A Quiet Strength
by Anon Allsop

-Part One-

-Eighteen-

Etu stood at an unfamiliar edge of a meadow, he was preparing to hunt for deer. The area he was in was new to him, for it was directly in the middle of a very thick wood. Animal trails crisscrossed the entire open area, and he felt as if he were patient, a sturdy young buck might pass within a relatively close distance.

It was his way of trying to repay Kutkutuk's family for their kindness, and for nursing him back to health. He noticed a game trail that crossed the meadow and then slowly skirted the woods. Scouting the trees, he found one that would be easy enough to climb, allowing him to scale perhaps the distance, high enough above ground, where he could use it to his advantage.

He sat quietly in a low hanging limb, perhaps the height of two men upon each shoulders from the ground. He was watching the outlying area for any movement that would alert him that deer were in the area. At the far end of the meadow there were three deer quietly nibbling at the green shoots.

Etu quietly removed an arrow from his quiver, placing it at the ready in his bow. There would be time before they reached his area, he patiently made himself comfortable and enjoyed the early morning sun.

He allowed his mind to wander slightly, wondering if the Aponi female was still in the area. It chagrined him greatly, knowing that he may have missed his chance to locate her due to his ambush and injury by the Algonquin.

He watched a small white sky dancer or aponi as he knew it, flitting among the trees around him. It only landing for a brief moment before taking flight once again. His eyes followed it and he thought back to that day when he first saw the Aponi Spirit.

It was as only yesterday when he saw her emerge from within the cloud of tiny white aponi, completely naked and quite beautiful. The sun filtering through the treetops, dappling her in splendor. He caught himself sigh deeply, and for a brief moment he recalled their eyes meeting there in the woods.

It was the first time at seeing an Aponi spirit, and she was forever burned into his memory. So beautiful... so untouchable. Although it was rare to see the white humans, he recalled one such person who had traded with his people years ago when he was but a child.

That man smelled foul, like dead animals, his face was covered with hair like a wild dog. Etu remembered him bringing items with him to trade, up to that time the Oneida could only dream of. He spoke a strange language and although he did know how to communicate to his people, but spoke that with an odd accent.

As a child, Etu remembered hearing him tell someone that he was from the 'old country'. Etu laughed to himself, it was such a silly thing for the little man to say... in his opinion, no country was older than his own.

Yes, under the grime that man was of a similar color to the Aponi Spirit, although his had been burned from the sun and wind. The Aponi female's skin was flawless and pale, it appeared to be soft and supple like that of a newborn. Her long hair was very pale, much like the strands of the maze his people grew.

Etu admonished himself as he realized that he had been daydreaming when he should be paying attention to the deer. They had moved slightly closer, yet were still too far off to shoot. He watched as the bigger female deer kept looking back beyond her young fawns, as if waiting for something.

The warm sun was shining down on her rust colored coat, the top of her back and those of her offspring were almost black in color. He marveled at the graceful way she moved, her beauty paled in comparison to that of the Aponi Spirit though.

He couldn't imagine any creature, two or four legged that was as gloriously beautiful, as the young lithe creature he spied those long months ago. Though here he was, hunting animals instead of the creature that seemed to capture his every waking moment, and most of those while he slept.

His eyes were drawn to the area behind the deer, another bigger one was slowly making its way into the meadow to feed. It was keeping in the shadows yet he could tell that it was most likely the great stag.

As it slowly emerged from the shadows, he could see the antlers of the bigger deer. It cautiously moved out into the opening and began to feed off of the tender grass. The buck raised its head and began to scan the side of the woods, directly opposite from Etu.

The young man's eyes traveled to the area they were all watching now, ears twisted forward alertly. There was nervousness evident in the smaller deer, the bigger male raised his foot and stamped it down hard. This motion caused the doe and two young ones to flee instantly into the woods behind the big male.

Again the male stamped its foot and for the first time blew, the sound echoed off the trees. Etu slowly slipped behind a larger part of the tree. If they were concerned, he felt he should be too.

Etu watched the remaining deer as it warily gazed upon the opposite stand of trees, it bobbed his head, almost as though it was testing the wind for scent. It suddenly wheeled and bounded into the trees, approximately three jumps took it well beyond sight of the hunter.

He frowned as he studied the area the deer had been intently watching, movement in the shadows drew his attention. Cautiously emerging from the shadows was an Indian, he was leaning forward and staying low, in his hand he carried a fearsome war-club.

Etu watched from between the branches as another and another emerged, from their dress, he knew them as Algonquin. From his place of hiding, he watched fourteen warriors cross the meadow in a stealthy manner. Their path took them within a few paces of the concealed hunter, they were heading toward the Mohawk village. This was a raiding party, it was quite evident to Etu, that they were not seeking game.

The raiding party slowly melted into the woods and as soon as they were far enough away, Etu dropped to the ground and slung his bow over his shoulder. At a dead run he took a path that would allow him to bypass the party and hopefully get him to the village before they arrived.

Racing like the wind, Etu hurtled logs and small streams as he attempted to beat the warriors to Kutkutuk's village. He even dared to pause, just to make sure they were actually heading toward the Mohawk lands.

He met his friend at the near side of the tribal ground. "Ho, my friend Etu, what is your hurry?" He said with a smile as the panting warrior caught his breath.

"Algonquin war party..." He pointed as he gasped for air, "They are not far away!"

Kutkutuk quickly called another brave to him and relayed the message, soon, about thirty young stalwart braves set out to meet the Algonquin warriors well outside the village, and with them was Etu.

-Nineteen-

At seven months along, she knew that her days of climbing up and down the mountain side were numbered, even at this lower level. Her belly was round and protruding quite a bit. Her growing middle forced her to construct a practical gown from pelts from the animals that she had trapped. Mostly it was made of rabbits, but there were a handful of others within the garment.

She had skinned them, and using a scraper she had fashioned from slate she had found not far away. She removed every bit of fur from them, using tools much like her own ancient ancestors, she sewed the pelts together with sinew from the very same animals.

She stood behind a boulder and watched a young deer walking along the stream, and frowned knowing that to bring down such a creature would have to involve something more than the spear she had. At the distance she was from the deer, it would take a Herculean throw, and she no longer possessed the muscle or accuracy to cast it that far.

For now, all she could do was watch and wish, sighing she thought back to the primitive life she had been forced to live. Having to forage and learn on the fly just to survive. She thought back to her days at the academy, all of what she had learned was being wasted. Technology was a complete joke here, it was as if she had been thrown backward thousands of years from her own time.

She had been calculating what it would take to consistently bring down one of the larger deer that she watched each day. She knew it would have to be fast and able to strike from a distance away. She took a stick and began to scratch in the ground an ancient device she had remembered once when she had still been in school.

Locating a green piece of wood, almost half her own hight, she began formulating her idea. The stick was soaked for a half day in the water and she bent it around a rock until it held a slight curve. When she was satisfied, she slowly bent the ends in an opposite curve as the overall shape. It took a full day to hold onto the curve, but as it dried slightly she could see it would work. She was making an ancient looking bow.

For two days while she had been working on the stick, she was studying the area for a place of which she might have the best chance for a deer. She particularly noticed that one passed a brushy area at almost the same time each day, perhaps if she could hide herself there she might be able to ambush one as it passed, perhaps by thrusting her spear into its side.

She carefully began plotting a hunt for the morning, using the time when she noticed them moving down toward the water. Waking long before daylight, she made her way down to the stream and striped down until she was entirely naked. There at the waters edge, she coated herself with mud and covered every inch of her body in an attempt to mask her scent from the wary animal.

Hiding within the foliage she waited patiently for the young deer to walk by, nor did she have long to wait. A moment just after sunrise, she heard a twig snap to her left, she froze and only her eyes moved toward the sound. It made a low guttural sound, almost like a belch, but only seconds before it came into view.

She gripped her spear tighter and held it in the ready. As soon as the patch of reddish brown passed in front of her, she drove forward with her spear, burying it deep into the unsuspecting creature's chest. It was only able to run a short distance before falling dead upon the ground.

She was a mix of pride, sadness and horror as what she had just done sank into her mind. Tears streamed down her face as she cleaned the animal of its insides, but she knew it was something that had to be done.

She drug it nearer to the stream where she rinsed the blood from the carcass and herself, as well as the mud that worked so well at masking her scent. Anchoring the animal beneath a log, she used the movement of the river to wash the insides of it clean.

After placing her dress back upon her body, she gathered what she could of the internal organs that she knew how to prepare, and carried those back toward her cave... nothing was wasted. Almost two hours later she returned to the kill and began the long trek back up the mountain, struggling with the heavier animal.

The exertion that her small, weaker body took trying to get the small deer up to her cave was beyond comprehension. She pushed, pulled, lifted and drug the carcass for a half day up the side of that mountain until she collapsed. Her muscles ached, and for once became concerned for what she may have done to the child she carried.

Fear began to permeate through her mind, worry ate at her as she thought of all the horrible scenarios that could happen to her child. Movement within her stomach allowed her to relax, until once again she felt confident that everything was alright. She realized though, that she wouldn't be able to exert herself in this manner any more.

She also knew that she must begin to gather up food items for the duration of her pregnancy, because as she grew, much of what she had just done would not be an option. That evening, although quite tired, she ate well. For the first time she had something other than small game. She skinned the animal as it lay on the ground within her cave, but kept its hide under the animal to keep the meat clean.

For almost half the night she cut small strips of meat from the larger portions and allowed them to dry. Only then did she lay back and rest until the morning sun filtering through the cave opening awaken her.

She began to strip thin threads of sinew from the long hind legs, once she had several, she braided them together as one long thin strand. This long strand she fastened to each end of the stick in little notches she had made. She sat the bow out in the sun.

She kept watch, her beautiful crystalline blue eyes paying attention to her duties as well as to the string drawing her bow tighter and tighter. Often she would run some deer fat or tallow along the length of the string to keep it malleable.

Near nightfall, she gathered most of the bones, the ones she had no use for and carried them to the edge of a cliff. Carefully she tossed them into a gorge that would deposit them far enough from her so that predatory animals would not be lured near to the cave.

She kept alert, paying mind to her safety as well as to the string drawing her bow tighter and tighter. The last thing she needed was to have someone catch her unready, or her bow to crack from not being attended to.

Often she would run some deer fat or tallow along the length of string to keep it malleable. It was growing ever tighter as it dried, pulling the ends of the bow together more and more. The outward curve at each end was working against the draw of the string, once done, she would have a very formidable weapon. The string being as tight as one of the ancients instruments she had seen in a Dulvinian lounge she had visited often in her former life.

The following morning, she began to cut and dry out the meat. Every place where she could safely hang it to dry was used, even several spots where she had to drape it over a boulder had been utilized.

Carefully she drew closed her make-shift door, hoping that it would prevent any hungry animals from entering and eating her supplies. She turned and headed down the mountain in search of straight sticks suitable to use for arrows.

The sun was high overhead when she thought she had found enough sticks to make the shaft for her arrows, She tied the bundle together and carried them over her shoulder as she returned back up the mountain. The trip made more and more cumbersome because of her ever expanding middle.

She found herself humming a quiet little song as she walked, not sure if it soothed the child she carried, but it helped her pass the time. Often she would try to use her voice, as yet no intelligible sound would come forth. It was strange to her that she could hum but not speak, it seemed impossible that they not be connected in some way. Hopeful, she felt that perhaps the liquid that Leigh had poured down her throat might just be wearing off, little by little. With each step, as she thought of the person who stole her body, she grew angrier.

Her bitterness to Leigh instead made her cry, she wanted so desperately to be able to talk again. 'Damn feminine hormones, she thought bitterly'. She wiped her tears, unable to fathom bringing life into the world and not be able to speak would be like. She worried that her yet unborn offspring would be slowed in development if his or her mother could not speak. She knew how a child's early years were so important to development, how would it learn if it's mother could only grunt?

She sighed desperately as she began her long walk back up to her cave, its winding and twisting way, taxing upon her already aching body. Often her way was nothing more than a thin trail, broken by strenuous climbs around large boulders or fallen rock.

As darkness began to fall, the exhausted girl pushed aside the door to the cave. The flexing sticks that made up the door gave way to her efforts, grated against the cave floor as she bent low and crawled to the sanctuary inside.

Carefully placing the bundle aside, she pushed closed her door and pulled the stomach skin of water from her shoulder and sat it up so it would not drain out. Unrolling a rabbit pelt, she removed a dried piece of meat and began to chew it. As she struggled through the meat, she thought back to her childhood.

How she missed the foods that her mother had made, warm foods.. cooked foods. She leaned her head back as she continued to chew, her tired mind thinking back to a bygone day. The emotions overwhelmed her and she began to cry, tears rolling down her pale cheeks.

-Twenty-

She could hear a mothers voice, calling from somewhere in the distance. A young boy raced across the lawns and up the steps of the older home. The kindly woman that stood there was smiling, her arms open and inviting.

From the house the boy could smell wonderful food cooking, its enticing flavors meshing into one heavenly aroma. He was ushered indoors, across clean carpets toward the kitchen. As they rounded the corner her perspective changed. Now she was the mother, the youngster in front of her was a filthy child, hair unkempt and in a disarray.

The wonderful aroma that she had been smelling, had suddenly changed. On the ground before her child was a bloody carcass, the child fell on it like he was an animal, tearing huge chunks of meat from it with each bite.

He looked back toward his mother, his dirty face streaked with dripping blood. She screamed, the bloodcurdling sound caused her to bolt upright, the dried meat she had been chewing falling the rest of the way to the cave floor.

The young woman rolled onto her side and sobbed deeply into her arm, this forbidden planet was no place to raise a child. She must find a way to bring some sort of civilization to this young child she carried... or she would die trying.

Wiping her tears away, she sat up straighter, she was determined that her child would not become an animal. She was better than that. She thought to her dream and realized that she did have a mentor to help her with this baby. She smiled, knowing that the nightmare she had was only that, and most questions she would have, she could easily draw the answers from her own mother.

-Twenty One-

As they raced to meet the Algonquin raiding party head on, Kutkutuk signaled for half of the Mohawk defenders to split and flank the invaders from the side. Etu, the only Oneida with them stayed beside his friend.

The entire Mohawk surge slowed as they neared their foe, allowing the flanking maneuver to quickly close the Algonquin in on two sides. To Etu, it was a marvel of beauty, impressing upon the young warrior his friend's cunning at the art of war.

At the very last moment, an Algonquin warrior saw that a large contingent of Mohawk's were coming right into the teeth of their invasion. It was as the two combatant armies collided that a few Algonquin realized that they had been flanked. Though they fought hard, only one of the enemy had survived. Battered and bruised, he was drug back into the village.

The chief scowled as he looked upon the Algonquin warrior, he stood proud until he was struck in the back by a club and brought to his knees. "What reason do you have for attacking our village?"

The proud warrior slowly looked from one elder to another, then returned his haughty expression back toward the chief. "We are in search of new hunting grounds."

The older man crouched down so he could look directly into the eyes of the Algonquin. "Since the time of my father's father, your people have pushed the five tribes of the Iroquois south, stealing our land, murdering our peoples each and every time." He motioned for Kutkutuk to raise the Indian to his feet.

Now standing eye to eye, the old chief held up his hand. "The five fingers of the Iroquois have spoken, if the Algonquin wish for peace. We will offer our hand to them..but if the Algonquin wish for war, the five tribes will be as a great fist." He slowly closed his hand for emphasis.

To Kutkutuk he addressed, "Take some braves with you, escort this warrior to the edge of our lands, turn him loose. Let him go back to his people and give them our warning."

His dark eyes once again settled upon the battered warrior facing him, "Now go. But be warned, should you return to our lands again, you will be killed in a most terrible way." As the old one started away, he motioned for Kutkutuk to walk with him for a bit.

The Algonquin just stared at the chief as he turned his back on him, trying to be proud and yet bitter to be the last one alive from his raiding party. Kutkutuk signaled for several to escort the warrior toward the edge of the village and wait. He began to walk with the chief.

"Who alerted you about the Algonquin?" The chief smiled and looked upward at the bigger man.

"It was my friend Etu, of the Oneida." He motioned for Etu to come over so the chief could see him.

Etu stepped up beside his friend, "I am Etu, great one." He lowered his face slightly in honor.

The old one eyed him for several long seconds. "You have done well, Etu. Our village owes you a debt of favor."

"Your village owes me nothing. I was almost killed when Kutkutuk brought me here to mend. His family has taken care of me well. I was doing something that I would have done for any of my brothers."

The old man smiled and grasped Etu's shoulder in a friendly manner, "The Great Spirit will bestow you with kindness...I can see it already. May your parents be honored."

Etu bowed his head forward, "Thank you great one."

He then looked up at Kutkutuk, "Take Etu with you, see that the Algonquin warrior is not harmed so he will relay my message."

The big Indian nodded and turned, he and Etu caught up with the others who were surrounding the Algonquin. His hands were tied and wore a collar around his neck, there were two stiff poles in stout warriors hands that were tied to the collar. The two warriors could control the Algonquin effectively without getting too close to him.

Several days they marched, always headed to the north. As they neared the lands of the Algonquin, the air turned chilly. Here and there were signs that the change of seasons were near. Etu admired this beautiful country, its pristine lands and thick tree canopy.

For one full day they began their march inside the Algonquin lands, yet they were far enough away from populated land that they had no fear. Soon they would divest themselves of this burden and return back to the familiar lands of home.

Kutkutuk pointed to a valley below them, the trees created a grand hue of yellows, golds and reds. Here and there were the tops that had not yet been affected by the cool evenings. "This land once belonged to my people, until the Algonquin chased us off it."

The Algonquin warrior glanced backward, but said nothing. Kutkutuk continued, "I really do hope our enemies come to attack, maybe then we will flex our muscle and take our father's lands back."

He took his war-club and gently knocked upon the pole that was tied to the Algonquin. "I'd love nothing more than to snap your neck with my bare hands, filthy dog."

"Some day, you may get your chance." Their prisoner spoke without glancing. "If we come though, it will not be for land."

Kutkutuk quickly walked with purpose to be beside the captive warrior, "If you come...it will be to die." He shook his war-club menacingly, so there was no doubt of what he meant.

As night fell, they had located a hollow log and tied the warrior to it so his head was stuck in the hole. It was up to him to remove himself, but the leather which bound the Algonquin was tied so he would be able to release it if he worked at it long enough. Silently, Kutkutuk prayed that great bear brother, would find the Algonquin first.

As the sun rose, the small party was well on their way back to the Mohawk village. Once there, Etu had decided that he would again set out to find the Aponi female.