The New World

Chapter Fourteen

My eyes fluttered open to a dimly lit room. My eyelids were heavy with exhaustion. My wounds on my wrists ached. Once I began to get my boundaries, I realized that everything hurt. My memory flashed back to yesterday; the beating, the hitting, the bleeding. I rolled onto my back and looked at where I was. Then I remembered, I was in the tent.  I slowly sat up and moaned.

"Are you alright?" a voice asked, almost panicked.

I jumped, startled and saw the native staring at me from the other side of the tent. His eyes were intense as he waited for my answer. I couldn't find my voice. I looked away, breaking eye contact. Parallel from my cot was a bed made of furs and blankets, just like the one I used to use.

I looked back at the native. He walked to the fur bed and sat down. He was shirtless and wore buckskin pants and moccasins. Muscles were his cup of tea. I could tell he did a lot a heavy lifting, but he was lean; not too buff.

His hair was pulled back into a low ponytail that went down his back, no feather in sight. He grabbed a canteen and opened it. He stared at me while he took a gulp of water. His intense eyes bore into mine, making my breathing stutter.

I licked my dry lips and realized how parched I was. He wiped his mouth of access water and held out the canteen. I really wanted a drink. But what if he was tricking me? I took my chance and reached out to it with a shaky hand.

He let me have it and I gulped down the water. "Do not drink too much so fast on an empty stomach," he said, standing up. I removed my mouth from the canteen.

"You will get sick," he took the canteen from me and screwed on the lid. I felt my whole body shake with nerves.

"Am-- am I your-- prisoner?" I muttered quietly.

He tossed the canteen, gently by his stuff and shrugged.

"Are you going to-- kill me?"

He shrugged again. My breath hitched in my throat. He grabbed a pack and left me.

~~~~~~~~~

He held up a dead rabbit. My eyebrows furrowed together, "What?"

"You will cook my meals," he said simply.

I crossed my arms, "I will not."

He dropped it by my feet, "Then you will not eat either."

Astonished, I huffed and grabbed the dead rabbit by the neck, "I need a knife."

He tried to hide a smirk and pulled out one made of stone. I took it in hand and looked at its blade. How could this cut anything? But I walked over to his kitchen area and flopped down the rabbit. I began to skin it and remove the organs and fat. Father used to hunt back in England and when we first got here before shops were available. Once Mother married Harold, I've never had to skin anything or gut it out.

"I will make a fire," the native said and left.

The sun was beginning to set, casting the sky oranges and purples. Right when I finished with the rabbit, he came inside. He nodded to the flap door, telling me to go cook. I had never cooked over an open fire. I prayed that I wouldn't burn it.

I turned the cooking rabbit over the fire on a stick. I looked over at the Longhouses. Fire light came out the windows and smoke came out the top. It was quiet, but I knew they were telling stories and singing songs while they ate by the fire.

"You are burning it," a voice interrupted my thoughts.

I looked at the rabbit. It had caught flame. I quickly pulled it out and rolled it on the grass to put it out. The fire was out and the rabbit smoked black. I felt tears form in my eyes, "I'm so sorry! I-- I didn't mean too. I was lost in thought and I--"