The Cry of the Wolf Chapter 39

Dark Star couldn't exactly say that God had answered her prayers. No, she wouldn't go that far, but for the first time since being hurled back in time, she felt secure. There was no way she would be sent back to the life she had led.

"This..." She looked around, "This is what my heart longs for - where I truly belong."

Unable to hide the smile which reached her eyes she glanced over at her husband. Unconventional, maybe. She would have planned this moment better, but why should she? She was bursting with the need to let her husband in...to share her news. Today, her cup of joy was truly overflowing.

Peter was standing alone looking over the tranquil lake, his thoughts elsewhere. Around him were the gentle sounds of his village stirring. Renewed hope. Those were the words that came to mind; they buried the past sorrows, holding onto something once elusive: Peace.

Unaware of her husband's thoughts, but wanting to take full advantage of this rare moment of finding him alone, Dark Star joined the towering chief, slipping her hand into his. Without taking his eyes off the sun-glistening water, he tenderly increased pressure on her fingertips, a subtle hint that he was aware of and welcomed her presence.

Sighing to the depths of her toes, Adelaide shifted his hand, placing it on the curve of her belly. Eyes now intense, he gazed down at where she had placed his hand as the realization hit. His prayer had been answered.

A smile curved his firm lips.

"I love you Dark Star..."

****

The morning was unusually bright as though nothing could go wrong. The kind of days when the sky is exceptionally blue and every blade of grass seems as though to sing. Peter's dark eyes gleamed as they lingered on Dark Star's womb although he spoke with yet another Frenchman on pressing matters.

It had not been an hour since his discovery that he was going to be a father. As such it was next to impossible to focus on anything else. It could only be a sign that God was showing him favor - blessings.

"Yes, yes, of course!" he answered the persistent Frenchman, having not heard a single word.

Yes, he was in love and a very, very happy man.

Falcon burst through the clearing, eyes wide. He spoke low to his chief, Peter running out to the woods after him, a few of the other men joining the first two.

A howl shattered the silence as the men returned carrying the lifeless body of Thunder Cloud.

Within moments they were surrounded by the remaining men, and some women, the Frenchmen holding back, uncertain.

Brebeuf nudged past them, boldly approaching the chief with familiarity. Glancing down at the ghastly sight of the mutilated warrior's body, a chill whispered through his body.

"Isn't this the first man who believed? Accepted Christ?"

Peter's eyes narrowed at the memory. Yes...was there a connection?

Instead, he answered, his voice heavy with grief, "Thunder Cloud..."

Strong Oak looked away, his jaw hardening.

They'd gone too far.

"Iroquois?" Brebeuf frowned, his eyebrows knotting.

Peter glanced down again at the mangled remains, Thunder Cloud's face barely recognizable, his innards clearly missing as well. Iroquois or Wyandotte...it was impossible to tell the difference.

"The enemy has found us."

The woman began to prepare the body for burial. It was going to be a very long night.

The sky was no longer blue than blue and the grass no longer sang.

****

It was more than just a coincidence that Thunder Cloud's mutilated body had been found just on the outskirts of their camp. Peter's face was somber. If the Iroquois had intended to slaughter them, why stop at just one? It wouldn't have been done at the hands of the Wyandotte, he was certain. They wouldn't dare harm any of their own, painfully aware that their numbers were greatly diminished. No, it made no sense that they would have attacked one of their own, least of all Thunder Cloud.

Darkness descended as the tribe recoiled, uncertain how to proceed. The fact Thunder Cloud had been the first to accept Jesus was not lost on them. Could there be a connection?

Brebeuf was noticeably distraught.

"This is not good...this is not good..." He seemed to speak to himself, repeating what seemed to be a premonition.

Brown Sparrow held her son close, searching Falcon's eyes.

"You went too far," Strong Oak cornered the shaman, his voice low, so no one could hear a menacing growl. "I agreed that you could send a warning...I didn't say you could kill one of your own, and Thunder Cloud was one of us!"

"You speak like a fool," the shaman frowned, his brows gathering together. "He was no longer one of us when he accepted this Jesus, turning his back on his people. We both knew it needed to be done - should have been done sooner, in fact, before our chief and Falcon had followed his lead. Before, more than half the tribe have rejected traditions. Sacrificing one was essential to save the rest." The Shaman shrugged, turning on his heel but paused briefly to call over his shoulder, not caring who heard him now, "Are you getting soft, Strong Oak?"

His jeering tone had the desired effect, Strong Oak's jaw muscle clenching.

****

The tribe moved into the fort, Longhouses having already been built. No one talked of Thunder Cloud's murder, but it could still be felt, hanging heavily in the air.

Glancing up at the tall wooden barricades, Dark Star shivered, briskly rubbing her arms with her hands. Brown Sparrow noticed, looking back down at her son, nuzzled against her heart.

Brebeuf crouched by the fire, warming his hands.

"We must suffer for Christ. Why should we not suffer as our Saviour did?" He spoke to no one in particular.

Dark Star exchanged a look with her friend, but turned again, keeping a wary eye on her children who chose to shadow the chief. Did they feel safer at his side? She couldn't blame them.

"...suffering is a great gain. We will die as martyrs and receive an even greater reward in Heaven for having suffered the ultimate price for our faith."