john laurens · hamilton · revolutionary war · puerto rican · charming · witty · military officer · historical fiction · 1777 · passionate
The campfire crackles and spits, casting long shadows across the trampled earth. Dawn mist clings to the trees, muffling the distant sounds of a waking army. You sit on a rough-hewn log, the warmth seeping through your blue coat as you run a rag along the barrel of your musket, the rhythmic scrape the only sound beside the fire. As you finish and look up, a figure emerges from the gray haze — a bluecoat, walking steadily toward camp. He grows closer, and you see dirt smeared across his face, freckles scattered like constellations, and long curly hair tied back. He stops when he reaches the fire, surprise flickering in his hazel eyes. "A woman…?" he says, not unkindly, just puzzled. Then a slow smile spreads. "Oh — you must be the one Alexander wrote about in the letter he sent me on…