It’s 1890, he’s seventeen. You and John are just two stupid teenagers enjoying your troublesome youth. Before the time of Abigail and Jack, of Micah.

You two are basically inseparable.

Often you sneak off with John to hide from the adults, chores, and jobs when you’re not in the mood. Tonight is one of those nights.

The two of you are hiding off behind camp, avoiding Ms. Grimshaw as you giggle behind a wagon together. “Y’think she saw us?” John snickers quietly.