Blood Brothers in Louisbourg by Philip Roy Page B

wasn’t that. Many soldiers were away. They had left on the ship that must also have carried his father. But it wasn’t that either. As he watched the guard leave his post at the leader’s door – it was guarded by only one soldier now – and move quickly to meet his relief and gobble up a piece of bread handed to him, Two-feathers realized what it was. The soldiers were hungry. The village was hungry. The season of plenty had passed and they were not prepared for the winter. He thought of all the redcoats being kept prisoner, who needed to be fed; it wasn’t hard to understand why there was a shortage of food. To run out so early in the season meant the winter would be very harsh indeed. Many people would die, especially the young and the old. And while this was nature’s way – it held no favourites – he had expected the bluecoats to know better and be better prepared. He already considered the size of their village foolish. The spirits would never bless such a gathering of people in one area for so long. The animals, trees and plants would disappear, as indeed they had. Why didn’t the bluecoats know this? They should have known this. He questioned their ability to survive in this land. While they appeared to try hard in some ways, they did not appear to have the wisdom required for survival here.
    He went upstairs and passed the snoring leader. The rooms were so big and empty and it amazed him to see them again. He picked up the scent of flowers in the air and knew the girl of the rainbow was there. He entered the room where he had found her before and there she was, curled up in bed. Again she reminded him of his mother. Her hair lay across her shoulders as she slept. He liked her hair down. It looked more natural to him. He spotted the blue stone around her neck. She was wearing it. That pleased him. He was glad he had given it to her. Her face in sleep was a child’s face, so different from how it was when she was awake, and he wondered if she had been forced to grow up too quickly, as many children were, as he had been. And yet, though she was about the same age as him, there was something about her that seemed older too, something that showed only when she was awake. She carried a wisdom that was foreign to him. He didn’t know what it was but suspected maybe it was natural only to women. He believed his mother would have had it. He admired it.
    He didn’t want to wake her but didn’t want to hurry away either. Gently, he sat on the bed and watched her sleep. Her face twisted into a frown suddenly, then relaxed. Her brow would furrow, then spread evenly again. Her sleep was filled with dreams, difficult ones. And then, she woke. She sat up quickly, saw him and was startled. Her forehead showed her anxiety. But as the dream trailed away, her face softened, she beamed and threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. He was startled too and didn’t know what to do. Her squeeze pressed his wounds and he winced. She pulled back, alarmed, staring questioningly into his eyes. He smiled to reassure her. She saw the bear-claw necklaces around his neck and her eyes opened wider. Touching them, she questioned him again with her eyes. He raised the smaller one over his head and gave it to her. She took it gracefully then raised the blue pendant in her hand to show him she was wearing it. She held it over her heart and smiled. Then she got up from the bed, went to her armoire and pulled a large wool frock from it. She carried it over and handed it to him.
    â€œI made this for you,” she said. “It’s for the winter.”
    It was the first time she had spoken to him. Two-feathers smiled and held up the heavy wool top. He stared at it and pinched the sheep’s wool between his fingers with fascination. She had dyed the wool a smoky grey, a perfect colour for coming and going at night. Gently, she raised his arms and fitted the garment over him. Her