Blood Brothers in Louisbourg Read Free Page B

contact.
    Well … there would be one more time.

Chapter Four
    T he redcoat stood on the ice and raised his musket. The deer turned her head with concern. She sensed his presence but was hearing sound from all directions and was confused. For two days the temperature had risen above freezing and the woods were filled with the anticipation of spring. The soldier braced himself and took careful aim. How pleased he would be to provide fresh meat for his companions. He placed his finger on the trigger and made one final guess for the wind.
    At that very moment, Two-feathers let his arrow fly. The arrow sliced through the air and struck the bough directly above the deer. She bolted. The soldier followed her with his eye and pulled the trigger. The musket fired with a sharp concussion that echoed through the woods but missed its target. The noise angered the river. It opened up the ice directly beneath the soldier and swallowed him, musket and all. Two-feathers watched as the redcoat slipped beneath the ice without a trace. It happened too quickly and he was too far away to try to save him. The ice straightened itself and there was nothing left but the redcoat’s tracks in the snow.
    Two-feathers waited until the other redcoats came looking for their hunter. He saw them follow his tracks onto the river and wondered how many more the angry spirit would take. There were only five of them left. When they reached the end of their companion’s tracks the river opened again and grabbed at two of them, but the others held on and fought for them. As they fought bravely, the angry spirit let them go.
    The redcoats returned to their camp shouting and shaking their heads. They were angry with the river spirit and afraid of it. Perhaps they would not go any further now. But Two-feathers would. It was the third time he had rescued the young doe and now he knew she was definitely following him, or perhaps leading him. Now that she had crossed the frozen river, he would also.
    As twilight descended and the redcoats drowned their sorrow in poisonous drink, Two-feathers went to the river’s edge and asked for safe crossing. The river spirit refused. He explained that he needed to cross the river in order to follow the spirit of his mother, who had taken the form of a deer. The river spirit was silent. It was considering his request. Suddenly a wind gusted from behind and pushed him forwards. Two-feathers took this as a sign of permission. Standing tall, he walked boldly across the ice. He knew it was important to show that he was not afraid. If the river spirit detected any weakness in his courage it would swallow him instantly.
    On the other side he did not see the doe but found her tracks. That was enough. He was certain she would appear to him again.
    He found a gully, cut spruce boughs for his bed, made a fire and roasted a rabbit. The meat was tender and filling, yet not completely satisfying. Always in the spring he felt a hunger for the fruits of summer, the cranberries, blackberries, blueberries, apples, tubers and chestnuts. In the winter he ate like a fox, feasting on rabbits, pigeons and partridge. In the summer he ate like a bear, scooping salmon from the river and berries from the fields. Winter was a time of survival. Summer was a time of replenishing. Only the summertime provided the nourishment he needed to stay healthy and strong.
    Two-feathers lay down in his bed and pulled the boughs around him. He drifted off to sleep dreaming of the young doe standing in a field of cranberries. In his dream, she spoke to him, with the voice of his mother.
    â€œI have come to you,” she said, “to give your heart rest. I want you to know that, though I died young, I am content where I am. I am happy. You must not worry for me.”
    The dream was pleasant and comforting but not the only visitation he received that night. Some time later, in the dead of night, he heard the howl of a wolf. But this was not a dream. It was