The Cry of the Wolf Chapter 25

Brebeuf grimaced but said nothing as the captive men were separated. Those who hadn't flinched to the right and those that had screamed in pain, well, they were added to the pile to be buried later. He had done his research and knew what was coming next. Straightening his shoulders he swallowed hard, asking God for boldness he simply did not have.

"Peter," he interrupted the chief, "You cannot eat these men." Gesturing to the ones who had endured the first round of torture. "You are a Christian now - a child of God. We do not eat each other."

Chief Long Knife raised an eyebrow and then nodded, acknowledging he had heard Brebeuf's instruction. He hadn't intended to feast on flesh - not today. These men were to be adopted into the tribe, yet he held up his hand, repeating what Brebeuf had told him.

"We no longer eat our captives. It is against our new God's ways. From this day forward, it will not be done in my tribe."

Black Bear scowled. Chief Long Knife was letting a little Frenchman lead him around by the nose. This was just one step in Chief Long Knife leading the tribe away from their traditions. He was treading on dangerous ground.

****

Adelaide watched with narrowed eyes as the women were escorted into the longhouse, an unnerving twisting in her stomach as she witnessed the same expression of hopelessness in their eyes that had been reflected in her face only a few months before.

She knew she should show more empathy, perhaps a sprinkle of Christian charity would help. After all, she and Maggie were the only ones who spoke their language: English. Maggie's was broken but Adelaide, well, it was her native tongue.

Her youngest pranced around Chief Long Knife's legs, blissfully oblivious of how barbaric her stepfather had been not yet an hour ago. She couldn't endure the thought of him touching Isabella's head, frigid tingles exploding up her spine.

Maggie grinned, waddling over to where the women sat huddled together, fear in their eyes.

"I'm Maggie," she smiled warmly, pointing to herself.

Jaira knew just enough French to get by, recognizing instantly Maggie's thick accent. She thought she had seen the last of those French frogs when she accompanied her husband farther south...apparently not. Were they back in Canada? She'd lost all sense of direction as they were carted off like sacks of potatoes to this godforsaken village.

Maggie was persistent or annoying - whichever word you chose to describe her would fit perfectly.

"Come, I know it isn't much but you must be starving. There is fresh corn mash in the pot. If you don't eat, you'll waste away and that won't do at all. You are valuable, you know. If you prove your worth, you will make it..." she glanced over at Falcon, "You might even begin to be happy here."

Jaira rolled her eyes as she grimaced, trying her best to hide her chagrin.

Really? How could this woman even think they could hold food down after watching too many of their male friends murdered before their eyes?

"No thanks," Jaira answered for the others.

We'll just wait. Our husbands will come looking for us and when they do, you'll all regret what happened here today.

Maggie glanced over at Adelaide, wordlessly imploring her friend to do something - comfort these women and help them adjust - it was the right thing to do.

Adelaide didn't move a muscle. She was painfully shy, to begin with, but that wasn't the reason. Well, not exactly. She sat beside Small Bird, joining the Native women as they observed the huddling white women from a distance.

Maggie frowned, then continued.

"It really isn't so bad. It took Adelaide and me a little while to adjust and even longer to learn the language. I accepted my fate sooner so it was much easier on me, but Adelaide was far more stubborn. I'd recommend you accept the inevitable. There is no point in fighting it. I am assuming you are Christian as well? Our chief Chief Long Knife," she indicated to the man who stood leaning against one of the main poles, "He is a believer and so is my husband. See? I told you it isn't so bad here. Then there is Brebeuf - he is the bald Jesuit. The others, well, they come and go so it doesn't matter if you don't learn their names right away..."

Was she talking too much? It had to be her nerves.

Jaira scowled, translating. The man who had sliced all the males' fingers was a Christian? Hardly! And as for the bald Jesuit - he could stay exactly where he was. Jaira would never be a Catholic and she didn't feel much like him harassing her to convert. She had never wanted to see William so badly in her life.

****

"Thank you for caring," Jaira turned her attention back to Maggie wishing the other woman would stop crouching near them. Maybe she couldn't stand? She looked like she was ready to pop.

Adelaide knew she was being rude. She had to do something, at least say something. Without looking at Chief Long Knife, she stood, crossing the room until she reached Maggie's side.

"I'm Adelaide, and those are my children," she pointed to the three children who had varied shades of blonde hair. They stood out among the Native children, impossible not to see that they had been taken as captives as well.

Jaira's jaw dropped.

"Adelaide? My Adelaide?"

Adelaide frowned, peering closer into the shadows. Her face instantly blanched as she gazed into her younger sister's green eyes.