God help me
The surrounding area was filled with towering, lush green trees, and the air carried a fresh, foresty scent.
In modern times, this would definitely be a favorite spot for campers.
But the several corpses scattered around shattered the tranquility. Judging by their tattered clothes and haggard appearances, these people were from the lower class—Irish immigrants who couldn't survive in their home, Puritans persecuted in England because of their faith, and Protestant reformers persecuted in Germany.
After all, if there were any chance of survival in their homeland, who would leave everything behind, cross the vast Atlantic, pass through the colonies on the East Coast, and finally arrive in the treacherous and perilous frontier?
Rumor had it that this place had endless opportunities and fertile soil, promised by God.
But in reality, they had just left the colonies, barely crossed the Allegheny Mountains, and had already returned to God's embrace.
They endured countless hardships along the way, crossing half the globe, as if just to end up here, right in the sights of the Native American' guns.
What a fucking life.
The original owner of this body and Sofia had eloped to Pennsylvania, known for its true religious freedom and tolerance. However, after only a few days in Philadelphia, they heard that Sofia's father's men had arrived.
In a panic, they decided to risk it and flee to the Ohio region, which was still the American frontier at the time.
Even with Sofia's father's immense power in London, it would be hard to reach them here.
A good plan, but one crucial factor was overlooked—Native Americans.
In 1754, North America was still Native American territory. In the lawless and chaotic frontier, the British, French, and Iroquois-led Native American alliance were fiercely competing.
The Ohio Valley was the epicenter of the struggle. Poor Thomas Compton had stepped right into the eye of the storm and was immediately killed, whether out of bravery or foolishness.
I snapped out of my thoughts and decided to comfort the beautiful woman in my arms. "Don't worry, baby, I'll protect you."
Although I reassured her with my words, I was equally anxious inside. In the forest across from us, shadows of people with bows and rifles were still visible.
The Native Americans in the northeast were born jungle warriors. They could navigate the dense, river-strewn forest with ease, appearing and disappearing at will.
Perhaps seeing that most of our group was dead, with only a few moving corpses, the Native Americans in the forest seemed to be coming over to collect their spoils.
A young Native American warrior, adorned with eagle feathers and animal hides, cautiously emerged from behind a large tree. He observed the situation and then slowly began to approach us.
Sofia clung to me in fear. I kissed her forehead and searched for weapons. The only thing I could find near the cart was a hoe.
I wriggled free from Sofia's embrace, gripped the hoe tightly, and swallowed nervously.
Jesus, Allah, Buddha, Zeus, all gods in the sky, no matter which deity you are, if you can hear my prayer, please protect Sofia and me from this calamity. From now on, I will be your most loyal follower.
As the Native American warrior reached the roadside, he poked a dead body with his bow and then began searching the corpses for valuables and supplies.
After searching, he started heading towards the cart.
No, no, no, God help me.
Even though I prayed to every deity I knew, there was no response.
Okay, God helps those who help themselves.
As the Native American warrior reached the back of the cart and started searching inside, I suddenly leaped out from behind the cart, raising the hoe to strike him.
As I swung the hoe, I could clearly see the panic and despair on the warrior's youthful face.
But just as I thought the hoe was about to hit his head, an arrow suddenly shot out from the forest.
I felt a sharp pain in my side, the hoe slipped from my hand, and I collapsed beside the cart.
I touched my side and found my hand covered in blood.
It must have been the archer who shot me earlier, lying in wait in the forest for a chance to deliver a fatal blow.
Legend had it that Native American warriors were the best hunters, with enough patience to wait for their prey to make a mistake.
Sofia clung to me, crying and pleading, but the young Native American warrior remained unmoved. He first sighed in relief, then smiled smugly.
But instead of immediately killing me or Sofia with his bow, he hung the bow on his back.
Just as I wondered why he was doing this, he pulled out a knife from his belt, a sinister smile on his face as he walked towards us.
A scalping knife!
The scenes I had seen in documentaries made my hair stand on end.
This was a Native American scalping knife!
He was about to use that knife to scalp me alive as a trophy.
No!
I retreated desperately, but behind me was only Sofia, who was now frantically begging.
The intense movement caused my wound to bleed heavily, making my head swim and my consciousness blur.
Dying while slipping into unconsciousness might be the only small mercy before the torture I was about to face, I thought with grim irony.
I must be the unluckiest reborn ever.
The young Native American warrior reached me, kicked Sofia away, and silenced her cries and pleas.
Without Sofia's embrace, I fell to the ground, aggravating my wound and causing excruciating pain.
But the young warrior showed no mercy. He grabbed my hair roughly and lifted my upper body.
Goodbye, Colonial America. Even though I only lived here for a few minutes.
Goodbye, Sofia. Even though you were only my girlfriend for a few minutes.
At this point, I was drifting into unconsciousness from blood loss and pain.
I could feel the cold blade slowly moving across my hairline, but I no longer felt any pain. The drowsy sensation made me just want to close my eyesand sleep.
Perhaps it was a pre-death hallucination, but I started hearing the sound of hooves pounding the ground and distant shouts.
Then, with a gunshot, I fell into darkness.