This was written for my English class a very long time ago, for the book "The Light in the Forest" and I stumbled upon it while looking through my old documents, and decided to post it up here. The assignment was to write a diary entry from a women in an Indian tribe that was attacked. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this.

Fires - by Cubye4

21, December

It is freezing. The wind is blowing so hard we are all frozen to our bones, even huddled together. The sun had set long before, and that makes the cold seem worse. But at least the children are asleep.

It took a long time to get young Soft Breeze to settle down. He had been screaming since we left, though he did not understand what had happened. I am thankful for that at least.

It had happened so quickly that even now as I look back I can barely make sense of it in my head.

The night had been silent and peaceful, like every night had been. True the feeling of danger had been present, ever since the white men had moved nearby it had been that way. But the feeling had become so dilute it was barely recognizable in the peacefulness. So suddenly I had heard the sound. Quiet at first, it had grown louder. It seemed to be a scream, a shout that penetrated the night. I thought it may have been some of the boys. How the young ones would put up a fight when they were put to bed. I gave thanks that my children were not so difficult, and inwardly cursed the women who could not control their young ones.

The night grew silent again a few moments later and I thought of the incidence no more. Until I heard a wail that still makes me shiver now.

I knew no child could have made that noise. It was the sound of a grown man.

I gasped when I heard it.

Running from the home I was greeted by the cold winds. My hair was blown into my face and my cheeks were kissed with the chill of the winter. The first thing I saw haunts me still.

The night wasn't dark as I had expected, my eyes didn't make sense of the scene at first. I could not understand why it was so light, until I saw.

Fires, fires that seemed to consume all hope, sparks were jumping up to the dark sky. And there were people, so many people.

They were walking together, so closed packed they looked like one. It was not until they stepped into the light of one of the fires that I noticed they were not one of us. They were white men.

I could not move.

White men were here. They were here burning down our homes and, by the sounds of the cries, killing too. But I did not stand there long.

There was a shriek behind me and I turned around to see Sunbeam, my daughter. She seemed to be as scared as I was.

At the look on her startled face I unfroze. "Get the young ones," I ordered and she ran back.

She had found them quickly and met me outside again. Then we ran. I wasn't sure where we were going; all I could concentrate on was getting my children safe.

All around us there were screams and shouts of pain. All my children were crying, and I realized I was too. I felt no remorse for my tears; I was not embarrassed to show them.

It was only once we had run half the night that we stopped; our feet would not carry us any farther. We had gone far enough away that the cries of the night seemed only whispers to our ears.

I then noticed that my husband was not with us. I tried to remember when I had last seen him.

Shadowhead had been sitting outside. Oh, how he enjoyed the stars at night, how they shined against the dark sky. I had not seen him when I had run from the house, I was sure of that. If I had missed him, and he had still been sitting there, he would have called me. But no one besides for Sunbeam had called my name tonight.

And now, as I sit with my children, tired and worn, I look back at our village, now just a glowing speck in the darkness from all the fires, I can only hope that Shadowhead is somewhere safe.

22, December

I managed to get the children up early, and we headed for the nearby village. Entering I could feel the eyes of many upon us, but none of their owners moved forward to greet us. They must have known by our appearance what had happened and gave us space so that we could walk freely.

I led my children to one of the homes, set close by the trees; a friend who was sure to give us a place to stay.

There were shocked when they saw us, and beckoned us in quickly. They fed the children and spoke with me. They agreed for us to stay and shared in my prayer that Shadowhead was safe.

We did not talk long and lay down to rest our feet. But even now, safe in this village, my thoughts are far away….

23, December

We received news this morning. A young boy had run in and told the village, we had all been silent.

He told us of the few who had managed to escape our burning village the other night. He said they had run to Lancaster in order to find a safe place to stay. I had sighed in relief, knowing Shadowhead must have been one of them. But the boy was not finished. Last night the Peshtank Boys (I cursed the name) had gone to Lancaster, in order to finish the massacre they had started. After storming the jail they had killed all of the remaining survivors.

I did not cry when I heard the news, I was strong enough not to.

I knew Shadowhead would have escaped and gone to Lancaster, he was strong and brave.

I walked into the home my children and I were staying at. Sunbeam was sitting with the young ones. They looked so calm, so peaceful. I did not say anything. They would have to tell them sometime, but for now they can at least be thankful for the fact that they had survived and are well.

Yeah, so it's not so great, but as I said before, it was a silly school assignment. Well thanks for reading, review if you have time!