By the way, this story will not follow any particular timeline, so don't be confused. Someone pointed out to me that last chapter, talking about Connor's wound on his stomach; it seemed that it took place after his father was dead. Just view this fanfic with as much effort to keep track of timelines as Tom and Jerry.

"So seeing as Connor and I need to go out for a few days to Boston, I hoped you would be able to take care of Kaneonuskatew." Aveline finished, gesturing with her right hand down to her left hand, which was clutching the collar of the little girl in question. Diana snuck a look down at the girl, watching her lean from side to side, looking everywhere her eyes would let her. She would take three steps one way, before her mother's grip on her buckskin jacket would stop her. She would pull against it for a moment, and then take three steps the other way, beginning the process all over again. Diana was certain if Aveline had let go of the child for one moment, she might hesitate for a short while, but then would start running off only God knows where, and that would be the last they saw of her.

Diana had never been alone with Kaneonuskatew (or as everyone but her parents called her, Katherine), and had thus never been responsible for keeping track of her. She doubted her abilities to look after her two sons and this whirlwind of raven curls and swift feet. But Connor was someone she considered family, along with Aveline. They had both done so much for her family, without ever expecting anything in return. To Donna, that meant this little girl was ever bit her responsibility to raise as her own sons were.

"Alright then Aveline, Ah'll see to it she's looked after." Donna agreed.

"Thank you." With that, Aveline scooped up Kaneonuskatew, and handed her off to Donna. Aveline kissed her on the forehead, "Be good for Donna."

The little girl just nodded, and then Aveline was gone, heading to ride off with Connor to Boston.

Donna smiled down at the little girl in her arms, "Well, Ah'd best show you inside."

Kaneonuskatew gave a small nod, and then pointed to the ground. "Do ya promise not ta run off?"

She gave a short nod, and Donna complied, setting her on the ground gently. The minute her little moccasin-clad feet brushed the ground, Kaneonuskatew started sprinting for the tree line. Donna frowned, trying to grab her but the toddler was to fast. Before she made it to the tree line, Donna's older son, James, popped out behind a small bank of snow. Kaneonuskatew tried to slow down, but her moccasins slid across the snow, sending her flying head first into James.

James' head popped up first, and he looked towards his mother, eyes wide, "Was that a cat!?"

Donna just rolled her eyes, and pointed to the snow bank next to him. James looked, to see two tiny moccasins sticking up out of the snow, kick furiously to get free.

He grinned, and grabbed the kicking ankles, giving a big yank. As the girl popped out of the snow, she tumbled into James. They both rolled around a bit, before settling into a softer bank of snow.

James wrapped his arms around the little girl, and called her, by the nickname he and his brother had bestowed upon her, "Squirrel!"

Aveline had not been happy about that one.

As Kaneonuskatew struggled to break from James' hold, James' brother, David showed up. He saw the girl, and couldn't contain his excitement. "Squirrel!"

Donna laughed, seeing her two boys showering the poor girl with hugs. The first time they has seen girl, she had been walking through the field they often played in. When they had spotted her they were curious, and had started running towards her. This had frightened Kaneonuskatew, and she had sprinted into the woods.

Terry had raised his sons to never let a woman go into any dangerous place alone, so the boys had seen it as a rule that they must go with her. She had seen it as them chasing her.

Every time one of the boys accounted how they had chased her in, the height of the tree she had ended up climbing got taller and taller.

James had stayed at the base of the tree, and David ran off to get Terry. When Terry arrived, Kaneonuskatew had climbed as high as possible. Terry, knowing full well his limitations when it came to things like climbing trees and swimming, had sighed, cupper his hands to his mouth, and shouted up, "If you don't climb down, yer father is going to knock both of our heads for this!"

Which frightened the girl more, Terry's loud, booming voice, or the threat of her father's wrath? Either way, the girl came down.

Seeing as neither of the boys could pronounce her real name, and she didn't usually respond to Katherine, they continued calling her what they had made up that day. Her parents were less than thrilled.

The girl wiggled free from James, managing to roll onto her feet, and smile at the two of them. She raced back to Donna, grabbing the edge of her skirt, tugging gently while pointing into the woods, grunting impatiently.

"Ya want to go into tha woods?" Kaneonuskatew nodded. "Be back before sundown. Boys, make sure she doesn't get hurt."

The three immediately took off into the woods, Kaneonuskatew in the lead. James and David never knew where she was going when they went off together, but she always had some new place to show them.

This time, they seemed to be heading away from the mountain, more towards the road. They ran for what the boys guessed was half a mile, before Kaneonuskatew stopped at the base of a tree, leaning against it for a moment, taking several deep breaths, her breath freezing in the air. The boys had to sit down to catch their breaths. Almost as soon as she had stopped, she jumped onto the tree, wrapping her tiny legs around it, working her tiny hands and feet into knobs and crooks in the bark, until she could finally grip a branch. Then another. And another. Soon, she was at least thirty feet into the air, standing on a branch only twice at thick as her shin. Her eyes squinted towards the road in the distance, making out two figures on horseback. One in white, one in blue. She raised a hand to her lips, two fingers slipping in to her teeth. A shrill whistle flew through the air.

In response, one of the figures slowed down, turning around to gaze in her direction, before answering with a whistle of his own. She couldn't stop the grin that spread on her face, a glee coming over her. Her father had spent two days teaching her how to whistle, telling her about its strategic advantages. "Nothing is better to lure a man to his death, or signal an ally."

Her father's horse turned back around, rushing to catch up with her mother's. She hesitated on her branch, watching as dark clouds brought a fresh fall of snow over the woods. The roads of the homestead would be frozen over by morning, which usually meant that before the sun was up, her father would be outside, along with her mother, spreading handfuls of salt onto the roads to make it easier for the wagons to ride through. But her parents wouldn't return for three days at the least, and five at the most. Not many people in the homestead had a work schedule that allowed them to spare the time it would take to salt the roads.

But the wagons would have to find a way to roll on.

She could see another wagon coming now, from the opposite direction her parents had disappeared to. The sharp eyesight her father had passed onto her, mixed with her mother's way of judging things, had her immediately concerned. The wagon was pulled by two horses, two men sitting upfront. But the horses weren't the typical labor horses that she was used to seeing. Their manes were short, and pulled into tiny little knots. They walked funny, lifting their knees high, and keeping their heads held up high. She had never seen a horse walk like that. It looked extremely uncomfortable. They must have been trained to walk that way, but who in their right minds would train a horse to do that?

The wagon itself seemed incredibly to light to be a trade wagon. If she had to guess, she'd say it was empty.

She was too young to know what a spy was, but she knew something wasn't right. She also knew that whenever something wasn't right, her parents always did the same thing. They put on their 'uniforms', strapped on their weapons, and went out to make things right.

She looked down at her clothes. A worn wool shirt, a buckskin jacket lined with rabbit fur, buckskin pants (her mother insisted on her wearing pants during cold weather), and thick moccasins that came up to her knees. Over everything was one of her mother's old white shawls that reached her knees. It was bitter cold weather, but her parents had seen to it that she would be warm enough.

She shimmied down the tree as fast as she could, waving her arms as she stood in front of the boys, pointing down the road, trying to make them understand that a strange wagon with strange horses and undoubtedly strange people were coming. She didn't know if it would do any good, but she had to try.

"Squirrel?" David asked, "What's wrong with yer arms?"

They stared at her antics as she pulled her hair to try and tell them about the strange horses, and flapped her arms to explain that the wagon was to light.

James broke into a grin, "Ya wanna catch a bird for feathers to put in yer hair!"

David turned, pointing towards the cliff, "I think most have flown south for the winter, but some might still be near the cave."

Kaneonuskatew shook her head, wishing that she hadn't refused to speak for so long. She didn't quite know the words to say what she needed. Not in English anyways. Her father had spoken his native language to her since she was born, determined to have her not forget her culture. Her mother had spoken to her often in French, and some of her lullabies and bedtime stories had been in African. The variety of languages was what often made her not want to speak. Speaking Mohawk or French to anyone other than her parents would always prove disastrous. She had a very large vocabulary at her disposal, however, English was not her strongest language.

"Wagon… bad." She managed.

"Squirrel talked!" James exclaimed.

"What wagon?" David asked.

She pointed down the road, "Coming. Bad."

"Why is it bad?" David craned his neck, standing on tip toe to try and see over the hill that blocked his line of vision.

"Bad." She said firmly. "Wrong. Strange. Not from here."

They were quiet for a moment, before James showed how worried he was. "Strangers don't come here unless they wanna trade…"

"No trade." Kaneonuskatew insisted. "Wagon empty."

David put a hand on James' shoulder, "We need ta tell Mama and Papa."

"Go." Kaneonuskatew said firmly.

James frowned, "Aren't ya coming with us?"

"No. You go."

David shook his head, "Mama said not to leave ya alone."

"Different now." Kaneonuskatew insisted. "You go, I watch. I follow wagon."

David didn't look convinced, but James shrugged, "As long as they don't see her, they can't hurt her. We can't ever see Squirrel unless she lets us. She knows how ta hide real good."

David sighed, "Alright. But if we get inta trouble, I'm tellin Mama it's yer faults."

The two boys took off, and Kaneonuskatew wasted no time in pulling her white shawl over her head, adjusting the drawstrings to it covered most of her face, and hid underneath a snow covered bush.

The wagon came into sight a few minutes later, the horses still walking funny. It was only when she saw the men sitting up front that she truly got scared. They were both white, or as her mother would say, European. They were dressed in very fancy clothes, ones that were in the back of her mother's closet, that she only wore when she had to go 'mingle for information' on a mission. Clothes that her father would chuckle at, shake his head, and say were useless. You couldn't run in them, or jump, or climb. In her father's eyes, there was no worse type of clothing that restricted movement. She was inclined to agree with him, but her mother would insist that they gave her other advantages, particularly over men. Her father usually got upset when she said that.

The men didn't seem to like each other. She couldn't hear much of their conversation, but their tone of voice was very angry. They were too absorbed in their own conversation to notice much… and she was very curious if anything at all was in the wagon. The boys had told her not to be seen, so as long as they didn't see her sneak onto the wagon, it should be fine.

She waited until they were far enough that the two men wouldn't be able to see her out of the corner of their eyes, and darted into the road, behind the wagon, and then shot forward as fast as she could, managing to catch up fairly quickly, and then gently grab the edge of the wagon, She dragged against the ground for a moment, before managing to swing her leg up, being as silent as she possibly could.

The minute she rolled into the wagon, she regretted it. Two men were driving, and one was riding inside. The man who stood before her was almost as tall as her father, and beneath his cloak, had arms no doubt just as strong. Her first instinct was to jump back out, and run off after the boys, but he must have known she would, because his hand shot out, grabbing her arm.

"Leaving so soon? You just dropped in." He taunted.

One of the men out front stuck his head in through the canvas flap. "Sir, did you say some-" He cut himself off, eyes widening at seeing her. "What the devil… where did she come from?"

"She just jumped on, Charles. I supposed she meant to steal from a trader's wagon." He explained.

Charles snorted, "No good thief, what are we going to do with her?"

The other man from outside weighed in. "There's a bit of a cliff coming up. Might as well toss her off of it."

Kaneonuskatew snapped out of her fear, pushing her head to the side and biting down on the man's hand as hard as she possibly could. He yelped, and his grip released. She made a nose dive for the exit, but he was too fast. He grabbed her in midair, pulling her back against her chest.

"That will be enough of that." He said firmly. "We will not be tossing anyone off of any cliffs."

Charles spoke up again, "Sir, I have no moral obligations to toss Hickey off of the cliff."

"Listen here, you bugger-"

"No language around the child, Hickey." The man holding her said firmly.

Hickey snorted, "Little savage probably can't even speak English."

She glared at the back of his head as Charles pulled the canvas flap back, tying it off to watch her better. "I speak English."

"Look at that. She thinks she's smart." Hickey taunted.

"Perhaps your effort would be better spent focusing on driving." The man said firmly, sitting down, and keeping her on his lap. "Now, you, little one. What had kept your parents so busy, you find the time to sneak away and try to rob a wagon?"

"No steal." She said firmly.

"Then why jump into a stranger's wagon?" He questioned.

She stayed silent. He nodded, "I see, you don't trust me? Fair enough. It's not my job to discipline you. Where are your parents?"

"Gone." She said.

He hesitated, "Are they dead?"

"No!" She exclaimed, horrified at the idea. "Gone to Boston."

He chuckled, "My mistake. Now, why are you wearing this on your head? You look ridiculous." He reached up, gently untying the strings of her mother's shawl, and pulling it off her head. He seemed shocked when he saw her face, "Child, your parents, what are their names?"

She stayed silent. He sighed, rubbed his eyes, and gave her a frustrated look, "Fine. What's your name?"

"Kaneonuskatew."

He hesitated, "Do you have another name?"

She frowned, "No like it."

"Don't like it." He corrected.

"Don't like it." She amended.

"Well, you'll have to tell me your other name, because I'd make a fool of myself trying to pronounce your real name."

"Katherine." She glared as the word left her mouth.

"Not a bad name." He said. "In English, that name is a very pretty one."

"I'm not English." She crossed her arms. "Don't like English."

"Why not?"

She paused, trying to find the words. "English is… boring. Flat. Plain."

He nodded, "So you only like Indian language?"

"Mohawk language." She corrected. "I like French."

"You speak French?"

"Oui. Me mere m'a appris." Yes. My mother taught me.

"Vous parlez bien." You speak it well.

"Je sais." I know.

He chuckled, "Much better than your English."

She nodded.

He paused, "Three languages? How old are you?"

She ransacked her mind, trying to remember numbers in English, but failed. Defeated, she simply held her the five fingers on her left hand.

"Five? Three languages… five years old." He mumbled. "Is your father's name… Connor?"

To his relief (and disappointment) she shook her head no. However, he was proved right when she said, "Fake name, Connor. Real name, Ratonhnhaké:ton."

He picked her up off his lap, setting her down, and walking to the front, leaning down to speak with Charles and Hickey. "Change of plans. Go straight to Boston."

He turned back to Kaneonuskatew, smiling. "It's a good thing I found out you were Connor's daughter. He sent us to get you. He changed his mind about leaving you at home, and wants you to come to Boston with him."

She frowned at first, but then forced herself to smile. A deaf man could hear the lie in that story. "And my mother?"

He sat back down next to her. "Your mother, I forgot her name…"

"Aveline."

He nodded, "I do hope I get to meet her. I haven't heard much about her."

"Mama is pretty."

"I'm sure, she's have to be, to get your father distracted from his lost cause."

She raised an eyebrow, and he shook his head, "Never mind. It's a long trip. Have you ever been to Boston before?"

She shook her head, "No, Daddy said it's not safe."

"As long as you stay close to me, you will be fine." He assured her.

As the journey progressed, he continued making idly chatter with her, mostly in French, asking about her favorite things to do, her friends, her family. When it came to her parents, she tried to answer as little as possible. She may not know the extent of her parents job, but she gathered enough to know that it was important, dangerous, and many people wanted to harm them both.

She knew this man was lying to her, but she knew she couldn't run from him again. Her best bet was to sit and observe until they got to Boston. Maybe she could hide from him in a crowd and find her dad first.