Fall of the British

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Virginia: 1778

      Beckendorf has been wounded in an earlier battle and he nervously awaited the outcome of this one. The colonists had penned them in Yorkstown, but Beckendorf still prayed there was a way they could break free. If not, then this entire war would have been fought for naught. Beckendorf has risked his life for a taste of freedom and now that he was used to being considered a man instead of chattel, there was no way he would go back.

     A pretty camp follower named Silena was nursing several soldiers, including Beckendorf. She had hands as soft as sheepskin, a smile as white as snow, and eyes as warm as a fire. Her voice sounded liked a melodious lark and Beckendorf enjoyed her scent: a mixture of soap and flowers that was heavenly in a place where most people stank of sweat, blood, and sickness.

The sound of gunfire and raised voices interrupted Beckendorf's thoughts. He shivered. The battle at Yorktown had begun.
****
       Frank charged forward. The Continental Army was penning the British in at all sides. He fired his gun and continued to charge forward as gunfire spewed both sides, knocking men off their feet and pushing them into the possessive embrace of death.

Frank saw a Redcoat charging towards him. The blonde man fired his rifle, but Frank dodged the bullet and aimed a bullet towards him. The man ducked, but the bullet lodged itself between his shoulder blades.

He grunted and fell to the ground, his blood splattering the ground. Frank charged forward and met another blonde soldier, though he was scrawny instead of brawny.

"Die American scum!" the man roared.

"Oh shut up," Frank said, kicking the man in his knees.

The man shrieked and fell to the ground. Frank slashed at him with his bayonet and continued to advance. His limbs seemed to be teeming with energy as if he had eaten a good meal after a long nap. He felt like he could have fought forever, but the sound of battle gradually lessened and Frank was aware of the battle ending. He smiled and hoped for an end to this war.

****
      "The war is over," Reyna told Piper.

      The two women sat together, thinking of how men had decided their fates. Reyna had tried to fight with words and they had failed her. All her spying and all of her cunning plans had not been enough to help the British subdue the colonists.

"They've surrendered?" Piper asked dully.

Reyna nodded. There was nothing left to say. She imagined that like her, Piper was thinking of her dreams that had been closed off by the colonial victory. Their silence wasn't broken until cries reached their ears. The wounded soldiers were being brought back.

Piper and Reyna leapt to their feet when they caught sight of Jason. His uniform was wet and his blonde hair had been dyed crimson by his own blood. It had dried stiffly and it stank almost as much as the Thames in London.

Reyna wrinkled her nose at the scent as she and Piper helped clean Jason's wound. He groaned weakly, but didn't stir. A doctor finally came and after dressing his wound, he told them the first good news they had heard all day: Jason would likely pull through.

"Thank the Lord," Piper said after the doctor left.

"You love him, don't you?" Reyna said, unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice.

"Yes, Reyna," Piper said, "and I understand why you are upset. Just remember that I am not only a rival to you. We suffered together to help the British and I respect you for that and wish to count you as a friend."

"We can he friends," Reyna decided, "But don't taunt me if I become an old maid."

"I would never," Piper promised. "You are so much more than a potential wife. We may have lost the war, but Reyna, you're still a hero."

Reyna closed her eyes. Piper's words echoed in her head. She hoped they were true because she wanted to be remembered as more than a woman who died alone.

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