*A swamp, somewhere in Maryland, late 1700s*

Ethel’s breath came in ragged waves as she slumped under the tree she was using as cover. The fire in front of her provided no warmth, no solace. Not even the cup of coffee delivered to her by the handsome one, Roland, provided any comfort.

“So.” Roland’s voice was thick with an England accent. “I take it, young miss, that you’ve only recently turned, have you not?”

“W-what am I?” Ethel ...