Wood Spirit - 1814 Ch. 01

Story Info
The Entity claims a new bride.
2.3k words
4.07
48k
5

Part 2 of the 10 part series

Updated 10/29/2022
Created 07/08/2007
Share this Story

Font Size

Default Font Size

Font Spacing

Default Font Spacing

Font Face

Default Font Face

Reading Theme

Default Theme (White)
You need to Log In or Sign Up to have your customization saved in your Literotica profile.
PUBLIC BETA

Note: You can change font size, font face, and turn on dark mode by clicking the "A" icon tab in the Story Info Box.

You can temporarily switch back to a Classic Literotica® experience during our ongoing public Beta testing. Please consider leaving feedback on issues you experience or suggest improvements.

Click here

July 30, 1814

We left Missouri on May 1st. I managed to stay by my brother Thomas's side by disguising myself as one of the 140 young lads who had volunteered for the battle further up river.

We were alone in the world, the two of us, and though St Louis had been recommended to us by neighbors back east after our parents died, Thom was uncertain what type of life a young woman could have in what amounted to wilderness.

Captain Sullivan thought the novelty of having along a lad who furiously recorded each step of our progress in his diary – that lad being myself – would be a grand publication for the colonies back east after this campaign was won, and so – the other sixty day volunteers let me record in my journal each night without their usual good natured jesting at my expense.

Now, wandering tired and sore along this river after losing Thom, I had to question my stubbornness at being allowed to accompany him on this fool's mission.

The fight with the British was not our fight. We only wished for a patch of land to till and farm. It had been Thom and his wistful imagination to be like our grandfather, who had served during the revolution that led him to his end.

We had been attacked along the river by a group of pro-British natives from the Sauk tribe in an area where the river ran wild over rocks and gullies that made me quite sick with the violent upheavals and sudden drops.

Begging to be let off on the shore in order to relieve myself, I was given permission to leave the boat with my sack with instructions to hail the next boat further downriver to gather me up once I was finished with my business.

It hurt to be separated from Thom, but I feared the jests I would have to suffer through should I lose my hardtack and biscuit morning meal in the boat with the other lads.

I had plunged myself headfirst into the thick brush beside the river, just below the narrower passage when I heard the deafening shrieks and battle cries of the natives that lay in wait on the cliffs.

The next boat would never come for me, and I watched with horror as Thom and the others in his vessel were cut down by the savages. The river, I remember – ran red with blood.

Terrified, I ran in to the darkened forest at my back. Hearing the whoops and musket shots behind me, I retraced my steps and went further north up the river in hopes that Thom survived, that a boat in our group would make it past the skirmish and I would be able to rejoin them.

Quietly as possible, I made my way up river, always keeping the raging water within earshot – even as the sky grew dark above.

I know not how long I wandered, but I listened so hard to the eerie silence that my ears were ringing by the time night fell.

Finally, after stumbling and falling numerous times on the rocks that cropped out and around the river, I went further in to the woods to find a meager shelter for the night. If nothing else, then perhaps by daylight I would be able to find my way further north to the fort to rejoin comrades there – if any survived.

For six days I have wandered, eating what berries I could find and hoping that they were not poisonous. It has left me with a terrible griping in my stomach, but at least it is not eating itself from the inside.

Knowing that the fort is further inland then where I currently walked, I ventured a little further in to the darker forest, backtracking my steps now and then to be certain I had not passed it or a camp of my comrades which might have escaped the fight on the river. Imagine my surprise at finding a cabin here – a beacon of hope in the otherwise dark of my surroundings.

Approaching cautiously, I watched the front door and surrounded area cleared of trees and brambles for some sign of life. I do not know how long I sat there, straining my eyes and ears for the sound of a voice, a person – surprised that I actually longed for some company after being so long away from it.

Two more days I sat near there, watching and waiting – leaving only once to bathe my face and arms in a nearby stream before returning.

Biting my lip on the third day as the sun crept over the horizon, I took the first tentative steps toward what would prove to be the most foolish thing I had ever done in my life.

Though I was certain the cabin was abandoned, it was surprisingly well kept. The wood floor was swept free of dust and debris, the large mattress on the bed against the wall opposite the one lone window full of fresh scented cornhusks. There was one long table in the center of the room, a basket full of what looked to be clothing, and a large iron cook pot hanging placidly over the hearth, waiting for something to fill it.

With that thought came a deep rumbling in my stomach, and I pressed a long fingered hand against it to quiet the stirrings in preference for examining my surroundings more fully.

A door led to a lean to type pantry attached to the main cabin – and surprisingly, the larder was full of smoked meats, root vegetables and some corn meal. Swallowing the saliva which had risen in my mouth by the sight of honest food, I tentatively plucked one of the smoked strips of meat from the rope of them and took a bite.

It exploded on my tongue in flavors, a little more gamey tasting then the jerk Thom and I often made on our parent's farm in Virginia, but pleasant nonetheless.

Hoping that the owner of the cabin would not mind sharing their food with another Christian, I could only hope for the best as I loaded some of the dried firewood beside the hearth into it and coaxed a fire to ignite.

Approximately an hour later, there was a tentative knock on the cabin door, and frightened, I didn't move to answer it – instead, I stole away inside the pantry, crouching low to put my eye to a knothole as the cabin door swung open.

Mentally slapping myself as I spied my sack and hat still on the table where I had left it, an elderly native woman with black hair shot through in silver, clad in a beautiful doeskin dress walked silently in to the cabin. She was followed by an older male, his high forehead gleaming with sweat from the heat outdoors.

"Ho?" The woman called softly, peering under the massive frame of the bed as the brave poked curiously at my sack.

"Belle?" The old woman called again, now looking around the room in general, pausing to glance in the heavy iron pot that hung outside the fireplace.

They exchanged a glance and silent shrug as the woman set a bundle down beside my sack, before quietly striding toward my hiding spot in the pantry.

Were these the owners of the cabin? Was I trespassing?

I could only imagine what torture awaited me when the woman jerked the pantry door open with a startled gasp to find me crouched down on the earthen floor.

Hurriedly, as I gathered air in my lungs to scream – which in hindsight was a ridiculous thought – the woman gestured to herself quickly, saying her name over and over again, then pointing to the brave who stood as startled as I was to say his name.

"Kaukesha." I repeated, giving the woman a nod of my head, indicating my understanding before pointing with my head at the cautious brave. "Oconowoc."

Smiling, the woman nodded, then pointed at me for my name. "Mercy Wallingham." I said softly, pointing at my chest as the brave came closer to pluck in inquiry at my breeches.

He turned to Kaukesha, asking her something in a language I did not understand before Kaukesha, obviously the interpreter, turned to ask me.

"Woman?"

I nodded.

"Breeches?"

I nodded again, understanding the exchange even if it was made in stuttering and strangely accented French.

She cocked her head at me in inquiry as I sought the word for 'hiding' in French. Not knowing whether these natives were from the same tribe which attacked our company on the river, I did not want to willingly give information that might lead to my demise, but I instinctually trusted the kindness in her dark brown eyes.

"Hiding." I said in English, covering my eyes with my hands before quickly pulling it away to ascertain whether or not Kaukesha understood as my belly erupted in another loud protest of being empty for so long.

Her mouth slightly opened with a smile as she heard my stomach, and her nod told me she did indeed, understand – and she turned to her brother to translate.

A rapid fire discussion took place between the two of them as Oconowoc opened the bundle on the table which Kaukesha had brought, and she reached over my head for some of the vegetables and such.

Smiling and nodding at me, Kaukesha gestured for me to sit at one of the long benches beside the table, and began to make what I assumed would be stew.

Oconowoc dumped a thick hunk of meat into the stew pot as they spoke, then went to the pantry for the crock of corn meal I spied earlier.

"Come." Kaukesha said to me as her brother began to dump flour in to a large wood bowl. She gently took my hand in hers, pausing beside the basket of clothing to pull a length of rough linen from it before leading me out the door and to the small stream I had bathed my face in earlier.

She gently pushed me toward the stream, nodding her head at the dusty state of my own, and the smudges of dirt on my face.

I had only to give the cool water of the running stream a glance to comprehend her meaning, and quickly divested myself of my clothing.

I had just stuck my toe in to the stream to test the temperature's result on my will when Kaukesha pointed at the hair that graced my nether region. She gave a quick nod and smile, then pointing to the hair on my head.

"Aye, it's scarlet." I replied, feeling my face heat in a blush before I gathered my courage and plunged into the icy cold stream.

Smiling and nodding as I bathed, she pulled a long rope from the water a little further up stream to examine it and pluck the few fish from the mesh of crisscrossed ropes.

Crouching down beside the water to pack the fish in wet leaves, she indicated the clay at the side of the stream after this was done, picking it up and rubbing it on her bare arms before rinsing it off, gesturing for me to do the same.

Shaking my head at this novelty, I did as she instructed without words, going under the water again and again to rinse the days of sweat and dust from my hair until I emerged much refreshed and my hair a dark gleaming cap of copper.

"Ah." Kaukesha sighed, fingering a wet tendril of my hair with one hand as the other handed me the linen shift which she had extracted from the basket beside the bed. "Rouge."

Recognizing the word, I nodded again as she picked up the fish she had caught in her net and gestured for me to follow.

Once back in the cabin, I had found Oconowoc had made several cakes of the corn meal frying them in a thick hunk of fat from the meat he had brought.

Kaukesha paused beside the hearth, stirring the contents of the pot with a critical eye before giving Oconowoc a nod and smile.

Moving away from the hearth now, she pushed the rough wood plate of cakes toward me and motioned to Oconowoc. Returning Kaukesha's smile with what I hoped was gratitude, I fell on the corn cakes with delight.

"Wait!" I called as they opened the cabin door. "Where are you going?"

Kaukesha turned around to face me as Oconowoc left the cabin. She gestured around at the thick log walls, then the bed.

"Votre maison." She said simply, giving me a smile.

"My home?" I repeated in English, which she quickly mimicked and nodded. "Why?"

"Homme." She nodded, misunderstanding my word for the French one that meant 'man'.

I frowned harder, pulling my brows together to show my confusion. She sighed, pushing a stray black hair from her eyes as beyond the door, Oconowoc began to clean the fish Kaukesha brought back from the stream.

"Epouse. Mari." She said, gathering my hands into her work roughened ones. "Grand Espirit." She whispered, her dark eyes darting around the cabin as if she was afraid of being heard.

"Great Spirit?" I echoed, truly confused as I strung together the simple French words. "Wife to the great spirit?"

She nodded quickly, as if sensing my understanding, gesturing at herself and Oconowoc, who ignored our exchange as he gutted and cleaned the fish into neat little fillets.

Unable to take any more of the exchange, and thinking Kaukesha a bit mad even if she were kind, I nodded and watched as they left, assured by her gestures that they would return tomorrow morning.

Please rate this story
The author would appreciate your feedback.
  • COMMENTS
Anonymous
Our Comments Policy is available in the Lit FAQ
Post as:
Anonymous
2 Comments
AnonymousAnonymousover 12 years ago
Okay...I'm trying to bear the character buildup.....

....and I appreciate the history of living, bathing, cooking in 1814 in the woods, but some great sex better be somewhere in this story...and often.

pouncingtigresspouncingtigressover 16 years ago
wary

Good writing as always, but I sure hope that this time the girl won't be left bleeding to death on the floor at the end of the story! Major bummer in the previous story. So for now it's only 50 %. But I'm still curious where it will go this time.

Share this Story

READ MORE OF THIS SERIES

Similar Stories

Dealmaker A young woman promised to demons seeks refuge in a church.in Erotic Horror
Claimed A hybrid shapeshifter is asked to help wounded tiger.in NonHuman
Dragon Prince Married to a stranger - maybe not even human.in Sci-Fi & Fantasy
The Ranch Ch. 01 Two men and a lost girl.in NonConsent/Reluctance
Beauty Meets her Beast Ch. 01 A retelling of the traditional story.in NonConsent/Reluctance
More Stories