washed further away from her burning village and everything she’d ever known.
Desperately she grabbed at a log near her, hoping to use it to keep from drowning.
Wrapping her arms around it, she rested her head against the rough bark as tears ran down her cheeks. As much as she longed to join her sister, she wasn’t ready to die yet.
“I love you, Orenda, but I can’t die simply to rejoin you, no matter what our mother wants.”
Onatah was jerked out of her daze when the log she grasped finally bumped ashore. Opening her eyes, she glanced around in the dark but nothing looked familiar.
Wearily she unwrapped her protesting arms and tried to stand. Swaying she tried to stagger and crawl out of the river. As her knees buckled, a pair of masculine arms wrapped around her and lifted her from the St. Lawrence’s icy water.
“Shh, ma puissance, I’ve got you, now.” The deep baritone nearly had her fainting. Had the soldiers found her? Looking up, shock washed over her as she recognized the man holding her. It was the man from her dream. What was his name?
Yes… Ragtow.
“Thou can’t be here! Did thou come with the soldiers?” Fear washed over her, and she tried to struggle in his arms.
“No, ma tranquillite, you came to us in our time.” The deep voice on her right had her head turning. It was the second man from her dream… Jack.
“Thou’s time? What does thou mean?”
“It’s the year two thousand and ten, Onatah, and the Great Spirit decided to finally gift us with you. You’re the third member of our Triad. Ours to love, cherish, and protect.”
A scream of shock and astonished disbelief escaped her and for the first time in her life, Onatah fainted.
Chapter Three
The smell of something heavenly teased her nose. It smelled something like the hickory coffee her mother sometimes traded furs with the settlers for. With the lean winter they’d just come through, what few furs they’d managed to collect for trading had been used for staples such as flour and salt. Opening her eyes, she slowly sat up and looked around. She was in the longhouse from her dream! How had she gotten here?
She moaned softly as memories of the fire and her mother pushing her into the river.
She remembered fighting for her life against the strong current. Somehow she’d managed to survive the river but how…
The sound of two voices pitched low and speaking French reached her ears as the unfamiliar sound of what she thought might be a wood door closing and opening, had her looking around the room for a place to hide. How had she ended up in the settler’s village? If she stayed here, she’d be hunted as a witch for sure. The white man didn’t understand the difference between a medicine woman-healer and a witch.
Shoving the blankets off her, she sprang from the huge raised pallet only to stumble as her shaky knees protested the idea of her walking. The urgent need to relieve herself had her holding onto the wall of the room. Looking towards the door 271
where the voices were coming from, she chose to use the other one. She wasn’t taking any chances.
Slipping inside the room, she looked around in shock. The long basin along the far wall looked similar to what white men used to water their horses. But surely they didn’t bring horses inside? Spotting an oddly shaped seat next to it, she walked over and lifted the lid. Blue water greeted her. Seeing a shiny handle she experimentally pushed it. She jumped back as the water swirled as it disappeared only to be replaced by more blue water. What kind of sorcery was this? Licking her lips as the sound of running water increased her urge to relieve herself, she finally lifted the short gown she was wearing and sat down. She shivered when the cool porcelain touched her bottom.
She let out a deep sigh afterwards and stood. Pushing down on the lever once more, she was pleased to see it washed away the evidence. Turning she approached a smaller round basin and fiddled with the levers. When water rushed from a spout, she washed her hands before drying them on the soft towel hanging from a wall hook.
Reentering the room, she stared at the large pallet that dominated the room’s center. This room was obviously used for sleeping, but did an entire family sleep on the strangely elevated pallet? She’d just made her way back to it when the wooden door opened and one of the men from her dream walked in carrying a tray. The delicious smells triggered her hunger. But she was still afraid of him. Scrambling around the bed, she tried to hide from his view.
“What are you doing out of bed, ma puisannce? Did you find the bathroom? ” The thick French accent she heard seemed odd coming from the copper skinned man.
“Thou…thou aren’t real. Is this another dream?”
Setting the tray on the stand next to the bed, Ragtow walked around the bed.
Lifting her with ease despite her struggles, he set her back amongst the rumpled sheets. She swallowed, as the lust she’d seen in his eyes during her dream, returned this morning. “Stay put, Onatah. Jack would have my hide if I let you catch a chill. He takes his job as a nurse quite seriously.”
She frowned at him. “Nurse?” She mulled the word over in her head before giggling when she tried to imagine the other man from her dream nursing a babe.
“Tis not possible…”
“Ah, the language barrier. Jack is what you would probably consider a healer helper. He assists doctors…healers…with caring for the patients.”
Understanding washed over her. “He is a special man then.”
Ragtow sat down on the edge of the bed and held out the cup of orange colored liquid to her. She cocked her head. “What is it?”
“It’s orange juice, ma puissance. Try it.” Holding the glass to her lips, he allowed her to sip on it. The burst of citrus along her tongue was surprising. It was both tart and sweet. When he took the glass from her mouth, she protested.
“A little bit at a time. Too much, too fast can make you sick. Or so I’ve been told.”
The bang of the outside door had her looking up. Tucking her hair behind her ear, Ragtow looked down at her. “That will be Pajackok, or Jack as most call him. Our company has just arrived. Someone has been quite anxious to see you again.”
Pulling the covers up to her chin, she stared at him with big eyes and trembled with fear. She didn’t want to meet anyone else from this strange time.
“Do you honestly think either Jack or I would allow another to hurt you? We’re here to love, cherish and protect you. We would sooner cut off our own arms than allow you to be hurt.”
She shook her head as the voices grew closer. They both seemed familiar. There was definitely a man’s and a woman’s voice coming from the other part of the longhouse.
“I know it’s going to be a lot to ask but I want you to trust us, ma puissance.”
She swallowed as the door opened and Jack strode in, in all his glory. Desire shimmered along her nerve endings as his fluid stride brought him to her side in three long strides. Tipping her head back, she couldn’t help but be amazed at his height. He was taller than any man she’d ever seen. With his hair neatly divided and braided, he looked immaculate in the cream breeches and button down shirt. He was quite the contrast to Ragtow, who was wearing the faded denim jeans from her dream and a soft tunic with his hair flowing down his back. She noticed the tunic was the same color as the one she was wearing herself. Perhaps it belonged to the man.
“Good morning, ma tranqililite. I’ve brought you a visitor. Do you feel up to seeing her? After last night’s experience I can understand if you’re not ready. You’ve been through a lot. It’s not every day a woman travels almost two hundred years into the future.”