Chapter 6 – woah ! thank you to all my fans still reading :) let's see if I can make this even more interesting ! By the way, don't quote me on the meaning and translation of names. Also…spot the song lyric ! read and see ;)
Blah – thought / blah – another language
Magua had never been in such a foul mood. Greyhair and his brood still eluded him, and Little Bird had shamed him greatly with her daring escape. As God as his witness, if he ever saw that crazy girl again, he'd throttle her for her defiance. The march back to the Lenape village was humiliating. He could have ranted and raved to the spirits for such rotten luck. Why had they abandoned his noble quest? Magua halted in his stride, wrestling for control over the storm within him. He was angered beyond all belief; no amount of tobacco or firewater could cure him of his woes. All he saw when he closed his eyes was the maddening vision of his failure. Little Bird! The witch haunted him, insistently. Her wilful ways and determination all but infuriated him. Never had he met such an unruly woman. Good women were obedient and quiet, expected to accept captivity, if ever taken. Resistance was punished swiftly for both the master's sake, and the captive's. For honour and survival. Resistive captives were quickly disposed of. They wasted too much time and effort. Thinking about it now he should have killed her when he had the chance. Because of her he had lost sight of all that mattered. Greyhair and his forsaken offspring! They had eluded him, ever since he had set eyes on that curse of a woman! But she was in his blood now, like sweet venom, under his skin, like a second pelt. Could he really rid himself of her, with no regret?
If he smothered her while she slept, would he still see her in his dreams? If he cut her swan like throat, would he still want to touch her, when her blood was on his hands? If he held her under the water, until finally she went limp, would he then still hold her as the warmth left her corpse? Would it finally chase away her wicked ghost from his thoughts? Haunted with these scenarios, Magua lashed out, casting his rifle aside in bitter displeasure. Alone in the forest, he gathered his thoughts, watching as the blazing sky darkened into night.
Greyhair and his pair of troublesome daughters would soon meet their fate. That much was promised. But Magua wondered, how could one capture prey as elusive as water? Little Bird had no fear of dying, he had seen that much. And because of that his grudging respect for her grew. But she also challenged him, mentally as well as spiritual. Physically she was no match, so instead she waged war on his mind and soul. Their meeting was a battle of wills. And it wasn't over. Fate had tied them, whether they wanted it or not. Magua decided to deal with her then. But in sick contemplation he couldn't help but wonder. Was she thinking of him, as much as he was of her? Did she regret fleeing from him, now that she was alone, possibly lost in the wilderness with no protector by her side? Did she hear his calls, in the howls of the winds?
Abruptly he stood, recovering his rifle. When did he regress to such a folly youth? He did not lose sight of his goals so easily. He would channel his frustration into a productive force. The fox was not only clever, but he was patient. In pursuit he was ruthless. It was only a matter of time until the prey crossed paths with him again.
Word from their French brothers sighted the British redcoats arriving at the Fort. Now it was only a matter of time. Their quarry was trapped. Pinned down, ready for the final blow. It was time to mobilise Huron forces and join the French for the long waited massacre of the English dogs. French General Montcalm promised peace with the English Fort, but Magua did not. Montacalm wanted the glory of conquest, but not the hard bloody work of counting coup. But he made it clear to Magua, wished to attack, he would not hinder them. Magua would not be denied the pleasure of the kill. Greyhair and his brood were finally together. In one foul swoop he would wipe their seed from the earth, and restore his honour. Only then could his dark heart begin to heal.
The party left the Mohawk village early, just after sunrise. Bidding farewell to the matron who had cared for her, Robin quickly hurried to the shore where the braves waited. It was only a small scouting party, with Waneek as the lead. Making the last of adjusts to his rifle Waneek looked up, his breathe briefly stolen. Cleaned and well dressed in buckskin Robin looked like a vision of nature. She wore leggings and a shirt, beaded with blue decorations that accented her eyes and flaming hair. Though still slightly bruised, she didn't look too worse for wear. She still refused to wear moccasins, preferring to have that sacred connection with nature undisturbed. 'Gypsies are buried standing, you know', her grandmother once said. 'We spend our entire lives walking to find our way in life. If you're not listening to feet, how do you know where you're going?' Waneek took special notice of the wolf tooth anklet around her dainty right foot.
"River woman!" A young boy ran up from behind her, smiling with excitement. Robin was taken aback by the name at first. Was that the name they've given her now? He was tall, despite his age, but his hair wasn't cut like that of the men. It was still long and unkempt, with no beads or feathers like the experienced braves. He still charming though. He was still a boy, rather than a warrior. "I am Koda", his smile was bright and friendly, putting Robin at ease. But before she could even respond to the over enthusiastic youth, he ran off to join the men at the river bank.
It seemed the Mohawk youth would be accompanying them. It seemed strange at first. He looked too young to accompany them. If they ran into the enemy, surely he would be in as much danger as she. But Robin remembered children, although greatly loved, were not as sheltered as white children. Boys learned to hunt and train from a very early age. Perhaps he was coming to gain some experience. However she soon learnt he spoke very good English for one so young. It helped him act as translator, for Waneek's obsessive questioning.
Through Koda translation Waneek asked all the questions that plagued him. Where did River woman come from? Where were her family? Where was she going? And how did she end up in the river to begin with? Recanting her tales was almost as exhausting as living through them, but with every tale the scouting party became more awed by Robin's bravery and courage. Her plight moved Waneek's heart into action. Tempering his nerves he cautiously asked Koda to translate one more time.
"River woman" Koda called again. She was quickly getting used to the new name. She found their naming process rather beautiful in its simplicity. "Waneek wants to know if your husband is at this fort?"
Robin paused for a moment, glancing at Waneek in the canoe beside her. He purposely avoided her gaze, but the tension knotted in his jaw was a clear as day. He was only trying to appear enigmatic. Playfully Robin asked in return, "Why does Waneek want to know"
He was silent for some time, as if trying to compose the right words to say. Then in an uncharacteristic tone, he replied to Koda to answer. It took Koda a minute to speak, a sheepish smile slowly blooming into a grin. "He wants to know what sort of man would leave such a beautiful wife unprotected"
The reply certainly caught Robin by surprise. Never had she been called 'beautiful'. Blushing, she looked away, skimming her fingers over the passing waters. "You may tell Waneek, I am not married…nor do I intend to"
"But you are a woman!" Koda exclaimed, before being chided by one of the braves for his outburst. They still needed to keep a low profile, especially as they were getting closer to the Fort. "What I meant was you need a husband to protect to you. To hunt and provide for you"
Robin saw the boy meant no offense, it was just his culture, and she respected that. In some way it reminded her of her own roots. "I am a Shuvani…I am not permitted to marry"
"What is a Shuvani?" Of course she didn't expect him to know. A gypsy's culture was as forever changing as the winds. What one clan did, another may not. And rarely was it ever discussed with outsiders.
Robin took a moment consider her words. "A shuvani…is like a medicine woman. I am to follow in my grandmother's footsteps. In my clan, a shuvani is already married, to her clan and duty. She may take a husband, when a new shuvani is selected to succeed her."
Robin had forgot, medicine people were held in high esteem. Appreciative murmurs were heard from the other braves. They were starting to like this white girl. Keeping her in the village would bring good medicine. But suddenly Waneek looked disappointed, troubled even by this new revelation. Tribal law now dictated Waneek's options. One did not simply court a medicine woman, as he would other maidens. He must also consider what rules River Woman's tribe had as well. The coyote must surely be laughing.
Robin noticed Waneek silent displeasure and quickly tried to lighten the situation. "Now I have question for Waneek…what does his name mean?"
"Handsome Stag" Koda replied with a roll of his eyes. At that Waneek's puffed up his chest in display, like an impressive peacock showing off his fine plumage.
"Appropriate…" her slight smile earned a grin from Waneek. Braves in the opposite canoe chuckled to them-selves, though Koda was utterly clueless to the situation. Good medicine was in the air. But soon that faded. The braves grew quiet and alert. In a hushed tone, Koda nodded to Robin. "We are here…"
But all she could see was tree line, blanketed in growing fog. "Where? I don't see the fort"
"Deeper in forest. Waneek will lead"
Silently they docked alongside the river bank. Concealing the canoes the scouting party continued on foot. Robin was careful to follow exactly in Koda's footsteps. They used fallen trees to form a path, avoiding movement on the forest floor which would surely give away their position. Crawling slowly up an incline, they stopped and paused for some time. Waneek and Koda peered over the hillside for a moment, before relaying the information to the others. Something wasn't right.
"Why are we stopping…" Robin whispered to a brave nearby. He muttered to another before replying in broken English. "White man on the move…"
Confused for a moment, Robin made her own way up the hillside, peeking over through a near bush for cover. "Those are the reinforcements…why are they leaving?" she recognised their blinding red coasts. She also recognised French soldiers that were present; watching as the British forces retreated, accompanying people from fort. It was as if they were abandoning the fort all together. The sea of faces said it all. Defeat, loss and exhaustion. The fort had been conquered…
"Uncas!" Robin suddenly shouted, recognising the man as he walked amongst the masses of white faces. Without a second thought she ran towards him, clumsily staggering down the hillside catch up to him, she barely heard Koda calling after her, though he did not pursue. "River woman, wait!"
Robin ran amongst the grass, passing hordes of people with each step. "Uncas!" she called again, before spotting his father not too far ahead. "Chingachgook!" she'd never been so happy to see anyone else in her entire life. The Mohican was taken back, tenderly cupping her face in affection. He looked relieved to see her. "Robin? You are alive. Thank the spirits."
The three briefly moved out of everyone's way, conversing in bewilderment to the situation. "What's going on? Why are we leaving the Fort?!" Looking at the people as they walked passed Robin could see many were carrying their possessions on their backs, taking everything they could. Everything that wasn't already by the French that is. To the victor go the spoils.
Chingachgook grievously explained the situation. "The French have besieged the fort for months. The French general has offered safe passage to Albany, if Colonel Munro surrenders the fort to French control…"
Robin was taken back. Everyone knew the French were lying, thieving bastards! As cowardly in battle as they were in politics. Using dirty underhanded trickery was second nature to them. No wonder they allied with the Hurons! "And Colonel Munro believed them? Where is he? Where are Cora and Alice?"
Uncas pointed ahead. She pointed Alice and Cora in the heart of the marching convey, sharing a horse in sisterly travel. They didn't seem any worse for wear, perhaps a bit shaken. Hawkeye was nearby, like a faithful guardian. With him nearby no one dared to near. Peering further ahead she could see Colonel Munro leading a head, in his regal attire and ceremonial grey wig, sullen and sulky, he still held his head high. Frightening realisation slowly crawled up her spine. "Greyhair…" Could he be the one Magua is after? Were Cora and Alice also his targets? She suddenly felt sick, her head hazy with disorientation. No, what business did Magua have with the Munro clan?
"Robin" Chingachgook looked at her peculiarly, noting her unease, she looked like she had seen a ghost "Robin are you alright?"
Her eyes glazed over, her mind wandering adrift with visions of death. The smell of blood and musket fire burning the back of her throat. She almost fainted with such force Uncas had to steady her. The trees moved like shadows, screaming and hollering with such blood thirst, it was maddening. Amidst it all, a pair of eyes, as black as coal, glared at her. The intensity lighting her breast aflame like an inferno, set to burn her alive with no mercy "Something…horrible…is going to happen…" the visions spurned words of warning. In her sicken trance, she looked to the forest, seeking out the eyes which called to hers. There was only darkness.
Chingachgook pulled Robin into his arms, driving the visions away with his fatherly comfort. She had the sight, he was certain of it, and it tortured her. It could drive some to madness. All he could was pray the spell left her innocent eyes soon. Yet the warning still rang true. Cautiously eyeing the surrounding forest the Mohican nodded to his son. "Alert the others…" It was not wise to dismiss such visions of doom.
"Get on a horse, child, and keep your head down…" With that the Mohican ran ahead, intending to alert Hawkeye on the matter at hand. He did not get the chance.
War whoops rang out from nowhere; raging savages were on them like a pack of animals, within seconds. Rifle fire rang out amongst all the confusion, whilst screams of terror ascended in chorus. One innocent settler fell after the other, struck down by the blow of a tomahawk. Robin's legs, still shaken by the mental vision, gave out under her, forcing the horror of which she had foreseen play out before her. She saw British soldiers wrestle with painted warriors, fighting for their lives whilst women and children were carried off into the forest, surely never to be seen again. In the middle of it all, none heard Robin's cry of anguish. Common sense screamed for her to run, to find cover until the massacre was over. But as she stumbled to her feet she was thrown back, a Huron brave painted as black as devil, leered down at her, brandishing an already bloody tomahawk. Heart pumping she scurried back, desperately kicking out as the monster approached, snapping at her heels. A shot fired from behind, striking the brave in his head. He fell inches from Robin's feet, the blood beginning to pool in between her toes. She shrieked again, crawling away in disgust. Uncas stood, flanked by two other friendly native allies. He hoisted her up and pulled her to run with him as the crossed the battle field, occasionally returning fire and engaging the enemy in what were quick and brutal kills. Hawkeye and Chingachgook had already made it to Cora and Alice. Major Heyward, thrown from his horse in the scuffle, shot a clear path through to the river Robin had originally come from.
Chingachgook was barely heard over the roar of war. "We must get to the river!" The Munro sisters, shocked into silence offered no resistance. Dashing across the now corpse littered clearing they were pursued. Some of the natives had stayed hidden in the tree line, waiting for those who tried to flee. With little ammunition left all they could was sprint down to the embankment, quickly commandeering an enemy canoe. Down the embankment Robin had lost her foot, her unprotected soles cut on the rocky pebble shore. Having fallen behind the rest, she was easy pickings for the animals that chased behind them.
A body of force slammed into her from behind, tackling her to the ground; with such force she almost lost unconsciousness. She cried out in agony as pain erupted from her still tender chest. The Huron was on top of her in a second, wrestling to subdue her. She still fought back, thrashing and flaying like a wildcat desperate to escape, clawing at him with as must ferocity as any animal cornered would unleash. But the warrior blind sighted her, striking her across the face, to stun her into submission before pulling her to her feet.
"Robin!"
She could not hear Chingachgook's cry over the gun fire and war cries. His anguish was that of a father, losing his child to the clutches of a beast of the forest. He would have fired his rifle, if the Huron had not held her so close. The party was already in the canoe, drifting away into the fog. What he wouldn't give to return and fight to save her. Quickly, the girl had become like a daughter. He couldn't bear the shame of leaving her behind again.
"Chingachgook!" she wailed desperately, struggling in the arms of the Huron "Help!" The warrior growled in his guttural tongue, tightening his hold around her chest to the point of unbearable discomfort. She could only watch helplessly as her companions disappeared off into the safety of the mist. In the distance, the screams and gunfire slowly stopped. The battle was subsiding. It was over. The British were defeated. Victorious whoops filled the air, when all but mournful silence remained.
The Huron threw her to ground, kicking her once in the stomach whilst his comrades regrouped. They muttered and jeered amongst themselves, boasting and brandishing their trophies. Fresh human scalps, still drinking with blood. Robin wanted to run away and vomit. But as soon as she staggered to her feet two braves pounced, tackling her again to the ground. Letting out a scream of frustration Robin relented. The pain in her chest restricted her breathing to the point of suffocation. The two Hurons kept her subdued to the ground. One kept her arms pinned behind her back, whilst the other coiled his around her throat, brandishing a bloodied knife in warning. She heaved with exhaustion, reluctantly relaxing in their hold, to show her submission. After a moment, the brave finally sheathed his knife, smirking with gleeful domination. He was ugly. His war paint now smeared and smudged. An equally ugly scar had claimed his right eye. His breath already stank of stolen British supplied whiskey. They were just starting to load up the spoils when the fleeing party made a break for the rest of the canoes, left unguarded.
"You're Magua's woman" One of the older warriors approached them, kneeling down to face her level. He paused to inspect her for a moment, noting the angry red whet on the side of her face from where she had been struck. Magua wouldn't be happy. The brave her caught her was still young and hot blooded. He struck without thinking. Robin also recognised this Huron. He was also the one her grabbed her from the caves, before she had a chance to jump. The recognition fuelled Robin's hostile demeanour.
"I'm nobody's woman" she hissed like a feral cat, causing amusement amongst the braves. The one before her shook his head and grabbed her by the jaw. He continued to gaze at her, drinking in the rebellious pools of her eyes. Her resistance didn't phrase him. He had taken many captives in the past. It never took long to break them of their troublesome spirit. But Robin's was unlike any he had seen in quite some time. Her eyes reflect the unrivalled force of nature. The ocean spirit in her eyes was vast and feral with well lived freedom. He wondered how Magua would tame one so unruly.
"It's strange what desire can make foolish people do…" He spoke softly, as if lost in her eyes. "Put her in the canoe. Magua will want her back in his wigwam" He jumped up when Robin lashed out.
"No! Let me go!" she shouted at the top of her voice, withering and thrashing with renewed defiance. It was not a welcome change. When pulled to her feet once more he held her chin in his grasp, forcing her to look at him. "Quiet, woman! You will behave!" Robin in response to such a command swiftly sank her teeth into the offending ligament, refusing to let go until wretched by her hair.
"Troublesome vixen!" The Huron snarled inspecting the wound as it began to bleed. "You are lucky Magua wants you back at all! I would never take such a defiant woman into my wigwam" When she spat at his feet, he scowled in distain. Such an wild captive wouldn't come quietly, no matter how often she was struck. She could capsize the canoe with her thrashing and struggling.
Fishing a flask from his pouch he approached again. "Firewater should put you to sleep". Forcefully pouring the strong liquor down her throat, he waited, refusing to recant, even as she choked and struggled, the foul alcohol spilling onto her shirt. Within minutes Robin fell limp in the arms of her captors, drunk to the point of flaccidity. The sour tasting rum was strong, even for a man. Soon she would fall asleep, and stay that way for some time. It was either that, or strike her until she lost consciousness. Magua would not forgive him for spoiling such a lovely face. Binding her hands and feet for further measure, they loaded Robin into the canoe, throwing a stolen shawl over her for concealment. The French still opposed the taking of white captives, if seen they may try and take her for themselves. Greedy bastards.
Congregating by the river side the braves waited for the rest to join them, some swapped and traded spoils, while others tended to their wounds. It was only a matter of time until Magua also came, painted in the blood of his victory, and followed by his personal dogs of war. Satisfaction gleamed in his eyes. It confirmed Greyhair's awaited demise.
"Ongewa, why did you not pursue Greyhair's daughters?" a flicker of discontent tainted Magua's triumphant leer. Greyhair's daughters were meant to die with their father, yet he saw neither of them amongst the captives taken. For them to escape him now was just unacceptable.
Taking a delightful swig of his rum, Ongewa smiled with deliberate intent "Where can they run, that we cannot follow? Savour the day, Magua. Count one coup at a time" he gestured for him to follow "I saved your spoils…"
Casting back the cloth Ongewa grinned; drinking in Magua's stunned reaction. He was almost left speechless. "Little Bird…" he cupped her cheek, in a strange form of affection, leaving behind a bloody handprint of ownership. Like the mighty brother wolf, he wanted to throw his head back and howl with triumph. The winds were finally shifting in his favour. He knew she had survived. One so defiant would not die so easily. He shifting her in the canoe slightly, inspecting her person in detail. She bore ugly bruises from her fall, but nothing threatened her life, she would however be sore some time. It would serve him well. If she knew what was good for her, she would not be so foolish and flee again. He wouldn't give her the opportunity. He had been careless last time, and paid for it dearly. This time, he would keep two eyes on his deliciously elusive little bird. What did make him more curious was the buckskin she wore. It was not the same one she had fled from him in. As always Little Bird continued to perplex him. What had she been doing while free from him? And who had she been with?
Breaking his mental contemplation, a brave, fearful to approach sullenly announced, "Our scouts lost them in the fog..."
Magua paused, still looking down at Robin's red drunken face, "No matter…" in an uncharacteristic tone, Magua dismissed the subordinate, seeming only content with stroking Robin slightly grown wavy locks. It was like watching a child, given back a longed for toy. "Return to the village. Unload the spoils, and pursue them on foot."
Climbing aboard with Robin unconscious in his arms, Magua sat, leading the Huron party back to their allied village. Never had Magua had more of a reason to smile. Greyhair was dead. Magua had also promised him the death of his seed. The English lay dead in the valley and his unwitting temptress lay in his arms. All was going according to plan; it was only a matter of time, until the climatic ending concluded on its self. Then Magua may focus his attention on more pressing matters. He laid a tender kiss on Robin's temple, her head lovingly resting on his shoulder, whilst his rifle was slung across her lap. He was like a ravenous wolf, protecting his prize from others who sought to take it. Magua eyes never lost sight of their surroundings. They were being watched, by those concealing themselves in the forest. Perhaps neighbouring tribes had sent out scouts of their own. When covered by the blanket of fog, Magua heard him. The anguished cry of a man, bellowed out from the darkness of the treeline.
"RIVER WOMAN!"
No one could be seen through the thick fog, and no one would dare to pursued. Robin never once stirred in Magua's arms...
A/N – wow chapter 6, in a day, that is a record, course it is like 3:30am, I think I have earned some sleep. You know the drill people, rate and review ! things are starting to get good!