[hr][hr][center][img]https://fontmeme.com/permalink/180223/2c68e5895d6c8c2da19878e842ee32a5.png[/img]
[sup]Current Location: Outside Colored Barn, Tackett Farmstead[/sup][/center][hr][hr][color=gray]It had been a warm autumn day.

For the farmhands, Sunday was their only day off during the long work week, yet Andrew had no found himself idle. Whereas many of the farmhands were content in socializing and playing games of cards or stickball, Andrew had always felt a pulling in the back of his thoughts to stay active. Perhaps it was military instinct or plainly a desire to always help out, but regardless, it was why Andrew found himself toiling when he could have been relaxing.

Placing a log on a flat, yet thick stump, Andrew raised his ax and swung downwards. Cracking into two pieces, Andrew picked up the now-broken sections and placed them in a growing stack of firewood. The South was usually one of the warmer places in the States, yet firewood still had its uses, such as being sold or used by the bundle--especially by the colored folk cooking their own southern specialty. Andrew was a white man, yet he was never prejudiced towards his fellow man, even more so when he knew they could take something rather basic and make it overwhelming tasteful.

Pausing for a moment, Andrew dug into his pockets and pulled out a dirty handkerchief. Wiping his forehead free of any sweat brought on by the sun, Andrew found his gaze lingering on those playing stickball, and the thought came to him that he had not yet seen Benji. Whilst Andrew knew it was their day off, he found it hard to consider where Benji would possibly be. The boy was just as much as a hardworker as Andrew, yet he was stil a kid, and could just be as easily goofing off somewhere in the distance.

Setting the ax safely away to where it once had been, Andrew set out to find Benji. He wasn't exactly where he would find him, yet Andrew felt he had an inkling of where exactly the boy might've been. Walking towards the colored barn, Andrew made sure to nod politely to those he passed by, especially his boss' older daughter. Andrew, like many farmhands, had heard the rumors, and even though he wasn't of the judging type, Andrew made sure to cover his bases, lest he happen to end up in the hot seat and a heap of trouble.

As Andrew rounded the corner to the back of the colored barn, he was overwhelmed by the scent of whatever they were cooking. The scent of spice and shrimp loomed from the stew---a luring taste as if it was straight from Louisiana itself.[/color] [color=0027E8][b]"Have any of you seen Benji?"[/b][/color] [color=gray]Andrew asked, his voice louder than how a usual person would speak. He wasn't attempting to be rude, but after losing most of his hearing in the war, Andrew had a hard time judging how loud he was.[/color]