiers were already working on sawing off the ropes that were holding his wrists to the post. When his wrists, raw and red, were freed, Jack collapsed to the ground despite his attempts to maintain as upright as he could. Any strength that he thought he still possessed had left him. All he could do was listen to the General give his soldiers commands, "Put him back in the stable where the other slaves sleep. I'm sure they'll try to tend to him. Keep an extra guard near the medical tent to make sure nothing goes missing."

The two soldiers grabbed Jack by the arms and hoisted him up until his toes brushed the soil underneath him. Before they carted him away, Walsh put his face close to Jack's and grabbed his chin, forcing the injured boy to look at him, "I still expect your chores to be finished on time, every day."

He let Jack's head drop back to his chest and the next thing Jack knew, he was being unceremoniously tossed into the dark stall that was the sleeping place of the other slave boys. No one was there at the moment; they were all probably out working. The soldiers left without another word and Jack was alone, in a fetal position, breathing heavily and clutching the wound that Cook had given him. He could tell that the whip had cut into his back more than it had the last time he was tied to the post, but he dared not try to reach back to feel the damage; any movement at the moment was painful. Even breathing was difficult, because his lungs stretched his knife wound.

Jack was more miserable than he had ever been in his life.

As he lay there, Jack suddenly heard a tiny pattering sound. He didn't move until he felt something soft brush up against his stomach. Curiously, he opened his eyes to see Flossie, Mary's cat, rubbing up against him. She mewed softly, purring and staring into his eyes before curling up in the space between his chest and his legs. She mewed again and Jack saw more movement in the darkness. Along came Clancy, Clayton, Clifford, Flora and Poppy, the kittens. The five of them closed in on Jack and their mother, getting as close to her as they could. The extra bodies added warmth that Jack desperately needed.

"The whole motley crew," Jack whispered, smiling weakly as he scratched behind Flossie's ears, "I'm glad you all made it out of the fire safely."

With that, he passed out again.

~~GF~~

The next few times that Jack was awake were a blur. The times he slept were restless and painful and when he was awake, he was disoriented and delirious. There was always movement around him; people whispering and talking; the occasional uncomfortable scratching at his back. Cold fingers touched his shoulder blades and side and he would try to move away from the discomfort, unsure of whether it was a dream or not. Sometimes he was warm, other times he was freezing. Once he even thought he felt tears running down his face. Whether they were his, someone else's, or merely a dream, he would never know…

At last, Jack stirred and when he awoke, he could finally make sense of his surroundings. He was still in the stall and although he felt as though he'd been running just about everywhere in the world, he now knew that he had never left the confines of the four walls around him.

The first thing he noticed as his head stopped spinning and reality came crashing back was that Franklin was sitting beside him, staring off into the distance, his chin resting on his knees. Jack made to sit up and that brought Franklin's mind back to the present. He put a hand to Jack's chest and gently pushed him back down to the ground. Jack realized that the ground underneath him felt soft instead of scratchy like the hay he knew was there; the only blanket that the boys shared was being used to protect him from the cold and dirt.

Without a word, Franklin brought a bucket of water close and it sloshed around appetizingly. He cupped his hands and dipped them in the water and transferred his hands over to where Jack lay, carefully tipping a small amount of water into Jack's mouth. Jack thirstier than he had ever been, drank the water greedily until Franklin didn't offer him more.

Finally, he felt his throat was hydrated enough to allow him to speak; "Mary?"

"I'm Franklin," the dark boy said patiently, putting a hand on Jack's bare shoulder—his shirt had never been returned to him.

"I know that," Jack said, trying to shake the doziness from his mind, "I meant… where is she?"

"She's safe," Franklin's voice dropped to a whisper, "We found her a good hiding place. Don't worry."

Jack gave a lengthened sigh of relief. He turned back to his young friend, "You took her from the circle."

"I did," Franklin said.

"Thank you," Jack responded. His voice was weak, but he hoped that it didn't stop him from sounding grateful; he truly was.

"I gotta say, I was surprised when I heard she was a girl."

"I don't think you were the only one," Jack said, trying to lighten the topic a bit. He tried to sit up again, but Franklin wordlessly pushed him back down, clearly trying to be patient with his patient.

"You scared me real good," Franklin continued, "I thought you were gonna die."

"Believe me, for a while there, I thought I was dead," Jack said. He gritted his teeth as he remembered his wounds. Slowly, he lifted the blanket covering his chest to check on his knife wound. Franklin didn't stop him. What Jack saw surprised him. The knife wound itself was obviously infected and badly bruised, but it was closed up with a series of messy, uneven stitches.

"Sam's pa is a doctor in their settlement," Franklin explained, referring to one of the boys that Jack had only briefly spoken to before, "He taught Sam how to sew people and slipped a needle and thread into his pocket before the Red Coats took him."

"How's my back?" Jack asked, dropping the blanket back over his chest.

"Well, it ain't a field of daisies back there, I can tell you that much. But it's healin'."

Jack nodded, satisfied with this answer. His back didn't feel as hot as it had the last time he let it come into the foreground of his consciousness, so that must have been a good sign.

"How long have I been out?" Jack asked the final question that was swirling around in his head.

"A few days," Franklin responded, picking at a stray thread in his trousers. Jack sat up suddenly and regretted it when he felt his healing wounds strain against the quick motion.

"How many days?" he asked again, "Exactly?"

"I don't know… they've all been kind of blurring together," Franklin responded, trying to push a now fully alert Jack back down onto his makeshift bed without much success.

"But… has Aaron…? Has anything happened?" Jack propped himself up. He was weak from being bedridden for so long, but he was still stronger than the younger boy. Franklin finally gave up and let Jack sit up. Flossie, who had been watching them from across the stable, walked over to him and settled herself in his lap, purring. This time, Jack didn't pet her, waiting with bated breath for what Franklin had to say.

Franklin shook his head, "Haven't heard from him or any Yanks."

Jack covered his face in his hands, his worst fear realized. Had Aaron gotten lost? Was he hurt, somewhere in the forest? Or worse, did he flat-out abandon the other boys once he had tasted freedom himself? No matter what the case, he had been their only hope for freedom. After Jack's second trip to the post, the boys were now less likely to want to get into trouble without the promise that anything good would come from it. If Aaron never turned up, they could all look forward to a life of permanent captivity.

"Maybe he's just lost…" Franklin said hopefully.

"Maybe," Jack allowed, but at this point, it was difficult to keep his hopes high.

~~GF~~

As the next few days passed with no sign of Aaron or any friendly troops, Jack found it difficult to feel happy when Sam, the doctor's son, told him that his wounds were apparently healing well. While Jack was on the mend, Franklin took over the chore of caring for their animals and in his spare time, stayed with Jack to keep his mind occupied. Every time Jack asked where Mary was, Franklin only told him that he'd show him once he could walk without wobbling around like a newborn calf.

After a full week passed since the incident, Jack and the other boys gave up all hope that they would ever taste liberty. With every day, Jack's strength returned to him bit-by-bit until he was able to stand and walk around the stable without injuring himself further. Sam still insisted on keeping the stitches in, but seemed overall satisfied with Jack's progress.

At long last, Franklin promised to show Jack where Mary was hidden away.

They had to wait until night, when only the night guards were up and staring off into the trees. Jack wondered how Franklin could have found such a hiding place that even soldiers who were hunting his sister couldn't find. Was she hiding in the forest? He couldn't see her disguising herself as a different slave boy…

Jack was surprised when Franklin led him to the ruins of the old barn. The ashes blew around Jack's ankles in the light wind, giving Jack a sense of foreboding. Franklin peered around to make sure no guards were looking their way and then began digging around in the vestiges.

"I found this a while before we burned down the barn, when you and Mary were playing," Franklin explained as he dug, "I was gonna tell you about it, but I got sick and forgot. I suppose the farmhand before us dug it for himself."

He uncovered a large metal doorway.

"It used to be wooden door, but I had to find something to replace it with," he whispered, "It was under the haystack in the corner of the barn where I always sat when I was sick."

"Amazing," Jack mumbled under his breath. After all the time he had spent hiding things away in the barn, he had never thought to look and see if anyone had had the idea before him. He tried to help Franklin lift the metal frame, but his back and side protested, so he stood back and watched instead. Franklin uncovered a series of stairs that led into a hole in the ground. It had the look of an old root cellar, but this one looked small and cramped and looked as though not much thought had been put into its construction. As Jack started down the hole, Franklin called in first, "It's just us."

Jack ducked his head to avoid hitting it on the overhanging beam that supported the earth above and was instantly grabbed and hugged by his sister, who began crying at the sight of him. He had never been so happy to see her and he hugged her tightly, ignoring the pain he felt. None of them said a word for several minutes, just happy to be in each other's company once again. Mary was covered in soot and dirt and her shaggy hair was a rat's nest. There was some dried blood on her face as well, but otherwise, she looked unharmed.

As he hugged his sister, Jack felt a refreshing wave of motivation wash over him. Being sick in bed all week had depressed him and caused him to lose hope. Upon seeing that his sister was safe, the old spark of defiance relit inside him and he knew that he couldn't give up. Aaron or no Aaron, he was getting Mary out of this hell.

Jack pulled his sister back from him, holding her by the shoulders, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, "You?"

"I'm fine," Jack said, partially telling the truth. He noticed something dangling around his sister's neck. Reaching over with his fingers, he grabbed a delicate chain. For a moment, he thought it was his mother's locket, but the charm at the end of the chain was not familiar to him.

"What's this?" he asked her. She opened her mouth to show two gaps where her teeth were missing.

"When the General kicked me, he knocked these out. I spat them onto the ground last week and when I woke up, this was where they had been." Mary explained. Jack examined the necklace. It looked to be some kind of fancy coin, but he couldn't tell what country it might be from. It was relatively heavy and thick.

"Well," he said finally, "I guess now we know the price for two teeth. Those were baby teeth, right?"

"Yes," Mary confirmed. Jack dropped the necklace and his landed back on Mary's chest. He pulled her close again and spoke though her shirt in a muffled voice, "I'm so glad you're safe."

"You too," Mary hugged him back.

After the siblings parted, Jack looked at Franklin and said, "I want you to get all the other boys to meet us in the stable stall."

"Now? Why?" Mary and Franklin asked in unison.

"Because," Jack said slowly, "We're escaping. Tonight."

Both of the younger children voiced their responses simultaneously, calling Jack insane and telling him not to push himself, but Jack wouldn't hear of it. They couldn't wait on Aaron any longer; nor could they continue living like they had been for the past couple of months. Jack started to walk back out of the makeshift cellar to dig up the knives he had buried beside the tree. Franklin and Mary followed him, hissing at him to stop.

Ignoring their demands, Jack began to scrape at the frozen dirt near the large, recognizable tree, pulling soil up in handfuls. After a while, Mary and Franklin gave up trying to talk Jack out of his absurd plan and decided to help him dig so he wouldn't strain his still-healing body. Finally, they pulled up the box of knives that Jack had stolen weeks before. Tonight, they would finally be put to the use Jack had intended.

"I knew it," the three children heard a low voice behind them and their hearts stopped. Turning around, they saw Cook standing there, his large figure outlined by the light of the moon, bearing over them like a large, deadly bulldog. He had a pistol in either hand and both were pointing at Jack, "I knew you were the one lifting my knives. It's a shame you survived your last flogging, but I'll see to it that you don't last another night."

Cook cocked his guns with his thumbs and stared with wide, malicious eyes at Jack as though deciding where best to shoot the young man. Jack didn't have time to react—but neither did Cook. Suddenly, the corpulent chef was bowled over by a small, dark figure. For a moment, Jack thought it might have been a wild animal taking its chance in the hunt, but upon closer inspection, he realized it was Mary, whom had responded to the situation with incredible swiftness. She had rammed her small body into Cook's larger one, using the element of surprise to her advantage as she quickly grabbed one of the guns from Cook's hand.

By the time Cook righted himself, Mary had the firearm pointing directly at his chest.

"If you touch my brother, you die," she hissed and Jack was shocked that such a sentence could come from his little sister. Months of enslavement had hardened her and she was no longer the quivering little girl that had been brought into the camp.

"I don't need to touch him to kill him," Cook said, pointing his remaining pistol at Jack once again. Franklin grabbed Jack's shoulder as though he were preparing to toss Jack aside to save him, but Jack knew that if Cook was going to shoot him, there wasn't much Franklin could do about it. Cook continued, "If you shoot me, missy, I'll make sure the last thing I ever do is pull this God-dammed trigger."

"Mary," Jack said to his sister, "Put the gun down and walk away. It's okay; I'll be fine. Just walk away and I'll meet up with you in a little while."

"You're lying, Jack," Mary said perceptively, not taking her eyes off of Cook. The two of them were having an intense stare-down.

"Mary," Jack tried again, "take Franklin and leave. Please. Don't do this."

"Listen to your brother, girl," Cook said, "He knows he's gonna die either way; he just doesn't want you to see it. You're not brave enough to pull that trigger, just like you're not brave enough to stay and watch. Walk away and I'll deal with you later. There's still the stolen bread to be paid by your hand."

"Mary," Jack got her attention again, talking over Cook, "Go. Please. Go."

Mary's eyes shot back and forth now between the chef and her brother and Jack could see that she was conflicted. She had never disobeyed Jack before, not even when she didn't agree with him. He could see that she wanted so badly to protect him, but Cook was right; she had never shot a gun before.

The moment of hesitation in her eyes flickered out and she straightened her faltering gun arm, pointing it once again at Cook, resolved.

"No," she said harshly.

"Have it your way," Cook sneered.

A gunshot rang out.

~~GF~~

Who shot who? Yes, I'm evil. I apologize. Hopefully I'll have the next chapter out soon!