a/n – despite his character I really liked Magua, in the movie and the novel. I wanted to show him in a slightly different light and this idea popped in my head. Read on. Note – review the story please, not the grammar or spellings…I don't care :P also I swear no one has heard of this movie ! it's a classic ! Now, some events may follow the movie/novel plots, other bits may not. My story, my rules :3 NOTE – 'Rob' is a girl in disguise…just abit confused as to how to write her gender in this section.
The lovely Munro sisters, Alice and Cora, dressed in their Sunday best, hastily shuffled over the dirt of the fort ground. Loyal redcoat soldiers stood poised, holding the reigns of readied horses and assisting the young Colonel's daughters. Alice Munro, once perched on her favourite, well-bred steed, gestured across the clearing, towards a figure hiked up in one of the towering trees. "Major Heyward, who is that?". The blonde gentle beauty gazed on at the strange but small figure, jostling it's way up the tree, like a bear in search of sweet honey.
Heyward, already mounted on his steed maneuvered to face the direction of the trees. fond recognition flashed across his otherwise wide fair set features. "The boy? Robert Blake, Miss Munro. At least, that's what we call him".
The statement caused a look of confusion for Cora. Finally she asked, "What in heavens is he doing?"
"God only knows, Miss Munro" Major Heyward joking shrugged, adjusting his lavish military cap. "I have it on good authority that he's touched in the head."
"Touched? How so?" Alice empathetically asked. The mere thought of a slow witted child budded Alice nurturing affections.
Heyward shrugged leisurely, as if the matter of the subject was of little interest. Not for their attentions at least. "Never says a word, not since he arrived. But he's a good lad. A good shot too if you give him a rifle. We find odd use for him". Seeing the Munro's interested, Heyward beckoned to the strange child, currently still held up in the trees. "Rob. Robert, my boy, stand to attention"
The trio watched as the figure quickly dismounted from the tree trunk, and darted hastily towards them, before skidding to a clumsy halt.
Heyward addressed the child with a stern, but humorous tone. "Robert, dear boy, what on earth were you up to, in that tree?"
Silently, with big teal eyes, the boy presented muddy little acorns in hand.
"Ah…" The major seemed puzzled for a moment, blinking at the handful of acorns offered in the boy's small grubby hands. "Forging?" he took a wild guess and gingerly smiled in amusement when the youth nodded. "good lad…good lad". Having wasted enough time with trivial matters, the Major coughed, acknowledging his departure as he nudged his horse to walk on, beginning to rally his men to move.
"How revolting…" Cora muttered. Whether she was regarding the acorns, or the boy offering them, was debatable. Her brown eyed gaze further narrowed at the sight of the boy's bare feet, covered in mud and Lord knows what else. The boy was barely dressed, at least by proper standards. His small form was engulfed in a grubby linen shirt, whilst his trousers barely covered his knees. Even more curious was the large hat shadowing the child's features.
Alice empathically protested. "Hush up Cora, I think the boy is sweet. Even if touched". She added a dismissive shrug to the end remark.
Strolling passed on his otherwise wayward mare, the girls' singing teacher, David Gamut, trotted towards them, smiling as always. "Ah talking about young Robert, I presume. The boy sings like an angel". Tenderly, the teacher patted the boy's hat. The two seemed rather fond of each other, oddly enough. Robert, never saying so much as a word in conversation, then Mr. Gamut, who wouldn't be silenced unless bridled with a mouth piece. Opposites were said to attract.
"He sings, but doesn't talk?" Alice looked astonished, if not perplexed. For a moment she regarded the boy before her, who only stared back vacantly. Tilting her head curiously, she regarded him questionably . Yet the impassive expression of the child offered little answer.
"Strange, isn't it?" Mr. Gamut had a fond softness in his eyes. "The Lord works in mysterious ways". With that the jolly singer teacher moved on towards the front of the troops, waiting and conversing with the fellow red coat soldiers, few having stood to attention.
"Indeed…" Cora muttered, shrugging off an ill sensation from down her spine. Cautiously she glanced aside, feeling a thought she was being watched. In such a busy fort, being of such beauty, it was understandable. With sister beside her Cora nudged her faithful horse forward and onwards.
Hidden amongst the shady cover of the trees, Magua watched the offspring of Grayhair from afar, like a hungry fox waiting for its' next meal to stroll unknowingly closer to his dripping jaws. It was only a matter of time until the white dog and his pups met their end. When the pair of sisters began to move off on horseback, the Sly Fox's eyes shifted to new prey, one of growing interest. He had seen the young white boy often amongst the fort, wondering around aimlessly, in a world of his own it seemed. He seemed uninterested in the affairs around him, indifferent to the older red coat warriors scampering around, like ants at work. In Magua's village, young boys latched them-selves onto a mentor, an experienced brave who trained them into manhood. On occasion the sly fox spied the youth wandering dangerously close to the fort's bordering forest, perhaps picking for nuts and berries. Did the fool not know what dangers lurked nearby? Like me. He thought, briefly smirking. Stranger still, Magua swore he heard the boy singing come the early hours of the morning, with the mad man Gamut leading the chanting frenzy. Often annoyed with the rhythmic singing, Magua grudgingly had to admit the sound was not…unpleasant. Entertaining almost, from the boy at least, his voice not yet broken by puberty, though he seemed late into his teens. From a distance, the boy was tall, slender like, with no sign of developing muscle. Magua would dwarf him easily, by at least a foot or two.
Little Bird, Magua suddenly thought, chuffing a slight chuckle. Such a name for any brave would be insulting, and yet it fit the youth so well. He would keep it in mind for future reference. Other than the boy's height, the Huron could not tell much else. He had never got close enough to look in detail at the boy, not that he ever even felt the need to. From a distance, in the sun, the boy's short cropped hair flared like copper flames, yet no one could really tell under that oversized hat he piously always wore, knotted securely under his chin to keep it in place. Thinking about it more, Magua felt an itch in his fingers, temptation to just rip the hat off the boy and revel in the little glee he would get. But the youth was also surprisingly skittish, shying away from others very often, having even avoided Magua on more than one occasion.
And right he should, Magua thought smugly for a moment, though the amusement died quickly. No. it was not out of fear the boy avoided. There was something more. Self-preservation almost. The boy would dip his head, or look away when passing others, meekly strolling away as if he didn't even exist. And for the most part, it worked. Like a begotten spirit, he was mostly unacknowledged it seemed. But this behavior perplexed Magua. These white devils and their ways. He shook his head in confusion and shrugged off the thought.
Perched on an uphill sloop he remained seated, waiting for the English red coats to finally assemble and march. But with Magua's Huron party ready to ambush within days, the English reinforcements would never arrive to at their destination. Momentarily savoring the thought of victory Magua just barely caught the glimpse of movement below him, under the slopping earth. Speak of the devil, as the French said. Little Bird had carelessly strolled right before him, scurrying around through the fallen leafs, seemingly searching for acorns, completely unaware of Magua's presence above him. Stealthy the trained Huron laid on his chest, low on the grassy ground, peering over at Little Bird as he continued his scavenging. Definitely now he could see the copper locks poking out from under the hat, yet his face was still hidden by the over casting shadow it made. Giving into temptation, with no one nearby to concern him-self with, Magua's bear like hand shot out, snatching the hat right off the boy's head, and effortlessly snapping the securing ties from under his chin. The sudden attack threw Little Bird off balance. Like a wilting willow he staggered back, landing on his backside as Magua looked on, chuckling in mockery, going so far as to try the hat on him-self before casting it aside.
"Little Bird should stay close to nest. So easy it would be, to take your scalp". Magua spoke with fluent ease. His voice deep, rough and foreboding. A voice which demanded respect.
Mutely, the child stared up at him. Not in fear, as Magua had previously intended, but instead with silent willfulness. Though stoic and stern in expression Magua had to admit, the boy had bewitching eyes. Earthy grass and ocean waters, mixed into one form. They stood out against the copper locks and speckled bridge freckles over the roof of his nose and cheeks. Coupled with his oval face and strangely high cheekbones, Magua was repulsed! White men, even the boys, were ugly, ugly creatures. Like an autumn leaf, he could crush the boy with his bare hands. The thought set his blood to boil. It was the law of nature. The strong survive by defeating the weak. With a fire suddenly burning in his chest, Magua lunged forward, off the higher sloop, landing inches away from the speechless child.
"Have you no voice, little bird?" Magua decided to toy with the child, curious as to his speaking aliment. He too had heard the small chitchat. It seemed the boy was a mute. And yet it raised a question. Suspiciously Magua inquired, "How can a bird sing, without a voice?"
Without fear Robin continued to stare unnerving at Magua. How uncharacteristic of the otherwise shy boy. The action only further enticed Magua's sudden anger to rise. Menacingly the Huron reached for the dagger at his side, taking a threatening step closer to the youth, who had now finally darted to his feet. Though wide eyed, the boy showed little fear. Magua reluctantly admired that. Stubborn, even in the face of a predator. The boy had courage, but little sense.
"Robert? Rob, my boy" the comforting golly voice of Mr. Gamut chirped suddenly from nearby. The boy took his chance and quickly scurried back, away from Magua and straight to the safety of Gamut's side. Perplexed by the child's sudden dash for safety, Gamut asked lightly, "Why so shaken lad?". The friendly man then glanced up, in regards to Magua. The pair of males said nothing to eachother, and yet a battle of wills was soon engaged. Gamut was not a fighting man, but Magua was not a fool either. Now was not the time to deter his relation with the red coats. His victory would come in due time. Magua said nothing, and simply moved on. The red coats were finally ready to march. Robin watched the sly fox closely, warily at first before feeling the comforting pat of Gamut's hang on her back. "Don't worry about him, dear boy. The old fox's bark his worse than his bite".
If only she thought that were true. But Robin knew all too well. Foxes don't bark. They cry. War cries already began to ring in her mind, causing a shudder down her spine. For the beginning of the trek Robin stayed close to Gamut's side, accompanying Major Heyward and the Munro sisters' whilst on foot. The Huron scout remained infront, never once looking back. Or so she thought. The Sly Fox's eyes were well trained. Nothing could escape his hungry, soulless gaze.
A/N – right that's it for now. what do you think ? no review, no new chapter ;) I know it was abit confusing with the gender but oh well. Review please. The story, not the grammar!