The Cry of the Wolf Chapter 37

The Iroquois captives may have submitted to the fact they were now Wyandotte, but their blood ran Iroquois. Of those captured at the English fort, only the Iroquois men who had remained behind lived to tell about it. They were trained to be brave from childhood, masking any indication of pain while the white men had failed the test, instantly killed for their weakness.

Unlike most of the Wyandotte, they had not converted, watching in silence as the tribe grappled with the changes that had come. The changes were weakening them from within.

Chief Long Knife walked out into the clearing as yet other canoes filled with Frenchmen arrived. Unphased, he greeted the newcomers, holding out his brawny hand as he had seen the palefaces greet each other.

"Welcome," he said in French, Brown Sparrow, a most willing tutor. "I'm Peter Hendricks."

The Frenchman smiled at the friendly man before them, "The pleasure is ours. Who is your leader? We wish to speak with him..."

Chief Long Knife looked down. He no longer referred to himself as Chief.

"Let them that boast, boast in the Lord," Dark Star taught the children.

Long gone was his self-assured prowl. Now, he strove to be humble, to blend in and most of all, to have a servant's heart.

"The Lord has allowed me to lead these people," Chief Long Knife met inquisitive eyes,

Charles raised his eyebrow. This man was unique. Brebeuf would be proud of the work he had begun.

Strong Oak backed into the shadows.

"Peter Hendricks? The French see we have been defeated. Yes, it is time to make our move. We have waited too long."

It wasn't exactly a mutiny. They only wanted to send their chief a message he couldn't ignore.

****

Women milled about the camp, their stomachs gently rounded. Dark Star wasn't the only one to notice, painfully conscious of how flat her stomach was. Since she could recall, Adelaide had never been so desperate for life to grow within her. A gnawing ache that offered no sign of abating clutched her heart.

If she were pregnant, she could stay. Of course, there was no guarantee, but the possibility was decidedly in her favor. If she bore the chief a son, or a daughter for that matter, the child would be entered into the annals of history. It was only logical. Therefore, it stood to reason that their mother would be linked indefinitely to the past as well. Linked...anchored...kept in the past where Adelaide belonged.

Her husband had given her the name Dark Star, the only name she answered to now. Most lovingly, he had declared that she would forever be known as Dark Star because she had ushered light to his anguish.

Adelaide gladly became Dark Star.

Her destiny...

****

Chief Long Knife's Alpha male spirit appeared to be extinguished. The fire had gone from his eyes, a gentleness in his demeanor that had been lacking before. Rather than being a dangerous protector of his tribe, he now spoke with subdued words, leading his people like a tenderhearted shepherd. It was apparent that Chief Long Knife's conversion was genuine.

"Whipped and unfit to lead," those who remained loyal to the tribe's traditions murmured in secret. This changed man could not be their chief. He put them at great risk. There was no place for a soft chief in this wild, unforgiving country.

Peter Hendricks, as he referred to himself since Brebeuf had left, watched the women meandering about their village. They had one thing in common - the fruit of their marriages to his warriors, evident.

Glancing over at Dark Star, his mind wandered. He had loved her most thoroughly over the past few months since she had finally accepted her future with him, and yet, their union had not borne fruit. As chief, she needed to give him a child. He forced the thoughts of his baby out of his mind. It would only be true torment to imagine what his child would look like, his heart already clenching unbearably at the thought.

Small Bird watched the myriad of emotions dancing over her son's chiseled features. His mother saw the changes in their village since the pale faces had come. The rumblings of unrest didn't go unnoticed by her watchful eye. She would need to speak with her son, and soon.

Peter stood, his head lowered. He loved Dark Star but needed more, refusing to entertain the thought of regret just yet. Had he chosen the wrong woman? It was possible. The warriors had fulfilled their duty, providing the tribe with more children - their future and the only hope of continuing. As their chief, it was humiliating to not have a child of his own but it went further than that. Glancing over at his blonde stepson, a smile of pride tugged at the corners of his lips. Falcon was a good son, easily fitting in with the tribe. The fair-haired youth, however, could never be chief. No, Dark Star must give him a son...and soon.

Peter believed she loved him and was proud to see her fitting in with his people. It was clear that the children especially loved her, hanging on her every word as she told them stories of long ago - stories none of the adults had heard as well. As for Brown Swallow, she was more than willing to teach his people the French language, helping them communicate better with the men who arrived weekly.

Change.

It had found the Wyandotte Nation.