A/N – I have been struggling to write this chapter, mostly because I didn't want to write a 'boring' chapter, to then get to the good bit. I've rewrote this chapter about three times, so hopefully, third times the charm. Also – a note to 'the penmans mind' about the layout of my writing – I do type in a 'list' information form of writing, at least I do when I type and upload it, does it show differently on the website ? ? Also a couple of you have caught on to my dilemma… What am I going to do with this story? Robin is too headstrong to suddenly buckle, fall in love and run into magua's arms. And yet, after all the trouble she has caused him, I doubt Magua would let Robin go. So I am stuck, what do I do ? But as I am writing this, an idea has popped into my head ! muhahaha ! stay tuned ! the plot shall thicken !

There was blood pouring out of the musket wound. The thickness of it seeped into the murky water. It was an indescribable feeling; the warmth of near lifeless body being held so close, yet at the same time, being fully submerged in the numbing waters of the river. Darkness surrounded them whilst the enemy stalked the forest. The moonless night blended shadows into darkness, masking any movement and heightening the sound all around them. In the distance a lone stag wailed whilst birds overhead fell eerily silent. It was natural instinct to play dead, to freeze in the presence of the predators as they circled nearby. Like hungry scavengers, they scoured the swampy bog, look for a trail. But there was nothing. No tell-tale foot prints, no damning blood trail, and no body to confirm the kill. Displeased with their loss the pack of red men withdrew from the area to regroup. Dawn was fast approaching; French soldiers would begin their early patrols. With trades complete their presence would no longer be tolerated.

Robin had concealed herself deep in the undergrowth of an upturned tree. Half rooted on the riverbed the rest of the roots waded in the shallow waters. She was applying heavy pressure to the bleeding wound. Her mind was still in shock…

Magua had been shot…

She held him tightly in her arms, yet he was utterly motionless. Despite the buoyancy of the water he was still heavy, his breathing shallow and laboured. Robin refused to breathe at all for fear the motion would create ripples in the otherwise still and stagnant waters, giving away their position. She just clung to Magua in silence. Waiting. Listening. The thumping of her heart was deafening in the stillness of the surrounding forest. The poor light would only hide the steady blood flow for so long. She knew eventually they'd have to move. But the enemy was everywhere. The trading party had already left on Magua's orders. There was no one to help them. If found by the French, the soldiers would just leave Magua to die and drag Robin off to a brothel. But if the enemy found them…

The situation seemed hopeless. And yet the days leading up to it were so misleadingly blissful. No one could have anticipated how in a single day, things could turn out so tragic.

Days prior…

Robin was sunbathing by the river she often frequented. The warm balmy weather was too pleasurable to waste on chores, though she was sure Tawendeh would later scold her for her laziness. But Robin shrugged off the notion, eyeing the discarded basket of clothing nearby. A moment of peace was worth a sore ear or two. Since their last encounter Magua lurked as near as his personal pride would allow him. Tawendeh heaped chores on her in hopes of keeping her out of trouble, whilst Yunyeno delighted in passing on his teachings. All of this was in effort of assimilating her into the tribe. All in the hope of making her a productive member of the community. The notion was touching, but was realistically problematic. It would make leaving the village all the more harder...

The thought made her frown.

It was a good life. It was a stable life. But it wasn't her life. It wasn't the life she had dreamed of. She dreamed of travelling the whole of America. She wanted to watch the states as they formed. Feel the earth tremble beneath her feet as the mighty buffalo travelled the annual migration. She wanted to drink from the great rivers and see where they led her. Staying with the Huron guaranteed little in the way of adventure. Eventually she'd be pushed to find a husband, have a family, and make a home. Robin inwardly shuddered and discarded the thought. She basked in the warmth of the sun like a contented cat. But her blissful lazing ended when a shadow fell over her, blocking out the sun. Robin, squinting one of her eyes open, saw Che'estaheh crouched over her on the balls of his feet, looking rather amused.

"Alone again, En'ita" He loomed over her, no doubt elated in the fact that he had managed to sneak up on her. Stalking the prey was half the thrill of the hunt.

Refusing to react to his intimidation tactics, Robin stayed how she was. Candidly, she acknowledged him, "Che'estaheh…"

She had not seen him for quite some time. No one had. Yet again he had slithered out of village, and kept his distance without anyone kicking up a fuss. But Robin couldn't help but wonder where he went off to. Up to trouble, no doubt… she thought.

"What do you want?" Whatever game he wanted to play, she wasn't interested in playing.

He feigned insult. "Now is that anyway to talk to someone who has some good news for you" He waited for her reaction, but received none. Rather slighted, he continued in a disgruntled tone, "I heard that there is a clan of gypsies camped near the French fort" Again he waited, and tittered when Robin finally meet his gaze. Leaning closer, he grinned, "You're a gypsy, no?"

After careful consideration, Robin finally replied, "How do you even know they're gypsies?"

"They dressed different from the white man." He recalled, "They have those giant thunder horses and wooden wigwams on wheels." He remembered spotting them far up river, just within sight of the French Fort. He had edged as close as he could for a look, before dogs alerted his presence. "Besides, I asked a French soldier." He shrugged, casting a pebble across the river's surface. "You know Magua is taking a trading party there in a few days. Even some of the women get to go. Ask him nicely and maybe he'll let you come." He crept closer, like the serpent tempting Eve from paradise, "You could escape…Don't you want to see your people? I have been watching you, closely. I know you're unhappy…you must miss them, your people"

Robin did not speak for time. Instead she gazed out at the river, carefully considering he words. Stealing a glance, he bared his teeth grinningly. With a dismissive snort Robin discarded his offer accusingly, "You just want to cause trouble…"

"Ah, you caught me. This is true" He didn't even try to deny it, and made no attempt to hide his mischievous motive.

She stared at him, owl like in her expression, "He is your brother. You two should get on with each other"

Che'estaheh chortled, as if the mere thought was ludicrous, "Ha, you sound like my mother…" He then went quiet for a while, her words apparently having struck a shallow nerve. Under his breath, she heard him muttering to him-self. "Che'estaheh, play nice with your brother. Che'estaheh do as your brother says. Che'estaheh why can't you be more like your brother". For a briefly moment, his eyes went dazed and glassy. But as quick as the emotion came, it fled, driven off by anger and bitterness.

"You know why Magua looks down on me?" He stalked over to Robin, like a man possessed, his face twisted in an ugly sneer "It's because I am the child of a slave. My mother was a Seneca captive."

He suddenly grasped Robin's shoulders tightly, venting his anger. "Since the day I was born, everyone has looked down on me".

Robin was taken back by such raw emotion. For the first time since their meeting, Robin took a long hard look at Che'estaheh. He was older than her, only by a few years, but he was definitely younger than Magua. There wasn't a strong resemblance between them, seeing as they came from different mothers. Che'estaheh wasn't as tall as Magua, but they shared a lean physique. That was as far as similarities went between them. Unlike many other Huron men, Che'estaheh didn't have a scalp lock. Instead only one side of hair had been shaved clean, whilst the other half was fairly long and hanging loose. He didn't wear any feathers or ornaments, which she found strange. For one so notorious, to be so bear in appearance; It made Robin wonder. Che'estaheh was handsome enough at first glance, for a young man in his prime. One could see why young maidens swooned and equally young men scorned. It was a hot day, so he only wore a beaded breechcloth and a shabby pair of moccasins. Of course they were shabby. He had no one in his wigwam to make him a new pair. And it was considered women's work to craft and fashion clothes. Tahwendeh made Magua's clothes, but she also had a husband and three growing boys to provide for. Not overly fond of Che'estaheh, she didn't go out of her way to assist him as she did for Magua. Even Ji'yah lacked womanly skills. The widows in the longhouse were the ones who made her children clothes. She traded favours for food and trinkets.

"Ji'yah doesn't seem to mind. She actually seems quite fond of you. Enough to pick a fight." Robin finally broke away in an attempt to recompose herself, and Che'estaheh let her, his face once again donning a struck dumb grin.

He shook his head, smiling to himself, "She is a foolish woman"

"Then you'd be perfect for each other" She said ironically, glancing over her shoulder as she retrieved her basket.

Catching her hidden insult Che'estaheh frowned. His frown deepened at Robin's good humoured chuckle. She waited for an angered rebuttal, but none came. Instead he was reflective silent again, pondering on other matters. Offhandedly he remarked, "You are a strange woman", when Robin looked at him expectantly, he continued "Most people do not talk to me…not for very long"

Robin scoffed, "Can't imagine why".

Che'estaheh appeared stung by the comment, grunting in slight displeasure but making no move to deter Robin from leaving. Instead she stopped her-self, standing beside him with a thoughtful expression. "I have heard much about you Che'estaheh. You aren't the most beloved man here…"

She waited for some form of acknowledgement, and when he nodded, Robin continued, "I do not want think you are a bad person, though you seem to make bad choices. Deep down, I would like to think there is more."

Che'estaheh snorted in mockery. "You have been talking to Yunyeno too much. You sound like him too". In seeming defeat he shrugged his heavy shoulders, resigning him-self. "I am a scoundrel, to the French and to my people. What more can there be?"

"As much as you want there to be." She answered "Better a scoundrel, than a villain."

Che'estaheh merely chuckled, tossing another pebble into the river and watching the waters ripple out. "Beware E'nita... Blue eyes and sweet words will not always save you." He stared knowingly at his reflection, and frowned. "Sometimes, when we look into the hearts of others, we see what we want to see, not what is actually there. Maybe…there is nothing there at all."

Despite Che'estaheh's arteria motives, Robin was tempted. Whilst others slept, and Yunyeno snored like the old dog that he was, Robin remained awake and restless. To think there were other gypsies nearby…It had been years since she had seen gypsy folk. Perhaps it was time to return to her roots, re-establish herself and seek out her kin.

Robin then frowned. Just because they were gypsies did not automatically make them familiya. There were many different gypsy vistas or 'clans', from many different countries, and of different religions. Much like the Native tribes, they were not always allies. Some families fought amongst themselves for generations. These gypsies by the fort could very well be 'Marimes', outcasts, criminal and exiles; pollutants ousted from their gypsy communities. They were considered no better than gaje, or non-gypsy…

Robin sighed, looking up at the starry sky through the hole in the wigwam's roof. Then again, these people by the French Fort could very well be poor pilgrims, immigrants fleeing from the troubles of Europe. Many were now travelling to the 'New World' in search of a new start and better lives.

And what would she do if she did meet them? Being away from her people for so long, would she even be accepted back among them? Did she even want to go back to them? She would face the same dilemma as she does in the Huron village. Eventually she would need to find a husband, and settle to raise babes…

Robin sighed and the wigwam. Curiosity was eating away at her…

So that night, under the cover of darkness, she had gone to Magua's wigwam. She saw his form silhouetted by the soft glow of fire. Whilst the rest of the village slept, he stood ever watchful until the early hours, like a noble stag presiding over his herd.

Tentatively, she beckoned him and waited for him to receive her.

Needless to say, he was surprised to see her when she entered. Never did he expect her to visit his wigwam so willingly. For some time, they just stared at each other in silence. Though they had seen each other in passing, they had not spoken for weeks. He noticed she wore a crudely made scarf out of the exotic cloth he had given her. And it pleased him immensely. If only she was as accepting with the matters. Whilst Magua was taking advantage of warm summer weather to travel to neighbouring villages to re-establish tribal relations, Otter Woman had informed him that while Robin worked hard, she still had much to learn. She had yet to befriend any of the young women, and if not at Yunyeno's insistence, would not even participate in any feasting or evening gatherings. Magua couldn't help but frown as he regarded the young woman. She still wore buskin leggings instead of summery deerskin shifts. Robin was not assimilating as quickly as he had hoped. So far it seemed she was only being tolerant of the situation...but for how much longer? His frown deepened.

Noting Magua's thunderous expression, Robin cleared her throat and looked away, unable to bear the intensity of his gaze for much longer. "I heard you are taking a trading party to a nearby French fort. Some women are going too, yes?" She tried to sound as detached as possible, as to avoid exposing her true intentions. But Magua was cunning, and not easily fooled.

"This is true" he said slowly, though his obsidian eyes narrowed, ever so slightly. He was suddenly suspicious of Robin's spontaneous visit.

"I would like to come with", she said matter of factly, drawing back her shoulders in a show of determination. She often did this when she butted heads with Otter Woman. Though often, she did not win. Otter Woman had a nasty habit of beating Robin with a wooden spoon when she became to defiant. Robin soon learned to pick her battles more carefully.

However, Magua did not easily take the bait, and sat down on his fine furs to contemplate the sitaution. He gestured for Robin to do the same, "What do you need? Magua will get it for you." Perhaps he could bribe her with pretty trinkets and French perfumes. White woman luxuries.

Yet Robin remained standing and uninterested in his well-meaning offer, "No. I would like to go my-self"

"No." He scowled, jabbing a stick at the glowing embers of the fire pit.

"Why not?" She blinked, taken back by the abrupt answer. The man changes his mood as often as wind changes direction…such unpredictable nature…

"Not safe"

She scoffed in a dismissive tone, not believing his excuse. "The French are your 'brothers', are they not? Why is it not safe? I am under your protection, no?" She raised her brow dismissively. "You are Great War Chief. A great man, no?" She snorted sarcastically, poking his chest in mockery.

Magua grunted at her cutting tone, and grasped her wrist, "French brothers do not like their Huron brothers taking white captives." With a strong jerk, he brought her to her knees to sit beside him. "They give me much trouble". He then stared intently at her, fingering a stray lock of her curly copper hair. "Why do you want to go to French fort so badly? What is it you desire?" He gazed into her oceanic blue eyes, as if searching for an answer.

Robin knew she could not lie, and desperately sought to avoid his questioning gaze. Already he was suspicious of her motives. So she decided hastily to play dirty, and pouted in obvious protest, breaking his hold on her. "I thought you were trying to court my affections". When Magua cocked his brow at her, she continued, looking equally unamused and flustered. "Gifts of skinned rabbits and seashells only go so far. A man must keep me…entertained."

Magua snorted at her choice of words, seemingly amused at her usual antics, "You have become bold, Little Bird". His fingers gingerly skimmed the softness of her cheek. "Perhaps too bold…"

Ah, how he missed their good natured sparring…

And when she continued to sulk, he chuckled, and pulled her closer. "You remind me of Ji'yah when you pout like that."

Robin twitched slightly at the remark, but knew it was a calculated one. She readily replied, "Meek women accomplish little."

"Indeed" He muttered, still gazing at her in an almost affectionate fashion. She was not so skinny now with Otter Woman's daily feedings of stew and broth. Her curly locks were still slowly growing, and sported even a small braid or two. The summer sun had kissed her skin, but she was still quite pale. Slowly she was growing closer to womanhood. Like the last spring flower, Robin was a late bloomer. But Magua was a patient man. In Robin, he saw potential. He saw a woman who he call his wife. His friend, confidant and companion. His beginning and his end. Salvation, after near damnation. If only she felt the same for me…Little Bird…do you not know you have my heart?

The fire, having been left unattended, died out and engulfed the wigwam in darkness. Robin gasped and drew closer, startled by the pitch black that surrounded them. Only light from the stars filtered through the hole in the roof. Chuckling ever so softly, Magua's arms circled around her, and against her soft lips he whispered, "Ah, you are anything but meek, Little Bird…"

A/N - Chapter 13 to follow shortly.