Epilogue

Margaret tearfully watched her father and her brothers (except the youngest, William) run into the woods, intent on rescuing Gabriel and leaving the bodies of her sister and brother sprawled on the ground. Thomas was laid down on his back, his hands out-reached and his legs buckled. Anna was on her side, her arms crossing each other and her legs bent. Margaret shook her head. That wasn't how they looked in real-life.

She walked tremblingly over to Thomas, and slowly reached out a hand to touch him. His skin was cooler than normal and stiff beneath the skin. Margaret's tears made little puddles on his arms. Susan and William sat on the porch, the one thing not completely burned by the British.

Sniffling, Margaret grabbed Thomas's arm and pulled him nearer to Anna. Then she dragged him counter-clockwise so they were head-to-head instead of head-to-feet. She pulled him up so that he and Anna were equal.

"Papa's gonna be mad," William called from the porch, but Margaret ignored him. She didn't move Anna; she had been her closest sister and it broke her heart to look at her slack face.

She inched Thomas closer to her until his forehead was resting against her shoulder. Margaret moved his arms so that they were bent at the elbows and came up to his face and his hands rested at his collarbone. She left his legs bent together. She moved Anna's arm so that her hand grabbed Thomas's elbow, and she lowered her sister's head so that it was buried in his hair. Now that dark hair was speckled with tears.

"Meg, whatcha do that for?" William demanded, tugging on her hand.

"It-it seemed right," she said softly, and William looked. It was true; he had often seen Anna hugging Thomas like that. Susan cried quietly on the porch, clutching her doll close to her.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

Meg gasped when Father returned with her brothers, bloody and tired and worn. Father stopped at the sight of his dead children, but quickly walked over to them, studying how they were lying.

"Meg," he said quietly. "Did you do this?"

"Yes, Papa," she said, equally quiet.

"Why?"

She looked up into Father's eyes, her own spilling over with salty tears. "Because that's the way they always had been. And th-that's how they would've l-liked it."

Gabriel came alongside Father, a lone tear falling. He gently ran his finger's thru Anna's soft hair, and stroked Thomas's bloody cheek. Father was a stone, and he knelt down and studied the space between the two's bodies.

There was the leather sack Thomas always carried around with him. Metal soldiers spilled onto the dirt, some of them covered with blood. Father put a hand over his eyes, struggling desperately not to weep for his two children. With a loud clearing of the throat, he gently picked up Thomas's limp body in his arms.

"Gabriel," he said softly. "Bring your sister."

Gabriel did as he was told, gently cradling his sister's head against his shoulder, her hair brushing his arms like a rose's petals or a dragonfly's delicate wings. She was still as lightweight as she'd always been. Gabriel noticed tiny teardrops falling on her throat. Then he realized they were his own.

~*~*~*~*~*~*

The family stood beside the two new graves, the homemade and quickly created crosses etched with the names Anna Elizabeth Martin and Thomas George Martin. Father said a quick prayer, his tears choking him, and the little girls wept in each other's arms. Nathan put an arm around Samuel and William, his tears slowly streaking his dirty face. William sniffled, and Samuel wiped his nose on his sleeve. Gabriel stood silent, his grief wrapped in an iron cage. Father cried, but it was very short, only one tear. But they all knew his grief was deep. And that someone would pay for it.

A/N: That's as far as I'm going. No more Anna, and she's the only reason I started this whole thing in the first place, so why bother? I hope you enjoyed reading this as much I enjoyed writing it.