It was odd, walking the streets of my own time out of my uniform. I’d gone without the red coat before and was unbothered, but something felt different this time. It was as if I’d expected everything to go back to normal as soon as Olivia and I both were here. Instead, it was so starkly different, I felt just as out of place as I had in the other time periods.

Granted, I’d missed almost four years of battles and conflicts in the three and a half months since I left. That was part of the reason I felt so thrown off. The world had changed, progressed even in some aspects, moving on without me. Things that should have been the same were not, and others I’d expected to be different were the same. Overall, I didn’t know exactly what I thought of it.

However, the conflict between the states and Britain was the same as always, boiling and hot as the two sides continued to throw themselves at each other. The military actions were sound and practiced, each move making sense to me. For the first time, I experienced life from the view of a civilian, forced to live through the actions going on around me without any say in the matter.

It didn’t bother me at the start. All our time was spent searching for my portrait. When we finally found it after two months, stowed in someone’s yard as a door for their chicken coop, I couldn’t help my exclamation of relief upon seeing that it was indeed me in the painting. Delivering it to the home where it would stay protected and forgotten until Charlotte picked it up again lifted a great weight off my shoulders. I wasn’t aware of what had caused it to change, but I had faith it would fix itself so long as we were successful in our mission.

The time alternated between fast and slow after that. Our journey to Yorktown was as uneventful as our stay there had been so far. Winter was coming, as well as the siege, and so I’d been out every day, foraging and buying whatever I thought we might need while we waited for the right moment to strike. After a week or so, I knew where the soldiers mostly kept to, and I avoided them like the plague. Thankfully, my identity had remained unknown to those around me.

It was days like today I wished I could be in uniform, though. Several infantrymen were harassing those in the streets, stealing food, one of them in the early stages of malaria. It wasn’t uncommon to see others ill with the same disease, sickness sweeping through the city as the weather began to turn colder. Still, their uncomfortableness was no excuse for the way in which they spoke to others, nor for their treatment of those same individuals. If I’d been dressed to my station, I would have told them so without hesitation. However, wanting to stay hidden from them, I was forced to move on and ignore their unsavory actions.

Shoving my hands in my pockets, I kept my head down, heading for the outer edge of the city. If we were lucky, I would manage another wild pig while hunting. That, combined with what I’d been stockpiling and the items Olivia and Charlotte had amassed, should be more than enough to get us through the fight.

We only had to make sure the hungry soldiers outside didn’t find out what we were hiding.

Weaving through the crowds, I stopped at a few stands, glancing at the picked-over supplies and rations available to purchase. The sight of how little there was made me feel sick to my stomach.

None of these people knew a siege was coming. They had no idea of the danger they were in or the fact that food would soon be scarce. When they thought of rain, it was of water from heaven, not bullets and cannonballs that would spray across the city without end, days and days of the storm, never ceasing until Cornwallis sent out the white flag of surrender. The ground I tread at this very moment would soon be filled with holes, the walls crumbling, smoke rising from the ruins that remained. Bodies would litter the streets, people would flee in terror, cries for help would echo out into the night, until, at last, only the beating of a solitary drum could be heard, marking the end of the hostilities.

The thought of it both frightened and excited me. There was something about knowing what was going to happen that felt thrilling, but also left weight in my chest. How hard it must have been for Olivia when we first met, certain many would die and being able to do nothing about it.

Steeling my nerves, I moved on, snacking on an apple that was somewhat past its prime from one of the vendors. It was easy enough to follow the flow of life here, even if I was preparing for the disastrous future.

“Oye, Bancroft!”

The voice called from a few yards away, my ears instantly picking up and recognizing my name. For a split second, I began to turn, wondering who would call out to me as such, and then I froze, damning myself for giving any recognition away.

“I see you, Bancroft!”

The angry tone of the voice allowed me to place its owner—Smith, the leader of my mess in the Seventeenth Foot.

Cursing, I dropped the apple and ran, shoving through the crowd, turning every which way in an attempt to lose him before he could catch up.

“Stop!” he shouted. “Stop that man!”

Panting, I turned another corner, flying through an open doorway and startling a pair of school children as I rushed through their home and onto the next street. Knowing Smith and his uncanny ability to track people down, I didn’t stop there, though, darting in the opposite direction of the house I was staying in.

If I were caught, at least Olivia would be safe from harm there.

Sliding beneath a cart, I rolled into an alleyway, seeing the path to freedom ahead, the open field outside of town calling to me like a siren.

And then Smith was there, blocking it, his hulking form holding a bayonet and rifle, chest heaving and eyes flashing as he slammed me into the wall next to him.

“Stop right there,” he growled.

Struggling to get away, I tried to wriggle out of his hold, succeeding in getting him to grab my throat.

Squeezing my windpipe dangerously tight, he growled. “Don’t make me shoot you, Bancroft. I’ll do it.”

“I believe you,” I gasped, holding on to his wrist as I went still. “You have my word.”

Jerking his hand back, he glared at me, his frown deepening the longer our eyes remained connected. Taking a moment to really look at him, I was shocked to find he did look older. His uniform now bore the markings of a higher class within the regiment, and he had a scar across his cheek. My studying of him didn’t last long, as he invaded my space as soon as he was ready to speak, almost spitting on me in his rage.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he demanded finally. “You must realize this is the last place you should be as a deserter.” His face twisted between anger and curiosity his free hand forming a fist. “Where have you been? I thought you were dead! I prayed you were, so I wouldn’t ever discover you’d become a turncoat for some woman!”

“I’m not a deserter,” I snarled, straightening my waistcoat with a decisive tug. “And where I have been is none of your concern.”

He grabbed my collar, holding me in place as he continued to glower over the top of me. “You are a soldier in His Majesty’s Army that failed to uphold his position and deserted in the dead of winter.” Glaring, he spat out the next word. “Traitor.”

Giving him a warning look, I struggled to pull away, succeeding in putting a few feet between us in the process. His words had riled me, but I knew keeping calm was imperative if I wanted to get out of this alive.

“My aim is for no trouble,” I stated cautiously. “But I believe you must do as you see fit and just, as a man of honor.”

Smith snorted. “Honor. There is little honor in war, Bancroft. You’d know that if you’d been here to see it.”

“I appreciate that it has not been easy,” I countered.

“You appreciate nothing!” Fuming, he threw his gun on the ground, angrily retrieving something around his neck. When he produced the charm Woodhall had carried for luck, I felt my heart sink.

“After you disappeared, we marched all across these damn colonies. Woodhall was killed at Monmouth. It was so hot that we hadn’t the strength to go back for him by the end of the day and he was eaten by wild animals. Young and Peterson were taken prisoner in the months that followed. I am the only one who survived it all.” Glowering, he shook his head. “I thought you were dead, Bancroft. You should have been dead.” His voice trailed off, a minor hint of sorrow over running into me again in the words. If he had never seen me, we both could have gone on without a conflict arising between us. Now, he was required by law and his sense of honor to act.

Shaking my head, I held my hands up, silently pleading for patience as he reached for his gun. “I cannot explain what happened,” I admitted. “But understand this; I did not intend to desert. Through it all, I worked to return to where I belong. I apologize for the worry I caused—”

“Worry?” He snorted. “I felt no worry for you. You who allowed himself to be captured so he could be with his woman, he who put everything, even his own messmates, behind her. I should have recognized when you left the dance with her that Christmas that I was never going to see you again.”

Bending down, he snatched up his gun, pointing it at me, the bayonet flashing in the afternoon light. “March,” he ordered me. “Or have you forgotten how after all this time?”

Sighing, I faced the street, keeping my hands aloft as I walked out as ordered.

A loud clang sounded behind me, followed by a crumpling body and gun, and I turned, surprised. Where Smith had once stood, he now lay in a rumpled heap, Olivia leaning over him, a heavy pan in her hands.

“He’s breathing,” she muttered in relief, glancing up at me. “But we’d better get going before he wakes up enough to follow.”

Shocked further by her calmness, I stared at her, bewildered. “How did you—”

“It’s a pan, August,” she replied, somewhat cross. “All I did was hit him with it. Come on!”

She grabbed my hand, towing me out of the alley and into a street that felt much more agitated than the one I’d just run through.

“How did you find me?” I questioned, threading my fingers through hers and doing my best to look unobtrusive as we walked as quickly as possible toward our apartment.

“I follow you to the edge of the city every day,” she clapped back, as if she couldn’t believe I hadn’t noticed her actions. “Trying to make sure you weren’t discovered. I knew something like this was going to happen. Thank heavens it was today, out of all the time we’ve been here.”

The statement put me off. Peering at the people around us, I realized they were all frightened and rushing, street shops closing, people running to their homes, shouting to those inside. In my relief and desire to get away from my fellow soldier, I hadn’t been paying any attention to those around me.

“What’s going on?” I asked, moving quickly to keep up with her and glancing over my shoulder periodically to make sure Smith wasn’t following.

“The news barely reached the city,” Olivia replied grimly. “Washington and his troops have arrived in Williamsburg. The Battle of Yorktown is in its early stages.”