Words and Hatchets- The Lieutenant Fanfic

January 17, 1790

Talbot Silk held his head in his hands, grabbing at his hair. He had snuck out of his barrack and was now drowning in the stars above him. The soothing embrace of the wind did little to calm the pain in his head.

Two paths opened up, both with cracked ground, a thick blanket of fog and ominous sounds in the distance. Daniel Rooke, a man most saw as a traitor and an incurable eccentric but whom Silk saw as a worthy companion, stood on one path. Silk's fellow colonials, birthed in the same country as him and with similar experiences to him, stood on the other. He cared for the people at each track, but knew that he could not walk along both tracks. Once he decided, there was no return.

Silk lied on his back and let the faint light of the stars gallop into his eyes, taking refuge in the stars' simplicity. He found it supremely ironic that he had only understood his friend's obsession with the stars after Rooke had returned to Britain. He was allowed to love all of the constellations equally, and no matter how long he stared at one, he could always shift his gaze to another.

He began to unravel the rope that suffocated the bag beside him, the musket of fate pushing him in the back until he pulled out a hatchet. He peered at the axe, its scratches just barely visible under the moon's grin. It was the colour of the fog that still rested in his mind. Silk marvelled at how an object frequently used for a simple task, namely killing people, was causing him the most strife.

He shoved the hatchet back in the sack and sighed. Perhaps a physical weapon would not lead him down Rooke's path. The noose did not take kindly to those who used weapons. What he really needed was his eloquence to squeeze through the noose like a lithe cat.

His eyes became the size of dinner plates. Surely he should not make such hasty decisions. It would be ludicrous for him to say goodbye to the hard work that led to his rank. The noose existed for a reason- to kill all who did not love their great nation with the same ardor as his brethren.

Did Rooke despise the Empire? Or did his thirst for knowledge lead him down the path of treachery? Silk had read some of Rooke's recorded conversations with a native girl and he was intrigued by the girl's intelligence. Perhaps the Captain could have reasoned with the Natives without a hatchet.

This was their land and they loved it. Silk saw this love with his own eyes, their screams a haunting reminder of why the spear pierced both Brugden’s body and his own mind. He wondered how the Natives punished their own people for not sharing the same love for their land as their brethren. He looked around him at the ground cleared of plants and the tree stump that stood nearby, glad that he was not a Native and therefore free of their punishment. The spear flew through his mind again. Perhaps he was wrong.

Silk stood up and walked into the horizon, unsure where he was going but deciding, with the full awareness that he may be wrong, that this was he path he must take.