Don't chastise me if I use Olde English spelling, it's how I run. Sadly, I
don't own "The Patriot" But I am a supreme self-lawyer, so don't sue me.
Hope you enjoy, please review.
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William Tavington helped Catharine upon his horse, and then mounted in front of her.
"Men," he shouted, and they were off.
He felt the feminine form behind him shifting and turning, attempted last glances at her family he supposed.
"You won't see them," he said to her bluntly, "With so many horses, the dust is sure to blur your vision."
After riding for maybe a half-hour, William couldn't stand it anymore. His jacket was soaking through, and it was nippy outside.
"All halt. Horses are to drink from the river and men are to rest. We will be off soon, be awares." With that, everyone dismounted.
Tavington pulled Catharine off the horse. He directed her to a large tree and ordered her to sit. "Foolish girl." He said bluntly, "I am in no mood for your tears. You have sacrificed yourself to my order, and as such, I order you to cease your tears." This only made Catharine cry harder. Water gushed so quickly; it could not be dammed.
One of the men heard Catharine's tears and sauntered over. Tavington snapped at him, and he was gone instantly. Tavington had a hold on his men that was like nothing ever witnessed by human eyes. Tearing off his jacket, Tavington handed it to Catharine. "Here," he spoke colder still, "Keep this to dry your tears." Then mumbling to himself, he remarked, "Lord knows it's already ruined anyways.
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Catharine tried to look at her family, but was only discouraged by the words of Colonel Tavington. She wept into his shoulder, and did not care who saw. Tavington stopped his men.
Catharine was pulled sharply off the steed. She attempted o resist, but it was futile. Thrown harshly to a tree close by, she was reprimanded. Could Tavington not see her mortal distress? Did her tears not convey enough emotion? If this were the case, then Catharine was in luck. At the increase of Tavington's cruel vocals, Catharine turned up the flow of salted water from her optical orbs. A man of the army approached, but he was shooed off immediately. As Catharine buried her head in her hands, she felt a force heaved against her. Holding it in her hands, she realized it to be Tavington's jacket. It smelled friendly but belonged to this cold man. Catharine continued to bawl and sniffle into the red folds of material.
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Really, anyone can review my story, I don't care if you call it a piece of crap, just please review it! I like improving my work. I need people to tell me my strong and weak points.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
William Tavington helped Catharine upon his horse, and then mounted in front of her.
"Men," he shouted, and they were off.
He felt the feminine form behind him shifting and turning, attempted last glances at her family he supposed.
"You won't see them," he said to her bluntly, "With so many horses, the dust is sure to blur your vision."
After riding for maybe a half-hour, William couldn't stand it anymore. His jacket was soaking through, and it was nippy outside.
"All halt. Horses are to drink from the river and men are to rest. We will be off soon, be awares." With that, everyone dismounted.
Tavington pulled Catharine off the horse. He directed her to a large tree and ordered her to sit. "Foolish girl." He said bluntly, "I am in no mood for your tears. You have sacrificed yourself to my order, and as such, I order you to cease your tears." This only made Catharine cry harder. Water gushed so quickly; it could not be dammed.
One of the men heard Catharine's tears and sauntered over. Tavington snapped at him, and he was gone instantly. Tavington had a hold on his men that was like nothing ever witnessed by human eyes. Tearing off his jacket, Tavington handed it to Catharine. "Here," he spoke colder still, "Keep this to dry your tears." Then mumbling to himself, he remarked, "Lord knows it's already ruined anyways.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Catharine tried to look at her family, but was only discouraged by the words of Colonel Tavington. She wept into his shoulder, and did not care who saw. Tavington stopped his men.
Catharine was pulled sharply off the steed. She attempted o resist, but it was futile. Thrown harshly to a tree close by, she was reprimanded. Could Tavington not see her mortal distress? Did her tears not convey enough emotion? If this were the case, then Catharine was in luck. At the increase of Tavington's cruel vocals, Catharine turned up the flow of salted water from her optical orbs. A man of the army approached, but he was shooed off immediately. As Catharine buried her head in her hands, she felt a force heaved against her. Holding it in her hands, she realized it to be Tavington's jacket. It smelled friendly but belonged to this cold man. Catharine continued to bawl and sniffle into the red folds of material.
~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~
Really, anyone can review my story, I don't care if you call it a piece of crap, just please review it! I like improving my work. I need people to tell me my strong and weak points.