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Chapter 3: THE NEW CHIEF

The Mohawk tribe didn't move fast enough, the children slowing down their progress. Just before dawn, the forest came to life with the combined tribes hellbent on repaying the Iroquois Nation for the rain the previous day.

Whispering Brook clutched Gentle Doe in her arms, running as she headed in the opposite direction of the forest without looking back. She had one thing on her mind - save the children.

Eagle wrestled against his mother's firm grip, twisting his wrist within her hand.

"Father needs me!"

"There is nothing you can do to help him, Eagle. Don't argue with me. I need you to help me protect your sister."

"She's not my sister!" Eagle snapped in frustration, instantly regretting his outburst.

It wasn't anyone's fault that his biological sister lay in a shallow grave - a grave that would be lost to time. On the move once more, she, his infant cousin, and so many others were left behind.

"Eagle..." His mother's voice was choked with emotion as she propelled her strong-willed son toward the river, "do as I say NOW."

Knowing he'd apologize later for hurting his mother's heart, Eagle finally did as his mother instructed, but not without another glance over his shoulder. Red Hawk stood at his father's side, his tomahawk flashing as he struggled to keep much older warriors at bay long enough to protect the fleeing women and children. With combined tribes, the allies were a force to be reckoned with, taking the Iroquois off guard.

"No!" Whispering Brook screamed as an arrow pierced her husband's heart.

Eagle stood transfixed, watching the battle taking place mere feet away. A moment later he broke free, running toward his father who was still fighting valiantly with his dying breath.

Chief Silver Fox looked up from the man who had stolen his daughter at the sound of Whispering Brook's scream. It was a decision he wouldn't live to regret, immediately falling lifeless at Red Hawk's feet.

The young warrior's eyes darkened with rage as he looked down at the corpse of the man who had dealt a fatal wound to his father. In the heat of battle, the teenager became chief as Red Hawk's father took his last breath. Two chiefs lay side by side in death at the feet of young Chief Red Hawk.

The avenging tribes had no way of knowing the teenager was now the chief of the dreaded Iroquois Nation. Overlooking the youth, they focused on the older warriors who realized Chief Silver Fox was dead. Moving as one, they were willing to sacrifice their lives to protect the heir.

"Don't be a fool, Son." Chief Red Hawk's grandfather's sinewy hand clamped down on his shoulder. "Run! You must find your uncle, Chief Black Bear, and tell him of the attack. He is on his way to see your mother after the death of your sister and should have arrived by now. He cannot be far from here. Head south and don't look back. The tribe depends on you - save yourself."

"But Grandfather, I must lead them. It is my responsibility."

"The women and children need you - that is your responsibility. Now go!"

Chief Red Hawk looked into the eyes of his grandfather one last time before disappearing into the woods, urging the women and children to follow him.

The battle raged on, snowflakes beginning to swirl in the air as the weather turned colder - so cold that the snow lingered on the ground. Chief Red Hawk ran in the direction of his mother and siblings, but his feet were slipping on the slick snow-covered ground which hindered his speed as the women and children huddled together waiting for his leadership. Winter had finally arrived, it would seem.

Letting out a fierce cry, Chief Raven watched as his friend and ally crumpled to the ground without having rescued his daughter. Keeping his eyes on Gentle Doe, the chief leaped over the bodies of the dead, determined to ensure the child's safety. Arrows flew through the air around him a moment before searing pain spread through his shoulder.

Long Knife swung blindly with his tomahawk, his eyes hardening to the gruesome scene around him. Death hung heavily in the air, the moans of the dying haunting the dawn. His own mother was not yet cold within the ground. Perhaps it was his youth that caused his chest to squeeze tight as he stood in the midst of so much death. Long Knife was not yet hardened and was still grieving over the recent loss of his own mother who had died suddenly just days before.

Raising his tomahawk, Long Knife hesitated. He had never killed a woman before. Whispering Brook turned, her gentle eyes meeting Long Knife's. Long Knife would never know why he couldn't deal the death blow to the woman holding Gentle Doe, but at that moment he made a decision that would change everything. Pulling Gentle Doe out of the woman's arms, Long Knife held the trembling girl next to his heart.

Gripping his tomahawk, Long Knife faced his people.

"Mine."

No one would defy Long Knife, the heir of the Wyandotte tribe.

Death hung heavy in the air, the moans of the dying filling their ears.

Blood coated Chief Raven's fingers as he approached his son, hiding a smile at Long Knife's declaration.

No one would touch his son's captive.

The slender woman at his son's side met Chief Raven's penetrating gaze with a bravado that impressed him, although, behind her steely gaze, her fear was palpable...or was it sorrow? Chief Raven understood why his son had spared the woman's life, his own heart squeezing in response to her unwavering gaze as her fathomless brown eyes searched his heart.

"My brother," Gentle Doe turned in Long Knife's arms, pointing to the woman hiding behind an overhanging boulder, tears coursing down her cheeks as she held a newborn against her breast.

Chief Raven swallowed the sudden lump in his throat at the sight.

"Let's go home," Chief Raven's voice was constricted as he raised the trembling young woman to her feet, but didn't remove the baby from her arms.

Turning away from the dead, he led their captives away from the dead - away from their past - each step taking them closer to the Wyandotte village and an unknown future.

"Don't cry, Strong Oak," Silver Birch murmured, attempting to soothe the baby crying in her arms. "I will never leave you."

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