Blood Brothers in Louisbourg Read Online Free PDF

day.
    Two-feathers stared for a very long time. The sacred tree was a very fitting resting place for his mother; he was not upset to have found her so. And yet, the certainty that she had gone into the spirit world opened a fresh wound in his heart for which there was no medicine. The only weapon against such pain was acceptance. But it did not sit as well as it might have. Half of his quest still lay unsolved.
    He took his time and prepared a comfortable camp where he would stay for a few days. He wanted to say many prayers in honour of his mother. And so he cut the stems of young poplar trees, peeled wide sheets of bark from old birch trees and fashioned a small teepee. In front of it he dug a pit and rounded it with stones. There he lit a fire that he kept going for three days. He searched the melting woods for the roots of plants, which he burned for their ceremonial scent, all the while chanting words of remembrance and acceptance.
    On the third day, Two-feathers constructed a mortar out of clay and dead grass. He slowly kneaded the mixture next to the fire inside the teepee, while spring rain fell outside. It was his intention to seal the opening of the sacred tree and preserve his mother’s final resting place. When the mortar was ready he decided to take one final gaze at his mother’s bones. The rain fell against his back as he squeezed the front of his torso into the tree. After a few minutes his eyes adjusted to the darkness. He whispered his final goodbye. But just as he was about to leave, the sun appeared from behind a cloud, even as the rain continued to fall. A ray of the sun’s light pierced the darkness within the tree and reflected off something shiny among the bones of his mother’s ribs. Curious, Two-feathers reached inside and picked up the shiny piece. It was a smooth, turquoise stone pendant attached to a strip of leather. Powerful memories flooded his head. The little stone, with a woman’s face etched into it, was familiar to him. Images of it dangling above his outstretched arms came to him. Had not his mother bent over his bed with the shiny stone swinging above him? Hadn’t he reached for it while she spoke loving words to him, and sang to him?
    Two-feathers felt the wound tear fresh in his heart as he squeezed the stone in his palm. But the pain faded quickly, like waking from a hurtful dream, and he thanked his mother’s spirit for the precious gift, fitted the stone around his neck and began to seal the tree.
    â€”
    The evidence of trading parties showed as Two-feathers grew closer to the bluecoats’ great village. Old campsites littered the woods. Drinking jugs, discarded snowshoes, broken sleds and tools stuck out of the snow here and there. The woods became thin. For every tree now there were two or three stumps. Had the bluecoats come so far to feed the fires of their village? As cautious as a fox he examined everything he passed. He would not walk blindly into a place he did not know, amongst a people with whom he did not belong. But soon he came upon a small group that included some of his own people. There were two older warriors, a younger one and a couple of white-skinned warriors. All were acting strangely. At first he thought they were sick. They were swaying back and forth and falling down. But they were also singing and laughing and shouting. After he watched them for a while he realized they were also drinking, just like the redcoats he had passed, only this drink was making them lose their minds. Two-feathers remembered the warnings of his elders and felt that he should help these warriors, even though they were older than him. And so he strode right into their company, pulled the drink from their hands and started spilling it onto the ground.
    â€œNo! No!” shouted the warriors. “What are you doing? Stop!” They swung at him in an effort to stop him. But he easily avoided their blows.
    â€œThis drink is making you sick,”