the slippery surface of the wet hill and skidded to a halt at the summit. The village was spread out below him. It slept before him in utter silence. He waited anxiously for some sign of human activity. Only the excited cries of small forest creatures waking up to a new day brought life to the tranquil village scene. His heart sank.
He leaped down the steep slope, entered the village gate and stopped. In the mud were hundreds of footprints, all leading out and away from the village. He was too late. How long had he been away since his previous dream? Was it only hours, weeks or years? Had Taenhatenaron already been captured and Ste. Marie burned to the ground? Had his friends been tortured or killed? Helplessness and despair swept through Jesse. He sensed he was too late.
Then, in the morning mist, just a hint of burning wood tickled his nostrils. Fire! And fire meant people. Trying not to get his hopes up, he trotted to the entrance of the largest longhouse and looked in. There were long rows of sleeping benches on either side of the longhouse. A fire pit was located about every three metres along the central walkway that led to a distant exit at the far end. Jesse counted a total of twelve pits. His sensitive nose twitched again. There was definitely smoke still in the air. But the pits looked dark and cold. How long had the fire been out?
Nervously, for deer are always nervous creatures, Jesse carefully stepped into the longhouse. Piles of wood for winter had been stored underneath the sleeping benches. Discarded blankets lay on several beds, and food still filled baskets that hung from the ceiling rafters by rope. Many valuable items had been left behind. The people had left the village in a hurry. He approached the first fire pit. He carefully lowered his front hoof into the inky ashes. Warmth tingled his cold foot. Jesse figured it would only take a day for the pits to grow cold. That meant the village must have been abandoned only hours ago! Perhaps there was still time!
Jesse launched out of the longhouse. The sky had lightened. He had no time to waste. If he could reach the villagers before they made it to Taenhatenaron, he could warn them of the impending danger. Once they were within the village's walls, Jesse would be killed by either French or Wendat hunters long before he could ever relay his words of warning to Iondaee.
As Jesse took his first steps toward the gate, a distant shadow made him freeze. Something was wrong. The forest was suddenly still. The chattering squirrels had become quiet. Even the light breeze that had been blowing now seemed to be holding its breath. A scent of danger drifted past his quivering nostrils. Humans. A second shadow leapt from one trunk to another with the silence of a spectre. Iroquois!
They were beginning their attack on the village! Jesse's eyes widened in fear. With the people gone, the only thing remaining for them to attack was him! There was no time to hesitate further. With all of his natural speed and agility, Jesse flew for the gate. Bodies suddenly appeared from behind dozens of trees to the south of the village. There wasn't a whooping charge of crazed attackers as he had seen portrayed in the Saturday afternoon movies. Jesse's heart pounded as the only movement from over a hundred warriors was to simply raise their bow and take dead aim at the fleeing deer.
Jesse nearly lost his balance as he dug his front hooves into the soft dirt outside the gate and veered hard to the left. The sudden change in direction saved his life. Dozens of arrows zinged past his backside. The deadly, stone arrowheads sounded like a rapid-fire cap gun as they smacked hard into the outer stockade. Jesse's massive back legs launched him through the vegetables and along the curving outer wall. Shocked by the unexpected bolt of the deer, the other warriors, who had resisted firing, readjusted their aim. More arrows sailed above his head and into the dirt by his hooves. One missile, heading for his ribs, was miraculously slowed by a ripe ear of corn. The impact ripped it clear from its stalk, and the cob merely bounced off his pumping flank.
By the time the Iroquois warriors had reloaded their bows, Jesse was now far enough around the stockade that it acted as a shield from the onslaught. He took a quick glance over his shoulder to ensure that he was well-protected by the wall before changing course again and sprinting through the remaining field of vegetables and into the protective curtain of the surrounding forest.
There was no time to pause. Jesse's mind was completely focused on the task at hand. He had to find the villagers. Trees blurred, and his breathing deepened. He let his deer instincts take over and guide him through the deadly maze of trunks and fallen debris. He effortlessly leapt streams and rocks, bounded up and over hills, and flew over the mossy forest floor until his legs ached with fiery cramps. How long had he been running? He'd lost track of time. His legs buckled from exhaustion. He had to stop, if only to catch his breath and give his legs a rest. A larger river came into view as he burst into a small clearing. He slid to a stop and used precious seconds to drink water from the cool surface of the river. It instantly refreshed him.
Jesse gazed both ways along the river. The villagers' trail led to the river's edge, but it had now disappeared. Did they cross the river? He doubted it. It would have taken a small navy of canoes to carry the entire village across. Then they must have followed the river bank. Did they go upstream or downstream? Jesse tried to remember what Uncle Matthew had told him about Taenhatenaron. Iondaee had also mentioned that Ste. Marie, near Taenhatenaron, was close to the Great Water. Jesse tried to picture the map of Ontario in his head. The nearest Great Lake would be Lake Huron and Georgian Bay. He knew that all the rivers in this area would likely flow into the Georgian Bay basin. His decision was made. He would travel towards Georgian Bay and hope to pick up the trail further downstream.
His animal instincts told him to travel within the cover of the forest. He left the bank of the river and scampered back into the safety of the trees. Keeping an eye on the river to his left, he darted as quickly as he could through the thicker vegetation. The floor was no longer wide and open as it was in the heart of the forest, so he had to be careful not to get tangled up in the undergrowth for fear of breaking a leg.
He came to a trail. It snaked through the green forest floor towards the north and Georgian Bay. The human footprints in the soft earth were all going in the same direction, downstream. He lowered his nose and sniffed. The familiar scent told him that it was indeed the people of the village. Taenhatenaron and Ste. Marie must be close. If he was seen by the Jesuits, he would likely be shot and served up as tonight's dinner special. He had to catch up to his friends before he became their last supper.
The path left the river bank and took a big curve around a swamp. Although he was scared to move into the open, Jesse saw the swamp as an opportunity to eliminate precious minutes from the chase. Without hesitating, Jesse launched himself into the water. He splashed mightily through the hoof-sucking goo. It was exhausting, and his legs began to buckle, but somehow he forced himself onwards. He had almost made it to the safety of the other side when he heard a sharp crack. Something whistled just over his head and a tall, dead tree stump next to him exploded into a hail of splinters. Shouts of anger burst from the river. The shouts were in French! Jesse glanced over to see a man reloading his musket, cursing at the other in the stern of a rocking canoe.
Panicked, Jesse dove for the cover of the far shore. Just as he ducked behind the first bush on dry land, a branch above his head was blown off its trunk. His chest heaving, he had to stop to catch his breath. He pulled up behind a thick bush. He had made it back to cover and safety.
The sudden crying of a baby caused him to stiffen. The wails were so close! He peered through a hedge of bushes. Just a stone's throw away was a parade of women and children moving in a line through the forest. They looked weary and dispirited. The children were openly complaining that they wanted to rest, but the mothers simply shook their heads and kept them marching. He recognized Asitari, the hunter who had shot him, leading the procession, weapon in hand. Jesse didn't want another encounter with him, even if Iondaee had explained everything to him after he had left. At the end of the line was Iondaee. He also had his bow drawn, walking backwards. His eyes were scanning the woods for danger, and he was crouched for action. Jesse waited for the group to pass and for Iondaee to move closer.
“Iondaee,
