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Chapter 35: FACING REALITY

Jaira struggled to keep up with the long-legged Frenchman. He wore fringed buckskin and mocassins, his steps sure as they wove through the dense forest.

"We are in hostile territory," his lowered voice reached her ears as her ankle twisted on yet another tree root.

"Hostile? As in what?" Jaira stooped to rub her throbbing leg before skipping two steps trying to keep up.

"Iroquois."

A wave of relief washed over the young woman. Iroquois! They were allies of the men at the fort that had been raided not a week ago. Jacques would not be so fortunate should they stumble upon a band of Iroquois. He did have a point in being concerned.

Jaira would never know if it was because she had thought of it for too long, but at that moment, the leaves moved a second before bare-chested warriors leaped from the trees. With a mere glance at Jacques, taking in his French-native appearance, he was swiftly scalped, his body discarded without a second thought.