A/n – chapter 5 ! amazing ! Never stayed this interested in a story before ! thank you reviewers but I need more ! if anyone has any suggestions, I am open to hear them. Should Robin and Magua be together !? or…is there another contestant, in this mad game of life !? Also I realise my plot has gone the wrong way…oh well, my story !
Days had passed since Robin had washed ashore. Manoj had relentlessly tended to her, with the aid of a matron, dressing Robin's wounds, easing her bruised pains and battered body. Manoj silently feared the worst. Questions plagued him insentiently. What was she doing so far in Mohawk territory? Had she been attacked? By who? Why was she dressed in buckskin? Had she been taken captive and adopted by a neighbouring tribe? Had she tried to escape, and failed? He could only speculate. He had no doubt this young woman was Willow's granddaughter. Their bore the same name, the same egg shell blue eyes. Surely iy was no coincidence. But until Robin her-self woke up, her misbegotten origins were subject to scandalous gossip. Children still came to see the strange white girl, fished from the river. She had been in the water for some time. Any longer and she would have surely been lost. But there was good medicine in the air. Just as Manoj feared her spirit would never return to her body, she stirred, groaning in obvious pain. It was a good sign. She was now responsive. All she needed now was a hot meal. Warm her body again, before death crept back in to claim her. She was so cold when he first held her. Cradling her in his arms, mere moments after birth only to then hold her once more as she danced at death's door. The Great Spirit has never been so cruel.
Edging closer to the sleeping mat Manoj watched over her, a hot brew of meaty stew ready in hand. Robin groaned again, shifting on the straw mat in search of comfort. Everything hurt, lying on her side, her chest and back. Her bruises now fully formed, covered almost half her body in ugly patchwork. Manoj winced for her, the whets glaring at back at him as he continued to stare. Lazily her eyes finally flickered to meet his, briefly filled with fear until he gentled hushed her, stroking her hair soothingly.
"Easy, little one. I wish to help" He waited a moment, letting her process his words through the haze still clouding her mind. Reluctantly Robin relented, sensing no immediate threat from the elderly healer. Placing her head back down on the sleeping mat, she waited as a matron entered the longhouse, beckoned by the sentry posted by the longhouse door. The large wooden-frame building, covered with sheets of elm bark was unlike anything Robin has seen before. It never ceased to amaze her just how different some tribes lived, despite the close proximity to each other. She admired that, the individuality among the masses. Polite as always, Manoj turned his back, whilst the matron redressed Robin's bandaging. Tenderly the aged woman applied cream to the still swollen and bruised areas, particularly around Robin's chest, where the impact of the rapids most struck. Her whimpers of discomfort soften the Manoj's heart. She was in obvious pain, but she refused to admit it. She wasn't crying, whining for relief and attention. For one so young, her resolve was strong.
Shifting under the thick fur pelt Robin quickly realised she was as bare as the day she was born. Sheepishly she turned away, covering her chest in modesty. The matron only chuckled playfully at her bashfulness, coaxing her with comforting reassurances. Manoj, anticipating Robin's hesitation, hollered to sentry outside. Clothes were then quickly thrown in. Clearly they belonged to a male. The beaded shirt alone engulfed Robin's slender form down to her thighs, but it would serve until proper clothing could be made.
With the kind woman's aid, Robin slowly sat up, looking to the aged elder for some enlightenment to the situation. Never forgetting her manners, she weakly nodded in gratitude. "Thank you, for helping me." Her voice was still dry and throaty. It was only then did she realise how painfully thirsty she was. Sipping from a bowl of water, Robin finally noticed they were not alone in the longhouse.
There were others present, at the other end, congregating and socialising around a controlled fire. Many were elders like Manoj, councilmen and experienced braves, smoking their tobacco pipes whilst in a heated debate. Very few actually paid her much attention. But if they did, they were very good at hiding it, their expression impassive to read, despite her awkward presence among them. Robin soon concluded this longhouse was no place for a woman. But it seemed for now they were making an exception. Manoj was clearly monitoring the debate, but also wished to stay close by in case Robin's condition deteriorated.
Speaking slowly at first, the wise medicine man finally introduced him-self "I am Manoj, of the Mohawk people. You are safe here, Little Robin…" his eyes held a degree of familiarity. Of course she wouldn't have remembered him. Curiously, Robin inquired. "Have we met?"
Nodding in fond remembrance, Manoj recounted. "Once, many summers ago. You were just a new born, but those eyes have not changed. I knew your grandmother, very well. We were…good friends" a flicker of sorrow shadowed his expression. Indeed he had heard of Willow's fate. It was a shamefully unfitting end, for one so great. Manoj was even more determined to never see Robin meet that fate. She was lucky to have survived this time. Following that trail of thought, Manoj started seeking for answers. "Tell me child, what happened to you?" he gestured her to mass of bruises.
The mere thought caused Robin pain. "It is a very long story. I was taken captive by a Huron, held in a Lenape village before I escaped over the falls". Robin had to admit, it sounded like one hell of adventure…bordering a nightmare. It was then the Longhouse went silent; all eyes were on her. It was rather unnerving.
"A Huron?" Manoj's eyes narrowed in thought. "They are a fiendish race. What did you do to earn their fury?" The Hurons. The Boar heads, when translated. Part of the Iroquoian people, the Hurons were a force to be reckoned with. Their allegiance shifted like rapid waters. Trade with them was as unpredictable as battle. They were expert hunters with skills as deadly as the wolves that roamed in the forest with them. In battle their war whoops struck fear into even the bravest hearts. Tales of their conquests were spreading. War parties struck in quick successions, hard and fast. Spoils of war were often taken, and whatever was left was burned to the ground. Manoj momentarily shuddered in dread, closing his eyes in thought. What trouble had befallen this child? Hurons were like rabid dogs. Once their locked onto a scent of interest, they would run their prey into the ground, until there was no escape. Manoj hoped this Huron Robin spoke of, assumed she was dead.
"Another long tale. The Huron, Magua, has a feud with someone named Greyhair. He led us astray from our path, and attempted an attack. If not for Chingachgook and his sons, many would have died" her voice warmed in recollection. Chingachgook. She hoped the Mohican trio were alive, keeping the Cora and Alice safe. Major Heyward too.
"Chingachgook, the Mohican?" Again recognition lit up in Manoj's face. It was a small world after all.
"You know him too?" Robin blinked, cocking her head aside in childish curiosity.
Those gathered near by chuckled alongside Manoj's. "He has made quite a name for him-self." Coughing slightly, Manoj recomposed himself. "Where are they now?" Perhaps the Mohicans knew more of situation. The French were advancing on the British, sabotaging trade routes and raiding neighbouring forts with the aid of allied tribes. Many had been drawn into the white man's war, for the sake of better trade. And yet so many have died, for nothing. Empty promises left unfulfilled, on both fronts. When would it end?
"I don't know. We were heading to Fort William Henry. Chances are they are there, by now. It has been days since I was taken". Worry slowly knotted in her gut. How long had she been gone? Could they already be at Fort William Henry? Were they searching for her? Unlikely, given her circumstances. No one would risk their life, for a gypsy…
Lost in her thoughts, Manoj turned, mumbling to those nearby. It then occurred her; they were talking about her…
"What is going on?" Robin mumbled, sheepishly tugging at Manjo's buckskin leggings.
"You have nothing to fear, Little Robin. They are still debating…" He didn't want to worry her.
After a moment of silence, she deduced, "About me…" Her large teal green eyes were wide with emotion. Curiosity. Fear. Confusion.
"Yes" Manoj finally admitted, seeing no point in lying to the poor girl. Settling back beside her, he gestured to those who still spoke "Lokesh believes you should go back to the white man." He motioned to one Mohawk elder. "But Hawani argues for your safety. He believes you were brought here for a reason. You are young, and injured. He wishes you to stay." The one whom Manoj identified as Hawani glanced over towards them, offering a brief smile of affection, before stoically returning to the debate at hand.
Despite the endearing gesture, Robin frowned "And I have no say in this?" Typical patriarchal system…
Manoj quickly redirected the conversation, despite Robin's disapproving pout. "You are spirited, like your grandmother. She would want you to be safe". Reluctantly Robin relented, reoccupied with the thoughts of her grandmother. What would she think of her troublesome granddaughter? Yet again up to no good…
Lost in thought, her admirer went unnoticed for quite some time. The sentry outside continuously peered in, stealing glances of Robin when she wasn't looking. By pure coincident, did their eyes simultaneously meet. Innocently, they just stared at each other, either unsure of the other. Admittedly he was handsome, only a few years older than Robin. He reminded Robin of an impressive stag deer. He was tall, beating Major Heyward by a few good inches. His hair was in a popular tribal fashion. A majority of the scalp had been shaven, leaving only a pony tail, adorned with beads and a feather. His chest was bare, but painted with tribal décor. Robin silently wondered if the markings had any sort of meaning. But the eyes said it all. Staring into his eyes she couldn't help but recall those of Magua. His dark eyes reminded her of a hellish inferno, and like a moth to a flame, she feared she would be burned if she ever came face to face with that Huron again. Thinking of Magua unsettled Robin to such a point she hadn't realised the matron was speaking to her. It seemed she scolded for curious sentry at the door, going so far as to shoo him before proceeding to brush through what little of Robin's hair she had. Despite the length the muddy waters made a horrific muck up of her hair. Birds could nest in it, as the matron repeatedly said, having difficulty combing out the clumps of dirt. It didn't help Robin kept fidgeting.
Robin could only sit there patiently and wait, curiously glancing back to the doorway where the Mohawk brave stood once more, attentive to his duty. "Manoj…who is that?" she sheepishly motioned to the young man, trying not to make her intention obvious. It was rude to point.
Glancing over his shoulder Manoj nodded in acknowledgement, "Hawani's eldest son…Waneek, he helped carry you from the river".
Waneek was very well known and well liked in the village. A skilled hunter, and an even more noble warrior, many knew his name, even in other villages. He was very brave, always first to engage the enemy in battle, and never one to back down easily. He was an example many set to follow. Some believed he would take his father's place on the council, when the time cam. Young maidens would utter his name in longing sighs, dreaming of the day he may court them. But as of recently, he only concerned him-self with his ambitious pursuits of glory and counting coups. He had no interest in any of the fawning women. A wife, he felt, would only hinder and burden his lust for youthful adventures. That was until a strange white girl from the river washed ashore. Despite her unpleasant state at the time, carrying her in his arms, Waneek could see the blossoming beauty beneath the mud and bruises. Her copper blonde locks reminded him of the morning flames that rose with the sun each day. The strange shortness interested him. She seemed so foreign, so unusual. Combined with her freckled features, small button nose and high developing cheeks, Waneek could have sworn she was fairy folk. Mischievous spirits of nature. How else could she have bewitched him so easily? One look into her oceanic coloured eyes, and he, a great hunter of the Mohawk, was snared…
"Why was he staring at me?" Robin comfortably shifted, rubbing her sore ligaments to incite some mobility.
"He is…curious" Manoj smiled knowing. Youth was so fickle. Waneek rarely let him-self falter. But for a brief moment, his intentions were easily read by the wise old elder. He was nearly blind, but even he could see what Waneek sought to discreetly hide.
"Why? Am I amusing to look at?" she did not intend to sound as hostile as she did. The weight of her situation was finally dawning on her. What had she got her-self into this time…what was going to to happen to her?
Manoj apparently dismissed her tone with a casual wave. "He's never seen a white woman before. Only white men have been foolish enough to enter our lands. They'd be even more foolish to bring their women with them". A moment passed before Manoj uncharacteristically grinned. "You are also wearing his shirt"
There was a brief pause of silence. "Oh…Oh!" the delayed reaction caused chuckles all around. She wondered who shirt it was. Robin threw her-self under the fur pelt in embarrassment. What would people at the fort think? Their tender civilized sensibilities would be shocked. The looks on their faces would have surely been amusing. Robin suddenly shot up from hiding, looking startled. A thought suddenly occurred to her. If her travelling party had made it to the fort, they could be in danger. The French were closing in, Magua and his Huron hordes could join them. In a moment of panic she searched for her faithful tarot cards. Perhaps the cards could give her more insight. But disappointingly she remembered, she had left them behind when she fled from the Lenape village. Knowing Magua, he has probably burned them.
"I have to go to Fort William Henry" she looked beseeching at Manoj, gesturing to the council in desperation "You must tell them…"
Manoj was startled by Robin's sudden alarm "What awaits you? Is it worth your life?" She certainly wasn't in any condition to go gallivanting.
"What do you mean?" she blinked with just naivety, Manoj almost pitied her. He was almost reluctant to continue. Carefully he spoke, "There is word spreading from village to village, that those allied with the French will lead a great attack on the British. The fort you speak of is sure to fall" Manoj saw no point in lying to her. Perhaps if she knew now, she could come to terms with it sooner. Wishful thinking.
Robin staggered to feet, despite the painful protest in her body. "All the more reason for me to go! Warn them before it is too late!" he outburst caused silence in the longhouse once more. Manoj tried to calm her down, cupping her hand into his. "And if it is too late? What then, child? Would you risk your life for such foolishness?"
Under the weight of exhaustion and her own body Robin's legs buckled and she reluctantly relented "I wouldn't forgive my-self if I didn't try…"
The elder shook his head, grudgingly softened by her plight. "Stubborn" he huffed "Just like your grandmother…and it was what got her killed". Manoj would never forgive him-self if he let something happen to Willow's granddaughter. She had already escaped death once, next time she may not be so lucky.
But Robin still refused to yield. She appealed to his good nature. "Manjo…there are women and children at that fort…the wounded and sick. They don't deserve to die"
Manoj hardened his resolve. This debate always came up. Even with Willow. "Neither did those of the tribes the white man has already attacked and wiped out. How can one wrong be right, and other wrong not?" With an exhaustive sigh Manoj concluded "an eye for an eye…." It was a law as old as time itself.
Robin shook her head is disagreement. With a wistful knowing tone Robin could only argue, "An eye for an eye makes the world blind" Reflective silence took over. Both knew this discussion would lead them nowhere. Grudgingly Manoj admitted Robin's words were wise, well beyond her years. Must have been her grandmother's influence, he concluded with a solemn nod. Willow was a pacifist, but she never gave up without a fight. And it seemed never would Robin. Finally after some time, Robin swore as she once more tried to stand. "If I must find my own way to the fort, I will"
Exasperated Manoj sceptically dismissed her efforts. "Bruised and battered as you are now? You wouldn't make it pass the village outskirts". Manoj had hoped that would be the end of it. He beckoned the matron once more. It seemed Robin was finally recovering. If she was well enough to argue, then she was well enough to eat. Robin ravenously consumed the meaty stew offered, ravelling in the savoury morsel. Slowly she felt her strength returning.
Waneek abruptly entered the longhouse, honouring his father with a nod of acknowledgement, before kneeling beside Manoj, speaking in a hushed rapid tone. They spoke in their exotic native tongue, but Robin felt no deceptive intention. She merely assumed Waneek's English was not as advanced as Manoj's. If it was a private matter, they wouldn't have spoken about it so openly. The exchange however soon turned into yet another disagreement. Manoj repeatedly shook his head, whilst Waneek made assertive gestures, clearly trying to support his point. Waneek then rose and informally addressed the council. He spoke similar words to the council, and they seemed far more compliant than Manoj. It seemed they had reached an agreement.
Nosy as always Robin piped up, fidgeting for attention. "What is he saying? What's going on?" When no one immediately answered her, she shifted to face the brave. "Waneek?" she looked at him questioningly, expecting some sort of answer. He said and did nothing at first. Standing before a council of superior men, Waneek had to keep himself composed. Open affection towards one who was not his wife, would have been scandalous.
Finally after some time, Manoj translated, though he was clearly displeased. He grumbled whilst he spoke. "Waneek sees your distress, and offers to take a canoe party down river to the Fort. Much safer than on foot. You may deliver your warning and then return." Manoj looked unimpressed with the solution. Waneek however looked rather pleased with him-self, smiling broadly at the thought of helping the River Woman. Abruptly he then left, without a second glance. He wished to leave by morning. One on the river, they could open their hearts to each other. The matron, still present throughout this encounter, chuckled at the whole situation. Only a woman could see what was really going on. Knowingly the matron smiled, patting Robin's hand in tender affection. "Waneek has soft eyes for you". Robin blinked, at a loss.
What was that supposed to mean?
A/N - sorry for the wait, University has been busy. sorry this chapter isn't that interesting, but hopefully in the next Magua will make a reappearance ;) by the way, what do people think of Waneek ? ? ? hmmm ? ? ? review please !