I climbed out of the hole as quickly as I could and ran to catch up to the regrouping troops. By late afternoon, we had lost the pursuing British troops; unfortunately, that's not all we lost. As I looked around me, I saw all the awful signs of a battle lost. There were men unable to stand for their legs being too damaged. I could tell many of our men would be hoping just to be able to wake up in the morning.

"Has anyone seen Nathan Mickenly?" I shouted as loud as I dared.

I finally found him lying up against an old oaktree, struggling to breath.

"Anthony, Anthony, is that you? RRGGMHH!"

"Easy, easy," I said, kneeling beside him, "try not to speak."

"nah, it's ok," he said, struggling. He managed a weak smile. "Looks like your little plan didn't turn out so well, eh?"

I wanted to return the smile, but the guilt wouldn't allow it. "No, no, I guess it didn't," I said, looking down.

"So…..about how many, how many did we lose?

"(sigh), nearly 200 hundred, I think. Look, I'm sorry, I really am, I"-

"Don't, Stiles. Look, it's not your fault. It's life. No, this is war; things Definitely don't go the way you planned. It's ok, though. We'll still get 'em. Listen, Anthony?"

"Yeah?"

"If I don't make it out of this.."

"Ah come on, Nathan."

"I know, probably gonna be fine, probably just a little flesh wound, but if I don't, or, if I have to go home after this, and don't get to continue on, you've gotta give those damned redcoats a run for their money, ok?"

I put a hand on his shoulder. "Absolutely!"

Just then, another officer came up to get me.

"Officer styles? General Hatchins wishes to speak with you, sir."

"Alright. Listen, Nathan. You just sit tight; I'll be back in just a little bit."

Well, I won't go into much detail, but basically, he said that while my plan had been a huge flop, he couldn't be mad at me because it wasn't my fault. Also, since I had, in fact, saved his life, there was no way he could reprimand me in any way. He thanked me, and said that he owed me, therefore I was now unable to apologize. He had told me I was cleared, but that didn't change the truth I knew in my heart, didn't make the pain any less, and it damn sure didn't bring those men back.

I returned to Nathan and spent the rest of the night with him. We spent most of the time talking. He told me more about Clarisse, and I told him some old war stories from "my grandfather's times" during the Revolution. All in all, it looked like he would pull through, eventually. Things did, in fact, start looking up a little. After a few days, Nathan was sent home on leave because his injuries were so great. A few days later, we received some even better news; America had won a great victory at the battle of Thames. General Hampton was taking his men towards the Saint Lawrence to back up Wilkinson's attack on Kingston, so we were going to go to them to assist in the battle. It was a long trek, all through the night. To make things even worse, it had already started snowing early, this year. By the time we reached what had apparently been the sight of the battle, it was too late.

"Curses!!" shouted Hatchings, looking at the signs of a recent battle all around him. One could tell that it hadn't been long, perhaps a few hours at most, since the battle, a battle that our fellow Americans had clearly lost, badly. It was the same sort of scene, all over again, blood stained the trees and the soil, bloody, and sometimes broken weapons, lay scattered around the ground. Even after all the many centuries, I still couldn't help but be reminded that These boys would Not be waking up in the morning, These men had friends and families waiting for them back home, who would never see them again.

"Ok, men," sighed Hatchings, "let's make camp here tonight, get some rest; we'll start back east tomorrow."

So we did. We got a small, dim, fire going, and someone even broke out a little ale that they had been keeping. They told us we might as well go ahead and enjoy ourselves just this night, as long as we didn't get too gone. Actually, there probably wasn't even enough drink among the whole camp for anyone to get entirely drunk. Still, we needed something to boost our spirits, and besides, no one knew how long it would be before we could get another chance. Some of the men started singing songs of women and war and home. Meanwhile, I myself went over to have a short chat with General Hatchings.

"Sir?"

He turned and looked at me

"Stiles. Let me say before you start in, that if this is another apology about what happened back at Montreal, I don't wanna here it."

"Well sir, I just wanted to say, I'm sorry things have been going so ill lately."

He then gave me a bemused look. "YOU are sorry for That!? Now look, you don't even have a right to apologize for That, do you! First off, I'm the one in charge of this regiment, not you. Second, it's not for you to decide whether fortune or failure falls on this war for either side, that's up to the Lord," then he side, "and I don't think he's rather fond of these little wars of ours either, eh? As for you, be sure you get plenty of rest tonight, but first, I want you to go enjoy yourself with the other men for awhile, that's an Order, soldier!"

"Yes Sir!" I said with a smile.

As I walked back to the others, one of the men spoke up to me:

" So come on, styles, what about you?" one of the men who was starting to get a little tipsy started in, "Surely you've got a story about some sort of nice, soft lass back home, eh?"

I thought to shrug him off, but it was late, I had a few sips myself, and at this point, after everything, I figured, what the heck?

"Well," I started, "There was this one time, I had been out hunting with my father, I actually got captured by Injuns. They took me into their camp for questioning." Of course, the whole story was bullshit, but…

"Hahah, yeah Stiles," said someone with a grin.

"Hey, let him tell it," said someone else trying not to laugh.

"Well anyway, as I was there, I saw this cute little Injun girl, who kept poking her head out of her hut, glancing at me shyly, smiling. So, I manipulated the conversation so that the negotiations would have to continue the next day."

"How'd you go about that, Anthony?" Someone else chimed in.

"Hey," I said with a cocky look, "A true master doesn't reveal all his secrets." This brought up a low murmur of chuckles and jeers.

"So, anyway, they told me I would have to say until the next night. So that night, I snuck on over to her tent, where she was. You see," I said, looking around at the circle, "I had slipped a sample of my own special recipe into her husband's drink, heheh," I said, cocking an eyebrow. "I took her by the hand, and we slipped back off to my tent. She was a little shy at first; I thought maybe that guy wasn't her husband after all; just her father, or her brother maybe. But I got her turned on. I started by rubbing her arms, then I started kissing on her on her nose, till she began giggling. Next, I removed my shirt and then started kissing her on the mouth as my hands moved down to her hips and butt, Man what a butt heheh!, those Indian girls… So then, I started easing her clothes off her…And then I…"

But I didn't get to finish my story, because right at that moment, a barrage of arrows and gun shots came flying out of the forest, followed by many dozens of Indians. I'm all for poetic justice, but this was ridiculous. We immediately got our weapons, but they were already upon us. It was terrible, since it was dark, AND we were in the woods, and the Indians were better in BOTH situations. So we quickly started retreating out of the woods and into a nearby grassy field. Fortunately, it was a clear night, and the moon was nearly full. We started fighting them back, but still they were greatly winning, even though we had them outnumbered. After a short time, I found out who was causing all the commotion; as soon as I felt the buzz, I didn't even need to look up to know that it was Richard Borington. I quickly climbed up a tree, knocked an Indian off his horse, and quickly pursued my enemy. Already, many of our men had fallen, adding to the countless Americans who already littered the ground around the area. I knew that this was my fault, since he had come here to fight me, so I had to catch him. It was getting colder, and soon started to snow again.

Now, I consider myself a highly skilled horseman, ever since a Hebrew man named Juda Benn Hurr taught me to ride back in Rome; however, I could tell that this horse just plane didn't like me at all. It kept bucking and rearing, no matter how much I fought it. I saw my enemy leap across a wide brook, but when I tried it, my horse undershot the jump, and landed with his front legs barely skirting the edge of the other side. Needless to say, there was no possible way for him to catch himself now, especially with me on his back. We both fell towards the rushing waters below. I struck my chin on a rock near the bottom, my neck snapped back, and all I knew was blackness.

When I finally awoke, it was early morning, best I could tell and I was face down in the freezing water. The horse was nowhere to be found. I could hardly breathe from the extreme cold, but I somehow managed to crawl out of the brook. I was already suffering from extreme hypothermia when I got up to the now snow covered ground. I soon collapsed once again. When I woke up again, it was early afternoon, and I was already slightly covered by snow. I got up shivering. I was still soaking wet all over, but it was a little better than before.

I started walking back towards where our group had been. Though it probably wasn't a good thing for me to do to myself, I wanted to see just how bad the damage had been. It was absolutely horrible. Bodies lay scattered over nearly two miles, some of them scalped or disemboweled. DAMNIT!! I was Soo sick of this!! This, no THESE wars, I must say, were probably harder on me than any I had face in a long time. I still had yet to see anything as hard as some of the times in the Revolution, but to me it was all essentially the same war; after so many centuries and millennia, 30 years was easily short enough for it to all merge together. Then again, this really wasn't war, this was yet another bastard Immortal who refused to play by the rules, and as I walked away from there shivering, I vowed that I would not let that English Tart pass my gaze again and live.

Kentucky Sue had been right, I should have just gone vigilante with her again this time. As I continued walking east, east towards the bulk of the fight, I kept reminding myself that the war was not over yet, and that the nation, MY nation, still needed me.