It was not a deep grave. The only marker was Abraham’s musket. The only words my own poor wishes that he and Israel were together in a better place, where there was no war.
If there were other rebels in the town – ones with murderous intent, anyways – their rough handling as the regiment moved through, followed by the whole of V Corps, had dissuaded them of making any more mischief. We left Prince Edward Courthouse behind after dark, and we jogged down the road in the quiet shadow of night.
The woods sighed. A brief rain shower slicked the road some, turned the green leaves to brief silver in the weak moonlight. But that was all that troubled us.
Throwing Words at the Stars 