Isaiah's POV:            

I threw the ax at the chopping block, missing my mark by two inches. Agh! Why can't I hit my mark?! Jerking the ax out of the stump I backed up and swung it again, this time watching it land in the ground a foot away from the stump. I clenched my fists and glared at the ax. God, why did any of this have to happen? Couldn't the king just suck his pride up and listen to us?

Letting out an frustrated breath, I took the ax out of the dirt and leaned it against the chopping block. I scooped up a couple pieces of dry wood and made my way to the kitchen door, fumbling with the knob until the door finally swung open.

The house was quiet, as it had been when I first woke up that morning. I know she's injured, but shouldn't she be starting on breakfast? You aught to be ashamed of yourself, Isaiah. Sophine's exhausted and you are more than capable of making breakfast.

"Good morning." Mr. Johnson greeted from the doorway to the hall.

I glanced at him as I let the few pieces of firewood fall into the wood box.

"I trust you slept well, sir." I mumbled half-heartedly, closing the door to the backyard.

"Thank-you for letting me stay the night, however I have to be going." He continued, catching my disinterested gaze.

As long as he stays away from Sophine and Lisa. I nodded.

"Certainly. I won't be keeping you here, sir." I answered as politely as I could manage, giving him my full attention as I leaned against the counter.

"Thank-you again and good day." He told me, leaving the kitchen.

A couple seconds later, I heard the front door open and close. He'll most likely walk to wherever he's going, or buy a horse from Mr. Kings. It's none of my business how he gets around. You better get to making breakfast. I let out a breath as I bent to open the black stove to make sure there was a fire burning inside.

Only glowing red coals remained. I placed the couple pieces of firewood, which I had just brought inside, into the coals and reached for the matches, that were always next to the wood box. I lit one and set the dry wood into flames.

"Sophine's alright?" Samuel sleepily asked, from the kitchen doorway.

"Aye." I confirmed, shutting the stove door and glancing at my younger brother, "she returned late last night. I'm making breakfast; go feed the horses."

Leaving me in silence again, Samuel sleepily stumbled outside, shutting the door behind himself.

Sophine's POV:

            My eyelids fluttered open, resulting in momentary blindness from the morning sun as it streamed into my bedroom window. I'm home. Perhaps everything twas' only a nightmare. I attempted to throw my blankets off of myself, but halted as pain shot through my arm from my shoulder.

Realizing I was still in my dress from yesterday as the pain in my shoulder returned, I groaned. Of course it wasn't a nightmare, but reality. I gritted my teeth against the throbbing pain and pushed myself out of bed, glancing down at my tattered dress. Must clean up, make breakfast and see that Braydon-Mr. Johnson, gets a proper ride back to wherever he's going. I took a deep breath made my way downstairs.

"Where's Samuel?" I asked Isaiah as I entered the kitchen.

"Feeding the horses." He cracked an egg, letting the contents plop into the pan next to three others.

"I need some water to wash up with." I sat down in the closest chair around the table.

"I'll get it for you." Isaiah sighed, "watch the eggs. And Mr. Johnson left in case you were wondering."

He picked up two wooden buckets on his way out the kitchen door and sent a tired glance back to me over his shoulder. I watched the door shut behind him, tears welling up in my eyes. Isaiah, I'm sorry. I don't know how to help you; I can't even help myself!

I let the hot tears roll down my cheeks as I clutched the tablecloth. ...the eggs. Standing up, I glanced at the eggs and walked over to the stove as I wiped my tears away and cleared my vision. I flipped the four eggs, one by one, numbing my brain to the best of my ability, while still knowing I'd have to have a good conversation with Isaiah when he came back. And what of Samuel? How's he taking Father's death? I blinked back the tears at the thought of Father and focused on the eggs.

Isaiah's POV:

             I shoved another bite of my egg into my mouth, glancing across the table at Samuel. Sophine had washed up and changed before we had all sat down to eat our small breakfast.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you about the revolution work." She spoke, breaking the silence.

I dropped my fork onto my plate and leaned back in my chair, "why do you see a need to apologize? Father told you not to tell us, did he not?"

Sophine's eyes glistened for a second as she swallowed the last bite of her egg, "Aye, but I still should've told you two."

Of course, she would apologize in attempt to break the ice. How can she be so perfect while I can hardly do anything right? I hesitated.

"I forgive you." Samuel told her, putting a hand on her arm, "I'm just glad your alright."

Forgiving my sister in my mind, I stood and collected the dishes, "Then I suppose this matter tis' settled. What of the store? Do you plan on reopening it come Monday?"

Sophine met my gaze for a second before nodding.

"Aye. I'm sure you could take your apprenticeship from me." She smiled.

I nodded, returning her smile and placed the dishes in the wash basin, "Samuel, tis' your turn to wash."

"There is one other thing we need to make an agreement on." Sophine started; I glanced at her as she continued, "the church will want to insure our safety, so in order to keep things the way they are, I will have to make it known that I will take care of the both of you until you are of age, tomorrow after the service."

I gulped. We must move on. Without Father, or Mother. Sophine is the oldest and for the sake of appearances, she's right. I sighed and nodded.

"Aye, tis' best." I agreed, glancing over at Samuel to see him nod in agreement as well.

Sophine's POV:

              As the evening drew to a close, Lisa, Isaiah and Samuel took me to Father's grave. Biting back tears, I knelt on the soft dirt and stared at the tiny wooden cross someone had planted at the head of Father's grave. Father! I know your in a better place now, but I want you to be here! Everything's harder without you! I let my tears spill down my cheeks and a sob escape my lips.

Tender hands wrapped around my shoulders and I glanced up to see Lisa kneeling next to me. I rested my weary head on her shoulder, letting the pain in my wounded shoulder numb my mind. God, please, help me!

Where would I be without Lisa's support? Thank-You, God, for putting her be in my life. I took a shaky breath and opened my eyes. Lisa helped me up, while keeping her arm around me all the way home. Everyone was silent. The sun set below the horizon. God, please help me to be strong, not only for my brothers, but for everyone in the colonies who are going to fight for our home. Help me to let go of Father, but to remember everything he taught me and put it into practice. Help me make him proud.

I took a shaky breath and returned Lisa's embrace. Isaiah hurried ahead and opened the door for us. I gave him a small smile of gratitude. He's the gentleman Mother raised him to be. What of me? I must make Mother proud as well. I stepped away from Lisa.

"You'll be at the church service tomorrow?" Lisa asked.

"Aye." I sighed, glancing between my brothers for confirmation.

They both nodded.

"Sleep well, then. I'll see you all tomorrow." Lisa made her way across the village green.

Catching Isaiah's gaze as he stared after her, I noticed they were brimming with tears. I furrowed my eyebrows in concern and stepped toward him.

"Isaiah?" I whispered.

He dropped his gaze and motioned for Samuel and I to enter. We did so. God, is Isaiah alright? Nay, he tisn't. How could I not have seen it before? He's hurting more than Samuel or I.

"Isaiah, what is it?" I inquired, placing a hand on his shoulder as he closed the front door.

Hesitantly, he met my eyes with an unreadable expression.

"We're together so that we can help one another." I reminded him.

He leaned back onto his heels and simply returned my stare. He's not going to tell me. He doesn't trust me anymore, what did I do? I squeezed his shoulder lightly and turned away into the kitchen, leaving him with Samuel.

           I shut my papa's bedroom door behind me as I entered his room. He lay still on the double bed in the center of the room, perspiration dripping down his forehead.

"Are you feeling any better, Papa?" I asked, making my presence known to him.

"Nay, my dear." He groaned, "has Aiden returned?"

I walked over the side of the bed, taking his glass from the bedside table, intending to refill it. And to think I thought Aiden was a respectable young man. But, nay, he not only leaves Sophine to be escorted by his reckless-looking brother, but doesn't return to his responsibilities. My lips tightened.

"Nay." I almost let the detest slip into my tone, "I'll return shortly."

I left Father's room and hurried through the hall, down the stairs and into the kitchen. Glancing toward the door to the blacksmith shop, a flashback of a morning only two days ago entered my thoughts. Sophine had been giving Father ammunition. Must've been in her pockets; I always did wonder why she preferred such large pockets. Why hadn't she entrusted me with the secret she carried? And now Mr. Liston is dead and Father is wounded.

Swiftly swallowing a sob, I wiped my teary eyes and regained my composure. I filled Father's glass with the dipper from the water barrel. Taking the full glass up to the master bedroom, I resolved not to cry.

Sophine's POV:

          Laying on my good shoulder, I stared out the dark window, watching the stars shine. Father's death must be hitting Isaiah harder than I thought. How can I help him? He didn't even offer Mr. Johnson a sandwich for his journey. Where was he going anyway? I wonder if I shall ever see him again. Would he go after Aiden? But Aiden won't listen.

I attempted to roll over to my other side, but stopped as pain shot through my arm. Squeezing tears out of my eyes, I stilled on my back, staring at the ceiling. Does Aiden have enough sense to keep his wound clean? Or even stop for the night? Bray-Mr. Johnson must be going after him. Someone needs to keep him from doing something to hurt himself. I narrowed my eyebrows. But why should Braydon want to look out for Aiden after how Aiden treated us yesterday? Twas' it only yesterday?

I groaned, realizing my thoughts were simply chasing one another in circles as Lisa crossed my mind again. Why didn't I tell her about the ammunition? It tisn't as if she t'would have been more of a target of the king's wrath if she had known. You didn't want to believe that it t'would come to bloodshed. Yet, I should have told her. My shoulder began to throb and the pain took over my thoughts as I rolled back onto my good side and concentrated on sleeping.

         Dressed in a blue dress, which had been my Mother's, I forsoke my black morning gown, determined to keep fighting the war Father had died for. I pressed my lips together in a thin line as I pinned up my abrun hair on my head. I must focus on the task at hand. Father wouldn't want me wasting away grieving for him. I'll miss his challenging stare and strong support daily, however I have to keep going.... God, please help me to not break this resolve.

I frowned at myself in my vanity mirror, wondering if I t'would really be able to keep up my detirmination. Nay, you won't, not thinking like this. You shall move on. God is your strength; Nothing else is dependable. I took a deep breath, stood and straightened my skirt before hurrying downstairs to start a Sunday breakfast. 

HEY EVERYONE!  THANKS FOR READING!  DO YOU THINK I'M CHANGING POVS TO MUCH OR DO YOU ENJOY FLIPPING FROM CHARACTER TO CHARACTER?  IS THERE A CHARACTER YOU WOULD LIKE TO SEE A POV FROM OR A CHARACTER YOU DON'T THINK NEEDS A POV?  LET ME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK!:)  PLEASE CONSIDER VOTING IF YOU ENJOYED:)