World at War

Chapter 2

BANG!

Annoyance fills me and I try to open my eyes, only failing due to the bright light. Who in this village is rude enough to wake others up from their sleep this early in the morning!

BANG! BANG! BANG!

I immediately sit up, my eyes widened. Looking around at my setting, a wave of confusion flashes through me. Many trees, bushes, and fallen leaves surround me. That's when my memory returns with the events from last night. Shock overwhelms my empty heart, as I find it hard to believe of what I have done. I can't believe I ran away! What will happen no-

BANG! BANG! BANG!

My heart thumps, sending my body trembling. The war has began once again, it's probably 8 o'clock in the morning. Off in the distance I could hear a man yell in pain and terror, reminding me of my father... I could never forget that devastating night.. I place my tongue to the roof of my mouth, noticing the rough sandpapery feeling. I must find water...

There are two rivers in the area, I could probably find a way to get fresh water. The only problem is these two rivers --the Ohio River and the St. Lawrence River-- the English and French battle takes place between these two rivers.

I suppose I must start on my journey, and try my best to stay out of sight. I force myself up off of the ground, and my skirt sways past my ankles. I know that this skirt could get annoying, getting stuck on anything that comes in contact with its soft fabric. I lift the clothing so that it doesn't touch the filthy ground. Although, it is already covered in dust, dirt and any other substance that is disgusting in these woods. I strip of the ridiculously long piece of clothing, and rip it so it is one long strip of clothing. I tie it around my hips, and in between, like I would see the mothers do to their precious babies. Now the skirt is comfortable and not slowing me down when I need to escape someone or somewhere. It feels kind of awkward wearing something like this, perhaps it's because all my life I wore skirts.

I begin walking, the cool air racing to my bare legs causing goosebumps to sprout. Each step I take steals courage, courage being the only thing that keeps me from turning around and going back to those stupid cages. My eyes dart everywhere looking for signs of a soldier but no one is to be seen or heard. More loud bangs fill the air making it seem as if the world is shaking, this is probably the men's noisy guns. Why can't they just find a different way of getting what they wish for? Killing seems to be the way of earning certain things, specifics are land.

I finally reach my destination at the edge of the woods, a river appearing in front of me just 10 steps away. My blue eyes travel everywhere around the blue watery heaven, no signs of men anywhere. Other than the English in the far distance marching with red coats on and guns, coast is clear.

That's when my heart comes to an abrupt stop. Two deep voices fill the air little ways behind me, along with loud footsteps. Panicked, I quickly hide behind a bush full of blooming white flowers. They walk closer and I put my hand over my mouth to try taming my breathing. The closer they get, I recognize them and I could place a title of who they are. They must be Native American's of some tribe...

These two muscular men wear very little clothing causing me to shiver in disgust, only enough clothing to cover the lower half of their body. Long black hair hangs loosely to the waist of the one closest to me, the other one having his black hair braided, random feathers planted in the braid. Muscular limbs grip a gun lazily, while the braided Native has a knife. I cringe at the sight, and anger erupts in my core. All men are murderers! Not just the white men?

"Honestly, I wish we joined the English." Speaks the one closest to me.

"Why?" The other asks, coming to a stop where I lay hidden. "The French are trustworthy, not kicking us off their land and such."