Hello everybody! Here is a new chapter!
Enjoy!
Thank you Historyman_84, Mium, Microraptor, Porthos10, Shingle_Top, Ranger_Red, First_Time_****, Dekol347, p_raj and TheHumble_Dogge for the support!
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Adam and four of his men, including soldier Tournier, had left Fort Bourbon at first light, just as the first hues of dawn appeared on the horizon, painting the sky with the marvelous colors of a children's book.
But as the hours passed, the light faded into a morning mist until the day reclaimed its usual gray and melancholic shades.
The forest trail they followed was both narrow and winding. It snaked between the tall trunks as if some massive beast had carved its way through.
A faint, barely perceptible breeze filtered through the leaves, reaching them and making the branches groan as they rubbed against one another. The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and decaying wood, contrasting with the acrid stench of gunpowder and sweat that still clung to their uniforms, now as gray as the sky.
They had not yet reached the Mohawk village, but they already felt watched. They could not see them, but they knew they had been spotted long ago.
The French soldiers made no effort to conceal their presence so as not to needlessly alarm the Iroquois. They did not want to appear as a threat. The best course of action was to move normally, at a moderate pace.
In truth, the main reason for their slow progress was exhaustion. It weighed on their muscles so heavily that their bodies struggled to keep up.
If they had to fight for their survival, the few French soldiers would not even be able to put up an honorable resistance.
Thus, the watchword was: "We'll get there when we get there."
Several times, Adam thought he saw one of their scouts flitting from tree to tree, swift and silent, but perhaps it was just his imagination. Maybe they were moving to their left and not their right?
He glanced at his subordinates from the corner of his eye and stifled an amused smile.
Ahah! Where are they even looking?! Do they really think they're swinging from branch to branch? They're Iroquois, not monkeys!
Finally, after several hours following the trail, they caught sight of the tall palisade of the Indian village—and with it, its first inhabitants.
Unsurprisingly, when they arrived at the entrance of the fortified village—though "fortified" was a generous term given the fragility of its walls—none of the natives seemed surprised to see them. It was clear they had been warned.
Before Adam could say or do anything, his friend Tayohseron, his Mohawk brother, appeared.
He was wearing a European shirt, now more brown than white, but the rest of his clothing was purely Indigenous. Around his neck, he wore numerous necklaces and what appeared to be protective amulets.
As soon as he confirmed that his French brother was leading this small group of soldiers, a wide grin spread across his face. He stepped forward to embrace Adam, and before the latter could react, he found himself trapped in a vigorous hug.
Tayohseron shook him and enthusiastically pounded his back several times, thumping the poor captain so hard that he wondered whether he was being greeted or assaulted.
Fortunately, despite his strong arms, he was nothing compared to his father. A single slap from the old warrior would have surely sent him tumbling to the ground.
Perhaps even left him with a few displaced or broken bones. Here, he would only get a few bruises.
Adam could have done without them, though—after the previous day, he had realized his body was already covered in bruises, most of them acquired during his fall from the eastern rampart.
He grimaced but let his Mohawk brother have his way, ignoring the desperate cries of his aching muscles.
The Indian spoke to him quickly in his native tongue, and Adam struggled to understand. Still dazed, he turned to his companions while rubbing his shoulder.
"He welcomes us and allows us to enter the village," Adam said in a tone that was meant to sound confident. "Relax a little. Act as if you were in Montreal or Quebec. Come on."
Adam turned his back on his men, a proud smirk appearing on his face as he caught a whispered remark behind him praising his ability to understand these people. If only they knew how much he was just improvising…
From what he could see, the village had not changed since his last visit. That was reassuring—if the Mohawks had sided with the British, even just as guides, there would surely have been signs.
Adam noticed no tension in the air, no wary glances, and no unusual behavior among the villagers.
Women were hanging fish to dry, others were weaving or mending clothes, while some carried food to prepare a meal.
Here, in this isolated village, everything was peaceful. Adam suddenly felt as if the war was thousands of miles away. The atmosphere invited newcomers to let down their guard and engage in calm conversation.
Adam let his gaze wander over this simple, serene daily life… until a joyful cry followed by a loud crash erupted to his right. He had no time to react.
When he turned to see what was happening, he suddenly felt a small figure clinging tightly to him.
It was young Tehonwaskaron.
"French big brother!"
The boy was so happy to see him that he had latched onto him like a koala to a comfortable branch. He showed no intention of letting go, despite the strong odor clinging to Adam.
And yet, the child was surely aware—it was truly awful.
Adam hadn't been able to wash properly during the entire siege and had been forced to rotate his shirts, which were now more brown than white.
He had grown accustomed to the smell, but that didn't mean it had become any more pleasant.
The boy looked up, his large dark eyes locking onto Adam's.
"French big brother, you stink! Ahah! You should wash in the river! I went there three days ago, you know! It feels really good! I know a great spot! I can show you if you want!"
Tayohseron stifled a laugh at his younger brother's harsh—but truthful—words.
Adam cleared his throat, feeling a bit embarrassed. He was well aware that he didn't exactly smell like roses, but hearing a child point it out so bluntly was a hard hit to his ego.
"Oh! I almost caught a fish this big too!" Tehonwaskaron continued, spreading his arms wide. "But it got away… Big brother Tayohseron laughed at me and said he once caught an even bigger fish, this big! Tss, but I think he's lying, because otherwise, he would've shown me. Don't you think so? I'm sure it escaped right away, so that shouldn't count, right?"
Tehonwaskaron spoke so quickly that Adam barely understood a thing. He caught only a word or two at best.
He still had a long way to go with this strange language, which sounded more like a magic spell than actual speech.
He was trying to piece together the few words he recognized when his focus abruptly vanished—his attention captured by a familiar face.
That presence… It was impossible not to notice it.
The strikingly beautiful Onatah seemed even more radiant than the last time he had seen her. All his attention was instantly drawn to the young girl—almost a woman now.
Adam felt his heart skip a beat.
She changed her hairstyle. My God, she's stunning!
Every movement she made carried a grace that should belong only to royalty.
She wore a simple yet refined dress, adorned with geometric patterns, subtly highlighting her exquisite curves without revealing anything. A necklace of colorful beads rested perfectly against the curve of her neck, accentuating her delicate features. Her feathered earrings trembled gently with each step.
Onatah absentmindedly ran a hand through one of her two braids, which framed her breathtaking face—an artwork so flawless it could have driven the greatest painters to fight for just a moment with her as their model.
That simple gesture made Adam tremble. He had the absurd feeling that if he looked away for even an instant, she would vanish like a dream.
I'm doomed, he finally admitted to himself.
There was no way he would ever forget her. Not even in ten thousand years. That image, that face, was engraved forever in his heart—a heart that no longer belonged to him.
Tayohseron, watching the silent exchange between them, smirked but refrained from intervening. Watching his sister's attack and their French brother's reaction was highly entertaining.
That was when Adam, almost by accident, caught a few words from Tehonwaskaron, who still hadn't stopped talking. He wasn't entirely sure, but it seemed to be about Onatah.
The moment those words left Tehonwaskaron's lips, his sister—whose cheeks had already been a light pink—turned crimson. Like a wildcat, she pounced on her little brother, clamping a firm hand over his mouth to silence him.
"Mmph?! Mmmmmmph!"
Tehonwaskaron, caught off guard by the sudden assault, flailed his arms and legs in protest, trying to escape. Onatah, however, quickly overpowered him, pinning him against her with her free hand.
Tayohseron, still watching from the sidelines, grinned even wider, barely suppressing his laughter—especially when he noticed the puzzled expression on Adam's face. The Frenchman narrowed his eyes, furrowed his brows, and tilted his head slightly, studying Tehonwaskaron and Onatah like a detective missing a crucial clue.
What just happened?
As the eldest sibling, Tayohseron debated whether he should sacrifice his sister and reveal what their adorable little brother had just said.
As if Onatah could read his thoughts—or perhaps she simply knew him too well—she turned toward him and shot him a silent but deadly glare. Immediately, he feigned innocence, looking away while struggling to contain his smile.
For his own survival, he decided to remain silent.
Onatah whispered something into her younger brother's ear before releasing him. Then, she turned back to Adam. That was when she finally noticed the numerous scratches on his face—small but painful-looking marks.
Like his bruises, most of them came from his fall during the great assault on Fort Bourbon two days earlier.
"Oh! You… be… hurt!"
Adam's eyes widened in surprise.
She speaks French?!
He quickly regained his composure and put on a calm expression.
"Uh! E-everything's fine, they're just scratches. It doesn't even hurt that much. Ow—except here."
Using simple words, he explained what had happened at Fort Bourbon. Onatah listened attentively, her face filled with concern. As he spoke, she gently took his hands in hers, examining the small cuts and callouses.
Of course, Adam let her.
Her hands are so soft, so delicate, he thought, barely daring to move for fear she might suddenly realize what she was doing. And warm, too…
Tayohseron's smile grew even wider.
However, not everyone was smiling.
Someone else, watching from a distance, was seething.
***
Chief Akwiratheka had planned to humiliate the French, especially their leader—that repulsive insect François Boucher, or Adam, who had dared to corrupt his beloved daughter's heart.
He had intended to make them wait outside his house as long as possible, without explanation, without apology, without even the slightest sign of a proper welcome.
He wanted them to stew in uncertainty—to remind that insignificant captain that he would always be an outsider.
But his plan had instantly backfired.
Y-you! How dare you touch my daughter's hands?! You little bastard! Miserable wretch! Filthy mutt! RHAAAAA!
His mind exploded with outrage.
My daughter, don't let yourself be charmed! What lies is he telling her?! He's not a dog, he's a snake! A vile, slimy snake with a forked tongue! And you, don't look at her like that! I won't allow it! U-unforgivable!
His gaze fell on his son, Tayohseron, who remained passive, as if nothing was wrong.
Tayohseron, do something! Separate them!
Of course, he did nothing. In fact, he seemed quite pleased with this development.
Unlike their father, he knew how fascinated she had become with her French brother and how much effort she had put into learning bits of that complex and rough language, just so she could one day communicate freely with him.
Many times, he had seen her visit their aunt, the matriarch, to learn French.
Horrified by everything he was witnessing, Akwiratheka listened to what he identified as the voice of wisdom and decided to put an end to this masquerade. He stepped out of his hiding spot and walked straight toward the group.
***
As Adam smiled and energetically recounted everything that had happened since their last meeting—far too brief for their liking—he saw an enraged mountain of muscle approaching.
Akwiratheka was advancing with such determination that he seemed to be heading to war. In an instant, he was upon him.
The young captain's eyes trembled as he slowly looked up, his smile frozen.
W-what? Is it just me, or is he even bigger and more muscular than last time?!
He even had the impression that he could feel the ground shaking slightly with each of his steps. It was probably just in his head.
Sh-shit!
Panic-stricken, Adam quickly freed his hands from Onatah's grasp while making the observation that the great Mohawk chief resembled a Tyrannosaurus more than he did Hulk. Onatah turned toward her father, watching him approach with a mix of regret and reproach.
"Chief Akwiratheka, hello," Adam said in very approximate Iroquois. "Sorry for this visit… uh… improvised?"
"You," the Mohawk chief replied, in what sounded very much like a growl, standing so close that he seemed intent on crushing him with sheer presence. "If you don't want to end up in the river, shut up. Follow me. Your men stay outside."
Adam wiped the smile off his face and glanced at Tayohseron and Onatah.
The first looked like he was having the time of his life. The second had a displeased pout.
They both followed their father, trailing after the massive figure as he strode toward his longhouse. Adam gave a few instructions to his men before following this strange family into the imposing dwelling.
Inside, Adam respectfully greeted the matriarch and her apprentice, who were already there, then sat near the fire, where a new log was placed. The flames would not die out for hours.
The warmth quickly enveloped Adam as he entered the long room, but it did nothing to dispel his worries. He watched as the chief sat down and stared at him the way a lion would eye a naive prey that had walked willingly into its den.
"Hello, my boy, it's been a while," the matriarch said, inclining her head slightly. "You look terrible. Did you fall from a tree?"
"Almost, matriarch," Adam replied with a nervous smile. "I fell from the rampart surrounding Fort Bourbon. It's a long story… and it's tied to my visit."
The matriarch, her face serious, nodded slowly.
Meanwhile, Akwiratheka ground his teeth. He disliked it when people spoke in front of him in a language he didn't understand, even more so when that boy did so freely with the matriarch. Doing so under his own roof was even more vexing—insulting, even.
It made him want to crush something. Or someone.
William Johnson, at least, spoke their language. That was real respect!
"Enough! Have you finished? Now then!"
The chief, increasingly irritated, crossed his powerful arms over his chest. Only then did he notice that his daughter had sat near the fire, separated from him by her brother Tayohseron.
But it was clear to everyone that she had placed herself there to be able to watch Adam.
Akwiratheka inhaled slowly, trying to rein in his emotions before they boiled over, and addressed his beloved daughter.
"O-Onatah, we need to talk. Step outside… please."
His tone grew sweeter and sweeter, as if all his anger and frustration melted away when looking at his little princess's face. He had never raised his voice at her, and he wasn't about to start now.
But Onatah was unmoved. Her expression remained firm.
"Father, I should be present for this meeting. As our matriarch can confirm, I am currently learning French. Listening to a Frenchman speak the language will help me greatly."
Akwiratheka froze, and a heavy silence fell over the room.
Then, his face darkened to the shade of a beetroot. He turned to the matriarch, a forced smile on his lips, seeking support.
But the old woman simply gave him her most innocent of smiles. She backed her niece with such natural ease that one might have thought they had planned it in advance.
"As my niece said, she is learning the language, and it is true that she will progress faster by listening to a French speaker rather than this old woman. I may speak decent French, but my pronunciation is not perfect."
The great chief's face crumbled as if his world had just collapsed. A knife in the back would have hurt less.
His large warrior hands clenched and unclenched repeatedly on his crossed legs, and thick veins bulged on his scarred arms.
Like a rusted machine, he turned to his daughter and gave a stiff nod. Then, he turned back to Adam and locked eyes with him as if he were about to devour him whole.
This is all your fault! If you so much as glance at my daughter with those cursed eyes, I will tear them out, cook them, and make you eat them!
In an awkward silence, a steaming dish was brought in, releasing a complex and unfamiliar aroma. Adam's gaze was instantly drawn to the food placed before them.
He blinked, captivated.
Quickly, saliva pooled in his mouth.
"It smells amazing…"
His wide blue eyes never left the dish.
Good, Akwiratheka thought at the same time. Lower your eyes.
A small wooden bowl was filled with the rich, fragrant game stew and handed to Adam. He could more clearly smell the aromas and feel the warmth through the wood.
Without hesitation, he began eating as if he feared someone would steal his meal. Not once did he look up.
Everyone watched him eat with amusement, and when he finished, they offered him a second serving.
Akwiratheka, having passed down his competitive spirit to his second son, felt challenged and devoured his portion before demanding another.
When Adam finally placed his bowl down, satisfied, he noticed that Akwiratheka was looking at him with disdain.
"The little Frenchman is already full? Tiny stomach."
Adam pursed his lips and immediately understood where Tayohseron got his competitive nature from.
Tsk, the apple doesn't fall far from the tree. Fine… You want to play? Then let's play! I still have room!
He extended his bowl again, relieved that he hadn't eaten much in recent weeks. Akwiratheka narrowed his eyes and did the same.
"More."
"More."
Tayohseron grinned broadly and extended his bowl too.
"Oh… Looks like we'll be needing more food," the matriarch murmured, half-amused, half-resigned.