i had to do this as a short story for my english coursework but i have vague ideas of making it longer - may take an awfully long time mind you!
anyway, hope you enjoy XD
Tala froze, waiting. Ahead, her prey paused, sniffing the air - it’s ears pricked up, alert. What could it have smelt? She was downwind, so what little breeze there was couldn’t have carried her scent to the boar. To her surprise, the creature turned, facing away from her, ambling agitatedly to the other side of the clearing, pawing nervously at the ground. It had obviously smelt something – but what? As the minutes passed, the tension diminished and the boar gradually began to relax. Tala breathed out, still puzzled as to the source of the anxiety, but whatever the boar had sensed was gone; she needn’t worry. She drew an arrow from the beautiful willow bark quiver on her back and neatly notched it into her bow, drawing the bowstring back in one swift movement. As she sighted down the shaft, taking careful aim at the animal’s heart, another movement in the undergrowth caught her attention. Lowering her bow, Tala glanced up to see a small face peering out from the bushes, beckoning to her. Scowling, Tala took aim once more. Ping. The sound of her bow releasing its load reverberated around the clearing. The face vanished.
“Land Ahoy!” Alexi called down from the crow’s nest. He quickly slithered down the rigging (remembering, with a smile, how long it had taken him to climb it on his first attempt) and made his way across the foredeck. “Land Ahoy Skipper,” he repeated.
“Well done lad,” said Zach, (the Captain) clapping him on the back, “Bet you’ll be glad to get off onto dry land again ‘ay?” He grinned as Alexi nodded vehemently. Alexi couldn’t wait to reach the Newfoundland: he was fatigued and exhausted after the rough crossing. A few days ago, a storm had raged around the Sea Serpent. It had torn through the sails, angry spirits wreaking their revenge, their ire threatening to destroy the vessel. It had lasted three days. Three days of hell - but that was over now; a new future lay ahead. No more fear of the bullies, no more running away. His bruises, which had been constantly renewed since he had been placed in care, were healing. The sea air was refreshing and clean, the prospect of the Newfoundland excitingly entrancing - the possibility of a father almost fallacious.
“What took you so long?” Jim roared at Zach. “You were meant to be here yesterday.”
“There was a storm, we were blown off course.” Zach replied. Jim paced restlessly up and down the small room. Tall; well built; used to throwing his weight around and getting his own way: Jim was the self-appointed Commander of the new village in Newfoundland. He was the first here, he reasoned, so he should be in charge and no one dared defy him. The man in front of him was infuriating. Not only was his goods ship a day late, but he also had the arrogance to answer back. It didn’t occur to Jim that, in his irrational mood, he had asked for an answer.
“I didn’t pay you to get lost you hopeless man! What sort of Skipper gets lost because of a bit of wind in his sails?”
“Wind? It was a bleedin’ great storm!” Zach retorted, losing his equanimity “I’d like to see you navigate you’re way through that with a broken Cunningham.” Jim stared at the man. How egotistical could he be?
“Captain,” Jim replied, his voice dangerously calm. “What do I pay you for?” Zach looked daggers at Jim, but controlled his wrath.
“To sail,” he replied grudgingly.
“Right, now get the hell out of here,” Jim reverted to his usual bad tempered shout. “And next time be on time.” He walked back to his desk muttering under his breath, “Stupid man, hopeless, can’t even sail his own boat, how’s this land meant to prosper with scum like that?” Just then a knock on the door interrupted his cynical train of thought.
“Enter,” he called cantankerously. A boy appeared in the doorway, he seemed nervous and kept anxiously twiddling his thumbs.
“Err,” he stammered neurotically, “I was told you’d know if James Kulman was here,” his voice trailed off. Jim stared at him.
Tala strode across the clearing to the bushes on the other side.
“What were you thinking?” she asked, irately yanking her younger brother out from a bilberry bush. “Upwind of a boar? Didn’t Minda teach you anything? You could have been killed.”
“I forgot,” Yana replied meekly; then pointed to some willows on the west side of the little glade, “Chenoa’s here as well,” he said, trying to place some of the blame on someone else. Tala spun round to see Yana’s twin sister emerging from a small cluster of willow saplings and relented.
“Since you’re both here you can help carry this back to pa,” she indicated the boar lying in the dirt. After kneeling over it, and muttering a quick prayer to its spirit, she set the children to preparing the boar to take home. “Why are you here anyway?” She asked, suddenly wondering why Pa would have sent the twins to find her.
“Pa says you’re to go back to camp,” piped up Chenoa. “He says it’s urgent.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Politics.” Chenoa shrugged noncommittally.
“I heard Pa talking about the Whites with Tyee,” Yana put in. Tala groaned. Again? The Whites were always trying to take Indian land. It was becoming an increasing problem as they tried to tame the forest for their settlers, forcing the Indians from their homes.
“Well it’ll have to wait,” Tala decided, she couldn’t face any more white discussion right now. “After all, we’ve got to get all this back to camp,” she smiled encouragingly at Yana, who groaned.
“But it’s massive.”
“Better get a move on then,” she said, grinning at the look of bitterness on his face.
Alexi ran out of the cramped office space as soon as Jim left for the tavern. He’d been set to work the moment Jim realised he really was Alexi’s father, but now he had gone and nothing would prevent Alexi from running. He didn’t know where. Anywhere was better than here, even the care home. As he fled blindly through the streets he kept his head bowed low, (his shoulders hunched) unconsciously shying away from the truth. Abruptly, he came to a halt as he went flying into a patch of brambles. For a moment Alexi was disorientated. Where was he? Glancing around him, he realised. The forest. This was Indian land. The sudden realisation jolted him from the state of shock he had maintained unknowingly to shield himself from the dreadful reality he now felt wash over him. That unruly, violent man had never appeared in his fantasies of possible fathers, but since when were fictitious characters real? He had to face it. His father was not - and never would be - the kindly, handsome man of his dreams. He was as tempestuous and bigoted as the bullies back in England. He stood up, wincing with pain, bramble scratches added to the wounds Jim had opened up on his body. He looked longingly into the trees’ dim depth. He could run away: hide in its dark embrace; live off berries; catch his own meats; be independent. Sighing, he turned away. It wouldn’t work. He didn’t know how to survive in the forest, not like the Indians. Ever since he’d arrived he’d fantasised about the Indians. From what he’d heard from Zach, they seemed so wild, so carefree. They seemed to lead the life he’d always dreamt of. Just as he thought this, a small, dark skinned girl holding a knife against his side promptly made him update these assumptions.
Jim strode through the village to the tavern the other side of the settlement. A son. He didn’t have time for a son. What business did the kid have turning up here in his town? He’d moved halfway across the world to get away from his obstinate wife and illegitimate child and the idiotic kid just followed. Why the hell couldn’t he have stayed with Rita? And why did she have to choose such a weird name for him? Alexi. It sounded like a girl. It wasn’t as if he was even any use: he was too shy; too weak; too afraid. Jim needed brave, strong and assertive men not young lads with about as much muscle as a tangerine. All his employees were as strong as boars, with about the same amount of intelligence. This meant they could do the work and not notice when he scammed them. He didn’t want some kid as strong as a newborn duckling who would notice when he swindled people. Still in an extraordinarily bad mood, Jim rammed his way into the bar and proceeded to drown his sorrows in drink. His last thought before he blacked out was: “With any luck the blasted Indians will have the damn kid, at least then I will have a decent reason to declare war on the swine.”
Tala watched as the White boy looked down at Chenoa, who was glaring at him with an expression of fierce defiance on her face, her knife against his side. The boy obviously saw the funny side of being threatened by someone about half a metre smaller then himself because he grinned and plucked the knife from her grip.
“Hey, my Pa gave me that!” She wailed, then (catching herself) she resumed her posture, drawing herself to her full height and completely failing to look impressive. “Give it back.”
“Why? So you can kill me?” he grinned at her fury.
“Don’t be stupid White Boy, I wouldn’t kill you - it was a threat, to make you get out of our forest.”
“If you want to be threatening, you need to be able to press your knife against you’re victim’s neck, not their side,” he reached forwards, “Like this,” he loomed over Chenoa pressing her knife against her throat and snarling. Before Tala could intervene however, he pushed her away, laughing at her scream of terror, and knelt on the floor, holding the knife against her side. “You see?” He said, laughingly, “It’s not quite the same is it?”
“It’s our forest, White Boy, so get out. Now.” Chenoa stamped her foot impudently. Alexi laughed.
“Who’s going to make me? You?”
“No, Tala will, won’t you Tala.” She turned to glare at the trees where Tala was hidden and, with a sigh, she got up and went to intervene.
“Chenoa, I told you to stay with Yana, he could be armed,” Tala scolded.
“Of course he’s armed,” Chenoa pointed out, “He’s got my knife.” Scowling, Tala drew her bow.
“Give it back,” she instructed, locking her aim on his heart. After he had reluctantly complied, she said, “Follow the twins,” and indicated an animal trail leading towards their camp. “We’ll take him to Tyee and Hakara,” she added before Chenoa could complain. Scowling, Chenoa dropped her pack of meat.
“Fine,” she huffed, “But White Boy takes the meat. It’s way too heavy.”
As Alexi entered the Indian camp, he was overwhelmed by the friendly, communal attitude. With a pang of jealously, he realised that this was how he wanted to live. He would be independent, with people who would care about him. Putting these impossible dreams from his mind he stood still, letting the sights and smells wash over him. The layout was simple. A group of houses were arranged in a ring around a fire (obviously and community gathering point). A river lay just outside of this circle, it’s waters gushing under various bridges. There were dark-skinned children, kayaking and playing some sort of game involving counters. There were teenagers being taught the arts of hunting, archery and survival. There were women: sewing, cooking, supervising the children and sharing gossip. There were men preparing the latest kill; maintaining their weapons; fishing. It was the family he had never had. As they noticed Alexi, the noise died. Only one voice could be heard.
“Tala, why the heck have you brought him here?” A man walked over, his anger defined by his pose and determined stride. We don’t want the Whites here, let alone their leader’s son!” Urgently, he lowered his voice so Alexi could barely hear him. “Tala, the Whites have declared war! They accused us of kidnapping their Jim’s son. Tyee told them we hadn’t but now,” he indicated Alexi in despair, “Now we have.”
“Jim. Jim.” A rough hand shaking his shoulder woke him from his drunken reverie. “Jim!”
“Yeah, what?” The words came out slurred. Someone forced a burning concoction down his throat, forcefully bringing him back to soberness. Sitting up he saw Zach.
“Alexi has gone missing, we think the Indians have got him.”
“Oh, good,” he said absent-mindedly. Zach stared at him.
“Good?” he said, outraged. “Do you even know the kid?”
“Know him? Of course I know him. He’s my flippin’ son for god’s sake!”
“He’s you’re son! Poor kid!” Zach stopped, realising he’d said the last sentence out loud. “Well if he’s you’re son then how on earth can you say “good” when the Indians have him?” Jim saw with surprise that Zach was genuinely concerned.
“Oh come on Zach, it’s not like he’s any use anyway, he’s far too scrawny. If however, the Indians have got him, then we finally have a viable reason to declare war.”
“That’s all you have to say? You son could be dead and all you think about is land?”
“Why not?” Jim was confused and the hangover he was beginning to experience wasn’t helping his thought processes. “If can’t look after himself then I have no use for him. It’s a tough world Zach. Only the fittest survive. Now, go and tell the General to inform the Indians we will declare war if they do not surrender their land within the hour.”
“And Alexi, of course,” Zach interjected.
“Oh, if you must.” Jim sighed, “But I’m not looking after him. He’ll be you’re responsibility.”
The whole camp was preparing for battle. They had refused the White’s terms of surrender and were expecting attack any minute. Tala grabbed her bow, found Alexi, and together they retreated back into the forest. Tyee had instructed her to stay hidden and look after Alexi and the twins. No sooner had Tala got Yana into the trees, than the first musket ball penetrated the camp. The screams of the stricken filled the air, but were soon drowned out by the war cries of the Indians as they advanced. Then, not ten minutes into the battle, Tala rushed forwards, forgetting her promise to Tyee, forgetting to look after the twins. As she ran, her mind was set on one thing. All of a sudden, everything was simple, her mind focused on one intention.
Kill Jim.
She had seen Jim’s sword penetrate her father’s skin, slowly, slowly. He had driven the blade deep into his chest, smiling all the while.
Kill Him.
Jim had drawn out the death, deliberately torturing Hakara – her father, making him suffer unbearable pain. He’d been helpless, at the mercy of his killer.
Must Have Revenge.
Now rage flooded her body, coursing through her veins, the emotions so strong they threatened to engulf her entirely. The sight of Jim’s violent features, contorted in a grin, as her father took his last shuddering breath blocked out all sense of rationale.
He Must Die.
When Tala ran out into the battle, Alexi had grabbed a sword and made to follow her but Yana had stopped him.
“No. You’ll be killed White Boy” Alexi looked at the unwieldy metal sword in his hands and saw Yana’s point, at least Tala had found a couple of muskets.
“The name’s Alexi,” he said abruptly. “Bring Chenoa, we’re going further away from here. You’re not safe.” So saying, he turned his back on the commotion coming from the Indian camp and walked deeper into the forest. The children followed him but he barely noticed, as he was too engrossed in his own thoughts. He knew Tala would try and kill his father but what did it matter? Life would go on. The granules of time would continue to fall forever down, until they came to rest at the bottom of their prison (the hourglass that encased it). Time – the biggest murderer of all. It would fall for eternity, preserving the memories of the millions of lives, the millions of destinies it had destroyed, until eventually it destroyed everything, even the giant hourglass imprisoning it. Then the centuries of love would be lost, the flicker of hope extinguished.
“Alexi, how far do we have to go?” Chenoa’s voice broke through Alexi’s thoughts.
“This should be fine, we’ll wait until all the noise stops then we’ll go and see what Tala’s been doing without us.” Alexi tried to inject some optimism into his voice.
“Attack!” Jim bawled to his men and, as adrenalin flooded his body, he charged forwards, musket at the ready. His men followed suit, swarming the Indian camp. Jim and his men were outnumbered 2:1 but their advanced weapons were working their evil magic, significantly depleting the opposition’s ranks. “Kill everyone, but leave Tyee and Hakara to me.” He would kill the Indian leaders slowly, torturing their bodies, minds and souls. Hakara was gone, his blood residing on Jim’s tainted blade. He could still remember the Indian’s pleas defiant gaze; even as he took his last breath he had refused to show weakness. He hadn’t believed Jim would kill him. He had been wrong. Jim turned - a girl around fourteen had crept up behind him, and was holding a musket to his back.
“You killed my Pa,” she yelled, her voice cracking in grief. “You killed Hakara.” She pointed the weapon at his head. “Surrender or I’ll shoot you.”
“Never. You Indians will never win and you don’t have the courage to kill me, girl. You’re too weak.” Jim snarled. So saying, he lunged for the musket, but the kid dodged and re-aimed her musket in-between his eyes. As she did this, Jim relaxed. He could see straight up the barrel to the empty ammunition chamber.
“Surrender or die.” The girl repeated. Jim smiled tauntingly at her.
“Really? What with? Your empty gun?” Jim’s grin of triumph faded in realisation as he followed her gaze to the second musket by her side. “No…”
Tala watched as Jim’s last cry petered into a bloody gurgle and, finally, silence. Then she turned and went to rejoin Alexi, Yana and Chenoa in the trees.
“Yana, Chenoa, I’m OK,” No answer. “Alexi?” Nothing. “Where are you?” Silence. Forcing down the panic rising within her, she tried to think logically. “Alexi is sensible,” she told herself. “He’ll have gone further away, to keep the twins safe.” The sound of her voice reassured her and she set off into the forest to look for them. “Alexi? Chenoa? Yana?” Still nothing. The noise of the battle had receded into the background and the all she could hear was the wildlife and faint echoes of her calls. A rustling behind her caught her attention. “Who’s there?” She said sharply, spinning round to face the bushes.
“Tala!” Chenoa’s voice diverted her attention.
“Ssh,” Tala quelled her delight at seeing her younger sister safe. “There’s someone in the bushes.”
“Oh, that’s Yana. He’s trying to sneak up on you without you noticing. Yana, you failed. Come out.”
“No fair. Alexi got closer than me.” Tala laughed at his indignation and ruffled his hair.
“You’ll have to practice more. Well done Alexi,” she smiled at Alexi who had appeared from the undergrowth looking tousled but pleased with himself.
“The noise has stopped,” he commented. “Lets go and see who won.”
“Ok, twins, stay here,” and so saying, Tala turned and led the way through the trees back to the camp.
As Alexi entered the camp, he gasped. It was completely different from his first sighting. The only women and children in sight were piled up in a huge mound, ready to be burnt. The smell of blood saturated the air, stinging his eyes. Beside him, he felt Tala’s grip on his arm.
“Don’t tell the twins,” she said beseechingly. “They’re too young to know.”
“I won’t.” Alexi promised. He looked around at the destruction, men were walking around, going through the Indians’ belongings, but there was not a dark face in sight. The Europeans were everywhere, claiming anything of any value for their own. All except one. He was bent over the pile of bodies and seemed to be searching for something, but he was to far away to identify who he was. Just then, he stood up. Even at this distance the air of defeat that surrounded him was evident. Zach?
“Zach!” Alexi cried in delight, racing forwards.
“Alexi?” Alexi ran up to him. “I thought you were dead.”
“No,” he lowered his voice, “Come with me.” Alexi headed back towards the forest, Zach close on his heels.
“An Indian!” Zach cried in horror as Alexi took him to where Tala was waiting.
“A European!” Tala exclaimed in unison.
“Be quiet. Tala, this is Zach, Zach, Tala.”
“But why are you with an Indian?” Zach’s voice was a mixture of perplexity and apprehension.
“We’re friends, kind of.”
“She’s got to get out of here then, she’ll be killed if she’s found, and you’ve got to come back to camp.”
“I can’t Zach, I’ll have no-where to stay.”
“You can live with me, what else would you do?”
“You’ll be travelling, it won’t work. Anyway, I was thinking of staying with Tala,” he turned to Tala “If that’s alright with her." He turned questioningly to Tala.
“Yes, I suppose so, but it’ll be hard. Our camp’s destroyed, so we’ll be living rough.”
Zach watched the small children scampering around Alexi’s feet and sighed. After making him promise not to tell the twins what had happened, Alexi had led him back to where Tala’s younger siblings were.
“Well, you’ve certainly made an impression,” he said, turning back to Alexi. “I’m guessing these are the people who kidnapped you?” Alexi grinned.
“Yep.” Zach sighed. He’d seen the way Alexi had looked at the girl – Tala - and knew nothing he could say would stop him going with her into the forest. As he looked back at Alexi, laughing at a joke Chenoa had made, he realised this was the first time he had seen the boy laugh in all the time he’d known him. He remembered the quiet boy in search of his long-lost father who’d come seeking passage to Newfoundland as ship’s boy on the Sea Serpent. How must those dreams have been shattered when he’d found Jim? Sighing, he turned back to Alexi.
“I won’t stop you, it’s your life.”
“Alexi,” Tala interrupted, “We should be going, before we’re found.”
“Yes I know. Bye Zach.”
“Bye Alexi, bye twins.”
“Bye,” chorused Yana and Chenoa. Smiling, Zach watched Alexi as he retreated deeper into the forest with the Indians. As he did so, Zach prayed silently that Alexi’s newly found happiness would not be a false hope like all those preceding it. Then they were gone, swallowed in the dark shadows of the trees.
Edit: The mark my teacher gave me was A+ and she said it wasn't an original piece of writing because it was too like pokahontis (can't spell it) - can someone tell me the story of pokahontis because i actually don't know it and i want to see what Alys France is talking about XD
anyway, hope you enjoy XD
Tala froze, waiting. Ahead, her prey paused, sniffing the air - it’s ears pricked up, alert. What could it have smelt? She was downwind, so what little breeze there was couldn’t have carried her scent to the boar. To her surprise, the creature turned, facing away from her, ambling agitatedly to the other side of the clearing, pawing nervously at the ground. It had obviously smelt something – but what? As the minutes passed, the tension diminished and the boar gradually began to relax. Tala breathed out, still puzzled as to the source of the anxiety, but whatever the boar had sensed was gone; she needn’t worry. She drew an arrow from the beautiful willow bark quiver on her back and neatly notched it into her bow, drawing the bowstring back in one swift movement. As she sighted down the shaft, taking careful aim at the animal’s heart, another movement in the undergrowth caught her attention. Lowering her bow, Tala glanced up to see a small face peering out from the bushes, beckoning to her. Scowling, Tala took aim once more. Ping. The sound of her bow releasing its load reverberated around the clearing. The face vanished.
“Land Ahoy!” Alexi called down from the crow’s nest. He quickly slithered down the rigging (remembering, with a smile, how long it had taken him to climb it on his first attempt) and made his way across the foredeck. “Land Ahoy Skipper,” he repeated.
“Well done lad,” said Zach, (the Captain) clapping him on the back, “Bet you’ll be glad to get off onto dry land again ‘ay?” He grinned as Alexi nodded vehemently. Alexi couldn’t wait to reach the Newfoundland: he was fatigued and exhausted after the rough crossing. A few days ago, a storm had raged around the Sea Serpent. It had torn through the sails, angry spirits wreaking their revenge, their ire threatening to destroy the vessel. It had lasted three days. Three days of hell - but that was over now; a new future lay ahead. No more fear of the bullies, no more running away. His bruises, which had been constantly renewed since he had been placed in care, were healing. The sea air was refreshing and clean, the prospect of the Newfoundland excitingly entrancing - the possibility of a father almost fallacious.
“What took you so long?” Jim roared at Zach. “You were meant to be here yesterday.”
“There was a storm, we were blown off course.” Zach replied. Jim paced restlessly up and down the small room. Tall; well built; used to throwing his weight around and getting his own way: Jim was the self-appointed Commander of the new village in Newfoundland. He was the first here, he reasoned, so he should be in charge and no one dared defy him. The man in front of him was infuriating. Not only was his goods ship a day late, but he also had the arrogance to answer back. It didn’t occur to Jim that, in his irrational mood, he had asked for an answer.
“I didn’t pay you to get lost you hopeless man! What sort of Skipper gets lost because of a bit of wind in his sails?”
“Wind? It was a bleedin’ great storm!” Zach retorted, losing his equanimity “I’d like to see you navigate you’re way through that with a broken Cunningham.” Jim stared at the man. How egotistical could he be?
“Captain,” Jim replied, his voice dangerously calm. “What do I pay you for?” Zach looked daggers at Jim, but controlled his wrath.
“To sail,” he replied grudgingly.
“Right, now get the hell out of here,” Jim reverted to his usual bad tempered shout. “And next time be on time.” He walked back to his desk muttering under his breath, “Stupid man, hopeless, can’t even sail his own boat, how’s this land meant to prosper with scum like that?” Just then a knock on the door interrupted his cynical train of thought.
“Enter,” he called cantankerously. A boy appeared in the doorway, he seemed nervous and kept anxiously twiddling his thumbs.
“Err,” he stammered neurotically, “I was told you’d know if James Kulman was here,” his voice trailed off. Jim stared at him.
Tala strode across the clearing to the bushes on the other side.
“What were you thinking?” she asked, irately yanking her younger brother out from a bilberry bush. “Upwind of a boar? Didn’t Minda teach you anything? You could have been killed.”
“I forgot,” Yana replied meekly; then pointed to some willows on the west side of the little glade, “Chenoa’s here as well,” he said, trying to place some of the blame on someone else. Tala spun round to see Yana’s twin sister emerging from a small cluster of willow saplings and relented.
“Since you’re both here you can help carry this back to pa,” she indicated the boar lying in the dirt. After kneeling over it, and muttering a quick prayer to its spirit, she set the children to preparing the boar to take home. “Why are you here anyway?” She asked, suddenly wondering why Pa would have sent the twins to find her.
“Pa says you’re to go back to camp,” piped up Chenoa. “He says it’s urgent.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Politics.” Chenoa shrugged noncommittally.
“I heard Pa talking about the Whites with Tyee,” Yana put in. Tala groaned. Again? The Whites were always trying to take Indian land. It was becoming an increasing problem as they tried to tame the forest for their settlers, forcing the Indians from their homes.
“Well it’ll have to wait,” Tala decided, she couldn’t face any more white discussion right now. “After all, we’ve got to get all this back to camp,” she smiled encouragingly at Yana, who groaned.
“But it’s massive.”
“Better get a move on then,” she said, grinning at the look of bitterness on his face.
Alexi ran out of the cramped office space as soon as Jim left for the tavern. He’d been set to work the moment Jim realised he really was Alexi’s father, but now he had gone and nothing would prevent Alexi from running. He didn’t know where. Anywhere was better than here, even the care home. As he fled blindly through the streets he kept his head bowed low, (his shoulders hunched) unconsciously shying away from the truth. Abruptly, he came to a halt as he went flying into a patch of brambles. For a moment Alexi was disorientated. Where was he? Glancing around him, he realised. The forest. This was Indian land. The sudden realisation jolted him from the state of shock he had maintained unknowingly to shield himself from the dreadful reality he now felt wash over him. That unruly, violent man had never appeared in his fantasies of possible fathers, but since when were fictitious characters real? He had to face it. His father was not - and never would be - the kindly, handsome man of his dreams. He was as tempestuous and bigoted as the bullies back in England. He stood up, wincing with pain, bramble scratches added to the wounds Jim had opened up on his body. He looked longingly into the trees’ dim depth. He could run away: hide in its dark embrace; live off berries; catch his own meats; be independent. Sighing, he turned away. It wouldn’t work. He didn’t know how to survive in the forest, not like the Indians. Ever since he’d arrived he’d fantasised about the Indians. From what he’d heard from Zach, they seemed so wild, so carefree. They seemed to lead the life he’d always dreamt of. Just as he thought this, a small, dark skinned girl holding a knife against his side promptly made him update these assumptions.
Jim strode through the village to the tavern the other side of the settlement. A son. He didn’t have time for a son. What business did the kid have turning up here in his town? He’d moved halfway across the world to get away from his obstinate wife and illegitimate child and the idiotic kid just followed. Why the hell couldn’t he have stayed with Rita? And why did she have to choose such a weird name for him? Alexi. It sounded like a girl. It wasn’t as if he was even any use: he was too shy; too weak; too afraid. Jim needed brave, strong and assertive men not young lads with about as much muscle as a tangerine. All his employees were as strong as boars, with about the same amount of intelligence. This meant they could do the work and not notice when he scammed them. He didn’t want some kid as strong as a newborn duckling who would notice when he swindled people. Still in an extraordinarily bad mood, Jim rammed his way into the bar and proceeded to drown his sorrows in drink. His last thought before he blacked out was: “With any luck the blasted Indians will have the damn kid, at least then I will have a decent reason to declare war on the swine.”
Tala watched as the White boy looked down at Chenoa, who was glaring at him with an expression of fierce defiance on her face, her knife against his side. The boy obviously saw the funny side of being threatened by someone about half a metre smaller then himself because he grinned and plucked the knife from her grip.
“Hey, my Pa gave me that!” She wailed, then (catching herself) she resumed her posture, drawing herself to her full height and completely failing to look impressive. “Give it back.”
“Why? So you can kill me?” he grinned at her fury.
“Don’t be stupid White Boy, I wouldn’t kill you - it was a threat, to make you get out of our forest.”
“If you want to be threatening, you need to be able to press your knife against you’re victim’s neck, not their side,” he reached forwards, “Like this,” he loomed over Chenoa pressing her knife against her throat and snarling. Before Tala could intervene however, he pushed her away, laughing at her scream of terror, and knelt on the floor, holding the knife against her side. “You see?” He said, laughingly, “It’s not quite the same is it?”
“It’s our forest, White Boy, so get out. Now.” Chenoa stamped her foot impudently. Alexi laughed.
“Who’s going to make me? You?”
“No, Tala will, won’t you Tala.” She turned to glare at the trees where Tala was hidden and, with a sigh, she got up and went to intervene.
“Chenoa, I told you to stay with Yana, he could be armed,” Tala scolded.
“Of course he’s armed,” Chenoa pointed out, “He’s got my knife.” Scowling, Tala drew her bow.
“Give it back,” she instructed, locking her aim on his heart. After he had reluctantly complied, she said, “Follow the twins,” and indicated an animal trail leading towards their camp. “We’ll take him to Tyee and Hakara,” she added before Chenoa could complain. Scowling, Chenoa dropped her pack of meat.
“Fine,” she huffed, “But White Boy takes the meat. It’s way too heavy.”
As Alexi entered the Indian camp, he was overwhelmed by the friendly, communal attitude. With a pang of jealously, he realised that this was how he wanted to live. He would be independent, with people who would care about him. Putting these impossible dreams from his mind he stood still, letting the sights and smells wash over him. The layout was simple. A group of houses were arranged in a ring around a fire (obviously and community gathering point). A river lay just outside of this circle, it’s waters gushing under various bridges. There were dark-skinned children, kayaking and playing some sort of game involving counters. There were teenagers being taught the arts of hunting, archery and survival. There were women: sewing, cooking, supervising the children and sharing gossip. There were men preparing the latest kill; maintaining their weapons; fishing. It was the family he had never had. As they noticed Alexi, the noise died. Only one voice could be heard.
“Tala, why the heck have you brought him here?” A man walked over, his anger defined by his pose and determined stride. We don’t want the Whites here, let alone their leader’s son!” Urgently, he lowered his voice so Alexi could barely hear him. “Tala, the Whites have declared war! They accused us of kidnapping their Jim’s son. Tyee told them we hadn’t but now,” he indicated Alexi in despair, “Now we have.”
“Jim. Jim.” A rough hand shaking his shoulder woke him from his drunken reverie. “Jim!”
“Yeah, what?” The words came out slurred. Someone forced a burning concoction down his throat, forcefully bringing him back to soberness. Sitting up he saw Zach.
“Alexi has gone missing, we think the Indians have got him.”
“Oh, good,” he said absent-mindedly. Zach stared at him.
“Good?” he said, outraged. “Do you even know the kid?”
“Know him? Of course I know him. He’s my flippin’ son for god’s sake!”
“He’s you’re son! Poor kid!” Zach stopped, realising he’d said the last sentence out loud. “Well if he’s you’re son then how on earth can you say “good” when the Indians have him?” Jim saw with surprise that Zach was genuinely concerned.
“Oh come on Zach, it’s not like he’s any use anyway, he’s far too scrawny. If however, the Indians have got him, then we finally have a viable reason to declare war.”
“That’s all you have to say? You son could be dead and all you think about is land?”
“Why not?” Jim was confused and the hangover he was beginning to experience wasn’t helping his thought processes. “If can’t look after himself then I have no use for him. It’s a tough world Zach. Only the fittest survive. Now, go and tell the General to inform the Indians we will declare war if they do not surrender their land within the hour.”
“And Alexi, of course,” Zach interjected.
“Oh, if you must.” Jim sighed, “But I’m not looking after him. He’ll be you’re responsibility.”
The whole camp was preparing for battle. They had refused the White’s terms of surrender and were expecting attack any minute. Tala grabbed her bow, found Alexi, and together they retreated back into the forest. Tyee had instructed her to stay hidden and look after Alexi and the twins. No sooner had Tala got Yana into the trees, than the first musket ball penetrated the camp. The screams of the stricken filled the air, but were soon drowned out by the war cries of the Indians as they advanced. Then, not ten minutes into the battle, Tala rushed forwards, forgetting her promise to Tyee, forgetting to look after the twins. As she ran, her mind was set on one thing. All of a sudden, everything was simple, her mind focused on one intention.
Kill Jim.
She had seen Jim’s sword penetrate her father’s skin, slowly, slowly. He had driven the blade deep into his chest, smiling all the while.
Kill Him.
Jim had drawn out the death, deliberately torturing Hakara – her father, making him suffer unbearable pain. He’d been helpless, at the mercy of his killer.
Must Have Revenge.
Now rage flooded her body, coursing through her veins, the emotions so strong they threatened to engulf her entirely. The sight of Jim’s violent features, contorted in a grin, as her father took his last shuddering breath blocked out all sense of rationale.
He Must Die.
When Tala ran out into the battle, Alexi had grabbed a sword and made to follow her but Yana had stopped him.
“No. You’ll be killed White Boy” Alexi looked at the unwieldy metal sword in his hands and saw Yana’s point, at least Tala had found a couple of muskets.
“The name’s Alexi,” he said abruptly. “Bring Chenoa, we’re going further away from here. You’re not safe.” So saying, he turned his back on the commotion coming from the Indian camp and walked deeper into the forest. The children followed him but he barely noticed, as he was too engrossed in his own thoughts. He knew Tala would try and kill his father but what did it matter? Life would go on. The granules of time would continue to fall forever down, until they came to rest at the bottom of their prison (the hourglass that encased it). Time – the biggest murderer of all. It would fall for eternity, preserving the memories of the millions of lives, the millions of destinies it had destroyed, until eventually it destroyed everything, even the giant hourglass imprisoning it. Then the centuries of love would be lost, the flicker of hope extinguished.
“Alexi, how far do we have to go?” Chenoa’s voice broke through Alexi’s thoughts.
“This should be fine, we’ll wait until all the noise stops then we’ll go and see what Tala’s been doing without us.” Alexi tried to inject some optimism into his voice.
“Attack!” Jim bawled to his men and, as adrenalin flooded his body, he charged forwards, musket at the ready. His men followed suit, swarming the Indian camp. Jim and his men were outnumbered 2:1 but their advanced weapons were working their evil magic, significantly depleting the opposition’s ranks. “Kill everyone, but leave Tyee and Hakara to me.” He would kill the Indian leaders slowly, torturing their bodies, minds and souls. Hakara was gone, his blood residing on Jim’s tainted blade. He could still remember the Indian’s pleas defiant gaze; even as he took his last breath he had refused to show weakness. He hadn’t believed Jim would kill him. He had been wrong. Jim turned - a girl around fourteen had crept up behind him, and was holding a musket to his back.
“You killed my Pa,” she yelled, her voice cracking in grief. “You killed Hakara.” She pointed the weapon at his head. “Surrender or I’ll shoot you.”
“Never. You Indians will never win and you don’t have the courage to kill me, girl. You’re too weak.” Jim snarled. So saying, he lunged for the musket, but the kid dodged and re-aimed her musket in-between his eyes. As she did this, Jim relaxed. He could see straight up the barrel to the empty ammunition chamber.
“Surrender or die.” The girl repeated. Jim smiled tauntingly at her.
“Really? What with? Your empty gun?” Jim’s grin of triumph faded in realisation as he followed her gaze to the second musket by her side. “No…”
Tala watched as Jim’s last cry petered into a bloody gurgle and, finally, silence. Then she turned and went to rejoin Alexi, Yana and Chenoa in the trees.
“Yana, Chenoa, I’m OK,” No answer. “Alexi?” Nothing. “Where are you?” Silence. Forcing down the panic rising within her, she tried to think logically. “Alexi is sensible,” she told herself. “He’ll have gone further away, to keep the twins safe.” The sound of her voice reassured her and she set off into the forest to look for them. “Alexi? Chenoa? Yana?” Still nothing. The noise of the battle had receded into the background and the all she could hear was the wildlife and faint echoes of her calls. A rustling behind her caught her attention. “Who’s there?” She said sharply, spinning round to face the bushes.
“Tala!” Chenoa’s voice diverted her attention.
“Ssh,” Tala quelled her delight at seeing her younger sister safe. “There’s someone in the bushes.”
“Oh, that’s Yana. He’s trying to sneak up on you without you noticing. Yana, you failed. Come out.”
“No fair. Alexi got closer than me.” Tala laughed at his indignation and ruffled his hair.
“You’ll have to practice more. Well done Alexi,” she smiled at Alexi who had appeared from the undergrowth looking tousled but pleased with himself.
“The noise has stopped,” he commented. “Lets go and see who won.”
“Ok, twins, stay here,” and so saying, Tala turned and led the way through the trees back to the camp.
As Alexi entered the camp, he gasped. It was completely different from his first sighting. The only women and children in sight were piled up in a huge mound, ready to be burnt. The smell of blood saturated the air, stinging his eyes. Beside him, he felt Tala’s grip on his arm.
“Don’t tell the twins,” she said beseechingly. “They’re too young to know.”
“I won’t.” Alexi promised. He looked around at the destruction, men were walking around, going through the Indians’ belongings, but there was not a dark face in sight. The Europeans were everywhere, claiming anything of any value for their own. All except one. He was bent over the pile of bodies and seemed to be searching for something, but he was to far away to identify who he was. Just then, he stood up. Even at this distance the air of defeat that surrounded him was evident. Zach?
“Zach!” Alexi cried in delight, racing forwards.
“Alexi?” Alexi ran up to him. “I thought you were dead.”
“No,” he lowered his voice, “Come with me.” Alexi headed back towards the forest, Zach close on his heels.
“An Indian!” Zach cried in horror as Alexi took him to where Tala was waiting.
“A European!” Tala exclaimed in unison.
“Be quiet. Tala, this is Zach, Zach, Tala.”
“But why are you with an Indian?” Zach’s voice was a mixture of perplexity and apprehension.
“We’re friends, kind of.”
“She’s got to get out of here then, she’ll be killed if she’s found, and you’ve got to come back to camp.”
“I can’t Zach, I’ll have no-where to stay.”
“You can live with me, what else would you do?”
“You’ll be travelling, it won’t work. Anyway, I was thinking of staying with Tala,” he turned to Tala “If that’s alright with her." He turned questioningly to Tala.
“Yes, I suppose so, but it’ll be hard. Our camp’s destroyed, so we’ll be living rough.”
Zach watched the small children scampering around Alexi’s feet and sighed. After making him promise not to tell the twins what had happened, Alexi had led him back to where Tala’s younger siblings were.
“Well, you’ve certainly made an impression,” he said, turning back to Alexi. “I’m guessing these are the people who kidnapped you?” Alexi grinned.
“Yep.” Zach sighed. He’d seen the way Alexi had looked at the girl – Tala - and knew nothing he could say would stop him going with her into the forest. As he looked back at Alexi, laughing at a joke Chenoa had made, he realised this was the first time he had seen the boy laugh in all the time he’d known him. He remembered the quiet boy in search of his long-lost father who’d come seeking passage to Newfoundland as ship’s boy on the Sea Serpent. How must those dreams have been shattered when he’d found Jim? Sighing, he turned back to Alexi.
“I won’t stop you, it’s your life.”
“Alexi,” Tala interrupted, “We should be going, before we’re found.”
“Yes I know. Bye Zach.”
“Bye Alexi, bye twins.”
“Bye,” chorused Yana and Chenoa. Smiling, Zach watched Alexi as he retreated deeper into the forest with the Indians. As he did so, Zach prayed silently that Alexi’s newly found happiness would not be a false hope like all those preceding it. Then they were gone, swallowed in the dark shadows of the trees.
Edit: The mark my teacher gave me was A+ and she said it wasn't an original piece of writing because it was too like pokahontis (can't spell it) - can someone tell me the story of pokahontis because i actually don't know it and i want to see what Alys France is talking about XD
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