and clap his hands, trying to restore circulation.
The blue sky turned navy as the sun moved behind the trees. Etienne looked to the sky. âHelp,â he cried out. He looked at Tsiko. He did not want his friend to die in the dark beside a beaver pond. â
Hawendio
,â he called out. âHelp me.â
Etienne forced his fingers to cup and blew again. Thistime there was a flame. Against the darkening sky, he fed the small fire with branches. He dragged Tsiko close to the fire. His clothes were stiff, every touch crackling with ice. He smacked and rubbed his friendâs legs. All the while a prickling sensation grew up the back of his neck. Someone was near. The dog barked excitedly.
He knew he wouldnât hear the footfalls coming from the forest. He prayed it wasnât Iroquois. He didnât even bother to look up until the shadows across the snow surrounded him. It was the warrior Satouta and his band.
Satouta barked a few words. Two men lifted Tsiko and headed back into the forest.
âHe needs to stay by the fire,â Etienne yelled. âHe needs to stay warm.â
Satouta reached down and pulled Etienne along. âCome,â he said. Grabbing the snowshoes and the sash, Etienne had no choice but to go along, followed by the little dog.
When they finally stopped, all he could make out was a giant mound of snow. One of the warriors pushed aside a snow-covered bough to reveal a shelter filled with the fragrance of cedar. Etienne followed the men inside
Satouta stripped Tsiko of his frozen boots and deerskin leggings. He wrapped the boy tightly in a fur, and the men massaged the boyâs legs then covered him with more furs.
âLie down,â Satouta told the dog. It settled on top of Tsikoâs legs.
With a stir of the ashes, the fire sprang into flames, and the small enclosure grew warm. Etienne pulled upthe furs and closed his eyes. In moments, he, too, was asleep.
Etienne awoke to Tsiko struggling into his deerskin trousers. Seeing Etienneâs eyes open, Tsiko spoke. âI was wrong when I said you are not Huron,â he said. âYou built a good camp.â
Etienne looked at the frame of poles lashed together. Pine boughs filled a one-sided roof that slanted to the ground. The fire in front made it a very comfortable dwelling.
âI didnât,â Etienne said. âI prayed to
Hawendio
. He sent strong warriors to bring us here.â He studied Tsikoâs face for a reaction as he told him about Satouta and the other men.
Tsiko nodded. It seemed reasonable to him. âWhat about the beaver?â he asked.
âWeâll get them now,â Etienne said, scrambling to his feet.
Tsiko threw his hands in the air, knowing they would probably be gone, then taking his snowshoes from the side of the shelter, he laced them about his legs and leapt to his feet.
TWELVE
Moccasins
The snow, unlike the rain, arrived in silence. It drifted under doors onto the wooden sills and swelled the deerskin panes. Dark red blankets, fringed with icicles, now covered the Jesuitsâ cloaks. The water in the well was frozen.
Everyone went about shrouded and shivering. Etienne wrapped his feet with rabbit fur and slipped into his new boots, marvelling at their warmth. These boots were not the work of the missionâs shoemaker but the needle-woman of Teanaustaye. They had cost him his old pair of boots, his last iron needle and the spool of hemp.
This particular morning, the boots reminded Etienne to inspect the hooves of the pigs and goat. In the weak morning light, a frosty mist swirled about their nostrils. Their nostrils twitched at the scent of him. Etienne gave each of them a pat and spoke to them with good cheer. He knew too well what a day without a kind word was like.
As he left the stable, he saw Brother Douart sinking up to his waist in a drift. It took him several attempts to get up. Etienne smothered a smile.
âI cannot decide which is
The blue sky turned navy as the sun moved behind the trees. Etienne looked to the sky. âHelp,â he cried out. He looked at Tsiko. He did not want his friend to die in the dark beside a beaver pond. â
Hawendio
,â he called out. âHelp me.â
Etienne forced his fingers to cup and blew again. Thistime there was a flame. Against the darkening sky, he fed the small fire with branches. He dragged Tsiko close to the fire. His clothes were stiff, every touch crackling with ice. He smacked and rubbed his friendâs legs. All the while a prickling sensation grew up the back of his neck. Someone was near. The dog barked excitedly.
He knew he wouldnât hear the footfalls coming from the forest. He prayed it wasnât Iroquois. He didnât even bother to look up until the shadows across the snow surrounded him. It was the warrior Satouta and his band.
Satouta barked a few words. Two men lifted Tsiko and headed back into the forest.
âHe needs to stay by the fire,â Etienne yelled. âHe needs to stay warm.â
Satouta reached down and pulled Etienne along. âCome,â he said. Grabbing the snowshoes and the sash, Etienne had no choice but to go along, followed by the little dog.
When they finally stopped, all he could make out was a giant mound of snow. One of the warriors pushed aside a snow-covered bough to reveal a shelter filled with the fragrance of cedar. Etienne followed the men inside
Satouta stripped Tsiko of his frozen boots and deerskin leggings. He wrapped the boy tightly in a fur, and the men massaged the boyâs legs then covered him with more furs.
âLie down,â Satouta told the dog. It settled on top of Tsikoâs legs.
With a stir of the ashes, the fire sprang into flames, and the small enclosure grew warm. Etienne pulled upthe furs and closed his eyes. In moments, he, too, was asleep.
Etienne awoke to Tsiko struggling into his deerskin trousers. Seeing Etienneâs eyes open, Tsiko spoke. âI was wrong when I said you are not Huron,â he said. âYou built a good camp.â
Etienne looked at the frame of poles lashed together. Pine boughs filled a one-sided roof that slanted to the ground. The fire in front made it a very comfortable dwelling.
âI didnât,â Etienne said. âI prayed to
Hawendio
. He sent strong warriors to bring us here.â He studied Tsikoâs face for a reaction as he told him about Satouta and the other men.
Tsiko nodded. It seemed reasonable to him. âWhat about the beaver?â he asked.
âWeâll get them now,â Etienne said, scrambling to his feet.
Tsiko threw his hands in the air, knowing they would probably be gone, then taking his snowshoes from the side of the shelter, he laced them about his legs and leapt to his feet.
TWELVE
Moccasins
The snow, unlike the rain, arrived in silence. It drifted under doors onto the wooden sills and swelled the deerskin panes. Dark red blankets, fringed with icicles, now covered the Jesuitsâ cloaks. The water in the well was frozen.
Everyone went about shrouded and shivering. Etienne wrapped his feet with rabbit fur and slipped into his new boots, marvelling at their warmth. These boots were not the work of the missionâs shoemaker but the needle-woman of Teanaustaye. They had cost him his old pair of boots, his last iron needle and the spool of hemp.
This particular morning, the boots reminded Etienne to inspect the hooves of the pigs and goat. In the weak morning light, a frosty mist swirled about their nostrils. Their nostrils twitched at the scent of him. Etienne gave each of them a pat and spoke to them with good cheer. He knew too well what a day without a kind word was like.
As he left the stable, he saw Brother Douart sinking up to his waist in a drift. It took him several attempts to get up. Etienne smothered a smile.
âI cannot decide which is
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