Captured [The Patriot Fanfic] ON HOLD

Chapter 2: Under Arrest?

Blythe felt a sudden twitch in her body, hearing the loud rustle of leaves and inhaling the potent scent of the oak trees; bringing her senses to life. She jolted awake only to be surrounded by nothing but leaves, brush, twigs, and oak. Her body shivered as she laid still on the dew-dampened ground.

Where am I? She thought to herself. A few strands of her wavy locks clung to her face while the rest clung to her neck just above her Sit N' Bop uniform. She inhaled searingly finding her Michael Kors crossbody purse closeby. Until suddenly, there was a faint thump intensifying with each step, up till within the distance, Blythe noticed it was more than just a singular thump.She arose in panic, slinging her purse over her body at a sight she never would've even thought she'd seen... Men. Multiple men, saddled on horsebacks, black trousers, red and green triple buttoned-down coats; feathered-like hats secured with a strap around the chin, and combat boots.

"Colonel!" One shouted, his voice was finished off with a crisp British accent. His slate gray eyes hinted worry to the startled Blythe Avery, who nylon-sheathed legs trembled skittishly.

"Colonel Tavington!" He repeated.

Blythe's deep blue eyes dilated at the Colonel's last name. Another man, rode up on his well-groomed horse to the gray-eyed soldier, and he gaped at the disconcerted eighteen-year old with a piercing gleam in the iciness of his glassy blue eyes. Blythe now knew, she was no longer in Virginia. After all, she was now face to face with the brutal commander of hundreds and hundreds of years ago... Colonel William Tavington, commander of the Green Dragoons.

"She was here once we arrived!" The Dragoon looked to the Colonel who kept his stare directly on her.

Colonel Tavington stepped off his flawless brown gelding and proceeded to analyze the quivering girl. She clenched her eyes shut, fighting back tears and held her tongue as he encircled her in her diner uniform, her purse hanging to her side. He gazed back into her widened eyes, and she couldn't help but survey his chiseled features and the prominent details that sculpted his face. Blythe sighed as he inched closer to her, and he gave off an intensity as his lips parted to speak.

"Arrest her!" He ordered, eyeing her from head to toe as two other Dragoons gripped hold of her arms. Blythe's eyes widened with pure surprise, upon hearing of her sudden arrest.

"NO! NO! NO, I'M INNOCENT!" Blythe cried, flailing her legs in midair in an attempt to free herself from their ruthless grip on her bone-thinned arms, until Tavington stormed towards her. His boots crunched the fallen dried leaves beneath him. He took a moment to study the torment in her eyes before raising his gloved hand over her; swooping it across her now swollen, imprinted cheek.

"Release her, I shall deal with this wretch myself." He clutched her right elbow, jerking her towards his horse.

She glanced back at the slate eyed Dragoon who closed his eyes in horror as Blythe was slung atop the back of the horse, Tavington followed pressing his chest against her arched, aching back, tugging her from behind to sit as erect as he was.

"Stupid girl..." He muttered in her ear as he grabbed hold of the reins, charging into the distance. The others followed his lead.

Blythe could feel her stomach churn with uneasiness as the horses dashed through the brush. She curiously eyed the Colonel's stoned expression.

"Keep your eyes forward." He hissed. "Stupid girl." He pressed his chest harder onto her back. Blythe winced at the pressure left on her spine.

"How dare you call me stupid." She retorted.

"Quiet!" He scoffed. "Be grateful I didn't lay my hand on you yet."

Blythe turned forward, attempting to shield her eyes from the debris as the horses dashed forward, and within seconds, her heart fell to the pit of her stomach at the view in the distance. Her very core chilled as she could clearly see the many wounded soldiers in red and blue coats, and the pervasive scent of fresh blood stained the air as they rode toward the many wounded on the plantation.

Tavington wore a cold glare upon his face and his icy blue eyes were filled with anything but remorse. He raised his right, gloved hand as if he were being sworn into a courthouse in modern-day; halting his cavalry.

 A red-coated soldier with a thick black hat made his way down the porch. From behind she could see an African-American woman rounding up the traumatized children closer to her. Blythe could still feel her core tremble and her eyes heated with the tears she tried so hard to fight back. The redcoat approached lifting his gold-trimmed embellished hat in a salute to the black feathered-like helmet of Colonel Tavington.

"Lieutenant, have a detachment, take our wounded to our surgeons at Wilsburo." He enunciated with perfected clarity. His breath felt torrid against the nape of Blythe's neck, now slightly dampened with moisture against her pallored skin.

"Yes Sir." Replied the nervous Lieutenant. Blythe could clearly see that his anxiousness was inevitable.

"Fire the house and barns!" Tavington then ordered. "Let it be known, if you arm with the enemy, you will lose your home." He squawked with different ranges in his voice in threat to a fair skinned, dark-haired man who's long beige sleeve shirt was splattered with blood from tending to the wounded. The huddled bunch scooted closer in together at his outrageous order. The children had froze instantly. Blythe's eyes clenched shut, and her lips parted with a tremble, a burning want to just lash out and speak, but she couldn't.

You heartless bastard. Blythe said to herself as the Colonel shifted towards a young dark-skinned man, roughly around Blythe's age, so he appeared. Tavington spread a devilish, deviating grin as he eyed the humbled soul.

"A standing order of His Majesty King George, all slaves of the American colonies who fight for the crown will be granted their freedom with our victory" He announced manipulatively, emphasizing our as if victory was already in the palms of his sinister gloved hands.

 The young plantation worker removed his twiny straw hat from his head in gratitude and respect. Blythe couldnt help but take notice of the humble sincerity in his deepened brown eyes.

 "Sir, we are not slaves. We worked this land freed men." He spoke truthfully, taking a step back respectfully for a passing redcoat.

 Blythe could then feel the aggravated breathing of Tavington against her neck once again.

"Well then your freed men will have the opportunity and the privilege, of fighting in the King's army, aren't you?" He snapped viciously.

Blythe could feel nothing but a single teardrop roll down her cheek as the freed young man turned towards the blood-spattered caregiver, who could only look with an empathetic apology.

A fellow Dragoon dismounted his identical horse, collecting a satchel between his leathered palms, the gold-trimmed redcoat Lieutenant as he proceeded in pulling out a few crinkled, folded pieces of paper.

 "Rebel dispatches Sir." He handed the churlish Colonel Tavington the few pieces of paper.

 "Who carried these?" He questioned, eyeing the porch and back. The Lieutenant did the same, fixing his gaze back to the surly commander. "WHO CARRIED THIS!" He boomed, temporarily deafening to Blythe's sensitive ears.

 "I did Sir." Confessed a reluctantly mellow, sandy blonde lad, he empathetically eyed Blythe's dilated eyes as he came forward, making direct eye contact with her, and it was almost as if he could see through the pain which lied in the transparency of her crystal blue eyes. His hazel-like eyes then turned to give the commander his undivided attention.

 Blythe's russet hair dampened with the excess moisture of the Colonel's exasperated breaths, and she palpitated in horror, dreading what he would do at this point. She could only close her eyes and pray silently.