May, 1863
Chancellorsville, Virginia
Midnight
Jackson was not having a good time right now. But then, only a sadist would enjoy the horrible situation he found himself in. His own men had mistaken him and the few soldiers with him for the enemy and had fired upon them. He had been hit a few times but it wasn't too bad.
At least, he hoped not.
He was hobbling back to his line when he heard something overhead in the trees. It sounded like the branches were moving, and yet there was no wind. He stopped, turning around in a moment of panic that Union Sharpshooters were following him. But even then, the Union soldiers couldn't hop from tree to tree with such ease.
Stonewall glanced up, and just for a moment, a brief, fleeting moment, he caught sight of two figures, cloaked in shadow.
What type of devils are these that could jump between trees with such ease and at such speed? Jackson thought feverishly. His heart was thundering in his chest, the only thing he could hear. Except, after a terrifying moment, a moment of the fear disappearing and his heart calming, before he heard the cocking of a rifle. His eyes went up to the trees where he saw the glint of moonlight on a rifle.
Jackson barely had time to draw breath before a bullet hit him between the ribs. He gasped in shock at the small devil that stared down at him from the shadow of the branches, unsure if he was able to see if it was going to stay and finish him off.
As if his prayers were answered, as soon as he hit the ground, he heard his soldiers shout his name. He couldn't get the words out as they carried him away.
X
Margaret watched the soldiers pick up the fallen general and carry him away. She knew she should take the final shot, end it all, right there, right now. She could get him now, since she was a good shot. But for some reason she couldn't bring herself to do it.
Lieutenant General Thomas "Stonewall" Jackson will either succumb to his wounds and his death would be chalked up to an unfortunate accident on the battlefield or he will survive and his ravings would be dismissed as a misidentification or that of a man under stress.
Henry would be mad at her if news reached him that Jackson was still alive, if he survived his wounds. No, he would be furious, a righteous type of anger that only God Himself could bring down. Margaret didn't see how someone could survive something like that. Best case scenario, he would have to have his limbs and fingers amputated and then the risk of infection would set in soon….
Margaret sighed, shaking her head and turning her back on the scene. She hoped that with the South's greatest general out of commission, the Confederate Government would see the futility of the war and offer an olive branch of peace to the President.
But somehow that didn't seem likely.
A/N: All updates will be done on a Friday, every two weeks!