Though
it didn't take me quite as long to finish Savage Heart as it did
Indian Summer, it still was delayed somewhat by research. Thanks to
the fine re-enactors in St. Augustine, Florida, and Savannah,
Georgia, I was able to pinpoint my all important date, and finally
finished the sequel to Indian Summer.
It's
the summer of 1740 and rumors of war haunt the small community of St.
Augustine, Florida. Already, Oglethorpe's troops are on the move.
Scouting parties of Creek Indians have moved south, skirting the
town, attacking outlying farms. Meli Chasseur's home came under
attack and she is the only one to escape. Injured and afraid, she
stumbles into Sailfish's camp. Could this be his next chance at true
love?
His
second night out, Sailfish sat up suddenly, woken from a deep sleep.
What sound had he heard that startled him? Surely there were few
creatures who would approach him with a fire beside him? Lying down,
he pretended to fall back to sleep, forcing his breathing to become
slow and even.
A
twig breaking betrayed the intruder's position. Sliding his knife out
of its sheath, he lay still, controlling his breathing. Whoever it
was made little pretense of quiet. Stumbling near the fire, nearly
falling in it, his visitor dropped to the ground.
Sailfish
smelled fresh blood. The breathing was ragged, pain laden. Opening
his eyes, he rose slowly to his knees. It was apparent whoever it was
wouldn't put up a fight, but that didn't mean that it was safe.
Scanning the horizon, he noticed it was near dawn. The faintest
glimmer of light tinged the far east over the ocean.
The
long grass to the west of him rustled, not from wind, for it was
still. Crouching, he waited. The bushes parted and out limped a
panther. It looked old, battle worn, injured. Blood flecked its
flank, crusted and caked in the tawny fur in the folds of skin
beneath its right foreleg.
Snarling
and growling, it approached the body in a heap by the fire. Springing
awkwardly, it tried to land on its prey, but Sailfish intercepted its
lunge. Tackling it, he knocked it off balance, driving his knife into
the creature's bared chest. Twice more he stabbed it, blood spurting
from its wounds, nearly blinding him as he hit an artery.
It
didn't put up much of a fight, for it was already weak from blood
loss. Once it was dead, he dragged it away from his camp and washed
himself in the river. Taking his tin pot, he filled it with water,
carrying it back to the huddled form on the ground. He built up the
fire and started the water heating. When it was boiling, he added
herbs to the water and set it aside to steep.
The
sun was rising in earnest now. Grateful for the light, he gently
rolled the body on its back, feeling for a pulse. He couldn't find
one in the wrist, so moved to the neck. It was faint, thready, but
continuous. Breath came in short, shallow gasps. Blood oozed from
half a dozen wounds.
Taking
his knife, he cut the breeches away from the legs. Working steadily
with rags from the clothing, he dabbed at the slashes. None were very
deep, but there were many. The fellow was lucky the panther was old
and hurt or he'd surely be dead.
As
the sun rose higher in the sky, he saw the face more clearly. The
features were neatly chiseled, the cheekbones high, the eyes wide set
under a curved brow. The young man looked to be of mixed lineage,
probably a mulatto, though there could have been some blood of the
River People as well. Long lashes lay still against the pallid
cheeks. Curly black hair was cropped just above the shoulders,
falling loose around his face.
Sailfish
finished cleaning the leg wounds, binding each one with cloths from
his pack. His water was too bloody to continue, so he dumped it out
on the ground. Washing the pan, he refilled it, heating another batch
of herbs. While it steeped, he cut the shirt away from the torso,
tugging it open.
With
a cry of surprise, Sailfish fell backward. The person lying on the
ground wasn't a young man at all. Puzzled, he gazed into the silent
face. "Who are you and where do you come from?"
©
2017 Dellani Oakes
No comments:
Post a Comment