This has been sitting in my docs since the autumn of 2019. Oops. My bad. Anyways, here's the first of many short pieces that comprise this series to go along with Drumbeats. Those that read the original version of Drumbeats before I took it down for editing will notice a few things: One, that the main character is vastly different, even having her name changed from Wren Campbell to Naomi Allen and two, instead of being a time travel wherein the main is plucked from modern times into one different from her own, everything is thoroughly 18th century (making allowances for the Patriot movie-verse and my own research of course-there's plenty I haven't learned yet, and I reckon I'll have to comb through and edit things quite a few times.) Anywho, this is Preternatural pt. 1, I plan to begin writing the second part soon. Hope y'all enjoy!
(The normal disclaimer: no, of course I do not own the Patriot or any characters belonging to the Patriot. Likewise, it stands to reason that any creative inventions of mine (original characters, etc) are my own.)
It was one of those typically spooky November evenings. Dark, frigidly cold, only a sliver of moon halfway obscured by clouds to give off light; the kind that makes a person see every branch, rock, and root as some unnamed monster always ready to devour those who stumble across its path.
So why, then, had Tavington dragged Naomi along with his little scouting party, when she very well should have been left safe and a tad bit warmer at camp with the rest of the followers, and where she would have been much more useful as well? Every time she asked, he'd spouted off several speeches about "duty" and "proving loyalty to the King" and even the need to keep an eye on her. The last time she bothered him about it (for what must have been the dozenth time), he'd narrowed his eyes and ordered her to be silent. So now she simply sat shivering and glaring across the fire at the offender himself while trying her best to ignore the skeletal remains of the forest looming around them.
"If you continue to glare at me so, your eyes will become stuck that way."
"Really?" she replied tartly. "Do I look like a child to you?"
Due to an earlier mission being successful, he was in a good humor tonight-as good a humor as Tavington could be in, in any case. Instead of scowling at her like he normally would, he chuckled.
Yes, Colonel Tavington. How funny!
"I fail to see how this is amusing."
"Come now, Miss Naomi. The night is fine. Let us not ruin it with a temper tantrum."
She truly had no wish to ruin anyone's mood, not even Tavington's (especially Tavington's) but she was cold, tired, and missing the shelter of her tent at camp. As far as she was concerned, it was his fault, and here he was laughing at her!
If anything, her expression darkened further. Pressing her lips together, she pulled the thin blanket she had been given in lieu of a shawl closer around her and shifted around on the log so that her back faced him, resolving to not speak another word to him that night.
"I am done speaking with you."
"Very well." His tone held a slight hint of amusement, as if he highly doubted her ability to keep silent. Which, of course, only made her further determined to prove him wrong. There was a small, awkward lull, in which the only sounds were the distant chatter around other campfires and the crackling noise of wood being devoured by flame. She could almost feel Tavington and Bordon exchange glances behind her back, but in a matter of moments their previously friendly debate on the merits of favored philosophers was continued.
Her ears pricked as the conversation grew more animated, longing to put her own two pence in, but remembered her resolution just in time. She lifted her chin and kept her eyes firmly fixed on the trees.
That was a mistake.
Being out in the forest after dark was bad enough for her, but the motion of shadows dancing on tree trunks brought her mind back to a night in which firelight and shadow alike had danced together. A lump formed in her throat. Something had moved. . .
She blinked. Wait a minute. . . No, it couldn't have been. Just a trick of light and her mind. Even so, she continued to stare at the space where she could've sworn she'd seen movement. Her heartbeat had finally begun to return to its normal pace as she convinced herself that it had just been a figment of her imagination when it happened again. A dark, vaguely humanoid form detached itself from the rest of the shadows, creeping along, half-exposed, half-concealed. Coming towards them. Her mouth went dry as she continued blinking, panic rising by the second as the form would not disappear. It looked just like-
A shriek tore from her throat as she leaped up, somehow finding herself next to Tavington, who grabbed her arm.
"Miss Allen, what in the Devil has gotten into you?!"
Her dark eyes were wide as she gaped up at him, struggling to form her words coherently.
"I-I think I saw something. In the bushes. Over there." Her arm shook as she pointed to where the apparition had appeared. Something like worry entered his eyes. He let her arm go, springing into action immediately, organizing a quick search. Her brain finally began functioning again and she nearly groaned. Oh, please not tonight. She grabbed his sleeve as he passed by. He faced her, not bothering to hide his irritation.
"What is it now?"
She kept her voice low. "You don't think we could be ambushed, do you?"
"That is none of your concern. Stay here with the others. We shall return shortly."
He wrenched his arm free, hurrying away. She made a face behind his back, then plopped down next to the fire again, huddling in on herself.
"I saw it, the least you could do is communicate what you think it is," she muttered. None of my concern. What rot. Then she shuddered again as she glanced over at the trees. All looked normal. She wasn't sure which was the worse, being spied on by some otherworldly being, or being spied on by an opposing army. Neither held any particular appeal.
Twenty minutes passed by slowly as her impatience grew. Just as she was preparing to gather up what little bravery she had left and look for them (she doubted any of the men would let her go off alone, but it was worth an attempt), the returned.
"What did you find?" she asked as Tavington and Bordon returned to their fire, faces solemn.
"Nothing," Tavington answered quickly-a bit too quickly. Bordon stared at him, surprise etched onto his face. Tavington shot him a warning glare back. Naomi caught onto this, glancing back and forth between them both, eyes narrowing.
"Nothing?" she repeated, not bothering to hide her suspicion.
"Absolutely nothing, Miss Allen," he answered, leveling that glare on her as well. She simply stared back. "You are certain you saw something?"
She refrained from rolling her eyes. Why am I not surprised he would ask something like that?
"Yes! I am absolutely certain!"
"Perhaps it was merely a shadow."
"Or a nocturnal creature of the forest, perhaps?" Bordon suggested gently.
She took a deep breath, attempting to conceal her sudden irritation with them both. "While those are both good and logical suggestions, no, it wasn't either of them."
"How unusual," Bordon murmured as he stared into the fire and Naomi got the sudden sense that he wasn't just talking of what she'd seen. They, too, had seen something in those woods and were both keeping mum about it, for whatever odd reasoning of theirs. A quick glance at Tavington, who was staring off into the trees, confirmed this for her.
Annoyance tinged with fear coursed through her. This was her mystery, as well as theirs, and she had every right to know what it was that had so thoroughly spooked them all.
A single, unwelcome thought crossed her mind, its echo sounding oddly like Tavington's voice. Are you certain you saw something?