The Cry of the Wolf Chapter 43

"Well, are you coming?" Brebeuf shifted to his other foot, looking up at Peter who towered over him.

"No, my people will not be joining you," Peter stated without warning, surprising the Jesuit. Noticing his clear discomfort, Peter continued, "The fort is for you and your men. We will not be caged."

"If you insist," Brebeuf shrugged, but his voice sounded more like a squeak.

Motioning to the others, he walked toward the fort, his belongings in a single sack.

The other Jesuits and Frenchmen followed, not stopping to look back. They had their fort, what more did they want?

Within the shadows, eyes watched...and waited.

Timing.

A wail interrupted the silence of the night.

"It's time!" Dancing Turtle cried out from her corner of the lodge as her husband and the other men stepped out into the night leaving the women alone.

Lightning, as Joshua was now called, joined Peter, rubbing his bleary eyes. "What's wrong?"

"Dancing Turtle is bringing forth her child," Peter glanced down at Lightning.

Dancing Turtle was the first to give birth to the children conceived from the first raid, or at least the marriages that had ensued. It was a time for rejoicing, although it would be a long night.

Just as the sun was beginning to peek above the treetops, Small Bird poked her head out of the doorway.

"It's a girl...you may all come inside now."

"It's about time, I'm starving!" Lightning muttered, still trying to keep his eyes awake.

"You've done well," Peter glanced over to where Dancing Turtle lay, snuggling the infant against her chest.

"Thank you," she didn't look up, eyes only for her newborn.

Dancing Turtle, like the other women who had been taken captive, had learned to love her Wyandotte husband, however, the blood of the Iroquois ran wild in her daughter's veins. Should the time come, Dancing Turtle knew where her loyalties would lie.

Cheerful voices filled the longhouse as they shared a corn mush breakfast, Peter sitting beside his wife. A hint of a grin danced across Peter's lips as he glanced down at Dark Star, her pregnancy now very evident. It was a source of great joy that he was going to be a father once more.

"We have much to celebrate," Peter stated, glancing back at Dancing Turtle. "God has shown us favor and blessed us."

"Amen," Dark Star murmured at his side.

Her cup was overflowing with thankfulness.

What more could she want?

****

Raven exchanged a brief look with Strong Oak before glancing over at the squirming baby girl that had been added to their tribe. Without saying a word, they both knew what the other was thinking.

"If we strike now, the baby is not likely to survive." Raven wasn't one to break his promises. "Just a few more days…"

Raven waited too long to attack the unsuspecting tribe. The infant blazed hot with a fever, spots dotting her soft skin.

"She is unwell," Dancing Turtle stated the obvious.

"Give her to me," the shaman instructed, laying the small bundle on furs before turning to mix a poultice.

Spreading the mixture on the infant's limbs, he prayed quietly to the Great Spirit, certain the baby would be cured.

Nothing.

The infant grew worse, shrieking until her voice was hoarse, and then she no longer cried, her eyes dull.

Lifting her limp body, the shaman laid the baby against her mother's breast, but the infant didn't respond, refusing her mother's milk. Great, salty tears tumbled down Dancing Turtle's cheeks at the sight of her only child fighting for life, her body searing hot.

"My baby is dying," her words were choked by tears, "we are running out of time."

The shaman stood, knowing Dancing Turtle spoke the truth.

"I will take her to Brebeuf...I need a miracle."

The shaman frowned, his brow furrowed.

"You've done your best," Dancing Turtle attempted to soothe the shaman's pride, "and I appreciate it, but I cannot sit here and watch my baby die."

"It is a mistake to seek help from Brebeuf's God."

"I have nothing to lose!" Dancing Turtle's voice changed pitch with her urgency.

"I will come with you," Dark Star peered up at her husband who nodded before she stood, walking over to Dancing Turtle.

Reaching out her hand, she helped the young mother to her feet. Holding out her hands, she reached for the frail baby.

"No, but thank you...I wish to hold my child until..." Dancing Turtle couldn't finish the words.

Dark Star swallowed hard, tears welling up in her throat, blinding her eyes.

"I'm leaving the children with you," she spoke to her mother-in-law before stepping out of the longhouse with Dancing Turtle and the baby who had not yet been named.

"We do not have far to go," Dark Star rambled, uncomfortable in the deafening silence, worry for the dying child hanging heavily between the women

The baby's eyes were closed, unaffected by her mother's leaking breast. What were they to do? Reaching for Dancing Turtle's hand, Dark Star prayed silently as they walked the distance to the fort.

Brebeuf was in the chapel when they entered the fort, looking up with surprise at his visitors.

"I am happy to see you!" he smiled warmly, looking at the women standing together, features drawn.

Realizing the visit wasn't a pleasant one, he stepped forward, peering down at the tiny bundle pressed close to her mother's heart.

"Congratulations," he smiled, reaching out a hand to tenderly touch the baby's forehead, but recoiled when his hand met scorching hot heat.

Removing the baby from the furs, Brebeuf moved quickly, leaving the chapel behind him. The women hurried after the priest, trying to catch up with him as he moved into another building calling out for assistance.

"Bring me freshwater and as many clean cloths as you can!"

Murmuring softly, he bathed the little girl's limbs, noting the speckles across her skin.

Looking up at Dark Star with tormented eyes, Brebeuf breathed one word, "Smallpox."