I. Snakes in the garden,

I blame all of this on TintedGreen

Been planning a separate storyline from Drøhalsen with a few of my Drakehests, and I bet you can already guess what it will be about. Now my Drakehest stable is set in 1760, I already have plans on how they'll overlap thought Not giving any other information about what's to happen <3 This image is featuring 2769 Brandywine and a rider whose name is currently unknown. Without further ado...




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"There's snakes in the garden. Blood on the vines.
Every time I slip away
It feels like a crime
Hush
Underneath the shadows
The aching grows
The beam of the moon is all you have now.
Hush, soul for sale
There's ropes in the hallway
Scars in the silver
I know there will come a day
When red runs the river"

Hush -- Joy Williams & Matt Berninger

Road South out of New York City, New York
September 21st, 1776

Heaven or Hell? Luckily for him, it was an easy choice.

He was nothing more than a civilian escaping the city before it fell to flames; the very way Rome had fallen to ashes. If New York was Rome, than wouldn't that make this very man Nero? He gave a witty smile, spurring his horse further into the dark. Emperor, oh how he loved the sound of that name. Yet he did not want to be King, no, he put that responsibility the hands of someone else. He was just doing his duty as a man loyal to his cause.

But God, this was war, and he was a man in civilian clothes. Loyalties meant nothing.

With nothing more than the clothes on his back and a pack full of food he was purely an innocent man fleeing from the city. His father was a merchant, England born and raised but found his calling in the city of York. He had family in His Majesty's Army, enough to fill a company. The man still chose to be a loyal subject, inviting British officers to dine at his table after they marched into the city. They dined at the very table that now was only ashes. The plates fallen to the floor, the imported curtains set ablaze. Ashes.

That man was no father of the lone rider, and both of them knew the truth. The lone rider had no family, he always said they died of smallpox and that was indeed the truth. It took away his three brothers and one sister, yet they had lived a long life; he said nothing about that. The loyalist merchant had no sons and took in the lone rider out of pity. The least he could do was provide room and board to a loyalist traveling in the city in look for work, right? It was his duty to God, did he think naught? 

Faster and faster he spurred his horse as they disappeared into the night. The only source of light was the flames of the city and lanterns lighting houses. The lone rider was tired, his eyes slowly closing. He could not stop riding, as much as he wanted to stop and rest for the night. He needed to get out of the city...he needed to get back too..

"HALT!" Cried a voice from the darkness. The lone rider nearly fell from his horse at the voice, and turning his head he saw no persons in the shadows. Digging his heels into his steed's side he prayed he was only hearing things. By God he prayed.

"This is an order from a Captain of His Majesty's Army. I command you to HALT." Came the voice again, leaving the rider no choice but to halt.

"By God Captain, I thought you were a damn rebel." If the Captain could see the lone rider's expression he'd gaze upon a smirk but luckily it was dark enough he could see little of his face. 

"Why are you here? I need to see your papers." Called the Captain, making no comment to the man.

"Do you not see the city in flames? I fled as soon as I could." He immediately saw the wrong in his words, and the Captain gave a glance back to his men. 

"You must've left quite some time ago, why the flames started this morning with just a house fire. Surely you did not think that would destroy your home Mr....Mr...."

"Mr. Bradshaw." The lone rider gave no other answer, his eyes narrowing towards the Captain's.

"Mr. Bradshaw you are under arrest per orders of General Howe. You will be questioned and if innocent released. Men," The Captain waved his hand to the patrol around him and quickly they advanced, muskets raised. 

"Captain Jonathan Grey your name isn't? Your wife is...Lucy is it not? You come from Suffolk." The lone rider gave another grin before pulling his own pistol, the Captain's eyes wide.

"I demand you drop your weapon, shoot him!" Quivered the voice of the Captain.

"I don't take orders from men of His Majesty's Army." A shot fired from the lone rider's pistol, causing his horse to lurch back into the night. He could here the remaining soldiers load their muskets to fire but the rider had already turned off road into the forest. The name he gave would lead the soldiers back to a merchant in New York, but the man had no sons. 

The papers would write the Captain Grey died September 29th of unknown causes, yet the lone rider had now caused those papers to say September 21st. Eight days could change a lot. 

Bradshaw continued through the woods, he was just another civilian escaping the town. He did not know anyone by the name of Jonathan Grey. He was the only son of a New York merchant. He was a faithful believer in the King, a man whose name was George.

WC: 831


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