One Big Mistake

The Hessian felt his own face droop in surprise when he heard what the wench had said.
He was not the only one whose expressions suddenly gave way; shock and bewilderment had clearly flashed in each of the leaders’ faces, but he was the first to sober when he felt their eyes fall upon him. Their glares, both accusatory and amused, made his blood simmer, but somehow he couldn’t feel the same for the wench that caused it.

So she knew. He thought, as he stared at the girl’s back. She knew he was accusing her of having an alliance with the rebels, and before he could even give any damning evidence, she immediately turned the tables into her own favor.
Clever girl. He mused grudgingly; yet he smirked nonetheless, But let’s see if you can convince these fattened schweine.
As for the leaders, Commander and Lord Westmorland was the first from his surprise. A small round man with hands as small and chubby as a baby’s, he studied the girl before him from the top of her dark head to her only shoe. He assumed she lost the other in the woods during the chase; he made a mental note to look for it once he had the chance.
“Did he now?” Westmorland asked, raising an eyebrow at the corporal, “Whatever you were doing, in the woods? Certainly a…a…girl like you would find it dangerous, especially in this late hour?”
The girl stiffened; he had to pretend to wipe his mouth with a hand to cover his smile. Indeed, he thought, Care to try to explain?

“I d-d-don’t know myself.” She stammered, fidgeting and twisting as she spoke. The Hessian made a disparaging snort, even the most scatterbrained of his troops could produce a better lie than that. It was then did the wench made a sudden jolt, as if some idea worth remembering had flared up inside her.
“It was all of a sudden!” She choked, her hand flew up to her head, clutching at the side. “I remember falling, falling and hitting my head on something—then came this…this dark…ness! After that I woke up in the woods, only that I didn’t know it was the woods until now, I thought it was a forest, I was scared—frightened—that I could never get out. But after I woke up,” She ducked her head, smothering what sounded like a sob. The leaders, each of them, leaned forwards in response, only to jerk back when her face jumped back into view.
“I couldn’t remember a thing.” She said in a wavering voice, “How would you feel if—“

“Stop!” Cried Westmorland; thrusting up a hand at her face. “Look there, into her mouth, to her teeth!”

Her teeth. Westmorland’s sudden interruption harked back to what the Hessian had seen himself. Even though the moment had been brief, thinking about it even more made the Hessian realize how extraordinary the wench really was. The strange clothes were one thing; they could be easily replicated and made by the finest tailors nonetheless. But the teeth…how could it even be possible?
He watched as the group of leaders rushed forward to observe. Dutifully, he quickly stepped in after them, and took hold of Daredevil’s reins, stroking the side of his head to calm him. He was always aloof from anyone but him, and he didn’t like being surrounded by those who are strangers to him.
“Be still…” He crooned under his breath, “It will not take long.”
Daredevil jerked his head away at first, he could imagine their entrapping presence was overwhelming, but, an intelligent horse he was, the influence of his master reassured him to stay immobile, as the leaders stared and pointed at the girl.
“Are they even real?” Westmorland asked, “Get that girl down! I can’t see!”
“Wait, no—hold on a second--!” The whiny, annoying voice was suddenly cut off when the wench was dragged physically off of the saddle.

Jodi staggered on her feet as she was dumped unceremoniously on the dust. She grimaced as searching eyes and fingers poked at her face, as if she were a weirdo for God’s sake!
“Open your mouth!” came an order, she didn’t know who it was that said that, so she answered to them all.
“Why don’t you ask nicely?!” She bit back, pushing herself back, away from the wall of men that stare at her so indignantly. Even though her back soon hit the horse she kept on pushing, subconsciously trying to make some space between herself and them.
The fat one raised his eyebrows at her, “Ask?” He exclaimed, as the others followed her, “You want us to ask you to open your mouth?”
“Her speech is most outlandish!” Painted Lips said, tipping her chin up with a finger. She didn’t see it coming, and when she did, she found herself with a hand latching onto her jaw.
“Now, now, miss…” One of them soothingly said, “Just unhinge that jaw of yours so we could look inside.”
Oh, the hell with it. Jodi obliged, staring up at the skies to avoid their prying glances, searching through her mouth as if she were a horse. She never liked, and never had, anyone getting too close to her. But now she hardly had any personal space between them. However, she tried hard not to think about it. Instead she found herself staring up at the sky, not wanting to meet any of them in the eye, as they looked down on her, or in Fat Man’s case, look up, waiting for the whole procedure to be done.
A moment of silence passed through the group. Finally, the hand had let go of her chin. Standing up, she rubbed her mouth vehemently with a back of a hand. Despite of herself, she found herself staring at the men with the corner of her eye. They were standing in a solemn silence, sharing a message amongst themselves through their glances. Whatever the message was, she hoped it wasn’t threatening for her part. She knew there were no such things such as braces, toothpaste or even mouthwash, so she hoped that such unnatural teeth like her own, would not condemn her as a witch. She knew from what little she had learned from her history classes that people back then tend to use whatever excuse to show that their victim was a witch, be it birth marks or even red hair.
“So what do you think?” Painted Lips said, nervously fidgeting the pretty lace edging just peeping out of the sleeve of his uniform. One of them, an older man with spectacles, although one of the lenses was peculiarly painted black, spoke to the fat one.
“I’m quite shocked to say that her breath is very sweet. She must have been feasting on chocolates of some kind.”
Fat Man perked up, “Chocolates?! Are you sure?” He asked, incredulously. Jodi unconsciously touched her mouth. Oh yeah, she had been munching on a Snickers bar before she went to bed. Chocolate was ungodly expensive back then, after tea that is. The thought made her smile, well, this is getting better and better.
She watched with delight as Glasses confirmed this, and as the conversation quickly led to whether they should take her to a specialist, perhaps a surgeon. It seemed the fat one wasn’t entirely convinced that her teeth were even real.
“I cannot agree with you.” Painted Lips said politely, “I was right next to her, m’ lord, and I could see that her teeth, although very white, were very much firmly placed on her gums.”
The horse behind her snorted and stomped his left hoof, narrowly missing her own foot. Stepping gingerly away from him, she caught a glimpse of the horseman’s face, looking over the saddle as the men argued and discussed amongst themselves. With the shifting of the shadows, and the golden light emitted by the fire, his face didn’t look half bad. Still sinister, but the light playing on his face softened his features, making his skin glow softly.
Jodi was shocked at the thought. She mentally shook herself. What the hell was she doing? Ogling at a killer with an interest for sex?
She snorted, it’s probably the tiredness that’s on her now, she reasoned, it’s messing up my brain.

The Hessian strained his hearing to listen, watching the leaders with rapt attention, as they talked, interested with their findings from the mysterious wench. Truthfully, he was disappointed for their lack of action on the girl. He was waiting for them to arrest her, to rid her of her ridiculously outlandish presence. She was the cause of a lot of skepticism he was now feeling of this strange land, and was also the reason why he couldn’t get on with his own life and business. Daredevil stomped his hoof again, the waiting now taking a toll. Brushing a hand against the horse’s neck, the Hessian looked up again, and was startled to find the wench looking at him.
Normally no one ever looked at him in the eye. Most of the men he had to train often looked down to their own feet, only stare at him scared shitless whenever he screamed in their faces or ordered them to spar with him. The women barely even look at him, even the ones he fucked turned their faces away, during the act or whenever he happened to pass them by. It was only the leaders that often dared to look at him, and normally he used every effort to stare at them down, often with much success. But they always try to remind him back of their superiority.
It was only those with bad intentions that look at him in the eye, the men he cut down during the battles in which he constantly threw himself into. You had to look into the eyes of your opponent; it was the only way to find the state of the mind of the enemy, and ultimately, his weakness.
Over Daredevil, the Hessian shot the wench a mean look. She blinked for a couple of times; he could have sworn through her eyes that she contemplated looking away, but suddenly…
She actually smiled at him! In one bold glance her lips abruptly curled up in a childish and crafty grin, her dark eyes boring on him in a mocking glare.
The Hessian was left shaken as the girl quickly turned away, allowing him to glower at the back of her head with a fierce hatred that now surged inside him. Damn her! Her weirdness was becoming even more annoying than he anticipated.
What game was she playing at now? He thought resentfully, she was making him feel at unease, and he knew it was due to the fact that he was powerless to find out. He hung his head, cursing himself. Damn, he should have stayed in the woods and waited for her to regain consciousness. Of course, that would expose him to the enemy that may be still lurking nearby, but at least he could interrogate and found her out himself.
This time he had enough; he flicked his gaze at the leaders. They were still talking about the possible origins of the girl. They were going nowhere. He could see that that they had soon resorted to joking and laughing at the matter, as if it was some new parlor game for them.
His lips curled back, disgusted. He stepped around his steed, treading towards the group of men that surrounded the watching wench. He smiled when he caught the sight of fear in her eyes.
He didn’t waste time in approaching them.
“My lords.” He said, pronouncing these two words as best as he could. He hoped it sounded gentle and submissive. It felt strange to him in his ears.
“Would you like to hear my side of the tale, as to what had happened when I encountered her?” He asked. The girl stiffened her posture, watching him with wider eyes. He nodded to her, still smiling. He was enjoying this already.
The Lord Westmorland’s voice was cool, devoid of any telltale emotion.
“By all means, Corporal”, He said, “It would be very useful if you do so, especially when you have yet to explain as to what you were doing there, considering how you disobeyed us.”
“Ah, yes.” The Hessian admitted, unfazed by his superior’s words, “I was training, my lord, but rumor had it that there were spies skulking here, and I felt it was my duty to inspect our…surroundings.”
“We could send men to patrol ourselves.” Lord Shaddingham interrupted, his better eye searing at his face. The Hessian drew at Lord Shaddingham with a cold blue glance, and the lord quickly looked down, taking a sudden interest in inspecting his strange glasses.
“Of course,” The Hessian agreed, turning to face Westmorland, “I was aware of this. But I understood that at the time, most of you were preoccupied with other things, that with today’s skirmishes, managing new recruits…I decided to leave my men to train by themselves, and see if there were indeed American spies under our noses. Since I knew the land well, I thought I would do a better service.”
The Hessian stopped in his speech, inspecting the reaction of his audience. Shaddingham was still rubbing busily the lenses of his glasses, while General Pomery and the effeminate baron of Swabia shared knowing glances. The wench stood between them, waiting as she hugged herself. Looking down at Westmorland, his expression was deadpan.
“Go on.” Said the noble, crossing his arms.
“I found nothing close by, but when I rode towards the woods in the west, the brushes bore signs of disturbance. Following the damage I heard voices, loud voices, and thus I was led to the sight of a group of rebels, amongst them was the girl—“
“They’re holding me down.”
The Hessian stopped, his next awaiting words dying in his throat. He had no need to wonder who was the miscreant that interrupted him. All eyes fell upon her.
She seemed to almost shrink under their gazes. “They were holding me down.” She said weakly, quickly casting her own eyes downwards to avoid the men.
“I bumped into them in the woods, trying to find a way out, they…knocked me down. They thought I was a witch or a spy. I dunno why.”
Had she had been different, scheisse, had the situation been different, he would have shut her up for her gall in interrupting him. It was a feeble move she performed, he knew, trying to prevent him from painting her as an enemy in his story. But it was what she said that had quieted him. If her little fib of amnesia was true, then everything else she had said seemed to fit into his own testimony; the reason why she was on the ground, why all of the youths had been clamoring, why that boy lingered behind with her…
“You must be terrified.” Westmorland exclaimed, although his monotonous voice was far from sympathetic. The girl perked up, oblivious to the truth of the noble’s words.
“Yes, I was!” She put it plainly, nodding. Her big eyes shone with hope as she searched Westmorland’s expression. “I thought I was gonna get killed!”
The Hessian shook his head, her language was becoming so fast-paced and confusing that it was hard to keep track at her words. “Sir?” He asked, trying to divert his superior’s attention back to him.
“Ah, yes.” Westmorland drawled; he staged a yawn, covering his open mouth with a hand. “Corporal, I am afraid it is too late to continue this discussion. Why don’t you send me a report in the following day?”
“My shifts commence at night.” The Hessian said indignantly, but the noble was far from listening, he was already walking away, with the rest of the leaders following after him, herding the girl along with them as they went.
Now what was he on about? His inner voice snarled. He had always disliked the Lord Westmorland, a character much too shifty for his liking, and especially when he had dismissed him in this way.
A soft nudge poked him in the back. It was Daredevil, the only being that ever made sense to him now. He looked over his shoulder, staring at the black eyes of his steed.
Let us make leave. He seemed to say, and it was the best idea he had heard all day.
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Wandering Thought: Not at all the best chapters I had written, I admit, but I cannot think of a better way to write it, sadly. Unfortunately, I got into a situation where I had no idea how to get from one point to another in this tale, and have this urge to get this moment over with. Sorry if it was bad, but I promise the next update will be better. In the meantime, thanks for reading! ^^