The Cry of the Wolf Chapter 44

Dark Star blanched, instinctively placing a hand on her womb. Smallpox was deadly - and contagious.

"I need a miracle!" Dancing Turtle now wept. "I will believe in your God. Please help us..."

Brebeuf nodded, "Only God can help your child now..."

Shoulders quivering, Dancing Turtle wept.

Joining Brebeuf in prayer, Dark Star held Dancing Turtle close, unaware that their prayers were too late. The baby was already gone.

"She is in Heaven," Brebeuf whispered, shocked at how quickly the infant had succumbed to the plague. "I am so very sorry for your loss."

Dancing Turtle stared at Brebeuf in disbelief, before running the two steps toward the table where her baby lay, no longer breathing. A low, piteous wail escaped her lips as she tenderly scooped up her first and only child's lifeless body, placing her against her heart.

Dark Star moved to comfort the bereaved mother, but before she reached the woman's side, Dancing Turtle slumped to the ground, the baby still against her heart.

Brebeuf was on his knees within a moment, laying a hand tenderly against her neck before holding his hand just over her mouth.

"She is gone...I believe she has died of a broken heart."

Dark Star gripped the table and bent over as sobs racked her body.

"There is nothing we can do," Brebeuf whispered as a tear rolled down his cheek, "They will be the first to be buried at the fort."

He didn't wait for a response before summoning some of his French companions, explaining that they needed to dig a grave quickly. The disease would spread speedily. There was no time to wait before encasing them beneath the ground.

The men worked quickly, solemnity in the air before laying Dancing Turtle in the ground, the baby lying in her arms, cradled against her heart where she should be for eternity.

"I will come with you," Brebeuf spoke above Dark Star's heart-wrenching sobs.

She nodded, embracing the small priest, no longer caring about protocol. Awkwardly, he patted the back of the chief's wife in an attempt to offer her a moment of comfort.

"Come, we must tell your husband," he turned, leading the way out of the fort.

****

Raven stood with his back to the entrance of the longhouse, but his keen ears didn't miss a single thing. The soft rustling of moccasins and the heavier sound of soled shoes. Spinning on his heel his brows furrowed as Brebeuf stepped within the cozy interior of their dwelling.

"What are you doing here?" Raven snarled. Why should he care if those present saw his hatred for the pale faces?

Brebeuf stepped back as though seared from the intensity of Raven's malice.

"I have just finished burying an infant and her mother..."

Everyone stopped what they were doing and turned to face the somber priest.

Dark Star hurried to explain, "The baby had smallpox...there was nothing we could do to save her." She glanced at her husband with imploring, reddened eyes.

The fact she had spent hours weeping wasn't lost on him, however, his scowl deepened, matching Raven's although Peter's scowl was free of all-consuming hatred. No one was listening as Brebeuf rambled, his hands flapping as he accentuated what he was saying.

Again Dark Star interrupted, reaching out her hand to place it on Brebeuf's arm, "Dancing Turtle..."

Raven stepped forward, towering over her. His body clenched, seething with hatred.

"Your wife is dead," Dark Star swallowed the lump of tears in her throat, unleashing, at that moment, a torrent of tears, "I'm so, so very sorry! I believe she died of a broken heart..."

"Where is she?" Raven gripped her shoulders in a vice-like grasp that would leave bruises on her fair skin.

"We just finished burying her," Brebeuf explained again, a slight huff in his voice.

Time was precious and not to be squandered, repeating things that had already been said.

"She is in Heaven now, as well as the baby..."

"No!" Raven stepped back, "She wouldn't have left me like this. She was too strong!"

An Iroquois captive, there was no way she would have succumbed to weakness. The truth, however, couldn't be ignored. Perhaps he hadn't been enough for her. Maybe she had not forgotten her tribe after all and with the loss of her baby, that had set her over the edge.

How could he have not seen the signs?

Oh, that's right. He'd been too busy plotting with the shaman and the others in the woods instead of being at home with his bride.

Raven only had himself to blame.

More furious than ever, if that was even possible, Raven strode out of the doorway, but not before speaking over his shoulder, his smoldering dark eyes glaring at the priest.

"You'll pay for this...yes, you'll pay for bringing this disease to our tribe. Say your prayers, old man, and let's see if your God will save you from what's coming to you."

Raven instantly knew that he'd said too much, yet couldn't possibly pass up on the sight of Brebeuf trembling in fear, his face pasty pale. Disgusted by the priest's show of weakness, Raven ran without looking back until the forest encased him.

Strong Oak followed his friend, placing a hand on his bronzed shoulder.

"I am sorry you lost your wife and child...I cannot begin to understand your grief."

To an extent, that was a lie.

A few months earlier cholera had swept into their village, his wife falling victim to the deadly plague and then his second wife had left him without giving what he offered a fair try. Jaira had coldly rejected him, marching off with a Frenchman. A child's death, however, was something he hoped he would never experience.

"Kill them all!" Raven demanded through clenched teeth. "Every last one of the pale faces will pay for the death of my family."

No," Strong Oak didn't budge, "you promised they would be spared. Come. Let us grieve over your family, but it is foolish to make such decisions while mourning. Your judgment will be clouded and that could endanger us all. The time will come..."

Why was he encouraging Raven to plot his massacre - only at a later date? Strong Oak shook his head, avoiding drawing attention to himself. He felt the urge to warn the others before it was too late but thought better of it.

"It's too late to change my mind now. I am in too deep and there can be no forgiveness."