The hourly bells rang and released Blaine from his blacksmithing work for the nameless rebellion. He wiped his forehead free of sweat and in return smeared the soot further onto his face, which gave him an ashen grey complexion to contrast his vivid bronze eyes. Blain set the dirty rag on the workbench and ducked out of the large tent the smithing shop was housed by. Upon exit he was greeted by a drunkard soldier whose ego was equally as big as his muscles, he had always served as a strong reminder that not every rebel was fighting for a just cause.



“Say, swordsmith. *hic* Haven’t you--” the soldier took a gulp from his canteen, turning it upside down and looking inside the metal container for any scavengable drops of alcohol. “-repaired my weapon yet?”

“No, Grant. Your axe is beyond any repair I’m afraid.” Blaine explained as he tried to slip past the drunkard, only to be shoved back by the hulking man.

“What do you mean, ‘beyond repair’. You’re a blacksmith, your job is to fix things.” Grant grunted, the smell of whiskey heavy in his breath.

“That’s right, a blacksmith, not a miracle worker.”

“You think-- *hic*, that you can talk to me like that, boy? I’m your elder, you answer to me. If I ask you to repair my weapon, you damn well better do it!”

“Even if the weapon could be saved, I would never work for the likes of you.”

“That’s it, I’ll beat the incolence out of you!” Grant shouted, drawing the attention of the surrounding rebels. A circle of onlookers had formed around them, and a pair of good samaritans drew their weapons in case Grant did something stupid. Although at this point it seemed inevitable.


“Come on old man, I’ve got better things to be doing.” Blaine tried to reason. Grant however, wasn’t going to listen to reason. Grant lunged his mammoth body forward awkwardly, almost having missed Blaine on his own. Blaine sidestepped and allowed him to plow into the crowd that had surrounded him. While Grant tried to recover, he walked away.

“Hey, get back here!” Grant called, but was cutt off as Blaine turnned around with his sword drawn and aimed the point of his blade to his ungaurded throat.

“Leave me.”


Grant growled, but thought over his options and pushed the blade gently from his throat and retreated. Blaine grinned, and sheathed his sword. Finally, he could find Prudence. But when he reached her tent it was empty. It didn’t worry him, she disappeared like this all of the time, but it was getting dark and Blaine didn’t want her to be eaten in her sleep by a pack of mutts or a chimera.

More often than not, she would be up on the hill that overlooks the campsite. She claimed that it was because it had a tactical advantage, but Blaine knew that she was up there for more than military purposes; the view of the woodlands at the top was substantial and there was a peace there that was unmatched by the rebel camp.

As he suspected, there was Prudence under the bare apple tree. Blaine could have sworn that tree was picked clean last month after we had reached quarter rations, but it appeared that Prudence had managed to find one left behind; she didn’t eat all of it, that was expected for someone used to sustaining on little more than a teacup of rice. Blaine couldn’t help thinking how beautiful she looked in the light filtered through the apple tree, her chest gently rising and falling as she slept there.

Blaine kicked her boot.

“Wake up, sleepyhead. Nap time isn’t for another two hours.”

“F*** off, Blaine.” Prudence joked, sitting up against the tree.

Blaine laughed, now noticing her wild bedhead.

“You’ve gotta wonder why they call it beauty rest.”

Prudence huffed, blowing her messy red hair out of her eyes and crossing her arms. She wasn’t really angry, Blaine had seen angry Prudence before and it was not a pretty sight. Blaine turned his attention towards the half eaten apple on her lap, his stomach growling from weeks without proper rations.

“Were you planning on sharing?” Blaine teased, Prudence almost blushed when she remembered the apple she had snuck for herself and quickly gave the rest to him.

They sat together on the hill for a while, the sun had set quickly that night. Blaine and Prudence had fallen asleep on each other sitting at the trunk of the apple tree, Blaine’s head resting on top of Prudence’s fiery red locks.

Ding-Ding-Ding-Ding

The first bell woke the pair up, making them share a mutual embarrassment for falling asleep like that. The second bell drew their full attention, as two bells meant a storm was coming. The third bell made Blaine stand up, worried for the camp; both of them knew that three bells meant distress, the rebel camp was under attack.

Blaine made no hesitation, he blasted off down that hill like no other. Prudence called after him warning him to be careful and wait for her, but she didn’t expect him to listen.

When Prudence arrived, she found Blaine injured and hiding behind a corner. He lifted a finger to his mouth, and gestured with his head to look around. Prudence peared around the corner to see the union government holding their captain at knifepoint.



“What do we do?” Prudence asked, pulling herself back from the corner.

“...”

Prudence repeated herself, but realized that Blaine was not going to respond to a question he didn’t know the answer to. She debated with herself her next action, because she knew it could end up one of two ways.

“What am I thinking, this is no time for hesitation!” She whisper-shouted.

Prudence quickly turned the corner and knocked an arrow, she aimed carefully and let it loose. The arrow hit the man square in the heart, causing him to topple over and die. A soldier reports that three people died in the raid. The captain had found a union soldier still breathing, and started to savagely beat him as he cursed the union.



“Commander, stop!” Prudence shouted, grabbing hold of one of his shoulders. She struggled until Blaine joined her and together they drug the captain away.