“L’Ombre de Bois”, the shadow in the woods.

[cgraven]

In the dark murky past of the New England countryside once live a group of people, the Abenaki. Native, framers and hunters. Then came the pale ones in their flying canoes, first to the coast, then spreading ever inland. When they first came they could not even feed them selves from the bounty of Mother Earth, nor from the bounty of the rivers. Yet they came ever wetsward with the rising sun from the east. They had a hunger for the land, to hold it their hands, the might threes of the forest fell before their axes that would not break, their kettles of iron consuming the deer of ther forest. Their lodges stand on one piece of ground, they stay, they tell us it is theirs and we must go. Five generations have passed since their coming we have been driven north towards the Windakiie. The wasting sickness they have brought to us the young and the old die. Young couples no longer have children. Now we fight. Those of the north and east come to us down the mighty river to the north from the great sea to Canada (where the people live). They trade and make no demands on our lands, their young men live with us, marry our daughters, our enemies are their enemies. They call them selves “Francais’” and they our enemies of those who have driven us north. They are “Anglasie” we move no more we fight now, we fight the “Anglasie” we walk the warriors path with the “Francais”.

Winter 1746, we look down on the newest of their villages along the great Connecticut River, Smoke rises from their lodges, soon we will bring fire and death to them We wait for them to come out. Soon now soon.

OOC:
This will be a story of the New England Frontier and the capture of a young girl 18 or so, taken captive and in to a foreign land and life. If interested please PM your character.

 

[cgraven]

Bump

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Cordelia

Cordelia pulled her cloak closer around her curvaceous body. The breeze had turned chill and she dare not return home … yet. Her father had been uncharacteristically enraged she thought with a shudder. She strode through the wood, her own anger emboldening each step.

Suddenly breathless, her breath slowed. She looked upwards. It was growing dark and she had strayed further than she had intended… further than was wise. She sighed, another misdemeanour to be laid at her door.

At 19 and the youngest of a family of four she had often proved too spirited for her poor father. The man adored his daughter and veered erratically between over indulgence and angry outbursts, when yet another prank or comment or deed pushed him over the edge of his patience.

Often the dispute would end with her in penitent tears, either charming her father into indulgence or brokenly begging his forgiveness.
Relenting, he would stroke her hair and sigh,

“Dee, my child.. have a care. You are a young woman now… “

The pranks of her childhood were now - unsuitable, he would explain, but she could see no change. Just because her body had filled out and she had passed marriageable age, she saw no reason not to continue to live as before. To make things worse her brothers largely colluded with her by finding her - activities - amusing! ... much to their fathers' chagrin.

Cordelia had been raised by her father and surrounded by three elder brothers all her life. Her present conduct was largely due to the lack of feminine influences. Her mother had died tragically during Dee’s infancy and the tomboy had now turned into a voluptuous young woman who was both free-spirited and uniquely innocent of the dangers of the world.

All her life she had enjoyed the protection and indulgence of her father and brothers, yet now as her father began to age and she blossomed, his paternal concern grew daily. He had suddenly become aware of her beauty, a beauty she had inherited from her mother, but of a quality that far surpassed that of his beloved wife.

Her hair was wild about her head; a combination of fairness and darkness, as if it changed mood with the sun and the seasons. Her blue eyes sparked with spirit. Flashing alternately in anger or excitement. Her mouth naturally upturned in merriment, accompanied always by merry chatter and a laugh that was unaffected, as free flowing and unbounded as a brook.

A child still in so many ways, Cordelia had taken on an adult role before her time. She worked hard about the farm and had done so as soon as she were old enough to be of use. She was devoted to her family and the irreplaceable bond that kept the four men functioning smoothly. She tended the house, worked in the field, prepared all manner of food and tended the livestock.

Her father would be lost without her and yet this afternoon, anxiety had made him sharp as he had unleashed a white-hot rage on her, causing her to take flight among the woods.

The conflic? Merely a situation mis-read and hasty conclusions drawn. That her father should think her conduct “improper” was what had fuelled her anger and slowed her usually prompt penitence. She had done no wrong - *this* time! She would not even know what “improper” meant if pressed, yet his anger had been entirely disproportionate to whatever the implied deed were.

Walking back towards the farm she spied some wild mushrooms and stooped to pick them. She lifted each carefully and gathered them in her skirts, lifting the long fabric carefully so as not to bruise them. This would act as a peace offering. Her father loved their mellow flavour.

Suddenly she paused listening.

The woods were strangely still. What had happened to the birdsong, the natural dormant hum of wildlife around them? She strained, half sure it was her own irrational nervousness at being in such an isolated place, but half anxious at what she thought she had heard.

A distant noise brought to her on the change of the wind…

she remained half crouched, frozen and straining with attention….

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Cordelia OOC:

Hope this is acceptable... great to be writing with you again.


Attachment is a pic of Cordelia (Dee to her father and bros )

 

[cgraven]

The day is long we wait we watch we slowly move trough the woods gliding from three to tree along the edge of the forest we count their lodges 26. Only six lay with in the protective walls of their village the rest scattered about, isolated alone, each lodge has its own fields for planting, how strange these people they do not share what mother earth gives but each scares her bosom to take all that he can.

Now is the time to attack it is late afternoon the shadows of evening lengthening. The warriors cry splits the air, a musket shot rings out, fire in their southern fields a barn here a house there, fire spreads and one more lodge is lost, a bell rings calling their warriors who work in the fields. Ambush four dead, three women captured.
We swing through the woods heading north then in the deaths of the woods a lone woman. She is gathering mushrooms I stand before.

This one is my prisoner.

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Cordelia

As the figure breaks through the clearing Cordelia screams.

Her hands fly to her mouth to belatedly smother the cry as the mushrooms tumble unheeded to the ground.

She eyes the strange figure fearfully. In the distance she can hear cries and shouts... weeping... she turns in the direction of her home... there is a scent in the air... burning?

Again her eyes fly to the stranger in alarm.

Father... her brothers... her mind is running wildly, though she remains frozen and fearful.

Should she run.. the trees seem full of movement suddenly?

She closes her eyes praying. Please let her father be alright. She cannot bear the thought that he might be hurt or.. worse.. she breathes deeply to steady herself. That he should be taken from her when they are unreconciled. She would never forgive herself.

Her eyes opening once more, the figure stands unmoving before her. Her eyes fix on him. Like an animal caught in the headlights. His gaze is unwavering and un nerving. His face expressionless.

She prepares for flight. Although such an attempt would prove futile, Cordelia is as a doe waiting for the pounce of a predator, equally graceful and preparing to flee, preparing for the last slim chance of escape...

 

[cgraven]

This one with corn silk hair watches me. I can see her muscles tense she wait her eyes shift , cunning, fear, desperation all are there. I faint to the right and she bolts as I shift quickly to the left, the struggle is short though she fights with claw and tooth. The capture rope around her neck now, her hands bound behind her. I drag her to her feet I push her ahead of me, holding the end of her tether, and we run darting through the woods for the next hour.

We meet the rest of the war party 40 Abenaki braves and four Francais. We have burned four of their lodges, taken three men, five women, and six children. Tomorrow we start north for Canada, for my village , for the villages of the Francais. We take with us those of the enemy, we have taken in battle. We take them to a place not of their choosing, we take them to our new home, a home not of our choosing.

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Cordelia

Her eyes watch and calcuate his move precisely. As the strange native moves to the right, She picks up her skirts and runs in the opposite direction. Fear increases her pace, yet his is able to turn, as if not fully committed to the direction he originally set out upon.

She runs, fit to burst, but her dash is even more shortlived than she'd anticipated. As his hands close round her and pull her to him she strikes out... kicking visciously, hands raised to strike and scratch. Determined not to be taken... but his strength as well as his speed is awesome. Years of horseplay with her brothers and years of labouring on the farm ensured that this young woman were now wimpish Miss, but the hands were determinedly strong and soon had Cordelia trapped.

She flinched as the rope fell about her neck and managed not to cry out as her wrists were restrained rendering her totally helpless. She is dragged to her feet and pulled through the forest, forced to keep pace with the running native. For hours and hours it seems Cordelia is kept on her feet, moving swiftly between the trees.

Finally, the rope is released, just enough to allow Delia to sink to the ground with exhaustion. Looking round she sees a war party. There is an atmosphere of celebration. More than one pair of eyes drifts over in her direction, but despite her sudden fears she is left alone.

Eyes darting over and over Cordelia is sure she sees white faces amongst the throng, but the incessant movment makes it impossisble to know for sure.

SHe is near collapse with grief and exhaustion. She closes her eyes and lets the noise of the natives wash over her. How she wishes she were home. She wishes she could undo and unsay all the badfeeling that had happened that day.

Hearing a noise, Cordelia opens her eyes and looks up to see the native approach her once more...

 

[cgraven]

There is celebration the victory swift, no one lost no death songs to sing. Food is prepared, the little ones taken in the raid are feed first they will need all their strength for the journey north, now the women are feed the choice bits of a porcupine killed near sunset. I bring her food, motion with my hands that she should eat. A blanket around her shoulders as the breath of the Chenoo is cold this night

Quickly shelters of pine bows are made. The captive women and children are herded into one. The Francais build their lodge; my warriors warp them selves in blankets, and lay in the bow shelters they have made. So passes the first night the first of many on her trail of tears north.

Two days hard march, a little boy of three summer’s stumbles, Walking Bear looks down on him his face passive no sign of emotions. Suddenly it happens he lifts the lad to his shoulders dances like a pondering bear and the trek continues the child squealing with delight as he travels high on Walking Bear’s shoulders. We come to the hidden canoes, now we paddle north towards St Francis. Every night the same the children ar feed , the women next then the warriors eat what is left, such is our way.

Soon the war party will disband soon the captives will be separated. Some will go with the Francais some will go with us.

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Cordelia

OOC:

Just reading through the story so far. Although I started to write this as a narrator, I’ll change my style to first person, if that suits? See how it reads… <S>

DM x

IC:

My whole body aches as I sit on the ground. Huddled against a tree on the peripheral of the camp, I can see other faces amongst the natives, white faces, fighters and.. yes.. half-familiar faces, other people taken from our settlement.

I strain to recognise faces in the half-light. Women are bound and youngsters too have been taken, but I see no men. I close my eyes stopping myself from imagining what may have happened back at the house.

The drums make my eyes snap open again. I watch as the fires are lit and the camp becomes alive with singing and dancing as our captors celebrate their victory. We sit on the sidelines watching helplessly. My mind focuses on following the beat. I don’t want to think. Don’t want to imagine. I can’t let myself think about what happened back there or what will happen to me now.

There is movement as white men move out from the crowd around the fires. I watch with dread as they herd the children together. I make myself watch, fearing for those sweet innocents. Their childish laughter echoes across the camp. They are fed. They eat hungrily, their chatter carrying on the breeze. They do not understand the dangers.

I turn my head as I see the native who captured me. The one who found me in the woods. I look up at him as he stands towering silently over me. His appearance is so strange. I don’t want him to see my fear, but instinctively shrink back from him before I remember to be brave.

As if he understands my fright, he remains at the same distance. His eyes fixed constantly on mine, he holds out a bowl of strange food. It smells good, but it is unfamiliar. I hesitate and he gestures that I should eat. I hold out my hand and as my fingers close over the roughly hewn wooden bowl he steps back letting me draw the meal to me. He watches as I start to eat. The food is hot, the flavour strong, but I find I am hungry. He watches long enough to assure himself that I have accepted the offered meal then moves away.

Only when I lay down my empty bowl do I notice that he has returned once more. Still he is silent, but he moves nearer and drops a blanket around my shoulders. I smile my thanks and draw it round me. The air has become chilled. He takes up the bowl and walks away once more.

My eyes close in weariness as the pines are cut and stripped and shelters made. The rhythmic cutting and hammering lull me. The blanket is comforting. I snuggle down into it and pretend.. pretend all is well, that I am home, that all will be fine.

But it won’t.

An unfamiliar man, a white man pulls the blanket from about my shoulders. With harsh words he pulls me upright and taking my arm roughly guides me towards the corner of the camp where the other women have been brought. My blanket, my comfort is left, discarded on the floor. I cannot retrieve it and although I am permitted entrance to the newly-constructed shelter, I cannot recapture that warmth.
The white men also sleep in their constructed lodges, but as I enter ours, I see the natives, wrapped in blankets resting by the fire.

In the shelter we women embrace silently. Faces seem familiar, but there is no one I know well. We introduce ourselves, but it seems most of us were out of the settlement when the attack happened.

But one woman knows.

She saw the attack. She had hidden and was taken later.

All dead.

Houses and farms burned. I listen in horror. Hope for my dear father and brothers fading. All had been raised to the ground. No survivors. So many corpses …

I turn away silently as she seems to relish the telling of her tale… I curl my arms round my body and keen silently… long silent sobs shudder through my body.
A hand strokes my hair gently, a comforting touch, but I am so wrapped up in the pain, I’m barely aware that throughout our shelter, women grieve, for husbands, fathers, sons and daughters… for their loss.

***********************

The journey continues, marching, onwards, always moving: The silence of the natives, the harsh words of the white men.

The children and we women are well fed, but the trek is hard.

I move one foot before the other with a numbness that seems to have seeped through my entire body. If I let it the pain of my grief would cut me in two, so I concentrate on the path on each step. I welcome the ache of my limbs, the cuts and blisters on my feet.

They compete with the internal pain I have to smother.

*********************

The canoes take us upriver. I’m being taken far away from my homeland.
I do not see the sights around me. I do not note the changing landscape.
What do I care where I am or what will happen to me?

My native captor still ensures I am fed. He is silent. I am silent.
I look up whenever he draws close to me.
He gestures his instructions and I nod and comply.

When possible we sleep in shelters.
I sleep well. I’m exhausted and drained.
Sleep is release: An escape.
Every morning when I open my eyes I remember and my heart aches afresh.
The journey seems unending, but I don’t care if it never ends!

 

[cgraven]

Three days more we travel ever northwards she is silent takes her food and huddles with the other women prisoners. Then one morning the war party breaks up all the women are gathered together. They are in the company of the Francais.

I stride over to the one called Michelle, and point to her “Elle es moi mon ami”……… Elle va avec moi.” Walking bear and Bow Hunter stand behind me there will be no argument.

“Les enfant aussi”

The children scamper and play by the edge of the lac their laughter fills the air. I take her and the Francais depart for their village at Chambly.

Two days more we travel down the rive then stop. the war paint is washed away we dawn our finest clothes, a white shirt like the Francais wear brightly colored feathers, and leggings beaded and graters new moccasin. Then on the river again too our village woops and screams , barks and yelps tell of our victory against the Anglaise. The canoes are beached . Walking Bear carries the little boy upon his shoulders, Bow Hunter plays his bird’s bone flute and the children scamper about him. The clan mother awaits us with burning sweet grass. The women from two parallel lines. She stands at the head of that line. I turn to her and in her tongue speak.

“ Be brave show no fear and run like the wind………. Now Run”

As she runs hands reach out pulling and ripping at her tattered clothing she is pushed and buffeted as she runs they strip the clothes from her body, she is tripped and falls I know what her fate will be if she does no rise I run to her and throw my blanket over her claiming her as my women.

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Cordelia

The days followed their monotonous pattern. Walking, eating, sleeping and rising once again to repeat the cycle. Silent natives and harsh white men. I trudged onwards. I gave them no trouble. None of us had the spirit to object. We went were we were told and did as we were bid. These murderers of our men folk had taken everything from us. Now they took not only our freedom, but our spirits too.

That morning I knew something was going to happen. The camp was unsettled. We women were sat around our shelter, eating the fruit that had been given to us to serve as the final part of our breakfast. We had barely finished the last mouthful when the white men began to pull us into a crowd. One by one hands were bound. It was all so pointless. There was nowhere to run to and we had no strength or inclination to flee.

We stood in a group, dreading our turn to have our wrists bound by a harshly biting cord. The children too were pushed along to await by our side. I looked round the camp. The natives had not moved. They were still settled, fruit in hand, dotted around the fire. Oh god.. these men were taking us away…

The white man came closer to me, cord in hand. Very soon I would be restrained once more. As he held out the chord with a word which indicated that I raise my arms for binding, the young child who had still been playing in the dirt was pushed roughly in our direction. As he stumbled, I instinctively reached down to steady him. Seeing this as an act of defiance, the white man pulled me roughly wrenching my arm so painfully I gave a sharp cry. He pulled my wrists forward and drew the cord around so tight as to bring tears to my eyes.

I looked up at him, terror in my face, fearing he would strike me, but her merely took my arm and that of the dazed child and dragged us towards the awaiting group. The women surrounded me protectively. Their eyes shone with compassion and support, but not a word was spoken. Their bonds were loose in comparison to mine. A held my hands gingerly before me trying to lessen the biting of the rope.

“Elle es moi mon ami … Elle va avec moi."
We turned. An argument seemed to have ensued between the men taking their leave. I turned, curious, realising the dispute was between the natives and the white men. The conversation was brief. Three natives approached one of the white men. Two flanked the man whilst he stood in obviously impotent fury whils the third walked along the line of cowering women.

Only as he drew closer did I recognise him. My captor. My provider. He pointed to me and I felt myself viciously pulled forward by the Whiteman who had bound me so cruelly. I stumbled this time, the little boy I had helped drew closer clinging to my skirts. I watched helplessly as once again he was dragged away from me.

“Les enfants aussi”

I stood before him as he barked out his command. The children were pushed forward and taken off by the two tall companions to play, away from the threat of bondage, away from the women.

I turn as an order is barked out and the women are moved away. The tears start to my eyes once more as I lose my companions. They are forced to turn away from my helpless gaze as they are urged forward. Balancing carefully, they move off slowly. Their pace quickening as they get used to their bonds. But I am left behind. I stand, a solitary figure: Safe from the cruelty of the white man: For that I am grateful, but I feel lonely and abandoned.

The native draws close to me. Slowly he extends his fingers to brush along my wrist. His skin is warm and rough, but the touch is light. He gently raises my hands and carefully unties the hard knots. I wince and cannot hold back the gasp of pain as I am released. His hands take my wrists. I look down and see his dark skin enclosing the fine, frail whiteness of my own limbs. He rubs gently, bringing circulation back, then draws back to allow me to tend to the burn marks made by my restraints.

As I rub my skin gently, I watch as he moves through the playing children and hurls the rope angrily into the fire.

****************************************************

Why… Why me..? Is the question that plays through my mind for the next two days. We were taken down river. I sit with the children in the canoe, whilst the men row. They sing, joyful, a lightening of spirits, because they are now free of the white men, I assume.

But I do not think about it. I question. Why was I not killed…and why is it I who will stay with the natives, when my fellow prisoners are left to the mercies of the white men. I do not pause to question what my fate will be. I merely assume that as the youngest, they view me practically as a child myself, in comparison to the other women at least, or perhaps it is I who will tend to the children once we reach our destination. I look at the young ones and hope this will be the case, but, despite their presence I am lonely now.

We stop. The natives are transformed. The paint is removed and the clothes change. White shirted and with beaded leggings, gaiters and moccasins the journey continues, but with a sense of excitement and anticipation. I am pale and silent in the canoe. I do not know what is to come. I am uneasy. I tell myself that I do not care for myself. My concern is all for the children. Yet, despite my protestations that I care nothing for myself, I finally acknowledge that I do in fact fear what is to come.

The noise as we reach the village is terrifying. Wild cries are unleashed to carry over the water and the sound echoes back from the natives running out of the village to welcome their heroes.

The children scramble ashore. One is held aloft. They dance and chase and play. They do not understand and can only take pleasure in the playground they see before them.

Slowly I leave the canoe. I stand watching. The noise seems to crowd in on me, but all I can hear is the hammering of my heart. My frightened eyes travel round the faces of those assembled. Oh god.. what now… ? The place seems so wild, the people so strange and potentially bloodthirsty. What do they want of me?

A hand on my arm draws me forward. I recognise that light touch. I find myself standing opposite an intimidating looking woman. She looks at me fiercely, she is burning something sweet-smelling. Her eyes move to watch the smoke rising gently.

The women of the village have drawn near. They crowd closer, but hover back and seem to form two parallel lines. The women stand expectantly: A narrow gap between the rows. I stand and look at each one, returning their curious gaze.

Their eyes are all on me know and I don’t know what is happening.. what I should do? I look at my captor, though I know he will remain silent.

I literally jump as he speaks. His voice is deep and resonant.

“ Be brave show no fear and run like the wind………. Now Run”

Run.. why should I run…?.. run away..? I glance momentarily at the canoes, but that is not what he means. I should run between those women. I glance quickly at him. Somehow I trust his instruction. I pick up my ragged skirt and dash forward, clumsily at first, then picking up speed.

I dart past the first two women, but soon the others are reaching out and pulling at me. Their hands snatch at my clothes, fabric is rent from me. I am exposed as again and again they peck away at my rags like angry birds. I gasp for breath, and push forwards trying to move out of their reach.

I fight and push, trying to free myself from their assault. As I push through them I trip and pitch forward onto the hard dusty floor. My groan is audible as I land hard, the breath is forced out of my body and I lay winded for a moment and unable to speak or move. I cannot even curl up to protect myself. I close my eyes and wait for the onslaught that I am sure will follow.

I can hear running. Someone is coming to attack me, I know someone is close by me. I close my eyes … waiting fearfully… I hold back a scream…

The blanket smothers me.
I recognise the blanket from that first night. I lay inert beneath it.
It covers my body. It comforts, protects, hides my body from all those eyes.
It lets me take refuge.
It stops them seeing my terror… and my tears of relief…

It covers my body. It comforts, protects, hides my body from all those eyes. It lets me take refuge. It stops them seeing my terror ...

 

[cgraven]

My blanket covers her protects her, she will not be a slave she is no longer Anglaise she is now Abenaki, my woman.




Why had I done it had not her people killed and butchered my wife and child. What had been their crime, it was our land, our home, we had lived in peace, traded with them at h their village, fed them through that 1st harsh winter., then the “Green Coats” came. The men had gone to help build the petite Chapel for the “Back Robe”. Only old men and women and children where in the village that day. They came with fire, the Tomawhak, and musket. The rising smoke had called us back, the cries of sorrow as we saw what the Green Coat had done. Why kill women and children why not take them make them part of the “Green Coat Band as was our way why kill the little ones spitting them like dogs. Then the women violated then killed. What savages are these “Green Coats” We followed and we killed them cut them to pieces threw them in the fire , never would these “Green Coats walk among our people in the next life

I pick her up warped in my blanket, carrier her to my lodge. Kicking Bird, my sister, comes to me, she is clan mother.

“L’Ombre de Bois so the corn silk maiden has touched your heart it is good…. But will she accept you as husband?”

“Sweet sister tend to her she has suffered much she is strong of heart………. She may live here in my protection no man knows what goes on in another mans lodge least there is ideal woman’s talk….. tend her please dear sister.”

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Cordelia

I stretch my limbs tentatively. Many voices surround me.
The tongue is so strange. I cannot tell whether the voices are raised in dispute or mere discussion.: I lift my head, curious now to see what is happening, but his hand gently holds me on the ground.

As I relax once more, curled now on the floor, my breathing steady and normal I feel myself scooped up. His arms are around me. He lifts me effortlessly and carries me, still in his blanket. His face set and fierce he strides across the clearing, his purposeful stride daring the others to oppose him.

I flinch as the door is kicked open. Though he has saved me once more, he is still my captor, a killer and much feared when his temper is roused. He holds me, then looking round first, he moves towards a pile of furs and sets me down with exaggerated care. I look up at him, gratitude and vulnerability in my eyes. I do not understand what has just happened, but I realise that his native has undertaken to protect me, for the present at least. I have no idea how powerful he is, or what he may be protecting me from. Has he merely bought me more time, or am I indeed still in danger?

His eyes meet mine once more. Again his gaze is silent and steady. He watches as the questions flit through my consciousness and I wonder if he can guess my thoughts.

I pull my eyes away, starting in suprise as a woman comes forward and speaks softly to him in their native tongue.

I watch their exchange. I guess that she is his wife, his partner. I watch her warily. Her eyes turn to appraise me. She is curious, but she seems kindly. Her face is much more expressive than that of her “partner”. His face remains expressionless as he watches me and notes my reactions as I meet his - wife? - for the first time.

I look from one to the other. The intimacy and warmth between them is obvious even to me. Again a wave of loneliness washes over me. I feel that I am intruding, disrupting their harmony. They exchange another glance. The woman smiles warmly at him. I flush with embarrassment. I should not be here, but what choice do I have?

He moves to leave the lodge.

Irrationally I panic. Why is he leaving me? Will this woman too tear at my clothes? Then I remember I am naked. Mere shreds are all that remains covering my body. I draw the blanket still closer around me. A blush paints my cheek.

I look up at him wanting to call him back: But I do not know his name and if I called to him what would the woman think? How would this woman treat me? Would she despise me as a rival?

So.. I let him move to the doorway. I bite back the cry that would have called him back. Wrapped in my blanket, my only defense, I lower my head.

Waiting…

 

[cgraven]

Kicking Bird

In t Her language the words are hard to come I search back along the past they come tome slowly and with great effort.


"What do they call you little one?"

I watch her to see if I have spoken correctly, my face is relaxed and calm .

"My brother tells me you have a good heart and are strong……….He says you hide your fear well."

Dipping a hallow gourd in the clay pot I draw water and offer it to her. I see fear distrust so I take a sip then again offer her a drink.

“My name is Kicking Bird, I am clan mother to the Raven clan, Clan mother to this village.”

Slowly haltingly I tell her that our people the Abenaki. The people of the 1st light, which we pass brother sun to those that lay to the west. That the women rule the village. That children and woman always eat 1st. I tell her the story of the “Green Coats” I tell her my brother has clamed her as his woman but will no touch her lest she wishes it.

“He is Called ” L’Ombre de Bois”………..”The Shadow in the Woods” in your tongue……….he calls you “Corn Silk Maiden ‘ for your hair.”

Again I watch her does she understand me?

“Come Corn Silk Maiden you must be sore and tired after your trails ….. The sweat lodge will restore your spirits, sooth your body.”

Kicking Bird leads her to the sweat lodge. Strips off her clothing once inside, and reaches for Cornelia’s blanket.

“Fear not no harm shall befall you”

Water is poured over the hot rocks and they are enveloped in steam. Cleansing relaxing steam.

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Cordelia aka Corn Silk Maiden

I sat and stared at the strange woman. She watched me silently, then drew near, kneeling before me.

"What do they call you little one?"

She spoke my language! I was so relieved!

“I am called Cordelia…” I offered, shyly.

I watch her as her gaze rests on me. She seems kind and speaks softly. My nervous grip on the blanket loosens.

"My brother tells me you have a good heart and are strong……….He says you hide your fear well."

The native is her brother! No wonder she does not resent my presence. I wonder at her words. How could this silent man know I have a good heart or know about my strength?
I knew I had had much to fear, and despite this woman’s apparent friendliness, I was still guarded.

I watch as the woman holds out the water for me to drink. My imagination runs wild, anything could be contained in that clay pot. How could I tell that I was being offered pure water?
As if sensing my suspicions she draws the gourd to her own lips and sips before offering it to me once more. I blush. I am ashamed that I had doubted such a gesture of friendship. Her expression of compassion does not waver, however. She watches as I drink thirstily. I smile my thanks as I return the gourd to her.

Again she watches me. She speaks, picking her words carefully as she attempts my language, a language known to her, yet unfamiliar.

“My name is Kicking Bird, I am clan mother to the Raven clan, Clan mother to this village.”

I listen as she explains how women rule the village here. I remember seeing how children then women had been fed before the warriors partook of meals and she teaches me that it is their way. I nod as I listen, to show that I understand. But my head is full of questions. Why I wondered had the natives only claimed me and not tried to save the rest of the women?

I catch my breath as Kicking Bird begins to tell me of the Green Coat attack. Old men and women had been slaughtered. My captor had lost his wife and child! I listen to her voice break a she describes their deaths and the balk at the impassioned description of how her brother had pursued the murders to seek revenge.

“ Our men followed them and killed them. They cut them to pieces and threw them in the fire. These “Green Coats would never walk among our people in the next life!”

I recoil at such a description. I want to ask had he cut my father, my brothers to pieces? Why had they been slaughtered? I couldn’t understand why our settlement had been attacked.

I didn’t know just where I was or understand why these natives allied themselves with the white men.
Why had the warriors made my people their enemies?
If he knew how it felt to find your loved ones murdered, why did he still attack settlements and kill in such a way?

She watched the play of emotions of my face. The unshed tears darting to my eyes. I knew it would be unfair to demand my answers of her? She had been all kindness to me so far… as had my captor. He was such a mix: Silent and inscruitable.
He had captured me, but in many ways he had saved me … from death, from the white man and from the women of the village…

“My brother has claimed you as his woman.”
She spoke softly, as if confirming my thoughts.

I turn in shock. “his woman”? I balk at the idea that as a piece of property I "belong" to him now? I mull the idea over in my mind and am surprised that I found it strangely comforting.
To be protected in this strange land… but then what would I be required to… “do” … in return?

My cheeks burn and I look away in embarrassment…
What demands would he make on me in return for his protection.
What strange customs might exist? I could only guess at, I was not yet even aware of the "customs" of my own people.
The pink of my cheeks deepens. I feel stupid and ashamed.
What should I do if..when..he...

The light touch on my arm stops the train of my thoughts in mid-flow. Her touch is so like her brother’s that my head snaps up instantly.
Kicking Bird's eyes are warm with understanding.

“Do not fear, little one. My brother is a good man. He will not touch you unless you wish it. “

I try not to let my relief be too obvious, but cannot hold back the sigh as I nod in understanding.
He would be protector then?
Perhaps he felt it his duty somehow….
And after losing his wife so tragically, perhaps he was not interested in a white girl who was in truth, a captive, an enemy. My mind raced trying to make sense of it all.

“He is Called ” L’Ombre de Bois”………..”The Shadow in the Woods” in your tongue……….he calls you “Corn Silk Maiden ‘ for your hair.”

I nodded, repeating the names softly to myself, “Shadow in the woods…ombre de Bois..” How suitable, I thought wryly.

“Come Corn Silk Maiden you must be sore and tired after your trails ….. The sweat lodge will restore your spirits, soothe your body.”

Obediently, I stand and follow.

"Corn Silk Maiden... " I muse.
I find I like my name. To my youthful fancy it sounds somehow romantic, but there is no more time to be youthful, I remember belatedly. There is no romance in what I have lived through over this past week or so.

I let her lead me to the building called the sweat lodge. I watch as she slips out of her clothing and reaches for my blanket.

“Fear not no harm shall befall you”

Her soft voice reassures me once more. I let the protective blanket fall and discard the few poor remaining scraps of clothing, which still cling to me.

We stand in contrasting nakedness: She dark and lithe, I pale and curvaceous.

She takes my hand and draws me into the steamy room. The atmosphere is soothing, cleansing...
The water on the hot rocks hisses as it turns into steam.
I sigh as I relax at last; the aches easing from my body.
As I look over at Kicking Bird, I smile.
I am not contented, but I am calm.
Now I am “Shadow’s woman, would she be like a sister to me? She seems so warm and caring and despite myself I feel drawn to her.
As I lay back I am able to let go of my grief and feel my fear subside as my mind goes blank.

All I am aware of is the steam which envelops me as I sink back with a soft sigh.

 

[cgraven]

Kicking Bird

Her body is youthful her hips wide I smile at her.

“You are made to carry the little one easily”

I pour cool water over her sweating body, rub and scrub her back with a river stone. I talk of women things how a woman should pleasure her man. My hands travel along her body touching cleaning soothing her. As I touch her breast I notice she stiffens.

“Corn Silk Maiden your people do not wash in this way?”

I tell her that the body is a gift from the great spirit and it is to be clean and to give pleasure a woman for her man, a man for his woman, How else would the little ones find their way from the land of the spirits to this land on mother earth?

‘Be at peace “Little Corn Silk Maiden” relaxes while I heal you from your journey.”

Dipping my hands into sweet oil I massage her back working my strong hands along her tight muscles, and then I ease her on to the willow mat and massage her, neck work slowly to her firm young breasts, then her legs My hands ideally feel the golden fleece between her legs and I laugh.

“Yes truly Corn Silk Maiden is a good name for you.”

We pass away the afternoon in the seat lodge talking of women’s things.

I dawn my clothing and hand her blanket.

Again in of my brother, I leave her to return with clothing a clean white shirt, a bark blue length of cloth trimmed with gold silk ribbon. I show her how to wrap it

“This way means you are a maiden and this way a man's woman…….. You are now L’Ombre woman so this is how you wear your skirt”


I see her cheeks color as her legs are bare from just below the knee. My hand gently touches her cheek.

“If you can find it in your heart be his woman, come to him when he returns this evening he has suffered much”

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Corn Silk Maiden

I lay in the steam with Kicking Bird. She eyes me openly.

“You are made to carry the little one easily”

Little one? Children? No. I tell myself I am still a child myself. Father and my brothers worked hard to keep me so. I look down at my body as if the idea of womanhood is a new idea to me.
Gently she tends me. Cool water soothes me. The stone scrubs away the grime of my long journey. She talks of men and how women are made to pleasure them. I listen silent and amazed.

Until my capture I was still laughing and giggling with my brothers. Enjoying horseplay with their friends. That is what father had been so angry about: Innocent games, giving the wrong impression. I grew up with the boys of my settlement. I considered them all brothers. Perhaps that was the problem. Perhaps that is why I could not consider marriage.

I am lost in thought as Kicking Bird washes my body. Suddenly I tense as she touches my breast. My face floods in colour. I had enjoyed the soothing motions of her cleansing, yet I am suddenly conscious of my nakedness and her hand upon my skin.

“Corn Silk Maiden your people do not wash in this way?”

Her voice is curious, not understanding my reaction.
I shake my head.

“The body is a gift from the great spirit,” She tells me gently
“… and it is to be clean and to give pleasure a woman for her man, a man for his woman, How else would the little ones find their way from the land of the spirits to this land on mother earth? “

Little ones. Again she speaks of children.
My mind screams out that I want to be a child and carefree and taken care of. I am not ready to step so fully into womanhood.

‘Be at peace “Little Corn Silk Maiden” , relax, while I heal you from your journey.”

She sees my agitation and calms me once more.

The oil on my back is rubbed in. Her touch is strong yet soft. The scent is sweet. The tension is released as she eases the knot out of my back. I lay down on the mat. Her hands work along my neck, stroking gently. She moves downwards until she works the oil into my breasts.
I sigh softly.
Kicking Bird gently eases me.

“Shhh little one.”

Her touch fills me with a warmth, a heat that spreads inside my body. I lay letting her hands move over me: Half curious and half frightened as her hands work down my legs.
Only when she laughs do I become aware of my nakedness once more.
Her hands move softly between my legs, the touch is removed before I tense.

“Yes truly Corn Silk Maiden is a good name for you.”

I look up at Kicking Bird, my eyes confused.
Her expression is one of such amusement and gentle teasing that I give an answering laugh: The first since my capture.

In this way, Kicking Bird chatters throughout the afternoon.
She talks of the body, giving pleasure, the body as a gift of the spirits and the gift of children.
Although I did not want to hear all this at first, her chatter amuses me.
We smile at each other.
She is astounded no doubt by my innocence and the way my people view things.
I laugh almost in shock at her openness and the intimacy of her comments..

As the afternoon draws to a close, Kicking Bird dresses once more and I take the proffered blanket and wrap it around me. We return to the lodge: The lodge of her brother, the lodge of the man who has claimed me as his.

She leaves me alone. I look round the lodge, which will be my home. She hands me the clean white shirt and a blue length of cloth.

She instructs me how to tie it.

“This way means you are a maiden and this way a man's woman…….. You are now L’Ombre woman so this is how you wear your skirt”

I tie the skirt as I am bidden.
I am L’ombre’s woman… do I want to be?
I am still confused. I do not know what to expect.
I look down at the skirt, which reaches down to just below the knee. Apart from the shirt and skirt I am naked.
I flush wondering if he will be pleased.
Wondering what will happen between us. He has only spoken to me once, yet he wishes to claim me.
It is so confusing.

I look up as Kicking Bird’s hand gently touches my cheek.

“If you can find it in your heart be his woman, come to him when he returns this evening he has suffered much”

I nod and think “.. and so have I and so have many of us.”

With a warm smile Kicking bird slips out of the lodge.

I sit silently. I look around.
I look towards the door.
I look down at myself as I sit on the furs.
I am waiting for him to return.
Am I waiting to be his woman?

I stand suddenly.
If he finds me here will he assume that I am ready to give myself to him?
In time… perhaps… I think as I feel my cheeks heat once more, but now..?

I move towards the door.
Perhaps if I wait outside he will see I have not rejected him entirely, but if I leave the lodge, where will I go?

I am still stood poised in indecision when I hear voices, sure that Shadow of the Woods is coming home…
Home to claim what is his...
Home to claim me?

 

[cgraven]

I return to my lodge enter and there she is . her beauty touches my heart I hide the package I carry behind my back. Kneeling I lift her foot and slip on a beaded moccasin then the other.

“It would not do for you to be barefooted like a slave.”

I stand my hand instinctively goes to her cheek a gentle touch she stiffens there is fear in her eyes, I hesitate.

“Come………Come…. Double ball come join in.”

The excited call of bow hunter echoes through the village I take Corn Silk maiden hand and leader to the edge of the village teams are gathering the men dividing into sides I leave her with Kicking Bird and Winter Sky. Striping off my shirt, clad only in a breech cloth legging and moccasin I join the players below.

The field is 200 paces long and a pole at each end each man has a stick his own height one man stands by each pole. Walking Bear meets me in the center of the field we smile and know the battle will be well fought. Limping Deer throws the two leather balls in the air. They are attached with a strip of leather. I catch it anon my stick and hurl it to Bow Hunter and the game is on Each sides battles for possession to strike the others pole.


The howls and yelps of the woman and children encourage us. Suddenly women are on the field they pick up the ball and throw it to their man. The Kicking Bird is on my back biting scratching a for she is Walking Bears woman and I must endure my sisters attack. She then runs and brings Corn Silk Maiden to the game whispers in her ear and now the two of them are on me I am wrestled to the ground we tussle rolling round and round laughter floats over the field. Yes it was a good game and my heart is light.

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Corn Silk Maiden

He fills the doorway: so tall and intimidating.

I look up at him, my movements frozen.
I smile shyly wondering if he can hear the nervous thudding of my heart. If he notices my breast heaving nervously beneath the pristine white shirt, he makes no indication.
He stands again his silent gaze is upon me.

He comes forward and I congratulate myself that I do not move back in fear. Unexpectedly he kneels and lifts my foot.
His hands, gentle as they surround my bare flesh.

“It would not do for you to be barefooted like a slave.”

He speaks my language clearly. He slips a beautiful beaded moccasin first onto one foot, then another. I stand and let him dress my feet. The leather is soft and comfortably surrounds my bare foot. I am grateful not only for the beauty of the gift, but the significance of it.

We stand. I am his woman and not a slave.
He reaches out and touches my cheek.
His touch is tender, but I flinch. I am angry with myself, but my fear is instinctive. His touch is unfamiliar. I stand locked in confused misery. He is kind and yet I am filled with silent terror.

“Come………Come…. Double ball come join in.”

Both our heads turn as one in the direction of the excited call. He reaches out and takes my hand. He holds me in a firm warm but strong grip. I let him lead me out of the lodge and out into the village. His face as he looks at me is still expressionless.
There is neither anger nor happiness in his eyes.

He drops my hand as Kicking Bird draws close to me. He strips off his shirt and moves to join the other men, clad in his breech cloth leggings and moccasins.

Kicking Bird laughs and points.

“Double ball…” She says in explanation, but I watch a spectator to a sport I do not understand.

I watch as each man takes a stick. The two teams meet in the middle. A ball attached with a strip of leather is thrown into the throng. I smile as Shadow of the Woods catches it. I watch his muscular chest and shoulders as he throws hurls the ball forward and the game begins.

There seem to be no rules. The teams battle fiercely for possession. The poles bang together. On all sides there are shouts of encouragement from men, women and children.

I look over at Kicking Bird. She is jumping up and down shouting encouragement to the native playing opposite L’ombre.

Suddenly with a loud exclamation in her language she takes off for the field. Other women run into the fray. I am left a silent onlooker as they throw themselves into the skirmish, each attempting to throw the ball to their man.

I gasp in surprise as Kicking Bird launches herself onto her brother’s back. Her biting and scratching seem vicious, yet he endures it without throwing her off.

I laugh at the sight. The sight is bizarre, yet all seem to be enjoying the wild battle. I feel my hand taken. Kicking Bird is at my side. She leans forward whispering excitedly.

“Come you must help me. You are my sister and he has not yet made you his… “

I cannot help but giggle as she drags me into the field.

“Corn Silk Maiden… come..” and she points to the ball in my Man’s hand.

Caught up in the fun of it I launch myself at L’Ombre. My fingers barely graze the leather before he swings round and the ball is wrenched from my grasp. I cry out in disappointment and Kicking Bird darts swiftly round the other side to attack the ball.

Our laughs join. As one we jump towards L’Ombre. Our combined weight pulls him to the ground. Each of us takes an arm and tries to take possession of the ball as once more he hurls it through the air and away from our impotent grasps.

Lithe with experience, Kicking Bird springs up and runs after the ball trying to deflect it into the hands of her man. I lay breathless, still giggling my body on top of L’Ombre. He has one arm free now, the other is trapped beneath me.

I am unsure of the rules, I look up wondering what the other women are doing then down at my temporary captive. I know that should he wish, he has only to twitch his arm to throw me off.

The shouts and screams surround us as excitement builds. I duck my head against his arm to avoid being trodden on and squeal as once again the ball is hurled to our side of the field…

I raise my eyes and look at him with a teasing challenge, ready to try to take him on once more….

 

[cgraven]

Corn Silk Maidens eyes dance with joy it is the 1st time they have done so and a smile creases my face.

“Brave in battle I see Little one…….. Come the game passes us by.”


With a flick of my arm she is on top of me my hands around her trim waist I stand holding her high slowly I let her down the length of my body I feel her warmth against me and I long for her.

Laughing at what a young fool I am. I set Corn Silk Maiden on her feet.

“Come let us play.”

And so the afternoon passes men women and children playing, wrestling, enjoying life. The grandmothers call us the victory feast is ready, deer, squirrel, corn, squash, and beans. all are feed all are full this is the time of plenty. Night the drums beat the people sing the warriors dance their dance tells of the journey and battle.

Night falls and deepens I take Corn Silk Maiden bye the hand and lead her to our lodge. I strip all my clothing off and climb under the skin of urus the bear. I wait my eyes wondering why she does not prepare for sleep. I hold the sleeping skin up in invitation for her to join me.

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Corn Silk Maiden

Our eyes meet and hold. He smiles. His face lighting transformed. I beam back in return.

“Brave in battle I see Little one…….. Come the game passes us by.”
L'Ombre's voice is deep and soft: His words spoken quietly, in my ear.

Still with the echo of his words I feel myself propelled by his arm and give a surprised cry as I am drawn on top of him. His strong muscular body is firm beneath me. His hands close about my waist as he stands. Still he holds me aloft, he grins as if to show me he is in control, or as if to show me that now it is I who am captive and will be released when he wishes.

I giggle. The giggle turns to a gasp he holds me against his body. He places me slowly on the ground, releasing me inch by inch. My body and his are both warm from exercise. I share his heat as my body slides along his. I feel his muscles, the hardness of his limbs once more as he lowers me and gently sets me down.

His hands remain around my waist for moments after my feet touch the dry surface, as if to steady me. I am thankful for the support. I feel slightly lightheaded.

Our eyes meet. Our laughs ring out in shared amusement.

“Come let us play.”

I nod and run away after him as he dashes once more after the ball. I run with Kicking Bird. We shout to each other and obstruct the men. L’Ombre is a skilled player and time and again we launch ourselves at him. The other native women do not speak my language, but seeing my attempts to floor him once more they shout encouragement and applaud my futile snatches.

By the end of the battle I am rosy cheeked and breathless. The men congratulate themselves. I do not know who has won. I do not know if I helped or hindered, but it was fun, I realise with a start.

The meal is served and once again he crosses to me and takes my hand. I am led to the table and he seeks out food, which will please me. After the long journey he knows some of my preferences.

Sat near Kicking Bird, she throws meaningful glances in my direction and I grin, but try to ignore them. L’Ombre intercepts one of her sly glances and looks sternly at her. She throws him an impudent grin and laughs.

He turns his glance to me and I blush scarlet, looking quickly down at my food. He reaches out a hand and gently touches my chin raising my face. He looks at me and seems about to speak, but seems to think better of it.

“Eat..” he urges softly. I nod.
His voice is soft and coaxing.

I realise I feared he would be quick to anger, but he is in good humour and merely glares once more at his sister as he moves away from us once again.


The blanket is round me once more as I listen to the drums beating rhythmically around me. Again a dance, a dance I recognise. I do not dwell on the victory they celebrate. My mind goes back to that first night when L’Ombre brought me food and gave me the protection of his blanket.

I look up as I realise he is with me again. He holds out his hand and I take it. He pulls me towards him and picks up the blanket, which has slipped from my shoulders. We walk wordlessly to the lodge. It is dark apart from the firelight. The drums continue to throb as we enter his home.

L’Ombre closes the door and moves into the room. He stands and without comment or display removes his clothing.

I back against the wall unnoticed as I watch his body silhouetted in the moonlight. He moves to the bearskin slips beneath it. His eyes search the dimness wondering where I am. I step forward slowly. He cannot see my features in the darkness and I cannot see the expression on his face. He holds open the skin in invitation.

I take a step towards him and stop.
I want to ask him what he wants of me. He had promised he would not touch me if I did not wish. It was not that I minded him touching me.. but.. I feared…

I look at him again. The furs still held open for me.
I move towards him and kneel down on top of the skin.
His hand moves out to rest on my arm.
He must feel me trembling in fear, I think to myself.

“L’Ombre…” I call him by the name his people use…

I bow my head to avoid his searching eyes.

“I.. I have never seen a naked man before and never.. known .. a man… “

I speak haltingly, painfully embarrassed, but wanting him to know. Honesty is my only option I decide. The afternoon’s talk has made me painfully aware of how inadequate my experience is. I have no idea what this great warrior may expect from me.

“Corn Silk Maiden..”

He speaks my name.
His voice is firm and still I do not know if he is angered.

I catch my breath and raise my head. Bravely I meet his eyes.

“In truth.. I know nothing about... pleasuring a man… “

My voice is steady, willing him to know I am not rejecting him, nor am I consenting. I merely do not understand what might be required of me.

I hold his gaze, unflinchingly as his eyes roam over my body and come to rest once more on my face.

He is so strong, I just hope that if he is to make me his, that he be gentle and patient.

I hold my breath in the darkness and wait…

 

[cgraven]

I see Corn Silk Maiden hesitation I listen to her words..

“I shall teach you if you wish how to pleasure a man.”

 

[DeliciousMaiden]

Corn Silk Maiden

“I shall teach you if you wish how to pleasure a man.”

She watches him. His one line offers her a way forward, but should she take it.

It had taken so much to open up to him, so far.

If she did not let him teach her, perhaps he would regret his choice.

Did she wish to pleasure him?
She wished she were home.
She wished she were safe in her own bed.
But none of that were possible!

"I wish.. to be .. good to you.. but.. I'm scared.. "

Her voice soft and hesitant.

Despite her words, her fear, she reaches out her hand and takes his, perversely seeking comfort and assurance.


"Help me... " she pleads, her voice like a lost child...

 

[cgraven]

Corn Silk Maiden's voice is that of a scared child my heart is move to pity for she is a stranger in a strange land.

“ The night will grow cold I you sleep with your clothes on you will be cold…… I shall help you.”

Slowly I kneel in front of her my movements slow and tender. Hands at her belt, my eyes hold hers, mine soft , gentle, hers those of a frighten doe. The belt comes undone , the skirt falls open.. I wait showing her there is no reason to fear me. My hands take the helm of her shirt and slowly I lift it over her head.

The moonlight bathes Corn Silk Maiden in her slivery light , her skin so pale, her features so pleasing , my body aches for her but I touch her not..

“Come lay by my side I shall keep you warm through the night .”

I sing the song of courtship I know she does not understand the words. I sing of her beauty.
Her body is firm and young, we lay together under the blankets close my hand rest upon her shoulder and I sleep……… I dream of the Maiden with hair like corn silk.