Lexington, Massachusetts

June 20th, 1775

Dear Cousin,     

     As you well know, I am employed at a printing press, and I would like to relate to you what exactly we have been printing in lieu of our regular Lexington, Massachusetts news. For, our ink has taken form in our paper in a most ‘revolutionary’ way, and our language, you may say, has taken quite a ‘treason-like’ turn.     

Chapter Seventeen

We both looked through the gate once more. The street was still empty behind us.

“How long will it take to cross the mountains to this side of the City, if we are on the other?” I asked. He answered me slowly:

“Two days if we do not halt and keep a running pace.” I shook my head. I did not think we could spare that much time. Yet we were wasting it now. I looked away from everything, and pictured in my mind the course of the streets within Hethwenthor.

“Walk with your feet on earth, but in your heart be in heaven.” –St. John Bosco        

Gun shots were roaring unceasingly. War had gripped by the waist the city’s walls. It was stifling in the small one-roomed house in which Adelaide had taken refuge in after praying in the chapel. The fire was blossoming to its full flaming power; yet, nay, its light was not bright enough to overcome the terror and sorrow of the injured soldiers, men, women, even children, lying on mattresses and blankets filling the room. Many were the wounded. Many were the gashes, tears, bullet-wounds to be tended.

My companion felt the opening of the gate. It was locked with heavy iron. No one had yet opened it in the dark dawn. I whispered to him hoarsely:

"Is it sturdy enough to climb over?" he tested the gate for sturdiness, but the hinges were weak, and the designs of the iron were sharply edged. He gave an unsure nod.

We looked to each other, then back to the streets. They were empty. No silhouettes of people were seen through the windows. No smoke rose up from the high chimneys. The streets were dead and soundless.

“They are afraid,” I whispered.

“They must be awake, for the death-stroke will come in the night.”

Chapter Eleven

I felt a firm hand upon my shoulder.

“We must get out. They have set more guards in the courtyard.” He steadied me, for I was now shaken when my enemy disappeared. Again, I could feel in my pouch that heavy burning. It made me faint. I nodded wearily and looked into my companion’s shadowed eyes. He did not glance at mine but looked once back again to the courtyard. Together we dashed forwards with our swords drawn to the dark. Towards the Marher we went, while knowing we would not meet him there.

Phorknere

Prologue

The wind was blowing hard and strong, the way all the sailor's on board the great ship liked it.

 A big burly, broad and muscular man stood, legs spread far apart as a manly and confident figure. The captain smiled, proud and glowing with excitement and glee. His child was going to be born! His first baby girl, he was sure.

Oh, thou fellow apricots, I need thy assistence! I know NaNoWriMo is months away, but I want to be ready with my plot, characters, everything. You can tell I'm a newbie, can't you?