A/N – Next chapter! Things are heating up! Rate and review the story please! It took me a while to come up with this chapter, but finally have an idea about where I want this story to go. I admit, I struggled with this story, I felt I made both characters too utterly stubborn for one to give way, so will have to see where this goes. Please people, keep in mind I need constructive feedback!
In the safety of the French fort and away from the eyes of their hated enemy -the Seneca dogs-, Magua finally released the tentative breath he had been holding. Despite the somewhat brief but hostile encounter, there had been no altercations. The elder warriors in the party kept the younger bucks in check; the last thing they wanted was a fight. There was too much at risk if they were defeated. Their scalps, their trading goods and worse, their women. Despite Magua's position as a War Chief, he still felt a duty of care for his people; there was no honour in foolish bloodshed. He would be sure to rely his displeasure to de Montcalm the next time he saw him. Nevertheless, he would be diligent. The women were never to be left alone, warriors would have to stand guard. The Seneca were cunning as they were treacherous. They would do anything to spite their most hated of enemies. To add to the Hurons' grievances, they had arrived on the white man's holy day; much to Magua's vexation, no trade could commence till the next morning. With the possible threat of the Seneca lingering on the outskirts of the fort, the Huron trading party settled themselves inside the protection of the wooden walls. Magua, however, was restless. He did not like the confining walls of the French fort; he was born in the vast wilderness of his ancestors. Enclosed spaces edged him. Che'estaheh, on the other hand, seemed to revel in the luxury. Already he was gambling with some of the French bluecoats; he was confident he could win one of their rifles in a game of chance. Magua left him to it; it was not his duty to concern himself with his half-brother's misguided actions. As long as he stayed out of trouble, Magua left him to his own vices. When Magua decided to take a small party of warriors – at Ogenwa's suggestion – and ventured out of the fort, the lazy lout had refused, claiming already to be drunk on a soldier's rum ration. Magua left him, disgusted with his behaviour yet again.
Despite Che'estaheh's instance that all was well, Magua wanted to ensure the Seneca had indeed moved on. With slow, deliberate progress, they scoured through the nearby woods. Magua and his warriors spent some time out amongst the wilderness, intent in their search. Not far from the fort, Magua spotted a familiar sight. The leftovers of what seemed to a makeshift camp; a white man's camp. Common practice was to inspect the abandoned site, scavenge for any resources that could be reused; the pale faces were as wasteful as they were greedy. Warriors accompanying Magua rummaged through the site, collecting articles of rope and remaining fabrics used to make the shelters. Even a cooking pot had been toppled and left, discarded on the floor. Whoever had been camped there, they left in a hurry. Magua himself did not retrieve anything; a Chief was expected to be generous and pious, putting his people before himself. Greed was severely frowned upon. Instead, he surveyed the scene whilst his cousin, Ogenwa, kept a watchful vigil. With the losing light came danger. Soon they would need to retreat to the shelter of the fort. The women were waiting anxiously for their return.
Whilst walking through the camp remnants, a glint in the dirt caught Magua's eye. Kneeling, he inspected the strange object. It looked like shattered coloured glass, tied with thin, bent wire. It was a curious object, Magua held it up to the light for a better look. The glass caught the midday sun, creating a visual array of colours. He had not seen such strangeness before. Aloud he wondered, "Who was camped here?"
"Travellers of some sorts." One of his nearby warriors who spoke the white man's language must have overhead him. He came closer to inspect the glass object, interesting shining in his eyes. Clearly he wanted the item for himself, perhaps thinking it would make an exotic gift for his wife waiting back at the village. "The French guards on post said they drove them off. Their music spooked the Seneca."
Magua froze instantly. Travellers…
He had heard the word before. Robin had used it, describing her gypsy people as travellers. Magua's throat constricted tighter than a chain, his mouth went dry. Magua had noticed Robin's sudden despondent behaviour. He now understood its source. She had deceived him. Misled him. Betrayed him. She had used her charms on him, played with his heart, all in the pursuit of escape. Magua knew if the gypsies had remained, she would have deserted him in a heartbeat. She was just like his first wife, treacherous. Cruel. Unfiathful.
He abandoned the inspection of the campsite, instead making his way back to the fort. Ongewa was taken back by his sudden action; the rest of warriors quickly mobilised to follow.
He found her sat with the women, looking as downhearted as ever as she fiddled with a piece of stitching. Disappointment was evident, she didn't even try to hide it. As he approached, she must have sensed him. Like an approaching storm, thunderous intent shrouded over him. She looked up from her stitching, eyes wide. She knew instantly that her intentions had been found out. She dared not meet his gaze; though she herself despised cowardice, she did not have the gall this time to face him. Shame humbled her. Tawendeh noted the red hair's sudden uncharacteristic mousiness; she looked at her and then at Magua, already deducing something had transpired – and that it was Robin's fault.
To Magua's credit, he endeavoured to keep what little face he felt he had left intact. He even tried to mask his growing anger, though it laced his tone. "We must have words, Tis'tenha"
Robin avoided his gaze, knowing her intentions had been discovered. "There is nothing to say."
Tawendeh made a sound of disapproval at her, but said nothing. Magua, on the other hand, ignored everyone, except for Robin.
"Then Magua will speak, and Tis'tenha will listen." With eyes narrowed and a deep-set frown marring his features, he took hold of her hand and promptly pulled her away from the listening ears of others.
Robin knew not to struggle, not this time. Magua was tittering the edge of sanity. With every step, his grip tightened. Under his breath, he muttered away in a feverish hiss, "Magua has been patient with you, Tis'tenha. Magua has been good to you and waited."
He then came to an abrupt stop, causing Robin to collide with him. "But no more."
Magua looked at her with eyes blazing with accusation, despite knowing the truth already, he wanted to hear it from Robin herself. "You came to the fort because you knew gypsies would be here."
After a moment of silence, she finally nodded, unable to deny his allegation. "Yes."
Despite her honesty, he was only further incensed. His grip on her hand tightened to the point of pain. "Would you have fled?" When she did not reply, he took hold of her arms, shaking her in an enraged fit. "Speak!"
"I don't know!" Robin somehow found the strength to break away, taking a moment to steady herself.
"Magua is done waiting. He wants your answer. Will you be his wife?"
"Please," She sounded on the verge of tears, seeming more like a frightened child than a grown woman, "Do not ask me to make this decision. Not now. I…I just need more time."
In that moment, how he hated her. If his will was truly weak, he may have relented. But she had denied him yet again, only offering a small sliver of hope. Never a solid promise. Why did he allow her to torture him so? Anyone else would have surely abandoned this fruitless endeavour and spared themselves the heartache. Creator only knows how tempted Magua had been in that moment. But he tried to picture his life without Robin; he tried to envision the absence of her eyes, the lack of her voice and even the aggravation of her stubbornness. The thought was maddening. Lose her would be like losing a limb; infectious longing would rot him from the inside out. Magua was man shaped and carved by adversity. He had stood on the precipice of oblivion and returned. Pain, humiliation, grief; it had made him stronger. He would not yield so easily. Magua was a Great War Chief, a respected man amongst the Huron people. He could not let himself be denied and stringed along by a simple woman. Any lesser of a man would have walked away. But not the wily Huron fox. In this woman, he saw something. A spark. A fire. He just wished, beyond contention, that it was for him.
"Magua will make the decision for you." He took her hand, intertwining their fingers as if the gesture held great meaning. He spoke words with such fevered intent, Robin could scarcely understand him. When he finally looked back into her eyes, he spoke with finality, "We are married. You are my wife, and I am your husband. It is done. Finished." In absence of wedding bands, Magua took off one of his silver arm bands and pinched it tightly onto Robin's upper arm.
Robin -for once- was lost for words. She stared into his darkened eyes, perhaps looking for a hint of falsehood. But there was none. It seemed -in Magua's eyes at least- they were truly married. The words he had spoken must have been some sort of vow, though he did not ask for Robin's participation. She didn't know if she felt more affronted or awe stricken by his sudden actions.
Before either could react, the tense moment between the two was soon interrupted.
"Magua." It was Ogenwa who called to him.
It seemed he had watched the whole altercation, but had wisely waited until the heat of their confrontation had faded. "Our French brothers wish to speak about the trade tomorrow. They have asked for you." His tone was slow and cautious, perhaps wary Magua may misdirect his temper.
But the Huron Chief slowly grappled for control. The flames within his eyes slowly dimming, Magua assumed his usual, controlled persona. Without looking at Robin, he gestured to dismiss her. "Go back to the women."
"But-"
"Your husband has spoken!" He spoke with such volume, such convictions, all eyes in the fort's court yard reverted on them. He then marched away, displeasure fuelling his wide strides.
"You are not- Agh!" He was gone before Robin could finish her objection. She shook her fists, utterly vexed by what had just transpired. Whenever Magua was near her she felt suffocated; he robbed her of all arguments and wiles she had at her disposal. Even her ability to think was stolen by his maelstrom manner.
Ogenwa stayed for a moment, regarding the scene which had unfolded with obviously disenchantment. "Tis a sad thing; white and red never trade fairly." He then shook his head, turning to leave. "White women are cruel. They take red men's hearts. But do not give theirs in return."
Robin could only balk at such a strident statement. But knew she had no valid rebuttal.
Since their heated exchanged, Robin had not spoken a word to Magua. She hadn't even seen him since his declaration of marriage. He had been speaking with the French for some time, perhaps bartering trading agreements, ensuring the French would not cheat them out of any goods. Magua was shrewd as he was cunning; he had worked with the white man so long he knew their tricks. Besides, he needed something to occupy his mind. No doubt when he returned to face Robin, she would be riled and ready for a fight.
But Magua would be disappointed. For once, Robin didn't feel like fighting. After their heated exchanged, Robin was too exhausted to think of verbal retribution. She just stared at her stitching, not that it had progressed an inch since the morning. As usual she did not engage in the women's gossip, though some did invite her for her opinion.
What a mess she had found herself in. Yet again, she had made trouble for herself, and in doing so had made things worse. Not just for herself, but for Magua as well. Never had she seen such conflicting emotions contained in one singular form. If anything, she admired his tenacity, but cursed his mulishness. But then again, he probably thought the same about her. She let her mind mull over recent events. If Magua has truly married her, then leaving the Huron people would be next to near impossible. If she fled, Magua could everything at his disposal to track her down; he's done it once before. But where could she possibly flee to? If she went back to the Mohawks, back to Waneek, Magua would be well within his right to start a war. The same could be said if she tried to find Chingachgook and his sons. Then again, running to white civilisation would be a death sentence; she'd waste away, the prim and proper doctrines would kill her spirit faster than any disease could ravage her body.
Robin couldn't help but ask herself – would it truly be so bad to be Magua's wife? To become a Huron woman and call the village her home? She wished she'd brought her tarot, perhaps they would offer more insight into this situational turmoil.
Unknown to Robin, she was being watched closely. She had been so absorbed in her own thoughts, she didn't notice Tawendeh was eyeing had been eyeing her for some time
Finally, the older Huron woman broke the silence, "You have wounded Magua."
Robin stilled for a moment.
Finally, after staring at the matron with empty eyes, she began to fidget and speak "I did no such thing."
Tawendeh regarded her with an arched brow. "Perhaps I misspoke. Words of the white man are not often clear." Her knowing, black eyes seemed to delve into Robin's very soul. A gift Robin herself had not mastered. "You have wounded his heart."
Under the Huron woman's disappointed gaze, Robin couldn't help but feel ashamed; she hung her head, admitting in a mutter, "I did not mean to."
"And yet you have. So how will you make things right?"
Once again feeling on the spot, Robin was quick to find some sort defence, anything to deter Tawendeh's motherly reprimand. "Why should I even try? things will never be right between us. We are too different. He expects too much of me."
"Or perhaps you expect too much of him?" The copper skinned woman pressed, poking an accusing finger at Robin's chest, "You are Huron woman now. You live in Huron village. You have Huron name. you should have Huron husband and be thankful."
Robin paused for a moment, letting the words sink in. "You think I am ungrateful."
Tawendeh regarded her for a moment, silently scrutinizing her, as she did those many months ago when Robin first arrived at the village. "I think you are scared, little white girl. White man is greedy. But white women even worse."
"I'm afraid I don't follow."
"You promised yourself to Magua that day in the Lenape village, no? Promised to follow, in exchange for the yellow hair's freedom." Obviously -somehow- Tawendeh had found out about that fateful day on top of the cliffs. Robin assumed only Ogenwa could have told her.
Never the less, Robin let her mind drift back to that day; she thought about how horribly it could have ended, how much misery and sorrow could have been caused. "This is true…" She finally admitted, "But I just need more time-"
Tawendeh cut her off, rather compellingly, "You have had time! Too much time perhaps. Magua has provided for you, hunted for you, protected for you and yet still, you ask for more." Again, she jabbed at Robin's chest, as if trying to emphasise her point, "Do you deny it?"
"No," Robin quietly admitted, growing increasingly uncomfortable with Tawendeh's on the mark scolding.
"See? Greedy!"
The fellow women of the group were watching, silently nodding in clear agreement. It was evident Tawendeh held a degree of authority amongst the Huron women. Many came to her with their problems, seeking her council. Robin felt it would wise for her to yield and listen for once. Tawendeh had already proved she was not above physically cuffing those who so rudely rejected her advice.
Trying to keep her tone respectful, Robin attempted to defend herself, "Then what would you have me do? Simply give up and lose a piece of myself?"
Tawendeh scoffed, as if exasperated by Robin's weak reasoning. "What is there to lose? You hold onto something that is not there. When Magua brought you to the village, you had nothing but the clothes on your back. You had no white family. No white home. And no white husband."
Robin solemnly nodded, "This is true."
"Then you have nothing to lose. Only to gain! White girl is not only scared and greedy but she is also stupid!"
Robin recoiled, clearly affronted by the woman's harsh words. "I most certainly am not!"
The two fell silent. Tawendeh went back to her stitching, shaking her head at Robin's stubbornness. She gave Robin time to ponder her words, knowing she was smart enough to realise there was validity in what she had said. Where Robin had wilfulness, Tawendeh had wisdom.
After some time, the Huron matron decided it was time to continue their discussing, starting off with an off handed remark. "Magua would make a good husband."
Robin scoffed, casting her a sideways glance. "Then why did you not marry him?"
"Ogenwa has always had my heart, I longed for no other" She smiled to herself remembering fondly of Ogenwa's courtship. When Robin coughed to regained her attention, she gave a maidenly blush and continued, "Besides, Magua was already married."
Her commented peaked Robin's interest. "He married so young?" She thought aloud, more to herself than anyone else, "He never speaks of his wife. What was she like?"
Tawendeh sniffed and purposefully looked away, focusing once more on her own stitching. "It is not my place to say."
Robin rolled her eyes, "When has that ever stopped you?"
Her comment earned a half-heartened chortle from the other women, but Tawendeh silenced them with a sideways glance. She seemed to take a moment to consider her words, before -reluctantly- recounting, "She was a good woman. Well liked in the village. They were happy together. With children too."
"Did he love her?" Robin asked quietly. It was a question that plagued her, even if she was unwilling to truly admit it.
Tawendeh nodded absently, "I think perhaps more than he wanted to admit."
"Why not go and win her back?"
The older woman shrugged, "Shame. Or perhaps pride." When she noted Robin's confused, owlish stare, she sighed, having to further elaborate. "It had been her choice to leave him. Magua had enough honour in him to respect her wishes. He would not go the wigwam of another man and beg like a dog. Tindee made her choice, and for that, she is even more stupid than you."
So, that was her name? Tindee.
Robin was so absorbed in her thoughts, she didn't notice Tawendeh taking her hand. She looked at Robin like she was star, shining in the darkest night. "You can heal Magua. You can make him the man he once was. Before Magua was War Chief, before the white man robbed him…He laughed."
"Magua laughed?" Robin blinked, the very thought sounded absurd. Not once since she encountered Magua had she ever seen him laugh. She'd seen him grin, sneer and smirk but never truly laugh.
But Tawendeh nodded earnestly. She smiled, as if reminiscing, "He did. Greatly. Loudly. And he made others laugh too." But her smile soon faded into a sad grimace. "But much has changed since then. He has had no reason to laugh. No reason to love."
One of the women, Weeish, who had been listening attentively like the others, felt compelled to add her two cents. Quietly, the slender, middle aged woman muttered, "He would love you well."
The rest of the women nodded in apparent agreement.
Despite Magua's temperamental nature at times, it seemed even the women of the tribe respected him. Unknown to Robin, this spoke volumes in Magua's favour. Though it was the men who became warriors and chiefs, it was ultimately the women -the clan mothers- who supported and stabilised the tribal politics. If a Sachem did not act accordingly, he could easily be ousted if he lost the favour of the elder women. Despite Magua's personal demons of the past, he was still well respected by women such as Tawendeh and Weeish. With their approval came the approval of others. It seemed they hoped their vocal input would somehow sway Robin's own opinion as well.
But she looked for any excuse to discredit him.
"He does not speak kind words of love to me." Robin mumbled with a pout, looking for any straw to grasp.
"Is that all it would take to win your heart? Weak words?" Tawendeh did not look impressed, "Bah, that is the white man's way of courtship. You do not belong to white man anymore-"
Robin cut her off, nodding her head, "Yes, yes, I know. I am Huron woman now."
"Ah, you see?" Tawendeh grinned, "You learn. Slowly, but still you learn. Now, you answer. Do you love him?"
Robin blushed at her sudden directness, "What?!"
"Magua. Does your heart call out to him?"
The young, red haired woman began to stutter, clearly flustered, much to the amusements of the other women in the sewing circle. "How can you ask- I wouldn't know…I-"
"See? Whiteman's words. Very unclear. Huron way very simple. Yes? Or no?"
Robin visibly fidgeted, twirling her hair in a nervous twitch, "Nothing is life is that simple."
"Then watch, I show you. Do I love Ongewa? Yes. Is Anue my son? Yes. Do I like Ji'yah? No." Throughout the whole demonstration, Tawendeh kept a straight face.
Robin tried to not smile at Tawendeh's bluntness, she even playfully jabbed her elbow at the Huron matron.
But Tawendeh continued, undeterred, "Ah, but it is true is it not? I speak the words of truth and both my heart and head are at peace."
"I start simple. Do you like Ji'yah?"
After a moment of hesitation, Robin finally answered, "No."
The women in the circle gave reassuring nods. Robin took comfort in their encouragement.
"Do you see Yunyeno as a father?"
"Yes."
"Is Anue not the greatest young warrior in the village?"
Robin grinned, admiring Tawendeh's motherly pride, "Yes."
"Do you like Magua?"
After a moment of silence, a moment of hesitation, Robin finally admitted, "Yes…"
Tawendeh nodded hopefully, "That is good start. Now…" She leant in closely, "Do you love him?"
Before Robin could answer, the Huron matron silenced her, pulling her to her feet. She neatened the scarf covering her red hair as she did so, "Do not tell me your answer. Only Magua should hear it. Now, go find Magua, foolish girl. Give him your answer. Quickly, before he decides to sell you to the French!"
Robin left the other women, rushing throughout the fort to find Magua. She felt lightheaded, giddy even. The truth seemed like a drug; all the fears and doubts were soon forgotten, replaced only with hopeful endearment. Despite their conflicts, their differences, Robin had never truly felt akin to anyone else. Yes, she admitted the settled life of a Huron woman was note entirely appealing, but perhaps she could change the old fox, teach him a few new tricks. She hoped, perhaps, if she gave him a loving inch, he would give her the freedom of a mile. Time could only tell. Robin had to be honest with herself, she had been a coward; she had tried to run so desperately, she hadn't even considered a life with Magua. But the more she thought about, the more curious she became. There was no guarantee they'd live happily ever after, but then again, nothing in life was ever guaranteed. All she could do was take a leap of faith and hope the Huron was there to catch her.
She spotted him nearby, sat near an open fire. For a moment, she watched him in silence. True, he was not the most handsome, or even the youngest warrior she could marry. But there was a certain air of regal vitality in his presence. With his back straight and shoulder flexed back, he was a man whom commanded respect.
She called out to him, unable to hide the excitement lacing her tone. She didn't know why, but suddenly there was joy in her heart when she saw him; it came like a rush of flowing water. For a brief moment, she smiled at the sight of him, it was like she was seeing the sun for the first time. Though it soon faded when she saw his gaze still smouldered with anguish. Apparently, he still had not forgiven her, not that she blamed him. Only a couple of hours had passed since their 'marriage', the Huron needed more time to cool his fury.
Robin visibly tremored, realising that she was the cause of such pain. Robin nervously swallowed but stood ready.
Magua stood, having expected Robin to eventually seek him out for some sort of confrontation. He predicted yelling, insults being hurled like deadly blades. Truly, he expected the worst and was in no mood to face her. "You should not be away from the other women. Go back." He even averted his gaze, unable to look at her.
"No," She took his hand, cupping it towards her heart, "I need to talk you. It's urgent."
Magua paused, for the briefest moment. The intimacy of her gesture had taken him by surprise. But he then also remembered she had used a similar ploy before to gain his favour, to mislead him. Reluctantly, he pulled his hand away from her warm touch.
He still looked away, trying to avoid the inviting gaze of her blue eyes, "Speak quickly."
"Make me laugh."
Finally, Magua met her gaze, obviously confused by her blunt and somewhat random request. "Have you been struck stupid, foolish woman?"
"Tawendeh said you were once very good at making people laugh."
"Tawendeh says many things." He said with a roll of his eyes. Yet again Ongewa's troublesome wife was sticking her nose in other people's business, saying things which did not need to be said.
"She also said you are a good man. And that I would be very lucky to have you as a husband."
She watched with silent amusement as Magua tried to fight the smug smile tugging at his lips. Finally, he conceded, "Tawendeh has always spoken truth."
"Then make me laugh." It was a simple request. She hoped he'd humour her.
"Why?"
"It is important." She tried to think of how she could convince him, "I like people who make me laugh."
Magua thought for a moment, admittedly taken back by her strange request. It had been so long since he even attempted witticism. Yet one anecdote came to mind;
"A white man came upon a Muskogee and admired his necklace. 'What is it made out of?' The white man asked. 'Alligator teeth' the Muskogee replied. The foolish white man did not look very impressed and said 'I suppose that they mean as much to you as pearls do to us.' The Muskogee was quick to correct the foolish white man. 'On no' the Muskogee spoke, 'Anyone can open oyster.'"
Robin listened attentively to the story. Her eyes growing wide as she followed his verbal tale.
Magua was disheartened at first when she looked away, believing she had not understood the humour. He even wondered if she had ever actually seen an alligator before. Perhaps that is why the notion of the joke had been lost. Magua would not admit it, but he suddenly felt foolish. But then a soft sound graced his ears; the soft sound of laughter. It started off small, like the giggle of a child, before growing into a haughty chuckle. Her laughter was infectious. Magua found himself grinning alongside her. Despite her time in the village and in his company, Magua realised he had never truly seen Little Bird smile or laugh. He took his time to memorise her features. When she laughed, her eyes narrowed like a vixen, dimples puckered in her cheeks. With her smile, his remaining reservations melted away.
She took his hand again and this time he did not hinder her, "Magua, I have not been fair to you. I have had time to consider things, perhaps more than I should have. Despite all that has happened…I want you to know that I-"
"Magua!"
Both started at the sudden frantic cry.
"Anue?" Magua grunted, believing the young warrior's timing could not have been worse. He had obviously gotten the habit from his father. "What is it?"
Anue dashed over to them and skidded to abrupt halt. The boy was panting heavily, expelling breath with harsh rapidity. He looked exhausted. But he was visibly pale, eyes wide with fright. "Your brother, he is gone!"
"Che'estaheh?" Magua tensed for a moment but quickly dismissed his worry with a indifferent wave of his hand, "Probably chasing a French whore." He ignored Robin's disapproving glare.
"No, I saw the Seneca take him captive! They've taken him to the river." Anue gritted his teeth, turmoil thwarting his attempts to remain calm and stoic, "I am sorry, Great Chief. I was a coward. I could not help him."
Though he tried to contain them, his eyes began to mist with unshed tears. The poor boy was visibly shaking, but it was not solely fear which shook him. The young Huron felt he had failed as a warrior. But facing the enemy would have surely meant certain death. Magua wanted to reassure his cousin's son.
He knelt down to be eye level with the young man. Though Magua's expression was grim, his tone was firm, "You were wise. It is foolish for one to challenge many. Go get your father and the other warriors. Quickly."
Anue quickly took off running once more, sprinting as fast as his feet could carry him.
Robin stayed rooted to the ground, processing what she had just heard. Though Che'estaheh was not the most favoured in the village, it was truly a heart retching danger for the young man to find himself in. From the stories Robin had heard, the Seneca and Huron conflicts were bloody affairs. In these conflicts, many lost their lives. Robin honestly feared for Che'estaheh, and from the slight glint in Magua's eyes, Robin guessed he feared for his brother too.
"Go back to the women." He commanded, unslinging his rifle, "Stay close to Tawendeh and get to safety."
Robin refused to release her hold on his hand. A sensation of dread ran down her neck. "Where are you going?"
With reluctance, Magua pried his hand free from hers, "To find my brother."
Magua dashed through the forest, sprinting as quickly as his nimble legs could carry him. Though it pained him to leave Robin, Magua could not risk Little Bird being caught in the crossfire. Or worse, being used as some sort of leverage. If the Seneca had truly taken Che'estaheh then they already had an advantage over Magua. It was not uncommon for tribes to take relatives prisoner and use them as political tools, gaining compliancy for rival clans and enemy tribes.
A cold yet ration piece of Magua's heart ordered him to abandon the hopeless quest immediately. Its callous intent whispered to Magua, urging him to turn back. It reminded him of how Che'esthaheh had always been a burden to his chiefdom, an eye sore to his authority, a disgrace to their family. But -despite it all- they were still blood. Magua could not live with himself if he hadn't at least tried. Though he dreaded to think it, he was prepared to find his brother's corpse, scalped and all. Seneca were not merciful. But then, neither were Hurons. Even if his brother was dead, Magua was prepared for see his killers. If he could not kill them then, he would claim vengeance later.
Magua skidded to a subtle halt and crouched low to the floor. He had just seen a flicker of light from a fire nearby. He feared the worst; his brother was about to be burnt alive. He waited for the agonising screams to fill the air.
But there was none. There was no sound at all. No war whoops or cries. Not even any sound of movements. Cautiously, the wily fox approached, drawing near to the flame, eyes intently searching the surrounding darkness of the forest. He was unaware he was being followed. Though adrenaline fuelled his senses, his single-track focus robbed him of some of his perception.
When Magua caught sight of his brother, still alive and well, he released a sigh of relief. The fool was lucky to be alive. "Che'estaheh!" He hissed lowly, not wishing to alert any enemies nearby. He gestured for his brother to follow, hoping to evade the Seneca before they could pounce on the both of them. But the fool stayed sat by the fire, unmoved.
"Magua…" The younger warrior merely stared over at him, looking at him with wide, incredulous dark eyes. "I can't believe you actually came for me."
Magua approached a couple more steps, desperately gesturing for Che'esthaheh to follow. "You are my brother. I could not leave you to the wolves."
"And now you find your-self in the wolf's den, Huron dog."
Magua's head snapped sharply to the source of the voice.
A dozen Seneca warriors jumped from the cover of the trees and deadland, brandishing tomahawks and rifles. Their faces and upper bodies were painted black with tinted bear grease. They came out from the cover of shadows, looming like spectres in the growing darkness of night. Magua stepped ever closer to his brother, hoping perhaps the two of them could form a united defence and fight their way through.
But Che'esthaheh snatched his rifle from his brother's grasp, training its aim square onto his chest.
"What is this, Che'estaheh?" Magua's eyes narrowed dangerous. He raised one hand, ready to retake the weapon -if possible-, whilst his other hand reached for his tomahawk.
Che'estaheh watched him, the aim of the rifle following his movements.
"This, brother-" He cocked the rifle, "-is the end. With you gone, I will become chief and the Hurons will join the Iroquois nation."
Magua eyed the surrounding war party, attempting to calculate his survival. The various scenarios playing in his head did not promise any favourable outcome. Magua sought to buy himself more time. "To align yourself with our sworn enemies?" He tensed his shoulders, readying himself. "To go this far…"
Che'esthaheh crazed laughter cut him off. He seemed utterly amused by his brother's sheer disbelief, "Even you must have known it would eventually come to this."
Magua scowled, the fury within him growing to such a state it could scarcely be contained. What his brother had done was unthinkable. Unforgivable. He had been truly ready to fight for his brother's life. Now it seemed, he would to fight Che'estaheh to save his own life.
Magua gritted his teeth, a red visage slowly clouding his vision. He had been good to his brother after all these years. He had tolerated his brother's nonsense and poor choices. Had even at one time defended him. But this…this was more than just a betrayal of blood. It was treason to the tribe. Magua could not let such insult go unpunished.
His situation, looking ever so bleak, meant he could only issue one challenge. If he was going to die tonight, he wanted it to be a warrior's death.
"If this is how it is truly to end, then fight me like a man." He sneered, "Not as a coward among many, Snake."
Che'esthaheh instantly launched at him like a rabid dog, spurred on by the childish nickname he had grown to despise. The rifle clattered to the floor, forgotten.
The Seneca watched on, entertained by the savage fight. Regardless of the outcome, they were to ensure Magua did not return to the Huron village alive. The two men fought viciously, throw fists at each other in quick succession. Magua had experience and skill, at first deflecting Che'estaheh anger fuelled strikes. But his brother had power in his blows. When he struck a glancing blow into Magua's jaw, he toppled to the ground, incurring a resounding cheer from the Seneca. Che'esthaheh drew encouragement from it and advanced upon his brother.
Robin watched it all unfold from her hiding spot. She had followed Magua not long after he had raced off. He at left in such a hurry, putting so much distance between them, Robin had lost sight of him in the dark forest. Then she heard the cheering, the sickening crack and thud of flesh taunting pain onto other flash. The light of the fire created giant shadow monsters, combating amongst the trees. It appeared to be a vicious fight; one figure launched at the other and was then rebounded back. His opponent charged, wailing blow after blow whilst the other was recovering from his stagger. Robin crept closer, aware of the Seneca outlined amongst the landscape. They were so engrossed in the vicious brawl; none had noticed her. The fevered cries and hateful wails masked her sounds of movement. The Seneca looked like devils, their skins painted the colour of burnt charcoal. They heckled and jeered the fighting warriors, openly placing bets, ready to enter should their chosen accomplice fail to end it.
Finally, Robin could see the two man war with her own eyes. From the cover of a sloping tree, she watched in horror it was Che'estaheh raining blows upon his disadvantaged brother. He was truly a horrifying sight; he had struck his brother with such force, his fists were bloody and torn. Magua was trying to regain his footing whilst still defending his venerable body areas. Che'estaheh fought like a raving beast, lashing out with hellish intent, blind to everything except his wavering brother. He did not have enough time to dodge Magua's bladed slice. The tip of Magua's tomahawk sliced up his chest, knocking into his chin and just scraping across his eye.
Che'estaheh fell back, instinctively scurrying back, away from further attack. The wound was not deep, but blood flowed from the long opening of the skin. The Seneca watching gave disapproving hollers, enticing Che'esthah to act. Their cries, the thundering of his own heart in his ears, a misplaced wail; it became too much to bear.
"Enough!" he screamed, closing his swollen, damaged eye . He reached once again for the rifle and took aim.
Magua heaved deeply, trying to steady his breath. Blood dripped from his broken nose and split lip, but still he looked at his brother evenly; ever the dignified chief, even to the end. "So this is now it truly ends? Done over by my own brother?"
Che'esthaheh hesitated for the briefest moment, the aim of his rifle faltering from its target.
"No!" Robin broke the cover of her hiding spot and ran into the fray, "Magua!"
Her sudden appearance stunned many. She practically threw herself between Magua and the barrel of the rifle, though she instantly paled sighting it was so close.
For a moment, Che;esthaheh believed his sight had truly failed him. "E'nita?"
Magua looked equally surprised, his heart seizing once more with dread. "Tis'tenha?" He wished to push her away, out of danger. Yet at the same time, he drew her closer, turning so that his back faced his brother and the encroaching Seneca.
A single shot ran out.
Robin screamed.
And Magua staggered forward, limp her arms.
Che'estaheh watched as the pair tumbled into the river, disappearing under the rushing rapids of the water. Though the river was momentarily stained with blood, it vanished under the sheer volume of rushing current.
The Seneca war party began gathering by the river, looking on in astonishment and irritation. They had been taken by surprised by the white woman's sudden appearance. They were even more surprised when she had flung herself into the Huron's arms. Now the swift waters of the river had claimed them, seeming to have swallowed the two up. Neither resurfaced, even as they travelled down river. It was as if the waters were protecting them, spiriting them away from their enemies, at least for the time being.
Che'estaheh was practically seething. He pushed his way to the front, letting out an anguished cry. He did not seem to care about his serious injuries. He was more intent on raging at the river. And at Magua's accursed white woman.
"That foolish woman!" he hissed,
Prowling the water's edge for any signs of life, Che'estaheh thought how he could save his devious designs. All his planning, all his scheming, could be utterly undone by a mere white woman! He should have known she would trouble. He never expected such reckless. Such blind courage. Why did she not run away when she had the chance? He practically gave her the perfect opportunity! Could it be possible that the white woman actually had deep, profound feelings for Magua? Feelings strong enough to risk her life for him?
"Damn you, Magua" Che'estaheh spat the excess blood from the blood pooling in his mouth. He was practically shaking with envious rage, "Damn that white witch!"
His comment did not go unheard. The one called Handsome Lake stepped forward, eyeing the waters with dreadful scrutiny. "A witch?"
Che'estaheh instantly regretted his words. The young Handsome Lake fancied himself a fanatic preserver of Seneca traditions and superstitions. Witchcraft was not something lightly spoken of when he was around. Already some whispered the young man would one day become a great phophet for his people. If that prediction was indeed true, he would prove to be an asset to Che'estaheh's transition to power. With his support, few would challenge him.
The last thing he wanted was for the young Seneca to lose focus and go chasing after witches. White or not.
Che'estaheh began issuing orders as he followed the river, refusing to treat his disfiguring injury. He was more intent on capturing their quarry, by better directing the war party's attention. "Spread out and find them. Magua may be dead, but that woman is still alive. If she gets back to village, our plan is ruined. Find her! Find them!"
Now Robin was hiding in the freezing waters of the river, clutching at Magua's lifeless form. Her mind was racing, her fear robbing of thought and reason. Magua was on the verge of death yet death lurked in the shadows of the forests. Seneca could very well be searching for them, hellbent on taking Magua's life -and possibly even his scalp-. Robin was still reeling from Che'estaheh's deceit; how could he do this? Betraying his brother, allying himself with the Seneca – suddenly his words back at the village made sense. Robin cursed herself, why did she not predict this tragedy? How could the gods be so cruel? Just as she'd come to realise her feelings for Magua, was he to be so cruelly taken from her?
Robin tightened her grip around Magua's torso, though her numbing ligaments were slowly losing their sensation of touch. They needed to get out of the water before they both froze to death. Magua needed serious treatment, but where could they go? Surely there would be Seneca waiting at the fort for their possible return. Magua had enough sense in him to order Ogenwa to take the rest of the party back to the village. With hope and prayers, they would not be waylaid by their enemies. But it also meant that Magua and Robin were truly alone, without support or supplies. Robin shuddered again, tears slowly welling in her eyes – she was slowly realising she could very well lose Magua this night. The mere thought of him slipping away whilst still in her arms was near maddening. He had always seemed so tough, almost invincible. He seemed like a force of nature, not so easily snuffed out. For him to be felled by such treachery was truly a tragedy. Robin refused to cry, she shook her head as if warring the tears away. Now was not the time for tears; she needed to think of something and quickly.
A light flickered in the approaching distance, catching her eye. Robin held her breath, fearing the worst. If Che'estaheh and the Seneca had found them, Magua was as good as dead. She didn't know what they'd do with her. Robin waited and listened. There was a sound of shuffling, footsteps growing closer. But these did not sound like immediate human footsteps. They were small, following in quick succession, accompanied by a panting breath.
A dog. A mongrel to be exact, with no discernible features of any specific breed, pawing through the forest floor some distance away from the approaching light. It came closer to the riverbed, sniffing with increasing interest. Perhaps it had caught onto their scent, or even their slightest hint of noise. The senses of an animal greatly outweighed that of any man. After a moment, the dog then came to an attentive halt, eyes fixed on the pair in the water. Its tail short up like a pointer as paws scuffled at the ground. The small beast knew of their presence; it released a slight growl to alert its master.
"Jochie? What is it, boy?"
Robin's heart flickered with joy. The language and accent confirmed it was not the Seneca that had found them. But Robin was also equally overjoyed about the name of the dog. Jochie was Dutch for 'little boy' -roughly translated-. Whoever these people were, they were of Dutch descendant. Dare she hope these were the gypsies driven off from the fort. They could also equally be Dutch immigrant travelling through the territory; if they found Magua and Robin together, they could kill them both, believing the union between them to be ungodly. Robin cast her gaze back at Magua, finding his paling face more frightening than any horror Hell could unleash upon her. She decided then it was risk she was willing to take.
"Please, help us." She tentatively called, unaware she was shivering so badly her teeth began to chatter.
The shadowed figure of a young man came into view, his face illuminated by the light. He was younger than she originally thought and hoped to use it to her advantage. The young were sometimes more sympathetic than their elders. As their possible saviour drew closer, Robin scanned him; he wore a cap and a dirty, ruffled shirt, adorned with vest and matching -patch work repaired- trousers. He walked bare foot, sending elation into Robin's heart.
"I am Sinti, like you."
The young man warily eyed the bleeding man, lifting his lantern ever so slightly. One look at the unconscious -and heavily bleeding- Huron sent him skittering back. "He is not…"
Robin said nothing and instead focused her efforts on wading through the water, keeping Magua's floating form beside her. With the light of lantern, his wounds were more visibly, as was the blood still pouring from it. It would not be long before he bled out. He was already going cold, the cold waters of the river slowly sapping away his warmth of life.
The gypsy boy lent in for a closer look, visibly paling at the grievous wound. "Who have attacked you? The French?"
"No, the Seneca. They are looking for us."
The young man instantly tensed, perhaps ready to abandon them. But, to his credit, he stayed, edging closer to the edge of riverbed. His dark eyes flickered between Robin and Magua, as if he were in debate with himself.
Finally, he spoke, nervously licking his lips. He was nervous, anxious even. "We do not involve our-selves in affairs of red men."
Despite his words, he offered his hand. "Leave him and come with us."
"No." Though she took the young man's hand, her hold on Magua only tightened. "I will not leave my husband."
A/N – there you go! Progress! Oh but at what cost? Well, you know the deal, rate and review!
This was a big one to write! I do have a rough idea for the next chapter! Stay tuned!