Alfred wiped his brow and looked over his small field of tobacco and to the ocean, checking for the large white sails of English ships that would bring Arthur back. He had spent the past few weeks awaiting his brother's return. He returned to his work and reminisced about the past to himself, remembering the first time he had met Arthur. He was just a lad, orphaned and having to live with his Uncle and Aunt. One day they had sent him out to the docks to pick up a case of imported English tea. Alfred got there and handed the money to a man in a British naval uniform. He could remember that they made small talk, but couldn't recall exactly was said. Regardless, the lad had really bonded strongly with the young captain. He had told him his name was Arthur Kirkland, and that he was from London. Arthur had made some comment about how the case of tea would most likely be to heavy for him to carry, then hoisted the crate up and held it by his shoulder. Alfred took a moment to stare in awe of his strength, sanding with his jaw slightly slack. Arthur had smiled and chuckled a bit, using his free hand to pat Alfred on the back, telling him to leaf the way. He grinned like a fool, nodding and tried to walk with the gait that he had seen his uncle use. Arthur had cracked a smile at the lad trying to imitate a man. Thinking back, Alfred estimated that the walk back there had taken roughly two hours. The lad was immediately set on edge by the sight of the house with the doors flung wide open. His uncle usually kept them closed because his Aunt claimed it let in excess bugs, though if it made a difference is anyone's guess. His pace slowed and nearly stopped. The Englishman had noticed the boy's discomfort and set down the tea, his hand going for a pistol that he kept on him just in case. With the reassurance of Arthur, Alfred had walked slowly, almost dropping into a crouch instinctively, towards the open doors. When they got inside he saw his Aunt and Uncle's corpses laying sprawled indignantly out. Their scalps had been removed while they were alive it seemed, judging by the blood splatters. He screamed and collapsed, his knees giving out. He had nearly passed out completely. Arthur had grabbed him and carried him away, not wanting to leave him alone. Arthur had taken him to the place he was staying while he was in the colonies, an inn by the sea. Arthur left him to his own devices while he went and reported their death to the police, when he got back he kept swearing about the French and Indians. Upon hearing the word 'Indian' his eyes filled with tears. He told Arthur of how his father was killed by Indians a few years ago and that his mother died due to complications during his birth, so that his Aunt and Uncle were the only ones that would care for him. He whimpered and wondered aloud where he would go and what he would have to do to live. Alfred had put his hands over his face, bawling into his hands when suddenly Arthur had pulled him into a tight hug. He shushed the lad and comforted him, assuring him that he would take care of him.