The overwhelming sound of chatter, drunken slurs and the comforting crackle of the flames could not drown out the conversation of Nathan and his comrades. The militia, now holding regular meetings at the Bull's Head, spent their nights either discussing future advances or just enjoying each others' company. This was one such night.
"And then, oh you would hardly believe it, Stephen, this blade comes whizzing from Nathan's wrist and I barely knew what happened before the soldier was dead on the ground!" Gerard cackled, re-illustrating his meeting with Nathan. By his side, Astra gave a low howl as the group laughed at Gerard's extravagant impersonation of Nathan and his wrist blades.
Nathan, chuckling at his energetic and joyful actions, felt blissful among the other militiamen. Since the Boston Tea Party the year previously, they had been eager for a fight, seeing the growing presence of the British army. While their numbers had grown too, the militia had kept their heads low, wise enough to know they would not be able to match the strong influence of the British. They waited for a moment to strike, when the rebels came together, one organised force to beat back the oppressors.
As Nathan and Gerard grew close, brothers with strong hearts and passion for their cause, they became joint leaders of the militia and with Astra as their symbol of unity, strength and survival, the two were nicknamed Romulus and Remus, the legend of the brothers raised by a she-wolf.
Although he felt like he belonged with this band of fighters, his pack of hunters, Nathan had seen less and less of Connor. He became more focused on the safety of his village, fighting those who threatened its preservation. Not that he opposed this venture, but Nathan no longer knew this brother who had sworn to take care of him when they first met. He swiftly dismissed this thought. At fourteen, he was caught between the realisation he was only a young, mixed race boy with little place in the world and a fantasy that he could be anything and do anything. Sometimes he felt vulnerable, wishing Connor was around again, protecting him while other times he felt so confident he didn't need anyone. As Astra pushed her muzzle gently to his leg, he smiled, rubbing the top of her head. She was always there for him.
The night drew on, the joyful atmosphere lasting longer than the sunlight and had no appearance of fading anytime soon. Nathan leant back in his seat, listening to another story from one of the other men once Gerard took a breath. His arm hung limp by his side where Astra would occasionally affectionately lick his hand or he would pet her gently. As he absentmindedly stroked her, he felt her fur suddenly stand on end. Frowning, he looked down and saw her tense, her soft eyes darken and narrow and with such a fluid movement it could have been thought she was half standing the whole time, Astra slowly got to her feet.
"Astra," he whispered, patting her back as she watched the door. "What's up?"
Her top lip curled back and a snarl rumbled from behind her exposed white fangs. The rest of the militia noticed this, as well as the scattered other patrons of the inn. Conversation grew quiet as the beast, barely known to have more of a presence than a breathing rug, crept like a demon towards the door as if she hunted something. The sudden silence revealed two things. One, the noise of the tavern had been so loud that the absence of it left a faint ringing in their ears and two, there was a distinct sound outside that resembled orders being called. The militiamen glanced nervously to the door and to each other. They didn't know of any other rebel troops in the near vicinity.
"Gerard," Nathan said quietly, his hand tentatively hovering over his sword that lay on the floor. "Please tell me those aren't-"
"Regulars!"
The inn erupted into roars of panic, confusion and anger as the redcoats brought down the door with ferocity, muskets and voices raised. The attack came without warning and men barely had enough time to brush their fingers on the pistols hanging on their belts before their chests burst apart from a musket ball. Some had time to fight back, the time bought for them by Astra who was a surprise for the redcoats, certainly not expecting a fully grown wolf to leap upon them as they entered. Men scrambled for their weapons as the barmaid screamed and hid.
That's when their eyes met. Nathan stared at the young man, unlikely to be any older than his mid-twenties, a hessian soldier, taking the role of commander. He was out of place, his uniform different to the British but it wasn't just his clothing that set him apart. He stared back with cold, vicious intent, his lips bared in a snarl similar to Astra's. It appeared there was one more wild beast than Nathan anticipated.
Time slowed. The glow of the fire which was once comforting, suddenly illuminated the regulars with an ominous colour that caused them to resemble the flames, burning and roaring and devouring.
Astra bolted out of the door and into the night, snarling like the beast she should have been, causing the redcoats to jump back in alarm. The hessian soldier, most likely allocated and paid to lead this troop from past experiences, instantly recognised the wolf not just as a lost, wild animal, but a symbol of the rebels' organisation. Nathan could almost see the thoughts displayed in his mind as those venomous eyes followed her out of the door. The head of the wolf severed from its body, paraded with torches like those of an ancient legend where villagers were plagued with a monster that preyed on the weak and unfortunate. As the hessian soldier left to deal with his own plague, Nathan rushed after him. He found him, sword drawn by his side and prowling towards Astra as she snapped at the other redcoats that chose to battle with man instead of beast. She turned, singling out the footsteps, slow and confident, that approached her. She curled her lip back saliva dripping from her jaws. She paused, eyes still dark and menacing as she licked her lips as if pretending the saliva was the blood of those she faced. The hessian soldier lunged forward and she engaged, snapping and raising her front paws, smacking away the sword from her. He withdrew swiftly, careful not to be mauled before he could get his kill. And his head.
Nathan cried out as the soldier drew his pistol, almost concealed in his coat. But Astra moved as if she was caught in the breeze, leaping from the shot before it was even fired. But the breeze was still travelling in the same direction as the soldier whipped his sword in an arch. Astra yelped as the blade meet her front right leg and she crumpled from the shock of the pain. Before he could bring his sword down on her, Nathan fired his pistol, finally able to move after being frozen in a state of helplessness as all the chaos ensued around him. The shot struck the tip of his left shoulder and the soldier reeled back, the force of the impact taking him off his feet. As Nathan rushed forward to help her, Astra was already up, moving with a steady limp but retreated to a safe distance, knowing she could be of no help to him now. The soldier was standing too, his face a picture of fury, barely registering the pain of the open wound but only focusing on the anger. He roared his advance and Nathan parried, deflecting his blow. Despite being two thirds of his height, Nathan used this to his advantage, knowing the hessian soldier would underestimate him and allow Nathan to find weaknesses that he would otherwise hide. He managed to strike a blow to his ribs, no more than a papercut, but it revealed Nathan cold duck lunges and strike while his arm was still extended. The soldier, clearly outraged that Nathan had achieved a hit, threw his side into him, using his weight and unexpected move to topple the boy. Nathan's head smacked against the ground and his alarm at being floored, accompanied by the stars that burst behind his eyes, allowed the soldier to take advantage of the few seconds of frozen panic. He stomped on Nathan's wrist and knocked away his sword once his fingers released its grip with a cry of agony. The boy gasped in fear, trying to crawl away but the pressure put on his wrist made him cry out again.
The hessian soldier cackled, a low guttural sound that chilled Nathan more than the cold night air. He knelt down beside the boy and raised his sword in a manoeuvre that would plunge the blade through Nathan's heart. Or he could only hope. A man such as his could easily impale his stomach, choosing a slower death for him.
An approaching pounding of paws reached Nathan first and he turned to see Astra leap over him, paws extended. The hessian soldier exclaimed with shock as the mass of grey fur crashed into him, her throat filled with a fierce growl.
Nathan used the time to stand, painfully grasping his sword and turning to see the hessian back on his knees, blood streaming from his shoulder and from his left eye under his hands. With a roar of pain, Astra crept away again, signalling in a way that only she can that both her and Nathan should flee. Nathan was brave but he knew when to pick his fights. He wanted to live to see a new America after all.
They bolted into the darkness, watching the glowing carnage from a distance. The fight was almost over with no clear victor, just figures fighting before the flaming inn.
Would he be labelled a coward for fleeing? Or praised for surviving? As Astra whimpered at his side, he ignored his own issues of a tarnished image and set about her wounds. It wasn't deep, he discovered with a sigh of relief but still caused her pain. He couldn't wash it now but he could bind it to prevent further bleeding. A torn strip from his shirt made a makeshift bandage and he wrapped it around her shoulder.
In the forest where they hid, they curled up, nursing their injuries where they would wait for the morning and see what was left behind.
