• BOOM!
    I froze instantly as my heart lurched within my chest. John Smith sat on his stack of hay, eyes now open and glaring, as smoke trailed away from the flintlock he'd just fired. The damn drunk just tried to kill me!
    "You shouldn't go sneaking up on a man while he's sleeping, boy." Smith stated, retracting his flintlock back to the confines of its holster. "Especially if he's a former soldier."
    CRACK!
    A large piece of splintered wood collapsed behind me, leaving a gaping hole in the barn wall. I gulped and sweated at the sight. That could've been my head.
    "God dammit!" Smith swore as he rose angrily from his seat made of hay. He glared at me more ferociously than before, which was the same as giving me a basic death sentence. My heart was on the verge of collapse. "Look what you made me do now. Damn brat."
    I attempted to excuse myself and apologize for the trouble, just like Mr. Wallis taught me, but Smith stomped forward and blocked my path. I readied myself for a possible fight, unsure of my own skills outside of training, but I didn't even get the chance. Smith's hand flew forward and he got a vice-like grip on my collar, raising me off my feet and slamming me into the rough wooden wall with a force that knocked the air clean out of me.
    "What the hell do you want anyway?" Smith breathed menacingly into my face. I'd have commented about the unruly stench of liquor in his breadth if my life wasn't in obvious danger at the time. It wasn't the best situation for witty remarks. If I lived I promised myself that I'd do two things: Ask out Annette and steal Crowsen's money, or at least his cane. Of course, with my luck, things were more likely to get worse than better.

    To Be Continued...