Hello!
Here is the 171th chapter! Enjoy!
Thank you Dekol347, Mium, Porthos10, AlexZero12, Ranger_Red, Shingle_Top and George_Bush_2910 for the support!
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Adam was still asleep when the sun rose over the Mohawk village, bathing the world in its comforting rays.
The villagers were already up when the light crossed the tops of the massive trees surrounding the village. Birds were singing cheerfully in the high branches, as if some great contest had been organized that very morning.
The women were already working in the fields, while many of the men had left to hunt. The children, however, were not excluded—unless they were too young to help the adults.
Those little ones were free to run, play among themselves, and enjoy life.
Adam awoke with a start, not knowing where he was—or even who he was—for a brief moment.
He sat up suddenly… and smacked his head hard against the wooden structure that took up the entire right side of the longhouse.
"Ow! Shit!"
That hurt! I'm going to have a bruise!
Holding one hand to his forehead, he looked around, dazed. He didn't remember going to bed.
Damn… Uh, we talked and ate… then smoked that thing of theirs. Hell, my head feels like a watermelon…
The inside of the longhouse was still dim, but there was enough light to make out shapes. The smell of burnt wood and tobacco hung in the air, clinging to his clothes.
Carefully, he got out of his bedding and made his way to a door that seemed rather small compared to the rest of the building. As soon as he stepped outside, the daylight assaulted him.
Gobblegobblegobble!
A panicked turkey ran past him, chased by a shirtless little boy with his hair blowing in the wind.
The boy was laughing out loud, clearly enjoying terrifying the poor animal, which must have feared for its life.
Adam watched them circle a small fire pit surrounded by rustic wooden benches, then disappear behind a house.
Not far off, an adult entered the village carrying an armful of freshly cut firewood.
Beside him, an African slave helped carry more wood. They dropped their load in a kind of storage shed that was already well stocked.
Then Adam saw her.
Onatah was walking with a graceful stride, a long stick over her shoulder, from which hung several silver-scaled fish.
She soon noticed him—standing there motionless in front of the longhouse as if he'd taken root. She quickly lowered her gaze, for no clear reason.
She hung the fish on a wooden rack to dry in the sun, then walked toward him.
"Good morning. You're finally awake," she said in careful but lightly accented French, a teasing smile on her lips.
"Ahah, yeah. I slept really well. I'm not sure if it's because I was truly exhausted, or if it was the calumet that knocked me out."
The young native girl laughed softly—a divine symphony to Adam's ears.
"Maybe it was both?"
"Maybe. I don't even remember going to bed."
Onatah narrowed her eyes slightly and shyly clasped her hands in front of her.
"Really? Not at all?"
Adam caught a hint of disappointment in her voice, but it quickly faded, replaced by a dazzling smile.
"Well, then you must've been really tired. Hmm… The soldiers who came with you are already awake, but they're still in the longhouse where they spent the night."
"Oh, good. I'm not surprised. It's not often we get to lie down and enjoy the morning like this."
"Really?" said the young woman, tilting her head slightly with curiosity. "What's it usually like at the fort?"
Adam gave a soft smile.
"We get up early, especially in summer when it gets as hot as it has these past few days. We work, we train, we patrol, we eat, we sleep, and we start all over again. Me, well… it's a bit different. I have to write a lot of documents, make sure all my men are properly equipped, that they're not lacking anything, that they all get paid, and I have to keep learning so I can serve my king well. Books on strategy, things like that."
Onatah nodded gently, though several of his words had escaped her.
"Now that I think about it, you speak French really well. That's incredible! You must have worked hard!"
Onatah smiled more broadly, happy to hear such praise—words she had hoped to hear since the first day she began learning the language from the matriarch.
"Th-thank you. I… still have a long way to go."
"Not that long, I swear! You express yourself very well, your pronunciation is correct, and you're very fluent. It's a real pleasure to be able to talk with you like this."
The daughter of Chief Akwiratheka was so pleased she couldn't hold Adam's gaze. She looked away—and spotted her father's head in the distance, peeking out from inside his house.
He was watching them from afar, which instantly ruined the young woman's good mood. She frowned sharply and turned back to Adam, who was more than a head taller than her.
Without warning, she grabbed his hand.
Adam opened his mouth, stunned, his blue eyes locked onto hers—so dark they seemed capable of devouring the world.
"Come! I have something to show you!"
"W-what? W-wait! What are you doing?"
"No questions, just follow me."
Adam let himself be swept away, his heart pounding with curiosity and excitement. His mind quickly began to imagine all sorts of things.
***
Akwiratheka clenched his teeth in fury. His face turned bright red as he saw his precious daughter being led away by that foreigner—for in his eyes, it was Adam who was guiding Onatah out of the village.
He stepped out of the shadows and strode toward the village entrance, fists clenched. But he had barely taken a few steps when a familiar figure appeared and blocked his path.
His sister. The matriarch.
Leaning on her long staff carved with intricate patterns and adorned with feathers and small shells that looked like gemstones, she stood before him like an unshakable wall. At her side stood her apprentice.
He tried to move around her, but she firmly stepped in his way.
"What do you think you're doing?! I don't have time for this!" he growled, eyes fixed on his daughter disappearing into the distance.
The matriarch raised her staff, forming a barrier in front of the chief. In his haste, he bumped into it and nearly knocked her over.
He barely managed to catch her with the apprentice's help.
"This is no game, Chief. The village needs you. You must go immediately to the other tribes to warn them of the situation."
"I... I know, but—"
His desperate eyes searched for his daughter's silhouette, but she was already out of sight. His blood turned cold in his veins.
"There are no buts," the matriarch cut in. "You have duties to fulfill."
The giant, more massive than a mountain compared to his now frail sister, held back the protest that rose in his throat—the words he longed to say: that he had a duty to protect his beloved daughter as well.
But the words wouldn't come out.
He suddenly regretted having so harshly dismissed all her suitors. There had been many, especially over the past five years.
It must be said, his daughter was both beautiful and virtuous. One would have to be mad not to consider her the perfect match for marriage.
The problem lay with the quality of the suitors. None were ever good enough in the eyes of the great Akwiratheka.
In truth, even if they had possessed every virtue in the world, he would have found some excuse to say no. He wanted to keep his daughter safe from men, to preserve her innocence forever.
Now, he could do nothing but shed tears. Onatah was eighteen and still unmarried, and a stranger—a Frenchman, no less—had begun to circle around her.
Intolerable! Unacceptable! I won't allow it!
"I... I understand, Matriarch. I-I'll take care of it. Just—"
"Now," she insisted, her voice brooking no argument. "If you delay, it may cost you more than you realize. You've been warned."
The warrior bit his lip and searched desperately for a way out. He spotted his second son returning from the hunt, carrying a few wild geese.
"Tayohseron! Come here!"
The young warrior, his head partially shaved, looked surprised but approached, holding a goose in each hand by the neck. His father bent down and whispered in a low, serious voice only he could hear.
"Your sister left alone with the little Frenchman. I can't follow them... So you must go in my place. Watch them. If he dares lay a finger on her... you come get me. Understood?"
Tayohseron swallowed hard but nodded firmly.
He left immediately, but not before exchanging a furtive glance with the matriarch. She gave him a discreet wink that went unnoticed by the chief.
***
Onatah led Adam to a small clearing outside the village, where the river carved wide bends through the land.
The place was peaceful, as if cut off from the world and all its dangers.
In the center stood a small hill, surrounded by wildflowers where bees and bumblebees busily gathered nectar. There were also some crickets—unseen but loud—and a few colorful butterflies.
At the top of the hill stood a large, solitary tree, white as ivory, that looked ancient.
There were no leaves on its branches, giving it a sorrowful, lonely appearance.
If it had been human, it would surely be an old man or woman, sitting on a bench with a wool blanket over their knees, forgotten in a park, lost in precious memories slowly fading with time.
Its trunk was split, as if a gigantic sword had struck it down, and its branches stretched out like arms reaching for the sky.
Adam didn't know what kind of tree it was, but he felt it held something special. A secret story.
He was deeply moved.
There was no path, yet the grass was flattened, forming a trail that led directly to it. Clearly, someone came here often.
Onatah followed the path, still holding Adam's hand. Together, they began to climb the hill.It wasn't very high, and yet, once they reached the top, Adam felt as though he had climbed to the roof of the world.
The clearing stretched out before him, serene and luminous, like an island lost in the middle of the ocean. The colors of the wildflowers looked like bold brushstrokes on a great master's canvas.
The trees surrounding the hill suddenly seemed humble—petty nobles standing before a monarch enthroned at the center of his realm.
Below, the wide river looked no more than a narrow stream, threatened with vanishing.
Onatah and Adam stopped at the foot of the tree, whose gnarled roots emerged from the ground here and there.
Without letting go of Adam's broad hand, the beautiful native woman placed her other palm gently on the tree's trunk. The contrast between her dark skin and the pale white bark was striking.
Adam remained silent, watching Onatah, instinctively sensing that this was not a place for casual words.
They stood there a long time, unmoving and silent. A soft breeze blew in from the south, dancing through Onatah's long black hair.
At last, she broke the silence. Her voice was gentler than usual, almost a whisper.
"This is where my mother rests. We used to come here often, when I was a child."
She paused, hearing in the wind the distant laughter and voice of her mother.
"My parents were married here. This place… meant a great deal to them. When we needed rest, or time together, we would come here. Kahionhes, Tayohseron, and my father would go fishing by the river while my mother, Rawenniyo, and I made flower crowns."
A tear slid down her cheek.
"I was five or six… when she returned to the spirits. She died giving birth to Tehonwaskaron. My father… I don't think he ever recovered. I know he still comes here often. My brothers, less so. I think this place hurts too much now. Even though Tehonwaskaron never got to know those days, and Rawenniyo… I doubt he remembers. He was too young."
Adam nodded slowly, his face solemn. He simply listened to Onatah's voice, heavy with deep emotion.
She brushed away another tear with a quick gesture, then offered a bittersweet smile.
"I'm… glad I can show you this place. It feels like… I'm introducing you to my mother."
Slowly, almost reluctantly, she released Adam's hand and bowed respectfully to the old, lifeless tree.
Then she began to speak in her native tongue.
"Hello, Mother. I came with someone special today. I've wanted to introduce him to you… for a while now. His name is François… but also Adam. He comes from the future, like the Great Peacemaker. I've… already told you about him."
Adam watched Onatah, his heart tangled in emotions. He hesitated a moment, but only for a second.
He stepped forward and stood before the tree.
"Hello, ma'am… Um, it's nice to meet you. I… I wish I'd had the chance to meet you in person… Uh, your daughter is very kind to me."
He then felt Onatah's hand slip into his once more. Their fingers intertwined, like the branches of two trees—one white, one brown—growing side by side without crowding each other.
Adam could clearly feel the softness of her skin, her warmth, and even the wild rhythm of her heartbeat. Onatah felt the same.
"With her father… it's a bit complicated, but I think we're making progress. At least it's better than when we first met. I'm sure that if you'd been there, things would've gone differently—more gently. But I get along really well with Tayohseron and Tehonwaskaron. They're very kind too, and I think we'll stay friends."
A warm breeze brushed their faces.
For a moment, the young man had the strange sensation that another presence was with them on that hill. A benevolent one.
Onatah tightened her grip on Adam's hand, then turned toward him. Her cheeks were burning—just as they had the day before, when she had replaced her brother to walk the man she loved back to his longhouse.
Just as they had when she dared to touch his hand, then his cheek. Just as they had when she dared to kiss him.
Adam's heart began to race.
His hands turned clammy, and his mind spun.
Onatah took a half-step closer and rose onto her toes. Adam leaned in slightly, his bright blue eyes fixed on the girl's lips in front of him.
They seemed to call to him, like the irresistible song of a siren.
But who would want to resist?
He parted his lips slightly and finally felt the warmth of hers press against his. They were soft—almost melting beneath the contact.
Onatah closed her eyes. Adam watched her.
It was her first kiss. She didn't know what she was doing, what she was supposed to do, but her body knew for her.
Adam, more experienced, gently guided her into a deeper kiss. He introduced her to the famous French kiss.
Surprised, she opened her eyes, but closed them again almost at once, swept away by the dizzying moment. Her body no longer obeyed her.
She drew even closer, sliding against him, and let herself be carried away—like a leaf in the autumn wind… or a petal in the spring breeze.
-----------------------------------------
When they returned to the village, Adam's men were waiting for him, ready to depart.
A single glance at their captain's face was enough for them to understand that something had happened while they'd been enjoying their morning—something rather significant, judging by the light in his eyes and the flush on his cheeks.
Wide grins spread across their faces—genuine, teasing, conspiratorial, and just a little envious, for that Indian girl was a rare beauty.
Adam instantly wished he could sink into the ground.
But he was their officer!
"Wipe those stupid grins off your faces! Form up, two by two! Garde-à-vous!"
The soldiers quickly pulled themselves together, though the trace of a smile still lingered on a few lips.
Adam glanced over his shoulder and saw that Onatah had stepped away, heading toward the village center with deliberately casual strides.
"Wait here and hold formation!"
He caught up with her in a few long steps and found the matriarch with her apprentice. The look they gave him betrayed no uncertainty.
They knew too.
"Ah, to be young," the matriarch murmured with a soft smile.
Onatah, visibly embarrassed, stomped her foot.
"Matriarch!"
"Oh-hoh, I'm just teasing," she said with a laugh. "Well then, my boy, I suppose it's time for you to leave?"
"Yes, matriarch. I need to return to Fort Bourbon to make my report. Um… where is the chief?"
"He's preparing for his own departure. He must warn the other nations and call for a council of the nations as soon as possible. Once Thayendanegea is publicly condemned, it'll be far harder for him to rally warriors. Those who follow him will likely abandon him. You may tell your chief as much."
"Thank you, matriarch. Should I wait for him?"
"Oh-hoh, I wouldn't recommend that, my boy. You'd best leave before the storm hits."
Adam raised an eyebrow and looked up at a perfectly clear sky.
Onatah jabbed him in the ribs with her elbow.
"Ow! O-OK, I get it! I'm going! Well… until next time."
He bowed respectfully to the matriarch and her apprentice, then turned to Onatah.
He lingered there a moment, unsure of what to do.
The memory of her burning lips was still so fresh—it felt as though he were kissing her still. But here, in her father's village…
With regret, he simply bowed to her as well, then stepped back and turned around. He rejoined his men and, heart heavy yet pounding, crossed through the village gates.