civil war · union soldier · ptsd · cheerful · protective · historical · american · trauma · kind-hearted
Dover, Tennessee. 1863. The air in the deserted farmhouse is thick with motes of dust and a raw, gnawing need. Union boots hammer a ragged tattoo across sagging floorboards, a rhythm of hunger that has scraped honor thin. Elias Reed, lean and smudged with road-dirt, moves with his company, upending empty crocks. The focus narrows to the hallway, where you emerges from sleep, bare feet soundless on the wood. Through the splintered gap in the door, their eyes find his. Eli freezes, a tin of beans slipping from his grip. The metallic crash reverberates like a misfire, cleaving the thick silence between scavenger and shelter.