Isaiah's POV: 

           Samuel walked into the room behind me as I set the clipboard down on the shelf in front of me.

"Are we ready for opening?" Samuel asked, leaning against the shelf next to the clipboard and folding his arms.

I stepped back, glancing at him, then up at the flour sacs on the top shelf. Why'd Father put the heavy sacks of flour up there? I'll have to stand on something to count them..

"Nay, Father put the flour on the top shelf." I mumbled wearily.

Samuel tiled his head at me, "since when are you not ready to rise to this great challenge?" He gestured dramatically to the top shelf.

I smiled slightly. He's right. Your still you.

"Your right, are you not? Let's get to work." I agreed, sighing and pushing the clipboard further onto the half full shelf as Samuel drew a stool closer.

I stood on it, gesturing to the clip board, "I'll count, you write."

Samuel nodded and I turned my attention to the two layers of flour sacs, which ran all the way from the door of the storage room to the end, a couple dozen feet long. Checking each sac for signs of mice, I counted in my head. Four, six, eight, ten.... So far no signs of mice.

"No holes so far." I mumbled to Samuel.

"What?" Samuel almost shouted.

"No holes." I answered louder.

Fourteen, sixteen, eighteen.... I hopped down from the stool and slid it over a couple yards.

"How are things going in here?" Sophine asked as she entered the room.

"Almost finished." I replied, stepping back onto the stool, "how's the cleaning coming?"

"I just finished. I'll go throw together some dinner." Sophine answered, whipping her hands on her apron, "can you two feed the stock?"

"Aye." Samuel answered for us, "and we'll bring in the firewood too."

Sophine gave a confirming nod and small smile before turning and leaving the room. I returned to my counting and checking. Twenty-two, twenty-four, twenty-six.....

"I suppose I'll have to start school again in a few weeks." Samuel started.

I glanced at him, "aye."

He sighed, revealing a faint glimmer in his soft brown eyes; Mother had always said they looked like fawns' eyes.

"Are you alright, Samuel?" My forehead creased.

"Aye, I twill' be alright." He sighed, relaxing his hand which held the pencil, "tis' just that everything's so different now."

"I know." I whispered, dropping my gaze as a frown took over my face.

Nothing twill' ever be the same. Father and Mother are gone forever. I squeezed tears back and took a deep breath. Narrowing my gaze in determination, I returned again to counting the sacs of flour.

Sophine's POV: 

            I set the last plate on the table, sighing. Isaiah and Samuel twill' be in soon. I must hurry. Quickening my pace slightly, I checked the sausage in the frying pan on the stove, poured water into each of our tin mugs and gave each of us a piece of bread. I'll have to make cheese soon. Tomorrow twill' not do, as we're reopening the store. It'll have to be Tuesday or Wednesday.

I removed the lid from the frying pan and set on the counter, reaching for a fork as I did so. Poking each sausage, I let the juice sizzle out.

My thoughts wondered back to the service that morning. I winced as I remembered the questioning stares from the women in the quilting club and garden club when I announced that Isaiah and Samuel would be under my guardianship. Thankfully, Reverend Williams hadn't objected, as I knew he was one of the few in this town who trusted me. We came home soon after and ate a bowl of soup each before starting the preparations of re-opening the store, even though it twas' Sunday.

Tis' alright that we worked. We would've all found something to argue about in our attempts not to break down in tears; Mother always said that work was a good thing to do while you process something. I took a deep breath and began flipping the sausage pieces over so they'd be evenly cooked.

We ought to have Reverend Williams and his family over for dinner next Sunday. T'would be the proper way to thank them for supporting us. I'll send Samuel over tomorrow with the invitation... and I do hope Mr. Johnson finds Aiden. I glanced out the window fleetingly, attempting to keep my thoughts from going back to the past few days.

Catching a glimpse of Isaiah and Samuel trudging across the yard past the firewood pile, toward the barn, a small smile lightened my face. They weren't doing more than walking, yet I couldn't help but be reminded that I wasn't alone. We're in this together, whether Isaiah wants to tell me what's on his mind or not. And Samuel; he seems to be processing everything well, but how can I be sure?

My smile disappeared as I sighed, returning to the sausages. Dear Lord, please help them to process that everything is changing. Who knows what's going on with the red coats and the militia? Are Aiden and Mr. Johnson alright? Is Aiden even still alive? I sucked in a breath, refusing to think of another death.

A breeze swept through the kitchen as Samuel opened the kitchen door for Isaiah, who's arms were stacked with firewood. I hurried to take a few pieces off the top of his load and set them in the near-empty bin.

"Stock fed?" I brushed my hands on my apron, turning to Samuel as Isaiah unloaded the rest of the wood slices.

"Aye." Samuel answered, pouring water into the wash basin and washing his hands.

I watched him for a moment, then remembering the sausage, I picked up the pan and drained the juice into a tin mug, in order to re-use it for soup broth. Isaiah washed his hands after Samuel and dumped the water into a bucket in the corner, so I could re-use it when I washed the floors on Saturday. I met Isaiah's solemn eyes for a moment and gave him a small smile.

Setting the pan on the table, I told my brothers to sit down. After a short prayer, we helped ourselves to a silent meal, looking forward to the comfort of our beds.

Aiden's POV:

            I filled my musket with new musket balls from the sac in the tent I shared with four other militia. We now had the red coats under siege in Boston and all I could do was wait form General Washington to make up his mind on our next move.

"Hand me the sac when your finished there, Aiden." One of the men commanded from across the tent.

I gave him a disinterested glance. Aye, aye, sir. I mocked in my mind as I shut the barrel and slid a couple handfuls of ammunition into my pockets. Shoving the sac across the ground toward the scruffy-bearded man, I grudgingly reminded myself that he was my superior.

"Your naught older than twenty, are you, lad?" He asked, causing his red beard to rub against his chest as he leaned over the pull the sac of musket balls closer to himself.

I narrowed my eyes, my defenses rising, "nay, sir."

I watched him carefully as he filled his own action and pockets with musket balls. He better not attempt to send me back. How should he? He doesn't know you ran away. It's for the sake of my country and revenge for what the king did to my family!

"There are quiet a few long faces 'round here, lad. Yours seems to be from more than weariness from the chase." The man remarked, shutting his action, "why is that so?"

"None of your business, old man." I snapped faster than I cared to give a second thought.

I stood, gripping my musket and stomped out of the tent. Stalking over to the edge of camp, I lifted my gaze to the sea that spread out in front of me. The sun shone from behind me as it set, making the water glimmer. Why'd you snap at him?! Tisn't my fault I wasn't raised right. Braydon did what he could, but we more or less raised one another. We hardly had a ma to scold us when we were rude, so why do I care if I don't respect my elders? You shouldn't. There's no reason except to raise his ego.

I ran my hands along my musket, gritting my teeth as I stared at it. I had killed men yesterday; men who were oppressing our freedom and working for the king. Why should I care if they're loved ones grieved? Serves them right. I glared at the city of Boston, to my right, becoming more impatient for the General's orders. Why hasn't he made a move yet? We ought to push them back to England.

"Aiden!" A familiar voice called from behind me.

I frowned, irritated, and turned reluctantly to face my brother, "aye!"

I held my brother's stare evenly as he approached me, ignoring the disappointment in his eyes.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself, leaving a young woman like that, not to mention abandoning your apprenticeship. What t'would Ma say?" He scolded as he always did.

He was eight years older than me and remembered everything about Ma and Father that I had forgotten. I raised an eyebrow.

"I haven't the slightest clue, Braydon. I don't remember anything more about her than how she cried every night." I answered dryly, folding my arms.

Braydon's eyes flickered for a moment, "why are you so full of hate that you abandon your honor?"

"My honor is in avenging our parents, our sisters and baby Harrison. How it should be anything more than that I don't understand!" I stated, stepping toward Braydon, "if I didn't know you better, I'd say you'd forgotten the pain the king put them through!"

Braydon stepped toward my in return, anger flaring in his eyes, "I haven't forgotten, but unlike you, I don't hate."

It tisn't wrong to hate evil. I clenched my fist, "if all you came here to do is scold me like some worried ma, you can leave now, knowing you were unsuccessful."

"Don't disrespect Ma!" Braydon yelled, clenching his fists like a frustrated young boy.

He took a steadying breath, hurt shinning in his stormy eyes.

"If this is what you've chosen, don't come running to me for shelter if you mess up." Braydon whispered, just audible enough for me to hear him.

I watched blankly as my brother turned and stalked through camp and mounted a horse, riding into the sunset. The anxious activity of the siege camp distracted my attention as I pushed aside the guilt that tried to rise in my heart. Who does he think he is, anyway? He's no right to tell me I've disrespected Ma if he won't even lift a hand to assist in vengeance for her. Turning back toward Boston, I watched the outskirts of the town closely. Salty wind whipped around my head, stinging my dry eyes and causing me to narrow them in frustration.  

HEY EVERYONE!  HOPE YOUR ALL HAVING A GOOD WEEK:)  I KNOW THERE ISN'T VERY MUCH ACTION IN THIS CHAPTER, BUT I THOUGHT IT WAS NECESSARY FOR THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE CHARACTERS.  LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THOUGHT OF IT AND PLEASE CONSIDER GIVING IT A VOTE IF YOU ENJOYED:)