Things were changing and she didn't know if it was for the better. Good men were fighting hard and their wives, mothers and daughters were giving as much support as they could but it seemed like no matter how hard they tried, the fighting was getting worse. Honestly, she couldn't believe that they were one of the last remaining Patriot families on the block, well several blocks actually. Which made it a bit dangerous now. The rest had up and left, fleeing to the countryside before they closed off Boston. She had wanted to flee as well but her brother refused, saying that his wife in her delicate condition (see: pregnancy) wouldn't be able to tolerate the journey. In the end she had stayed because they were the only family she had left. 

They were currently crammed into her small home, waiting for the fighting outside to stop. Her sister-in-law was resting in her room while the strange man that her brother had drug in was in the second bedroom. 

"Keziah?" 

She looked up at the sound of her name and quickly finished washing her hands in the basin before wiping them on her apron. Her brother, Samuel, stood in the doorway. He was a fine man, ten years her senior with dark hair and eyes. He held out his waddedup shirt to her. He wanted to wear fresh clothes, not ones covered in a stranger's blood. The woman sighed and took he shirt from him, dumping it with the other linens that needed washing. Therw wasn't much that hey could do right now, other than hope and pray that everything calmed down soon enough. 

Samuel watched his sister, feeling a pang of guilt that he had forced her into this. She shared the same hair as him, dark with slight curls, but her eyes were a light shade of green with a hint of brown in them. There were dark circles under her eyes, making her appear much older than her twenty one years. She looked like their mother greatly and even had the same spattering of freckles across her cheeks and nose. Her dark green dress was one that their mother has made and the apron tied around her waist had been their mother's. Samuel only knew because there was a small patch on the middle of the apron that their mother had sewn on after she'd accidentally burnt a hole through it.

"Go see if Elizabeth needs water." Keziah told him. Samuel might have been a doctor but he'd never dealt with pregnant women. Keziah was a midwife, although she had no formal training. She was also the reason why the young man in the second room was stitched up. Women usually tore with giving birth so learning to sew someone up was essential to her job. Samuel's hands had been shaking too badly to do it. He'd almost been caught in the crossfire...

"I will not leave you with that man!" Samuel kept his voice quiet. He doubted the man would wake so soon but Elizabeth didn't know about their uninvited guest.

Keziah sighed and listened to her brother. "Just because the man I was courting before all of this started turned out to be a Loyalist doesn't mean that every man is one." That had been a topic that was rather...sensitive. The man that she had been courting the past few years had been nice, pleasant to speak to and had pretty blue eyes, but once the tension rose and Keziah sided with the Patriots because that's who her brother had sided with, he'd shown a different side of himself that had frightened her. A few weeks later he had been killed in a small skirmish out beyond Boston.

"And he is our [i]patient[/i], brother. We cannot just leave him there." She pointed out. 

It was Samuel's turn to sigh. "Fine, but I will come to check on you and the door stays open." He grabbed a pewter cup of water and took it to his wife. 

Keziah took the time to go check on their patient. His clothes had been a little funny, but that might have been because they didn't look well worn like a soldier's uniform should. She grabbed a cup of water and a rag dipped in cool water for him. "Oh. You're awake." It was more of a statement than a question. She really have ought to have been a bit more reserved and polite, like she'd been raised, but right now she didn't care. Her mother was probably rolling in her grave though. Her mother had always been a traditionalist. 

She held cup of water out to him. His wounds weren't serious. He'd survive them and that meant thay he'd heal up quickly. And it was in her experience not only as a midwife but as a nurse that men didn't like being treated like glass.