A/N – sorry people ! I have been without internet for ages and was lacking abit of inspiration so haven't been able to post.
Days later -
The days leading up to the trading expedition created a buzz of excitement amongst the Huron village. Women chatted excitedly, packing their blankets and baskets on to their backs; the men prepared their muskets and sharpened their tomahawks. Trade was not always peaceful, especially when there were other tribes present. More often than not, the French did not always trade fairly. When the white man first settled on their shores and began trading, two beaver pelts could buy a new musket. Now a young warrior would be lucky to get an old musket for five. Tawendeh hoped Ogenwa would get her a new cooking pot, but knew her husband Ogenwa wanted to get Anue his first rifle.
The small party set off in the early hours of the morning, following the light of the morning sun as it travelled its way over the mountain peaks. Many of the warriors flanked the front and the rear, whilst the women were at the heart, huddled together. The pace was brisk, but comfortable and weather was cool and crisp. By noon, the French fort would be visible just over the horizon. Magua was on point, with Ogenwa marching by his side. Che'estaheh had unexpectedly opted to come as well and loitered at the back of the party, as far away from Magua as possible – as to avoiding any conflict-. Many were surprised by the young man's presence, as he often avoided being part of any of the tribe's communal dealings. When questioned as to why he too wished to visit the French Fort, he impishly replied, "For women and whiskey". He said when the winter months came, heavy snow would prevent him from travelling and he would not be able to enjoy such pleasures again until the next Spring.
Magua was suspicious at first, and strongly disapproved. Whiskey had once made a fool out of him, and could rob a warrior of his honour and mind. But it warmed the belly, and a French whore could warm any man's loins. Against his better judgement, Magua allowed his troublesome half brother to travel with them, so long as he behaved himself. The last time Magua brought Che'estaheh along on a trading party, he ended up causing a scandal by sleeping with a young Sauk maiden and getting caught by the girl's angry father. Magua had to offer many pelts as compensation in order to avoid further aggression. In truth, it was the only fault Magua had with Che'esthaheh; he never considered the consequences of his actions, nor the events that could enfold because of them. Yes, his brother was tiring at times, and his behaviour less than crapulous, but Magua hoped it was merely a trait of youth that would eventually right itself. After their father died, Magua quickly stepped forward and became the man of his family, providing for his ailing mother and others stricken by misfortune –as was expected of him-. He had hoped Che'estaheh would follow his example, but the young man seemed determined to vex him. Every now and then Magua would glance over his shoulder, regarding his brother in silent scrutiny. When his brother refused to meet his gaze Magua eyes drifted elsewhere, to Robin walking amongst the other women. And it did not go unnoticed.
"She's been quiet," Ogenwa noted. He did not have to look back to know his chief was again gazing at the white woman. Instead, he kept looking ahead, scanning for any danger.
"Too quiet." Magua frowned. He had noticed Robin was acting strangely obedient during their trek. She did not complain once, even whilst carrying heavy goods along with the other women. Yet she did not engage with their soft chatter. Instead, she was staring at nothing, her mind adrift in deep thought. Whatever she was thinking of, it was obviously troubling her greatly. Every so often she would narrow her eyes and nip at her lip. An anxious twitch.
What is she planning? Magua's frown deepened and increased his stride. "Magua believes his woman is up to no good." Perhaps it was a mistake bringing her.
Ogenwa cocked his brow for a moment, but said nothing.
Again, Magua frowned, looking ahead as the path began to clear, "She is hard to predict at times. But Magua knows the eye of a serpent when he sees it."
His firend snorted dismissively, "What could she possibly do? She is a woman."
"Tis'enta is a gypsy woman. She could lure a French soldier into the shadows, steal his uniform and escape into the night…Magua would not expect anything less." The Huron chief glanced back at her again and this time she met his gaze, all but briefly. She knew they were talking about her, even though she had yet to master their language. A modest maiden would never look a warrior directly in the eye. Yet Robin challengingly looked on, expectantly.
Magua huffed and looked away when Ogenwa paused up ahead, gazing out over the horizon, "Was it wise to bring her"
"Perhaps not" Magua admitted with a small grin. They came to a halt on the edge of the rocky cliff face, "but Magua is curious. Magua wants to see what Tis'enta will do next."
The French fort was nestled in the heart of the forest, at the bottom of the valley. Nearby, a small river weaved in and out through the trees, heading down South. When the fort finally came into view the women excitedly hurried. They had made good time, it was only midday and as expected there was a posse of French soldiers waiting to receive them. Nonetheless, Magua went ahead to meet them, whilst the party waited. Whilst the women took a moment to adjust their load and rest their backs, Robin cautiously edged towards the river. Every so slowly she stepped closer and closer, scanning the other side, desperately searching for some sign of movement. A gypsy camp was usually a hive of activity, with dogs barking, children running around and screaming. She remembered there was always music, always something cooking on the fire, and always, always laughter. Gypsies were poor, by some standards, but they were happy. They were free.
But there was no one there…
The only remnants of a camp that remained was a burnt out fire pit and some makeshift tents left discarded in the wind. The flaps fluttered open in the slight breeze, silently mocking her. The bittersweet sting of disappointment left Robin feeling numb. It appeared she had missed them. Gypsies never stayed in one place too long. Tracking them was as difficult as was predicting their destination. Yet Robin hoped against all odds, that maybe, just maybe she would catch a glimpse of them. She wanted to know who they were, were they acquainted with her clan? Were they friends and distant relations? Were they strangers who would welcome her with open arms and offer her a hot stew? She would never know.
Her absence was soon noticed as Tawnedeh had come looking for her, "Tis'enta, you must not wander off…" She trailed off, noting Robin's slightly sullen mood. Looking around, the matron could easily spot the abandoned camp site, "Who was here?" she wondered aloud. Pale faces very rarely camped outside, not when there was safe fort nearby. Hurons knew how to make and dissemble a camp hastily, without leaving much trace. Tawendeh thought whoever left this site must have left in a hurry, or were just very careless.
"Whoever they were…" Robin mumbled, "They're gone now."
When the two re-joined the group, there was a sudden air of tension. Many of the women huddled together, looking small and diminutive. The men looked tensed, clasping their tomahawks and rifles ready.
Robin whispered to Tawendeh, "What is wrong?"
After speaking to one of the women Tawendeh looked equally upset, quickly pulling Robin closer into the safety of the group. "Seneca! Seneca are at the French Fort!"
"Seneca?" Robin knew little of this tribe, though she had heard of them in passing. One thing was certain, they were enemies of the Hurons. The tribes had been at war for many generations. It was strange for them to be in French territory, given they were allied with the British. Magua theorised their French white brothers may be trying to bribe the Seneca into an alliance and rob the British of their loyalty and expertise. However, this would not automatically make Seneca and Hurons brothers. Too much blood had been split; Hurons did not forgive and forget easily.
Cautiously Magua eyed the cluster of Seneca warriors littered outside the French fort. They returned his gaze with equal discontent. Ogenwa stood attentively by Magua's side, speaking low as to not upset their women or alert their enemies to their discussion, "What do we do? Can we really trade with the Seneca dogs so near?"
"Our French brothers say the Seneca will be leaving soon. The negotiations did not go as well as they had hoped."
"If they do not leave soon, we are at risk. We have few warriors to protect our women."
Magua's eyes unconsciously strayed to Robin. She met his gaze with knowing tension. Clever thing. She knew how dire their situation was.
"If we flee, we will look like cowards. We need this trade to prepare for the coming winter. White brothers have promised us their protection"
With that Magua signalled for the party to advanced, seemingly undeterred with their hated enemy so nearby. He did not react when the Seneca jeered at them, nor did he rise to their threats and hollering. The party followed his example, though a few of the young Huron men gave a few shrieks in return.
Most of the women kept their heads low and eyes downcast, not daring to make eye contact with the dreaded Seneca. But Robin looked curiously, they were so different from the Hurons. They wore feathered caps, and from the looks of it most of their hair was shaved off, save for a scalp braid or two. They wore heavy adornments in their ears, stretching the lobes and distorting the shape. Interestingly, they wore linen shirts and trousers instead of the usual buckskins. But one stood out. His hair was long and left unadorned, save for a simply yellow bandana. He was a young man, probably just a few years older than Robin. Yet he had an air about him, a silent yet confident aura tempered with other worldly knowledge. His eyes –a thunderous grey- followed her, with cold and daunting interest.
She was so bewildered, she had not noticed Che'estaheh creep up behind her. He ventured so close, he was able to whisper devilishly in her ear. "You shouldn't stare. Your witchery eyes might offend them."
She jumped, and struck him lightly when he chuckled. He quickly hugged her close, perhaps in an attempt to quail her temper from the watchful eyes of the Seneca. "His name is Sganyadai'yo. Handsome Lake, in your devilish white tongue." He explained in a soft sneering tone, trailing her alongside the trading party.
Robin eyes narrowed, "And how would you know?"
Che'estaheh did not answer straight away. Magua must have sighted their intimate discussion; he approached in fevered strides, taunt angered lines marring his features. Che'estaheh tittered, beginning to retreat. "Beware, E'nita. Pray you never cross paths in Sganyadai'yo."
"Why?" Robin asked, her eyes wide with interest. She was oblivious to the Huron chief's approach.
"Because…" Magua growled, pulling her scarf to cover her bright copper hair, "Sganyadai'yo is a witch hunter."
A/N – happy now ? I know this isn't the most eventful chapter, but it moves the plot forward.