I sat on a log on the edges of a river, birds chirping overhead. My shoulder slumped in exhaustion from the risk I had taken and the only thought keeping me from falling asleep then and there was Alexander, with his smiling face and beautiful violet eyes. My horse was drinking hungrily across from me, and I was allowing her all the time in the world to do so: it wasn’t like they could catch up with us now.
We were miles away from camp considering how far and long my horse had run after our encounter with the guards, and from what I’d seen no people sent by Washington had dared to come after us; they all knew there was no way to match our speed. Despite this, I had waited until we were far, far away from White Plains to make a stop for rest and drink, making my horse quite thirsty from the chase and from hauling me on top of her the entire way.
Where we were was a mystery to me. Sure, I knew we were miles away from headquarters, but we were in the woods somewhere, and I knew not if a harbor that could take us to New Jersey was nearby. I hadn’t planned any of this out, just taken to the saddle of a random horse who just happened to be fine with it and ran, causing me to not know where to ride and where to stop. And considering this was the middle of the woods, there was no way there was anyone around here that could offer me directions, and if they were, they were most likely redcoats, which would not be good considering I still adorned my Continental uniform.
My stomach grumbled, causing me to groan. In my fit of rashness I had made sure to bring my hat but had completely forgotten about a necessity such as food. I had even forgotten a simple satchel to place food for the horse in—which so far was only sugar cubes—and her treats sat quite weirdly against my chest in my breast pocket, always reminding me of its presence, making me hungrier and hungrier every time I thought about it.
There was no way I was going to eat some random berry off of a bush, not only because it wouldn’t be filling, but also because it could be poisonous. There also was no way I was going to be able to catch any game, for even with my gun I would most likely misfire and hit my own horse by accident. I sighed in defeat. For once in my life I wished I had paid more attention when my father was teaching me to hunt instead of just petting the horses.
I stood up from the log I’d sat down quite defeatedly on half an hour ago, looking up at the sky. It looked like it was around one in the afternoon, meaning if we began to look for town now we’d most likely get there by four, give or take. I grabbed the horse’s reins and steered her head away from the stream. I offered her a sugar cube before mounting her, making sure she was comfortable with it the whole time. I gave her head a little pat. “All right, girl, we’re going to begin riding again, okay? Just try and find some houses and we’ll stop there.”
She neighed as if she could understand what I’d said and began to gallop. I held her reins tightly as if she would buck me off at any moment, and only one thought occupied my mind: Alexander, here we come.


It was only a few miles more of riding when we came upon a marker and a path in front of it leading… somewhere. I gave out a sigh of relief, happy we weren’t just walking around aimlessly or unknowingly going in circles. I got off of the horse, giving her a sugar cube to remain in place as I cautiously walked over to the sign. I wiped away some of the pollen that obscured the letters engraved in the stone in order to read it. Ticonderoga, New-York. I was in the right place.
Before getting back on the horse I quickly inspected the area. In the trail were hoofprints, leaving me to believe that this was either a popular path or someone had used it recently. I hoped for neither, seeing as it was possible that anyone walking on this path could be British, whether a Loyalist, Lobsterback, or Queen’s Ranger, but I could’ve easily been overthinking it and it was merely just townspeople. After all, the beach of Black Point was quite popular even in times of war.
Besides the trail there seemed to be nothing else of interest. No booby-traps, no items left behind by a killed traveler, no suspicious things in nature that were certainly made by man. I let out a strained sigh of relief. So there was an even bigger chance of the British not frequenting this path.
Slowly, I got back up on my horse, feeding her one last sugar cube. With a click of my tongue and a grip on the reins we were off down the path, but where it led us to I had no clue.