Chapter 1

A warning to those expecting a strictly historical or alternate historical work. This is sprinkled with shamanism, mysticism and native american spiritualism. I have been as true to my sources as I find possible.

I am Mary Stuart and I am the most miserable of things.

I have lived my life free and alive these last thirteen years, hunting and running the woods and swamps with my brother, Joshua. I am the daughter of Calls Swallows and Duncan Stuart, the chief of our village. Last season I received my first tattoo from the dark ones as I had my first blood as a woman. I was proud and happy.

Now I sit in gaol, my grandmother my keeper. I know how to stitch a seam, track, kill and butcher a deer, find food in the woods, make a wickiup, tan a hide, protect my camp from all who would come and cook for myself and warriors. I can use a knife, hawk, staff, spear, throwing stick, throwing knife and saber. What use have I to learn 'fine stitchery' or 'whitework'? Why should I learn to offer tea and cakes, much less hold 'proper conversation'? Being trapped here makes me so mad I could, could--SPIT. But spitting 'is not ladylike', so I swallow my bile and piss funny.

I have had enough. At today's lessons I shall rebel.

I sat in my white on white pinafore dress in grandmother's sun room taking my 'lessons'. I was doing my stitchery while grandmother was reading her letters. I ran the needle and thread through the skin of all four fingers of my left hand, stitching them back and forth. Eventually she noticed.

"CHILD! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE!"

I looked her in the eye and with a grim face, raised my fist between us and squeezed, tearing the flesh and strings as one. We both silently bore witness to the blood dripping down my arm to drop off my elbow.

I reached behind my neck with my right hand, drew a throwing knife and calmly cut the remaining strings binding my hand and re-sheathed my knife.

Then I reached over to her side table, withdrew the bottle of whiskey resting there and poured a handful over the bleeding holes. With a firm hand she poured herself four fingers of whiskey and took a drink.

"Child, I most sorrowfully regret that we shall not be the best of confidants.

I had anticipated with joy bringing to you the skills necessary for a young lady to be presented to society and capture a good husband."

She sighed theatrically and took another mouthful of whiskey.

I brightly asked "Would you like to see my tattoo?"

I was vindicated in witnessing her spit a mouthful of whiskey entirely across the room.

I stood before her and recited my deeds as I had for the ceremony of my tattooing.

"I have marched six days with little food during winter while avoiding an army of over eight hundred warriors in pursuit over their familiar hunting grounds.

I have killed seven men of my own count and have aided in the dispatch of many more.

I have taken porcupine, wildcat, wolf and deer with a thrown spear, then butchered each and prepared the edible ones for meals.

I have fought for my life and the lives of others.

Now, in your gracious world of 'thee' and 'thou' I would be named a crossbreed bitch or native trash. Here I am a warrior and I am proud of myself and the life I have led."

I tore off my dress to show the wings of the tattoo upon my upper chest that I had been awarded by the tribe.

"Look. See. Are these the tender breasts of a maiden awaiting her first romantic love?"

She sat before me staring. Tears began to trail down her face. I took her head within my hands and took her cheek to my bosom. I petted her hair as she wept.

"Grandmother, you missed much during your illness. Joshua, Samantha and I are now adults. We spent half a year, including a winter, on our own.

We killed a vicious hunting party that would have killed us.

We freed the port town of a corrupt sheriff along with his gang of thieves.

We love you and hold you dear, but I eat shrinking violets."

She began to shake in my arms. In my concern I lifted her jaw to peer into her eyes, fearing a return of the palsy from the disease she had succumbed to.

She was laughing.

"How quickly the real outstrips the imagined."

She observed in great detail my decorations, with the seven dependent feathers, one for each of my kills.

"What is this central figure? An arch over a child?"

"It is for killing to protect an innocent. You shall meet Lillian soon."

I released her and took her hand.

"Come, I must dress properly then we shall take some sun. It has been long since I have seen my brother and I miss him. It has been long since you have sunned yourself as well. You are pale."

She followed as I returned to my room. I dressed in leathers and armed myself for the camp--throwing knives, hawk and staff. The knife behind my neck never leaves me. If someone caught me at my bath or in bed unarmed then it would be my fault.

We found Joshua--now Jawbreaker--speaking with six black hunters. It appeared from a distance as if they were discussing taking a bear or boar as they were motioning with long spears to target something and ground the butt beneath a foot. This works when something runs up upon your spear, but then you have to tumble away from it or be punished by sharp hooves or claws. Both bear and pig will run up a spear to kill you before they die.

I rapped him across the buttocks with my staff then stood grinning as he spun about, looking to thrash someone. His face lit up as he hugged me close.

I did the same to him. He kissed my scalp as I kissed his throat.

Grandmother cleared her throat in a most peculiar manner. She appeared about to succumb to some sort of frenzy.

"This is my brother."

"This is my sister."

"We walk together."

"All right, all right. I believe I know the rest. Please try to be less- conspicuous about it, would you please?"

The warriors were grinning like dogs as they pointed out my markings and saluted me as a warrior. Grandmother just sighed, defeated.

Then we heard a long screech accompanied by the pounding of horse's hooves.

Samantha blew by us kneeling atop a great horse without a saddle, clasping the horse's mane with one hand and urging it on with slaps with the other.

Aunt Caroline was running behind them for all she was worth screeching out

"Stop, Damned it! Not like that! Ye'll break your fool neck!"

Grandmother stood and stared, then calmly looked out at the bay and stated

"I believe that I deserve another drink. If you will excuse me?"

She slowly turned and walked back to the manor. Poor grandmother. Perhaps she needed to recuperate longer.

Joshua looked at me with puppy-dog eyes and sighed.

"Does this mean we have to leave again?"

After Samantha returned from her bonding with the charger supremely happy and with nothing broken Aunt Caroline had no recourse but to honor her promise to teach us riding.

In return we three were 'saddled' with the day-to-day care of our eight young brothers and sisters, all of a horrible age--four.

Somewhere Silence had learned the screeching yowl of a bobcat. She would carefully creep up behind an innocent bystander and let forth such a hideous noise as to make one's hair stand on while looking for a tree to climb.

She thought it great fun until we began throwing her in the horse trough each time she did it.

Father commented "I wish I had thought of that."

Between Grace and Prudence there was a running competition to see who could enumerate the greatest number of broken bones. We gently reminded them that we could not take them hunting if they could not walk nor hold a spear.

They seemed much more careful after that.

If one wanted to find Temperance they only had to seek out the tallest tree within two miles and look within the top boughs. There, swaying like an eagle's nest in the wind, one would find Temperance. How she never fell I shall never know.

James said little but saw all. When he did speak it made uncommon sense.

We agreed that this one was more dangerous than all the rest together.

Michael had eyes only for the blacksmiths. His clothes always had holes in them from standing too close to the forge. He was always coming away with some small thing as a knife or curled bit of iron, grinning like mad.

Nicholas talked to the horses and petted them incessantly. I swear to this day that they listened to his jabbering and made sense of it.

Noah ran. He slowed only to eat, sleep and make soil. He followed the Watusi as they were his heroes. As he ran faster, they ran faster yet. The boy had the chest of an ox. When we had to punish him for not listening we would tie his toes together and sit him in a chair. He would sit, bouncing on his buttocks, scowling. Amazing.

Together they made a howling tribe that would cause a Jesuit to tear off his scapular and stomp it into the ground, cursing all the while. We survived by setting them against each other in a massive "He said", "She Said".

When we got them apart the grandmothers could teach them. Together they were impossible. They had been brought up together and they chattered incessantly, talking over each other yet understanding what the other was saying. Talking to them was like arguing with a thundercloud.

We taught them how to harvest the fruits of the woods, how to set snares, how to gather, how to collect, winnow and cook grain, how to collect dry wood in all seasons and start a fire. We went out many nights and built wickiups with them, took game, cooked supper and slept the night. The hardest thing to teach them was how to go silently within the woods, not being seen nor heard. They would forget their discipline and begin chattering. We carried switches and would thump them when they forgot.

Joshua taught Silence the clan war cry. I taught her the deep, snarling back-of-the-throat growl of an angry dog. I am ashamed to admit I enjoyed watching her scare the squitters out of our cats with that one. The cats would jump into the air and come down puffed up, their hair standing on end everywhere that they had hair, furious and terrifed at once. She almost gave grandfather an attack of the palsy with it. Afterwards he pointed and said one word. "Horsetrough".

We taught them to stand or sit in a circle, throwing sticks back and forth.

As they got better we fashioned stone arrowheads to an end of each stick.

They became more careful. Later we substituted dull knives for the sticks.

They then understood. The betting of the natives took second place to the heated arguments over the results of their daily target practice. The little wretches were good.

We tried to teach them to respect each other's strengths and taught them the history of our tribe. Father seeded, cultivated and grew our tribe with mother at his right hand. Grandfather, grandmother and aunt Caroline took a grand leap of faith and left their homelands to join mother and father in their grand experiment. In this manner they gained respect for father and mother, grandfather and grandmother, even aunt Caroline.

Some things they could not argue with, even though they tried. God knows, they tried.

One night at a late, silent dinner I spoke to father.

"I understand now. I cannot fault you for wanting to drown us and start over."

I have never seen such an evil grin in my life. He poured me a glass of brandy.

As winter approached we petitioned mother and father, begging respit from our tasks. As the little ones would take classes thruout the cold months we wished to return to the silence of the cabin for a while. We were allowed if some preparations were taken first.

Each barrel that was to hold food was first smoked upside down over a fire.

Then it was waxed within and without. Then more heat was applied so that the wax sank into the wood, rendering it waterproof and tougher.

Barrels of dried cornmeal and meats were reserved, as well as one of lamp oil. We recalled what we had wished for when last at the cabin and attempted to take it. We most wanted cooking spoons and ladles, a wood plane, several files, beeswax, needles and thread, another saw together with a saw set, and a shovel. Mother included many good furs as well as sufficient wool and canvas to make new cold weather garments.

Father approved of our steam bath. We took much spare canvas and rope as it is almost a universal solution. He sent eight men with us to cut a goodly supply of firewood for us. For this and other things we were truly gratefuland became even moreso as our story unfolded.

Small Ear caught wind of our preparations and insisted that she be allowed to join us. We agreed with joy to welcome our sister. She brought many, many flight heads and flight tails.

The trees had mostly lost their leaves when we left by boat for New Portstown.

On the fifth day we landed at the dock and found a skiff to haul our stores up the stream to the cabin. We had to change to a vessel with a flat bottom as the stream was shallow and had many sand bars.

The morning of the fifth day came and we came around the final bend, looking for our cabin. The smell of smoke filled the air. The cabin had been burned to the ground. The coals were still glowing in the occasional breeze. We stood there shocked speechless. Then I achieve a towering rage. There was no excuse for this. If someone needed a place to stay out of the cold they could have stayed there and we would have said nothing, but this? This made me deeply, coldly angry.

This I could never forgive. My sisters and brother mirrored my mood. We began casting about for tracks. The trail to the Pottawotami had been used recently by many feet. I called for the warriors. We were traveling with eight strong hunters. Each of them had six flights and their throwing sticks as well as hawks and knives. Small Ear had fifty spare heads, nine flights, her throwing stick, hawk, long knife, saber, throwing blades and staff. My siblings and I each had six flights, our throwing sticks, over a dozen throwing knives per person, our hawks, sabers and long knives.

We all took several handsfulls of dried meat and cornmeal in our food pouches as well as storing a double fistful of salt in a sack. Joshua took a file. I took rope.

Samantha took a cooking pot. We each took a blanket, a stretch of canvas and a hank of cord, warriors as well.

We headed out down the trail prepared for anything, tense and alert. We were covered in white canvas, as ghosts in the woods. We were going to war.

Before dark we came upon the Pottawottami camp. It was an abbotoir. There were bodies everywhere. As we stood taking in the slaughter we heard a noise from the cornfield.

As one we turned and prepared for battle. Slowly a youth came out supporting an injured woman. They were of the tribe of Springing Buck. She had been pierced in the side by a spear. She was coughing blood and was pale. The boy looked scared.

The Sauk had raided them. Many young women were taken, as well as all the food, good hides and good furs. Everything else was spoiled or burned. Nothing of value was left to be seen. They had raided thoroughly but quickly. This was not a normal raid. They had learned this evil from the white settlers and army.

We searched out the camp to find as many flights or flight wands as we could.

We found just over three dozen within the burned over wickiups, hidden under the despoiled furs. We split them up, most going to the warriors.

We then rebuilt a wickiup for the boy and his mother, collecting as much food and goods as we could find for them while taking the bodies into the woods and laying them in neat rows. It was the best we could do for them. If we survived we would come back for the boy. We knew that the woman would not live with her injuries yet said nothing to the boy. He was broken enough. He could not survive the winter without food. At least we found a few good furs for them to sleep in, and we left cut wood.

We followed on the trail, finding a blood drop there, a scraped branch here as they were retreating with injured fighters and slaves. I would not call them warriors as they had no heart.

We kept up an even lope, watching the trail and land around it. We stopped before cresting hills and sent one ahead to scout. Our enemies were confident and left no ambushes, no drag watch. They were confident that they left no enemies behind them able to fight, much less pursue. We huddled together in the dark beneath the naked trees waiting for enough light to continue. We each ate a handful of parched grain and two fingers of dried meat. We slept some.

At dawn we stretched, drank, peed and continued down the trail. Not four hours later we smelled smoke. We stopped and sent two scouts forward, each skilled hunters of game and men. They came back excited. The Sauk were camped in a cut about a stream, beneath the line of surrounding land. They would not see us coming. The scouts had killed their one man standing guard and carried him off, not leaving marks or making noise. We had to act quickly as the guard could be changed soon.

Joshua spoke. "I want one alive. We need to find their home camp."

"Who shoots first?" The warriors pointed at him with their thumbs.

Tension was high in the air. Everyone was breathing quickly, eyes darting about, looking for enemies, game that would startle or birds that would make a noise.

We crept to the stream cut and spread out along the bank, keeping low to avoid being seen. We all watched Joshua crawl up to the edge and made ready to throw.

We all copied him. We each chose our targets and glanced at Joshua. He nodded and threw. Within seconds we followed him. We readied and threw again, then yet again.

We waited to see if anyone moved. If they moved they were spitted. We tied a rope around a tree and climbed down the steep bank to strip the bodies and care for the captives. One fighter near the end of camp had just been speared thru the legs. Joshua squatted near and just looked at him The Sauk yelled and yammered for awhile, then got quiet, looking back at Joshua. Not a word was said but the man became afraid.

The warriors got big eyes at the beauty of the women taken by the Sauk. I turned to them and clapped my hands loud, then said "Sanctuary. We stand together!"

They cast their eyes down in shame and went to aid the women. Nothing more had to be said to them. They were good men.

We freed the women and searched the men. Much steel was taken. The tribe of Springing Buck had been a rich one from trade with Walks Together. Few flights were broken. There was much food and many hides, many pots, many furs.

We held the Sauk under the water with our feet, letting him up each time his struggles lessened. We were told where his village was before holding him under one last time. We pulled his body from the water to keep it from poisoning the stream.

Two warriors went back to the old camp with the women along with all the furs and food they could take with travois, while the rest of us pushed on to find the Sauk village. The Sauk had tried to kill us before. Now they had burned out our cabin and mercilessly destroyed a peaceful neighboring tribe. We would clean them out as if they were poisonous wasps. We left the bodies face down to show our displeasure.