323So, a number of people have asked me if I have any actors/pictures I based my characters off. I honestly only have one that I would very closely resembles how I personally see Megedagik in my head (though certainly not exact). I stumbled across it when I did the original research for this story. I'm going to throw it up in my profile. If you're curious take a look. If you don't care or are very pleased with who you have in your head then ignore this.
Thank you all so much for the reviews and the support! Hope to have this story completed relatively soon!
Also, might do some of that chapter reconfiguration I mentioned a while back. So, if everything suddenly looks very different, don't panic. I'm just tweaking.
Megedagik walked with stone for legs, head down, wondering if he should have paid the price for the white captive. He was sick to death in his conflict. His prized war club. He had seen the chieftain eyeing it during their meeting the day prior. Megedagik was unwilling to part with it. He reminded himself he had been unable to touch her the night before. He had felt sick. Repulsed. Why should he think anything would change?
"This will pass." It had been Aiyana to give him the comforting advice. He had been surprised when she did not gloat, she did not huff in superiority. "It did for me."
He was not so certain. He would not begin to heal until he made the decision to take her back or leave her be. He was certain of that. Yet, he was unable to make that decision. The moment he did, he felt sick and changed his mind again.
Megedagik stopped in his tracks. His entire body tended. It was faint. Very, very faint. He turned to look at Mingan behind him. He was frozen still, face set in an intent frown, eyes to the sky. Chin still raised, his eyes darted down to meet Megedagik's.
"I heard it to."
"The river," Wematin said. Megedagik darted back toward the feminine cry for aid. As they got closer the cries for help grew louder. There was no mistaking it. And somehow, he heard his name being screamed, and somehow, in her hysteria, he was able to make out the very distinct voice of his Maskaanna.
He arrived at the river's edge and followed the cries upward. He almost missed her, lodged snugly in a tangle of driftwood, soaked like a rat, weighed down in her flow of fabric, trembling badly.
"Alice," he said in disbelief. She looked up, face wet with river water and tears.
"Hassun," she breathed.
"Don't move," he ordered. It was a hazardous position she was in, though by no means deadly for a well-trained rapid traverser. He doubted she would have the same ability. She nodded, trembling viciously in the cold water.
"Has-has-Hassun –"
"I said be quiet."
"You said don't move," Wematin observed.
"The s-s-summmmmit," she said. "It's a t-trap. They-re-uh going to k-kill you alllll."
Megedagik heard her words keenly. He turned his head. "Mingan, return to Powhatan and tell him what you just heard. We will follow shortly."
Mingan darted off with a nod of understanding.
"Alice, can you reach this branch here?" He asked. He glanced nervously at the precariously placed branch against the bolder.
"My foot is stuck," she chattered out. He nodded slowly. She whispered, petrified, "I can't swim."
He said nothing. It did not matter if her foot was stuck. The driftwood would let go and she'd be sucked under the current with no way to lift her head above water. She'd drown.
"Stay very still," he ordered. She obeyed, save the uncontrollable trembling of her muscles. He examined the surrounding area.
"Rope?" Wematin asked.
"Her foot is lodged; I don't trust her strength to hold herself above water."
"You can jump in there, stay under and dislodge the foot, and emerge to grab her there."
Megedagik followed his finger. It seemed like the only real option. He could use his feet against the bolder to hold himself against the current.
"Has-Hassun. I luv-love y – "
"Be quiet!" He barked. He had not heard what she said. Even speaking could risk dislodging the driftwood.
"If the current takes me off, or if the drift wood becomes dislodged, I need you to jump in to help her," Megedagik told Wematin. The man nodded, eyes racing back and forth to take in the entire situation.
"I'm going to go in and dislodge your foot," he told Alice, crouching down on the bank. "I need you to be as still as possible."
She nodded. "If the driftwood dislodges after I get your foot free, get onto your back, feet down river."
"I- I can't – "
"You'll have to," he cut her off. He added more gently with amazed affection at seeing her here, "I don't believe there is anything you can't do woman. Float on your back, feet out down river. You will go underwater. Don't fight the current. Breath as deeply as you can when you come back up above water. You will swallow or inhale water. It will hurt but you will survive it. When possible keep your eyes downriver, try to avoid any rocks and driftwood nests like this. If you get stuck underwater, there is little anyone can do."
She was nodding.
"It's bad for about three miles, there's a drop, about ten feet, there are rocks below, keep your feet down. Don't fall on your back. It's going to deposit you into a quick moving water but with no rocks. Stay on your back. You'll float."
"My skirts," she said, shaking her head. Cursed that clothing. He had forgotten those damnable skirts. Why on earth did anyone need to wear so much clothing.
"If you start to sink, do your best to take them off."
She nodded.
"Ready."
She nodded again.
"Wematin?"
"Ready."
He jumped into the water and slipped in between the branches. Unwilling to risk dislodging the driftwood, he angled his body and sank to the bottom of the water. He fought the tightening of his lips as he submerged in the frigid waters. It was clear and he was able to see her trapped boot with little trouble. Her boot was wedged between two rocks, bent at an awkward angle. Though he did not think it was broken, it would hurt to remove.
He got himself in front of the large rock and was able to fight against the current. His tried to remove the rocks themselves. It would hurt her less this way. Neither rock would budge. He grabbed her angle and yanked, but he could not summon the strength against the fighting current. It must have caused pain, for her other foot kicked out at the water in front of him.
He considered his options patiently. To rush could be deadly. He plucked at the laces of the boot before growing annoyed. He retrieved his dagger and sliced into the boot. He had to hack at it. It was made of fine leather, thick and sturdy. He regretted having to ruin it.
Misty red floated into the water. He had given her a sizable gash, though nothing to worry about it. It would not even need to be seen shit. If this was her greatest injury, he would count themselves lucky.
With the boot sliced open, he seized her ankle and pulled upward again. There was some resistance, but soon her foot popped free from the ruined leather. He swam upward, careful to avoid any of the wood as he did. He grabbed onto the branch she was using to steady herself, and gave his lungs some much needed relief.
"Are you alright?" he asked, blinking the water from his eyes. She nodded, eyes glancing fearfully over her shoulder at the ever-shifting wood.
"You won't make it to shore," he warned her gently. "If you try and the wood dislodges, you'll be swept along the river's edge and most likely under an obstruction."
"Then wh-what –"
"We're going to go to the center of the river –"
" – no! –"
" – And get to calmer waters –"
" –I c-can't swim!"
"I'm going to have your hand. You're just going to float," he spoke as calmly as he could, but they were running out of time. "Where do the skirts fasten? Don't move. Just tell me."
She did and he found the band. He cut through them with his blade. He watched them get taken away with the current, and just as he suspected, they were sucked low, into the whirlpool behind the rock and beneath a mess of dead branches.
"Wematin. Run down river to spot."
He heard Wematin take off. Alice was shaking her head, years on her face.
"Alice," he said, slow and calm. It drew her wet eyes toward his. Her lower lip trembled beyond control and she sniffles. It was the same, wet crinkle he'd heard last night. "This is the only way. Do you trust me?"
She nodded. "What are you going to do?"
"Float on my back, feet downriver."
"You're going to swallow water; you're going to inhale water. You're not drowning. You must stay calm."
"I will."
"Don't fight the current when it brings you downward. It's a waste of energy. It's too strong. Let it bring you back up. It will. Breath with every opportunity you have."
"P-promise you won't let g-go," she shivered.
"I cannot," he said. "We might be pulled apart."
He heard creaking.
"Very carefully we're going to switch places and I'm going to push us out. It's going to happen fast, alright?"
She nodded.
"Ready?"
More nodding.
He took her by the waist and with an outstretched leg toward the bolder behind them, he managed to get enough leverage to push them out into the water. He grabbed onto her hand as the water took them. When he had the chance to look toward her, he was proud to find her on her back, legs out in front of her, eyes firmly downstream.
She squeezed into his hand for dear life, but she kept her gaze down river. Everything went on smoothly until she plummeted downward and plunged into the water. She squeezed tightly at the hand in hers, but their fingers were ripped apart and she went whipping through the water alone body twisting against the powerful flow of the spring river.
Her head emerged from the water and her mouth opened like a baby bird seeking food. She was vaguely aware of shouting off in the distance. Before she could get in a full breath, she was submerged once again. Water flooded into her mouth. She coughed beneath the water, lungs burning, panic setting in as she ran out of oxygen.
She emerged once again and flailed her arms. She arched her body upward, sucking in as much air into her lungs as she could before she went back into the water. She remained above water this time, arms flailing.
"On your back!" she heard the shout from behind her. She scrambled, forcing her legs out in front of her. She remained on back amongst the white water, flowing up and down with the current. She was coughing. Her body struggled to get the water out of her lungs. "It's going to get rough ahead!"
Going to get rough, she thought. She looked down river. It was a mass of roiling white water. The sound was deafening. It was not that narrow. She was only about five feet away from Megedagik though he was somewhat behind her.
They dipped downward but she remained above water. There was a moment of general calm before she heard shouting to her left.
"Fall! Fall! Fall!"
She looked up to find Wematin on the edge of the river shouting out the warning. After he shouted, he darted off, sprinting out of view and around the bend ahead.
"Keep your feet out!"
Alice did as she was instructed. The drop was not abrupt but it was fast and it was steep. She was sucked back under the water. She fought against the superior force until her side collided with a massive bolder. Oxygen left her lungs in a run, bubbles pluming upward toward the white light beaming in above her.
Her body went limp. Without the fight, the water pushed her upward. She emerged out of the white water and got herself onto her back again. She dipped back under the water. This time she fought the urge to fight against the current. She was deposited above the water once again and was able to fill her lungs with air.
"Split the river!" she heard from her right. She blinked the water out of her eyes and tried to find Wematin, but her gaze was too blurry. She looked down river and saw the boulder erupting out of the white water. She moved toward it with rapid speed. She slapped her arms into the water to try and move herself over.
The current was too strong. She went whipping down the river toward the rock. She continued to slap at the water desperately, legs kicking wildly. She sucked in a deep breath as she readied to slam into the boulder. Only a foot or so was visible above water, but she knew what lay below would be large enough, at this speed, to do some damage. She missed it by a hair. She felt her skirt waft up around the stone beneath her.
Her panic grew when the water grew calmer and deeper. She slapped at the water, kicked out beneath her. Her head went under and her mouth opened to suck in a mouthful of water. She pushed herself up, gasping into the air.
"Maskaanna," she heard amongst the splashing. "Alice calm. Stop. Stop."
She felt his hands on her arms but continued to struggle. He got himself behind her, arms around her middle, and kicked her feet out. "Calm down," he ordered. "Relax."
She obeyed, breathing hard. He swam them to the edge of the water where Wematin was waiting, breathing hard, eyes wide, and smiling.
"Well done!" he congratulated them. Megedagik deposited her on the bank and walked a few paces away. Alice lay on the bank, eyes up toward the clear blue sky, mouth open, shoulders heaving.
"How far down?" Megedagik asked curtly.
"About three miles."
"Get up."
Alice's eyes fluttered closed, a small smile coming to his lips.
"Maskanna, get up."
Her eyes opened. "What?"
"Get. Up."
She did so on shaky legs, arms trembling as she pushed herself to her feet. A small smile began to spread to her face. How good it felt to see him again. She longed for the feel of his powerful arms wrapped around her.
"How do you know about the summit?" he asked, voice abrupt, eyes hard. He did not look at all pleased to see her. The black hand on his chest ran down his bronzed, quivering muscles.
"Lawrence told me," she answered. She let out a deep breath. Spots clouded her vision and she swayed. Wematin caught her and helped lower her to the ground.
"Yes. Your husband," he rumbled scornfully. She lifted her tired gaze up toward him. He glowered down at her. She felt a splinter of pain in her heart and she lowered her gaze. He did not even think to ask if she was well.
"Wematin. I am tired. You will carry her first."
"Please, just a moment," she pleaded. She felt very light headed.
"I am sorry, Maskaanna," Wematin said. He grabbed onto her wrist and knelt beside her. He tugged gently, and put her on her back as one might carry a child. His arms held her by the legs firmly and she wrapped her tired arms around his neck.
Megedagik scouted ahead. He did not want to risk walking into any danger with Alice on Wematin's back, especially now that they were down to three. She said nothing most of the day. Her muscles were tired. Never ha she felt such an intense exhaustion so deeply in her bones. Megedagik was not nearly so tired and she wished she had not fought the current as she had. He would glance at her, but his face remained stone. She saw not even a glimmer of relief or affection.
His words from earlier in the day would come to her and she was struck with devastation anew. Would he send her back to Lawrence? She did not think she could bear it. Perhaps he would let her remain in the village so she could raise her children. The thought of seeing him interact with his wives every day… her heart broke. She'd made the wrong decision by choosing to return home and now she had to live with the consequences of her choice.
"I am spent," Megedagik said a few hours before sunset. "I am sure you are."
"She's lighter than a buck," Wematin responded, but lowered her to the ground all the same. Despite being carried all day, she was exhausted. She was told to wait by a tree tucked into the brush until they found a place to spend the night. She waited a little less than hour before Wematin came to retrieve her.
"He is in a sour mood," Alice observed as lightly as possible.
"You have brought troubling news," Wematin responded. "And I am sure he is not too pleased to see you again."
Alice did not ask why he thought that. She could not bear the answer. Their camp was a small little clearing that would support three people sleeping around a modest fire if required. The night already felt like it would be a warm one. Megedagik found some berries and Wematin pulled out some fish to eat.
"What did your husband say?" Megedagik finally asked from his spot on the opposite side of the clearing from her. Alice looked up from the knees she had hugged to her chest. She had almost been asleep.
"Just that there would be a summit. He's been going back and forth to the fort. He promised me… that we would have nothing more to worry about, because everyone at the summit would be killed."
"How?"
"He did not say."
"You did not ask?"
"I didn't," she said somewhat sharply. He stared at her. She offered, thinking it might soften his anger toward her, "I came as soon as I could."
"You got yourself taken captive," he replied. "By the True People. How did you get so far north?"
"I just walked," she answered. "I didn't follow the river. I just… I wasn't thinking –"
"No, you weren't. You were foolish," he snapped.
"I came to help!" she defended herself. "I came to find you! To warn you!"
"Be quiet or I'll have you gagged," he snapped. Wematin cleared his throat and handed a small bowl over to Alice. She tried to remain calm as she ate but she was struck with the full force of her hunger. "Your husband will be looking for you soon."
"Don't call him that," she whispered in exasperation, shoulders slumping.
"It is what he is," he said.
"The way you say it…" she trailed off. A cup of tea was presented to her from Wematin.
"For the pain," he explained. She glanced down at the foot without a boot. The cuts on her calf were shallow but deep enough to sting. She took a gulp of the tea, burning her tongue as she did so. Megedagik was staring down at the ground in front of him, rubbing his fingers together thoughtfully.
"They will know she warned us," he murmured. "They will call off the summit."
"Lawrence might not know I'm gone yet," she added, despite the fact that he was not speaking to her. "He went to the fort to finalize plans. I left the morning he did."
"He left you alone?" Megedagik asked. "On that vulnerable little patch of land?"
She lowered her eyes to the ground. "That is everything I know," she whispered. "Now, I would like to go to sleep."
Megedagik said nothing but gave a dismissive wave of his hand. She lowered herself down onto the hard ground of the forest floor. She fought back the burning in her eyes. She wondered, as she struggled to fall off to sleep, if a time would ever come again in her life, when she did not feed such terrible pain.
Megedagik stared into the flames. It was warm, but the crackling of wood and the flickering of fire had always soothed him in times of turmoil. He had still not quite processed that it was his Alice lying there on the other side of the fire, wearing a flimsy white skirt and bonnet, sleeping heavily. It had been her the night before, it had been her shoulder trembling beneath his hand, and he hadn't even known it. He'd left her there. He shuddered to think what might have become of her if she had not escaped.
Terrible thoughts had been coursing through his brain all day. He'd left her there. Images of other men's hands on her creamy white skin bombarded him. He sat there, watching the man with a milky eye and scared face laboring over her, bound inside a hut, weeping with each violation.
He scrubbed a hand over his mouth. Finding her snagged in the driftwood... and the foolish woman could not even swim. He felt sick at the thought of it. How close he'd come to losing her forever.
She's not yours. She belongs to another. She chose another.
"Will you not go to sleep?" Wematin asked. He had risen an hour or so earlier from his sleep, ready to take the second watch.
"I will," he answered. He was exhausted. Everything in him cried out to sleep but he was afraid of the dreams he might have. He rose. "Go make a sweep."
Wematin rose and obeyed silently. Megedagik knelt beside the Maskaanna. Her back was to the fire, but he could see her illuminated in the moonlight that crept in from behind the canopy of leaves overhead. He gently pulled at the string of her bonnet. She made a soft murmuring sound but did not move. He withdrew a hand and waited for the murmuring to stop. He trailed a finger down the curve of her nose. He stroked her cheek gently.
"Maskanna," he murmured softly. He moved to straddle her. He bent his head to place his mouth to her neck and slid her remaining skirt up around her hips. She murmured against. She turned her head to the side, giving him greater access to her throat. Her skin was warm and soft, just as he remembered it.
"Lawrence," she muttered. He felt a violent rush of rage crush down on him. He tilted her hips upward and leaned forward. She awoke as he entered her, but her eyes remained closed. Her hands pushed at his chest as she grimaced in discomfort. Her eyes fluttered open. She breathed, "Hassun?"
"Hush, woman," he murmured. He breathed in deeply at her throat before opening his mouth to taste the soft flesh. A low, satisfied moan escaped her.
"Stop," she whispered. "You –"
She broke off with another soft moan and he pressed his mouth to hers. He kissed her again and then her jaw. His fingers dug into her thighs.
"Your husband has not been satisfying you," he breathed close to her face.
"Don't," she whispered. He groaned low in the back of his throat. Oh, he'd missed this. His body tensed and arched his neck back. A low sigh rushed from his lungs and he lowered his forehead to rest on her shoulder. He remained there to collect his breath.
"I forgot how good you felt," he murmured. He kissed the side of her neck.
"Not worth the high price of last night," she answered cagily, voice just above that of a whisper. He pulled back to look at her. "Or to buy me back."
He blinked. If course. She thought he had known… why wouldn't she have thought that? He had spoken those words about a white woman he did not know… just in front of the hut he had been given.
Lawrence, he heard her whisper softly in his head.
"Apparently," he answered. Let her hurt as he hurt. He pulled himself free from her. He pulled her skirts back down around her knees. He did not have it in him to leave them up around her waist.
"I can see the children when we get home?" she asked softly. He sat before the fire, his back to her. Wematin stepped back into the clearing. Megedagik waved his hand and he retreated again.
"If they want to see you," he answered. The word home hung in his head. A simple linguistic misunderstanding.
"They must hate me," she whispered. He thought to tell her that Mansi still cried at night when she thought everyone was asleep, that Ahote would still ask when Alice was coming home. He thought that might make things worse and he remained silent.
"The baby you will see," he said.
"My baby boy," she whispered. "Have you named him yet?"
"No," he answered.
"Because of his mother?" she asked.
"Ahote was not named until he was walking," he answered. "It is our way. They name themselves through their action."
"Hassun… what does it mean?" she asked.
"Stone," he answered. He felt something on his back. Her hand? He turned to find her rolling over. He got up to move to the other side of the fire. He fell asleep staring at her back from across the flames.
Alice was shaken awake gently. The sun was up but it smelled like morning. She was alone with Wematin. Megedagik came back into the clearing just as she finished her breakfast.
"I will carry the Maskanna. Don't scout out much further than a half mile."
"I can walk," she offered.
"You'll slow us down," Megedagik said dismissively. He crouched down before her. With little ceremony he tossed the skirt of her shift upward to reveal her calf. She whipped it down to cover her knee, shooting a suspicious glare at Wematin, but he was not paying any mind to her state of undress.
Megedagik's large hand wrapped around her ankle and he examined the cuts on her legs. "How badly does it hurt?"
"Not that badly. It stings only."
He nodded and stood. "Come. We go."
Megedagik carried her the rest of the day. They made camp just before sunset. Megedagik had her go through everything again. What Lawrence had told her, how he told her, how many times he told her. They did not speak any further.
The next day they arrived at the village. He lowered her to the ground just as they entered the large cleared field around the walled in village. She felt a rush of relief as she took in the sight of the towering walls. For the first time in a long time, she felt the warm glow of contentment bloom in her chest. Everything she loved rested safely within those walls. She walked bare foot up the little incline toward the open gates. Eyes grew wide as the guards spotted her, and they looked to Megedagik questioningly. Megedagik simply ignored them.
They walked directly to the King's lodge. Those standing guard outside, already warned by Mingan, slipped inside at the sight of them. Before they could reach the outside of the lodge, the guard had returned and opened the flap for them to enter. Alice chanced a nervous glance to Megedagik. He looked straight ahead, face hard as rock, but as he reached out to guide her inside, he put his hand to her elbow, squeezing warmly.
"This is troubling news!" the King called as they entered. He wasted no time.
"I agree," Megedagik answered, leading them to their place before the King. The King's gaze went to Alice and she waited nervously for him to address her. He simply stared, eyes hard and face set in a deep frown.
"First, you will tell me how you came to be here," he told her. Alice swallowed and rang her hands in front of her to settle her nerves.
"My husband is a captain. He is involved in plans. He told me they meant to kill you all and I left when he went to the fort. I… I must have gotten lost. I was captured and I escaped. I ended up in the rapids and Megedagik saved me. He then brought me here."
"How do they plan to betray us?"
"I do not know," she answered truthfully. "My husband would not tell me. I only know that the summit is a trap."
"How did you come into possession of her Megedagik?" the King asked, shifting his gaze.
"After she got stuck in the rapids, I heard her cries for help."
"And you did not seek her out? Make any detours on your mission?" he asked. "Rather lucky, don't you think?"
"I do not question the ways of the Great Spirit," Megedagik replied simply. Powhatan leaned backward in his throne. He looked back at Alice and let out a deep sigh.
"If she left her people of her own accord, then I see no reason she need be returned. Megedagik, she is yours once more, if you desire it."
"I do," Megedagik said simply, voice a low rumble. Alice's legs trembled.
"She is not to leave the walls. Until all of this sorted, her loyalties remain in question. I have doubts of the character of a woman who betrays her own people…"
Alice looked up sharply at that, eyes boring holes into the savage king.
"I do not sanction the slaughter of innocents," she snapped. Megedagik seized the back of her neck with a painful grip and whipped her toward him.
"He can order you a death most painful for that tone," he seethed.
"Let her go, Megedagik. The Maskaanna has bested a proven warrior in battle. She has earned the right to my forgiveness."
Megedagik's hand left her neck. She took in a few calming breaths, frightened tears at the brim of her eyes, but she blinked them away. The King waved his hand at them.
"Go now. Return here once she is settled. There are a number of things we must discuss."
They exited the lodge and Megedagik ordered Wematin to run ahead and make sure his lodge was empty. Alice lowered her gaze.
"Best to explain to them I'm back before I meet them," she mused, meaning his new wives.
"Yes," he answered, meaning his children. She felt a stab of pain and brushed it aside. It was a consequence of her own actions and not anything that could be helped. She reminded herself she had a husband living. She had made the only choice she could have and she would bear it proudly.
I am a good Christian woman, she asserted, though the thought brought her more pain than peace. When they arrived at the lodge she felt like crying. It looked much as it had the day she left. A fire was burning low, some beans were cooking. An axe was stuck into a tree stump nearby. A pipe beside it, flecks of tobacco flickered nearby.
"Do you want your pipe?" she asked Megedagik. He turned to look at her, his gaze searching. Did he even want her back? He had been unwilling to purchase her. His affection for her could not have been so great. Then why take her once offered by Powhatan? He had wives now to see to his needs. Was a free slave simply too good to reject?
"Go inside," he ordered.
"Can I see – "
" – Maskaanna go inside –"
"- My baby first?" she asked. He raised a hand toward the hut.
"Go inside. Now."
She had not expected such coldness from him. Before she had left, he would have taken her for his wife. Now, he seemed offended by her mere presence. She went into the lodge without any further protest. He had told her she would see their child. She would not have too much longer to wait before she had her baby boy in her arms. She could have wept at the mere thought of it.
Megedagik did not return to Powhatan. Instead, he walked down the looping path to the Pale One's lodge. He was relieved to find her seated by the slow burning fire, and not out in the fields. Maggie was standing by a cut off stump, holding herself up on shaky arms as she watched her father carve into the boat.
"You've returned!" the Pale One greeted with a smile. "Ahote and Mansi will be so pleased. They were just –"
"The child," he said curtly, holding out his arms. Askuweteau turned with raised eyebrows. If the two were not so far apart in standing, he would have said something about how he just spoke to his wife. The Pale One rose, it was difficult now with the size of her belly, and handed the smiling baby over to him. "When did he last east?"
"Oh, just an hour or so ago. No Mash today though. I give it to him at night so he will sleep. He loves the squash –"
He turned and began to walk away. His only concern now was reuniting the child with his mother.
"Will you be returning soon?" the Pale One called anxiously. He turned around, eyes boring into her, and snapped back coldly, "You are not his mother."
The Pale One took a step back in surprise. This time, Askuweteau stepped forward, a frown on his face. "It is unfair of you to speak to her like that. She's cared for that child as her own for nearly four seasons now."
"And I thank you for it," Megedagik replied. His body was such a jumble of tension and nerves. He should not have spoken to her in such a manner. "But I remind you both the child is mine. If attachments are forming too strong, I will find another wet nurse."
"Wet nurse!" the Pale One demanded. "I'm more to that child than a simple wet nurse! His mother is my dearest friend. His mother –"
"Has returned," he cut her off. Her mouth hung open and her eyes widened. "We will figure out what that means later. Until then, the child will be going to see his mother."
"Alice is back?" the Pale One whispered. Her eyes filled with tears. A little smile came to her lips and one tear fell. She let out a deep breath and her knees bent. She raised her hands to cover her smiling face. "Alice is here? I must see her!"
"Tomorrow," Megedagik replied. "First the babe. Then my children. Then you."
The Pale One nodded. Askuweteau came to stand beside his wife, the little girl on his hip. He gently touched her arm. He was a protective husband and a protective father. He disliked seeing her get even the slightest bit excited in her condition.
"Will you give her my love?" the Pale One called to him. "Is she well!"
"Sarah, come sit down now," Askuweteau murmured to her. He gazed at the child as he returned to his white slave. Every time the word husband had passed her lips it had been a twist of the arrow she had already plunged so deeply into his chest. It mattered no longer. He had done what was right and allowed her to return to her husband. If she was foolish enough to return, he felt no obligation to let her leave again. If she hated him for it, so be it.
The baby laughed at him as they walked. He reached for the piercing in his nose, giggling wildly as Megedagik held down his hand. He wondered what the Maskanna would think of their child. Would he be too savage for her? His skin was darker than the Pale One's child. His eyes were dark, his hair the color of bark. He was a large boy, bigger than Ahote had been.
He arrived at the lodge and waited outside a moment. He steeled himself for rejection. The child she had lost, yellow haired and blue eyed, had been such a white little child. A child she had with her husband. Her one true husband, he thought bitterly. Perhaps a child by another would be an abomination to her. A savage child no less. He held the boy close and breathed in his hair. The smallest sign of disgust and he would return the child to the Pale One to raise. The Maskaanna did not deserve him if she was so repulsed.
He stepped into the lodge and told Wematin he was free to leave. He found the Maskaanna by the fire place cooking tea and smoothing out her furs as she liked them. He did not know a person could feel such happiness and such pain all at once.
"Woman," he drew her attention. She looked up from her word. Her lips parted and her eyes turned wet. A low sigh escaped her and then the tears came. She held out her arms to him and Megedagik placed the boy into her arms.
Any fear he might have had evaporated. He felt guilty for doubting her as he did. How could a woman he deemed the Maskaanna love any child less? She sat cross legged on the furs, cradling the boy in her arms. She wiped away her tears as she looked down at him. He gazed up in confusion, a little frown on his tiny face.
"Those cheeks," she whispered, pinching them gently. She touched his chubby little legs, catching them between two fingers and squeezing gently. "Oh, he'll be big. Just like his father."
The reverence in her voice touched him. She kissed the child. A fury of kisses over the babe's face, much to the child's distress. She laughed softly as he fussed. She repositioned him, calming him in only an instant. She rocked him back and forth gently.
"I could just stare for hours," she whispered. "He's perfect."
She ran her hands over. She touched each leg, each arm, pinched his cheeks, ran her fingers through his hair. She grabbed a plump little foot and smothered it with kisses. She looked closely at his toes, examining the toenails closely.
"His fingers are so long," she observed.
"He will be a find bowman," he agreed proudly. He remained standing, arms crossed over his chest. She lifted him up to her chest and embraced him, squeezing him just hard enough as to not hurt him. She pressed her nose to the side of his face and breathed in deeply.
"I just want to squeeze him as tight as I can," she breathed in against him again. The baby began to fuss, tired of the attention. She spread out her legs and laid him in the little hammock her skirt made. He looked up at her with a frown and she leaned over him. "Is he speaking?"
"He babbles. No words yet," he answered.
"Mama," she said to him. "I'm mama." She looked up at him. "He will live with us?"
"He will remain with the wet nurse until weened, but you will be his caregiver."
"Who is his wet nurse?" she asked.
"Your pale friend," he answered. A smile of relief took over her. Yet more tension seeped from her limbs.
"I used to do this with William," she said, lowering her mouth to his stomach and blowing. Megedagik frowned, the child looked confused, and as Alice pulled back and made a face at the babe, he broke out into laugher. She started to cry again, hand to mouth. She looked at him, eyes full to the brim and whispered, "that laugh. I've dreamed of what that would sound like."
He only nodded. "He enjoys this rattle," he finally spoke after they played some more. He retrieved it from his things in the corner. She took it and observed it.
"Did you make this?" she asked. He nodded. A small smile came to her lips and she rattled it in front of him. He giggled and reached for it.
"He can sit up on his own," he informed her. She gently put him into a sitting position. She was hesitant to release his back and she moved her hand away slowly. He remained seated, reaching up for the rattle with grasping hands.
"I missed so much," she whispered, running a hand through his hair.
"You are here now," he answered simply. "He will know his true mother."
Her eyes landed on him, soft and curious. She looked very sad. She told him with a small but firm voice, "I will not be slave to your wives."
He stared back at her.
"I could live with Sarah. That way I will be close to the baby –"
"You will live right here," he cut her off tersely. She looked down at their son, smiling at him as he slammed the rattle down and giggled. "I have taken no wives," he said. She looked up sharply. "And I will not."
She said nothing but looked back at their child. As time went on, he grew fussier. It would be time for a change and something to eat. He would bring him to the Pale One. When he voiced this, she protested.
"Let me go with him," she pleaded. She got to her feet with the babe in her arms. "I can change him and then Sarah can give him back to me once he's been fed. I –"
"I need to speak to Ahote and Mansi before they are told you are here. I need to speak to Powhatan. And Askuweteau has made his home outside the walls once again. Powhatan gave strict orders."
"Then have Sarah stay with Talisa and I will stay with her –"
"You are not my wife. You are my slave," he told her. "That was a choice you made. A slave does not question. Give me the boy."
She looked at the crying child a moment or so longer. She held the child close to her, despite his protests, and then relinquished her hold of him.
"There is no guard outside this door. I trust you aren't foolish enough to leave while I'm gone."
"I won't," she murmured, eyes on the babe. He turned to leave but she stopped him with a soft, cool hand on his arm. "Just one more kiss."
She put her hand to the back of his head and kissed his forehead. The baby continued to cry. She stepped back, a broken look on her face. She lamented, "I can't even see to the needs of my own child."
"In time, you will," he answered, and he left with the child. He was both relieved and disappointed when he arrived at the Pale One's lodge and found the children present, gnawing on something the Pale One had made for dinner. She collected the child from him and set about her duties. She watched him anxiously as he sat down in front of the children. He wanted to delay, but he had to tell them now. Word would be getting around that the Maskaanna had returned.
"Mansi, come here," he said. He beckoned her closer and she sat down on a knee. "Ahote."
They waited patiently for him to speak. He heard Askuweteau behind them, softly calling the Pale One into the hut.
"There is something I must tell you," he began. "It may make you happy. It may upset you."
He brushed a shaggy lock of Ahote's hair to the side. "Alice… has come home."
Ahote took longer to comprehend those words.
"She's here now?" Mansi asked. He brushed a stay strand of hair from his daughter's face.
"She is."
"Did you go take her?" Ahote asked. "Did you go and get her back from the White Men?"
"She came back," Megedagik answered.
"When can we see her?" Mansi asked, getting out of his lap. She gazed toward the walls anxiously. "I want to go now."
"Mansi, wait a moment," he ordered. He looked at Ahote. "Will you be ok to see her?"
"I want to see her," Ahote answered. He got up. "I want to go now."
Megedagik got to his feet and took his children's hands. He walked them down the path, observing them carefully.
"What are you thinking?" he asked them.
"I want to see Alice," Mansi said, chewing on her lip. Ahote did not answered. His brow was raised and he had the inside of his bottom lip tucked between his teeth.
"Ahote?" he asked. He looked up. "What are you thinking?"
"I don't know," he mumbled. He hung more heavily on Megedagik's arm.
"Will you both be alright to see her right now? You were both very upset when she left."
"You said she didn't leave because she didn't love us," Mansi mumbled against a hand to her mouth.
"That's not why she left," Megedagik reiterated. "Why she left… it is because of the White Man's ways. They are very different."
"I hate them," Ahote said.
"We do not hate," Megedagik scolded. He thought of the man that Alice called husband. He hated him.
"Alosaka says we must kill all of them," Ahote said. Megedagik stopped his son and knelt down in front him, just a few feet from the gate of the city.
"We kill only to protect and strengthen our People. When I grow older, I will kill all the white men," he said. Ahote tried not to look at him. Megedagik grabbed his face and directed his gaze. "You find no joy in killing."
Ahote ripped his face away too pout. Megedagik let him go and he marched on ahead. When they arrived at the hut, he ordered they wait outside. When he entered the lodge, he found her already into his raw skins, cutting them to size in preparation for making clothing.
"You have visitors," he told her. She looked up, gaze toward the door, lips parted. He pulled the flap to the side. "Mansi. Ahote."
Mansi stepped in first. She pulled at her fingers with one hand, chin pressed to her chest, eyes wide. Ahote stepped in afterward, a troublingly blank expression on his face.
"Mansi. Ahote," she said, a pained smile on her face. "Oh, how I missed you."
She held out her arms to them. Neither child moved. Slowly, her arms lowered.
"I'm sorry," she told them. "I…" she looked between the two children. "I didn't want to leave you. I love you both so much. It's… it's so very complicated."
She sat back on her feet, hands clasped in her lap. "I missed you."
Mansi stepped forward first. She shyly glanced back at Megedagik. He gave her an encouraging nod. She pressed on until she stood just in front of Alice. She was examining her hands. She glanced back up at Alice. All it once, she threw herself at her, wrapping her arms around her neck and burst into tears. Alice's arms enclosed around her, holding her night, eyes squeezed shut, and tears bursting forth.
"You've grown even more beautiful than I remember," she told Mansi. She ran her hand over the back of her braid. "Oh Mansi," she smiled, squeezing her tight. Mansi pulled back, sniffling, and reached into her pocket. She held out her palm, a little shell resting inside.
"I kept it," Mansi told her. Alice smiled and cupped her cheeks with both hands.
"I missed you, beautiful girl," Alice told her. Mansi smiled and hugged her again. Megedagik thought he heard his daughter whisper, "I'm sorry for hitting you," with her mouth pressed into Alice's neck. Alice simply shoot her head, eyes closed shut, lips pressed together. She placed a kiss to Mansi's cheek. Still holding Mansi close, she held her arm out to Ahote.
"Ahote?" she asked. "Will you come give me a hug?"
Ahote heisted but then stepped forward. A tearful smile came to Alice's face. Ahote came forward, and without breaking stride, pulled back a hand, and smacked her hard across the face. Megedagik's lips parted in shock. He had worried Mansi might strike her again. He would never have believed his son would have done that. Before he could react, Alice reached out and smacked him back.
"You don't hit me," she told him curtly. He understood. She had to do it. If she was to step back into the roll she once possessed, that could not be tolerated, no matter how guilty she might feel about leaving them.
"You're just a white woman," Ahote told her. That hit her harder than the boy's slap had. Her eyes went to Megedagik. He knew what she thought; the boy had learned those words from him. Ahote turned to run from the hut. Megedagik reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder. The Maskaanna ordered softly, "Let him go."
Megedagik released him. He darted from the lodge. Alice looked back to Mansi. "I want you to understand, I did not leave because of you or your brother, or because I do not love you. I love you as much as if I was your own mother."
Mansi nodded. She hugged the Maskaanna closer. "I missed you."
Mansi began to cry then. She wept in Alice's arms, holding her tightly. Alice had no intention of letting her go. Megedagik left them to make sure his son was well. He found him at the Pale One's lodge. It was a point Megedagik would point out to him later, when he had the energy to have that talk with him. He went to the Pale One, seated at her fire, obeying her instructions, and treating her with respect, an she was white as the White Man could get. He only made certain he was safe and behaving himself. He asked the Pale One if he would house the boy tonight, and when she said yes, informed her he would be sending Mansi along shortly. She made no protest. Before he left, he shot Ahote a withering glare.
"You and I will have a conversation tomorrow about how you treat women," he told him. Ahote slunk into himself looking at the fire, shoulders bending forward. He informed the Pale One she would be able to see her friend tomorrow. He would come fetch her when the time was right. He then went to Powhatan. He would give the Maskaanna and Mansi time alone. Mansi was of an age; she was old enough a conversation could be had. He trusted the Maskaanna to know her boundaries.
Powhatan was less than pleased that Megedagik had wasted most of the day before returning to him. He left entered the lodge with the sun just an hour or so from setting. He informed Megedagik that when he gave him leave to get her settled, he meant to secure her in his lodge and return. Megedagik reminded the King that the Maskaanna had a child she had to be reacquainted with. It was more out of respect for his prized warrior than compassion that he did not push any further.
Megedagik relayed his meeting with the True People. He reiterated how he came about the Maskaanna. Powhatan was deeply troubled, but decided he would need to sleep on the information. His chief wife was the first person he went to once counsel was broken. He returned to the hut to find the Maskaanna and Mansi seated in the lodge. They were in the corner, sipping tea, and speaking softly. They both looked over as he entered.
"It is time for sleep, Mansi. You will go to the Pale One."
"I want to sleep with Alice," Mansi protested. She was holding the Maskaanna's pale hand in hers tightly.
"You will sleep with the Pale One tonight," he ordered. "Go."
Mansi gave another embrace to Alice before she rose and walked to him. He hugged her, and gently nudged her along.
"She will be well enough to go on her own?" The Maskaanna asked. She looked out the closing flap. "It's dark out."
"She makes the walk often," he responded. He sat down by the fire and looked at her. She examined the leaves in her tea closely, lips rolled inward.
"I thought it would be the other way around," she finally said with a breathy laugh.
"Mansi's mother was a very level headed woman. She takes after her in many ways. I am proud of the woman she is growing into," he answered. Alice nodded and wiped her nose.
"Did you… did he hear that from –"
" – I never spoke ill of you," he stopped her. She nodded and looked at the fire. They sat in silence for some time.
"I'm pregnant," she finally said. He looked into the flickering flames. His face did not change, his body did not budge. When he looked at her, some moments later, she was blinking back tears. "Before our child… I found myself pregnant and I killed it," she finally admitted aloud what he had known all along. "I didn't have it in me to kill another."
She pressed her hands to her belly. "I always found it somewhat tragic… how some women can not have children, and others cannot help but…"
She gazed at her stomach. It was well hidden in her clothing. Even with all those skirts cut away, she was still covered in fabric. She did not speak. Megedagik did not speak. He didn't know what to say. He didn't know what she wanted to hear. Did she expect for him to return her? That he would not do.
He moved over to sit next to her. They sat beside each other a few moments longer. He reached out pulled at the string of her bonnet.
"I did not know it was you," he told her. She looked up at him and he continued to gently pull on the string. "You were offered to me. I never looked at your face. If I knew it was you," he paused to remove the ghastly contraption these white women wore. "I would have taken you back. It will haunt me forever, the thought of what might have happened to you…"
He tossed the bonnet to the side. He examined the upper part of her dress that had survived the current. It was blue. The color of the sky. Long sleeved and tied in the front. The strings were not something he could pluck at lazily.
"Hassun –"
"Be quiet," he ordered. "I have taken no wives. I did not know it was you or I would have taken you away. I'd have given them all I owned to take you back."
He retrieved his knife and placed it at the base of the strings. He sliced through them with a controlled abrupt jerk. She gasped and let him remove the bodice.
"And now that you're back, I have no intention of letting you go. I gave you many chances to be my wife. An honor I still do not think you fully understand. You have chosen the life of a slave and so I will treat you thusly. You may not leave. You will obey me. You will abide by my decisions. You will not challenge me in public."
He looked at the white, plain dress she was left in. It was flimsy, not at all the oppressive fabric of the white man's normal clothing. He grabbed the front of it and pulled it outward to make certain he would not cut her. He clipped the top of the dress. Once torn, he very easily was able to rip through it.
He could see the slight swell of her belly now, that white man's child growing inside of her. He placed his hand on her stomach. "You have loved my children by another woman as your own, and I will do the same with this child. Because it comes from you."
He lifted his hand to her chin. He titled her face upward. Her eyes left the hand on her stomach and met his. His eyes bore into hers.
"You may never desire to be called my wife and there is only one reason for that," he said. He squeezed gently on her chin, applying more pressure. "I make you this vow now, white woman. You will never leave me." He paused, eyes on her mouth. He looked back up at her. "And I am going to kill this man you call husband."