Attack on the Alamo.

Carlos, the hero and a water boy for the Mexican Army. Age: thirteen. Year: 1836. (Please ignore the non-period-appropriate shirt. :D)

Lucas, Carlos' older brother. (Again, please ignore the non-period-appropriate clothing.)

How part of Carlos' world looks.

A bugle blast sounded, startling both boys and Lucas sprang to his feet with a cry. “That’s the signal to attack!”
Carlos leapt to his feet as well, heart pounding furiously in his chest. “Oh Lucas! What are we going to do?”
“Do? We’ll defend the Mexican government! That's what we’ll do!” There was a savage light in Lucas’ eye that hadn’t been there a moment ago, and Carlos suddenly felt sick. Was Lucas going back on his stand against killing?
“Lucas!” he shouted. “You aren’t going to...?”
Lucas shook his head. “Not if I can help it! But I’m going to charge all the same!” He grabbed up his rifle, making sure the bayonet was securely attached. Then suddenly, he turned and crushed Carlos in a hug. “Be safe, little brother,” he whispered into Carlos’ hair.
Carlos hugged him as hard as he could. “You be safe too!” he returned, and slung the string of his water cask over his shoulder. He felt sweat break out on his forehead and swallowed hard. He knew that God would watch over him and his brother. So why did he feel so scared? “Oh Lord,” he whispered hoarsely. “Keep me and my brother safe! Please!” ~ Attack on the Alamo.

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