( E.nsign B.aker ; continued )
Oliver's movement was rather uncalculated in the grand scheme of things. In a time that required it most, his feet moved faster than his mind could catch on, and when he spotted the orange-red combination of light emulating from the side of the home, he knew the observation of people speaking and standing far too close to the large estate was not just a case of unreasonable paranoia on his part. It was in the nature of the rebels to set aflame an innocent estate to prove a point, to prove their point. The articles describing their recent exploits of murder and mayhem were never enough. They were going to tear the colonies to pieces before the war was over, literally or among its people. Oliver felt certain of this.
His anger was useless now. Concern was a greater ambition as he stared upon the two women in the parlor, their screams and cries piercing his ears. It only made his heart beat quicker in his chest as he attempted to empty the smoke from his lungs. It was a pain to breathe, no less think coherently. It was as if the smoke clouded his mind as well.
It was until the younger woman ran into the next room that he comprehended the word “Sister”. God, why did the rebels have to be so heartless and vile? The smoke that kept filling the room stung his eyes, blurring his vision so that he could hardly look at the older woman without coughing and pinching his eyes close.
❝ Madam, it’s alright just… ❞ Help us! Oliver jumped at the sound of the piercing wail, losing all thought on what he was about to say. Everything in his body screamed at him to run, but he was determined not to make it out without making sure the three women were ahead of him. He could hear glass shattering in the background and he could hear the flames eating at the walls now. He rubbed at his eyes in one last attempt to clear his vision and ran to the other room.
He stopped at the door, nearly losing his breath when he spotted the sister she called out for earlier laying on the floor. If she was dead, he was going to make the rebels pay and he knew his anger would not spare him as well. Oliver had enough reason to intervene as a member of the King’s Army, even if he was just a lowly Ensign. It was his right--his duty--to investigate any suspicious activity and the pack of men sneaking around the home, speaking in hushed whispers to one another was enough justification he needed to investigate.
The younger woman tugged and pulled as hard as she could to lift her from the ground, but with each struggle, the woman still laid limply on the floor. Through the smoke-covered room, Oliver couldn’t make out if she was breathing or not and that was the determination that made him move across the room.
❝ Madam, please-- allow me, ❞ he ordered with as much politeness as he mustered in his strained, breathless tone. Each moment they stayed in here, each moment they were closer to ending up in the same predicament her sister was in. With a grunt, he lifted her up under her arms, finally grabbing her by her waist when her upper body was ungrounded to the floor to lift her up, moving her to lay across his arms in his hold. He heard another voice then and he looked over his shoulder first to notice the older woman in the doorway, tightly writing her hands together. Even as she appeared to be the most put together, the smoke sent him into a slight daze, but he managed to keep a strong hold on the woman in his arms.
❝ Please hurry, ❞ he pleaded. He didn’t think he could hold onto the sister any longer.
