Thankful (Completed)

Chapter 10- The Feathered Visitor

Snow fell that evening. White flakes illuminated the dark star-less night as they gently sailed down to the new world. And with them, Winter had found her home.

The following morning the pilgrims awoke to winter's icy hands and chilling breath. Winters in England had been kind and tame as one sat close by the roaring fire in the comfort of  home. This winter was harsh and unwelcome while men continued to build homes with frostbitten fingers. The women worked tirelessly at their chores. The gardens had been destroyed by the cold and the people's hearts were despairing.

Emily shivered in her thin shawl. Her hands frozen to the bone as she worked alongside others as they sewed. Blew the ship's deck they sat, protected from the wind but the frosty air was relentless.

Mrs. Smith sat across from Emily. She glanced over at the young girl as she wondered just what went through her mind.  Last night had been a mystery as Emily was carried home late. Her husband had explained where the girl had been but Mrs. Smith could not understand why she had run off when there were sightings of Indians. Did she do it spitfully? Did she have any idea how much worry Mary had endured? More importantly- did she even care?

Emily felt eyes staring at her and she looked up quickly, in time to see that the watchful eyes belonged to Mrs. Smith. Emily looked back down and let out a breath. Cold air escaped her lips.

"You suppose those Indians are the cause of this blizzard?"

All eyes turned to the speaker. An older woman, nigh on 40 years. Quiet  short and stout. Accusation filled her dark brown eyes and her face held a look of suspension.

A young woman of her early twenties stopped her sewing and looked at the woman. With a cherry disposition and kind eyes she answered,

"Now Miss. McCain, you can hardly call this a blizzard, but winter putting a foot in the door."

"What about those Indians? What do you say to that Sue?" Replied the first speaker.

"Surely Indians can not summon winter." Her voice was not as confident as before and it did not go unnoticed.

"I've heard tell of Indians using magic!" Another voice said.

"Winter has never arrived so early before." Said one as she left the sentence open for interpretation.

Mrs. Smith laid down her needle work and slightly frowned.

"None can bring the weather but the good Lord. Have you all forgotten this?"

Heads bent low and work continued in silence. Emily thought over the words and voiced her opinions.

"Did not Jesus give power unto his disciples? Who says the Indians can not bring the winter?"

Work stopped as each woman looked up from their sewing and awaited the reply.

Mrs. Smith looked hard at Emily. "This is a different matter entirely. For one, the disciples were followers of Christ while these Indians do not believe as such. Secondly, calling forth the seasons is speaking of witchcraft and God would not give such power."

"Does not the Bible say that with God all things are possible." Replied the stubborn girl.

Mrs. Smith's face grew red from anger. She had chosen to overlook Emily's disobedience and spoke no word of it but this she could not tolerate.

"To twist scripture is to speak blasphemy and I will not have that. Especially from someone who has never laid eyes on one word of the Bible.

Emily stood and walked away without a single word. She felt the women watching her and it was sometime before the needles were put back to work.

Ashore, Emily's shoes crunched through the snow. She was not only upset but embarrassed.

"How could she say such things to me in a crowd like that?" She thought bitterly to herself.

Her eyes down low at the snow, she walked on without a destination. Suddenly she stopped. There, before her, was a break between the blinding white snow. A soft brown pair of fringed mocossians. Deer skinned clothes covered the tall brown figure and over his shoulders hung a long and decorated shawl. Amid his raven black hair, two beautiful feathers lay.

Emily wanted to scream at the sight but her voice refused to corporate. She wanted to run but her feet refused to move. She could only stand and take in the view.

"Greetings, I am Samoset." He said with a gentle and friendly tone.

Emily was amazed.

"You speak English?"

The Indian nodded and explained.  "Taught by English fishers and traders."

Emily had no idea what to say. Imaginings of Indians dipping into magic and witchcraft filled her mind.

"May I speak with your cheif?"

"We have no chief but I can take you to my village." She spoke with hesitation.

"Thank you-"

"Emily. Emily Johnston." She quickly said.

The man's warm smile melted the chill. "Thank you Emily Johnston. "

A/N
Intresting stuff happening.... a bit of conflict between Emily and Mrs. Smith, and our first Indian visitor! Feel free to vote and comment and Thank you for reading!