Mohawk Valley, 1777
The forest was a quiet place, perfect for a game of hide-and-seek. However, the snow made it only too easy to discover where the children had concealed themselves, and so the activity was called off after only a few rounds.
Gathering sticks had been the next source of entertainment. The taller of the two youths had instigated the idea, persuading his sister that a duel with sharpened twigs would be grand indeed. Unfortunately, the girl had begun to complain only a few minutes in.
"Thomas," she whined, allowing her jagged branch to dip into the dirt beneath it, "I don't want to do this anymore."
Thomas paused and punished her with a withering glare, "What do you mean? We've only just started, and you aren't going to get a good quality saber if you don't sharpen it."
His sister then tossed her wooden saber on the ground and stamped her foot, "I don't want to fight with sabers! Why can't we go home and play society like we always do?"
The little boy let out a rattled sigh and returned to the business of whittling his stick, "Society is tedious and predictable, Bethany. You make yourself the mama, make me the papa, and make Dometian the babe."
Bethany placed her tiny hands on her hips and stuck out her tongue. The gesture did not satisfy her much because her big brother was no longer paying any attention. Unsure of what to do next, the little girl adjusted her bonnet and stood patiently while Thomas continued to shape his sword. She threatened to leave once or twice, but both children knew she would never find her way out of the woods.
After a few more minutes of quiet carving Thomas was finally ready for battle. He stood abruptly and tossed his saber from hand to hand, taking its weight with a broad grin.
"Bethany Primrose Lawdet!" He exclaimed in a deep voice, leveling his weapon at his sister menacingly, "I challenge you to a duel!"
"Thomas!" Bethany complained loudly, stamping her foot once more, "Enough! I will not participate!"
"Think wisely upon your words, wretched maiden," Thomas replied coolly, "or I shall think death by blade a most fitting end for you."
"I am going to tell Mama how cruel you've been!" The girl threatened, lip curling defiantly. "Then you'll wish you'd stopped." Thomas opened his mouth to answer, but an odd sound interrupted him.
A short distance behind the rival children, a twig snapped.
Silence engulfed the two quite suddenly. Indignation disappeared from Bethany's face and was replaced with cold fear. Thomas himself couldn't decide whether to turn and face their intruder or run back to the house.
Bethany's lips parted but no sound left them. Instead, her brother watched with interest as her eyes rose to rest on something towering behind him. For a few moments, the little girl simply stood there, stiller than she had ever been in her entire life.
Finally, Thomas could stand it no more. He whirled around and raised his sword with a hand he'd failed to notice was shaking.
It was a man that stood before him, tall and powerful. A hood hid his eyes, but did not hide the cut on his cheek nor the blood on his lips. His face was fine featured and young, but it carried a biting edge that sent shivers up Thomas' spine.
His coat was trimmed in blue, which informed Thomas that this intruder opposed the crown. However, the rest of his attire was strange and otherworldly, like the tattered state of his boots and the symbol that hung at his waist.
But it was the hatchet in his hand that frightened Thomas the most. A long piece of wood with an iron tip that dripped with blood. A few dots of the red liquid fell to the ground and painted the snow at the boy's feet.
Thomas understood then why Bethany looked so dumbstruck, as he himself could no longer summon the will to move. The stranger continued to watch them, silent as an eagle tracking its prey.
Out of sheer anxiety, the older child raised his stick. Thomas recognized the pistol that dangled from the man's belt, and hoped to discourage him from using it. He waved the saber around uselessly, praying the stalker would feel intimidated. At this motion, the intruder tilted his head curiously, almost like a dog.
Thomas tried to speak, tried to warn the newcomer off. But his tongue found no words, and his voice disobeyed him. Instead, he lifted his eyes to the man's face and waited to see what he would do next.
The bloodstained stranger stared at them for a few moments longer, then turned and disappeared into the forest. There was no way to tell how long he had been watching the two, but Thomas found himself gazing off into the woods for a long time before Bethany's cries reached his ears.