The Beaded Moccasins by Lynda Durrant Page A

in the bowl.
    I kneel down in front of the skin. At first I think it's a rabbit skin, but it has four long strips jutting out where the legs used to be.
    "What is this?" I ask in Unami.
    Hepte says something, but I shake my head.
    "I don't understand."
    She points to the deerskin with one hand and makes a rounded motion over her stomach with the other.
    "The doe was pregnant?" I gasp in English. "This was ... her fawn?"
    I spring to my feet and run toward the riverbank.
    "No more," I gasp. And if I could stamp my foot while running down the cliff trail, I'd do so.
    I hang my head over the water. At first I think I'm going to be sick, but the fresh air and gulps of clean water clear my head and ease my stomach.
    Hepte wants me to put my hands in that horror! My hands are swollen and red, the palms cracked and bleeding from cold wind and icy water. They haven't touched soap in almost a year. But they're still my hands, hands that once played Handel on the pianoforte, hands that once held dainty plates and cups for afternoon teas.
    I remember the soup from last night. I'd never tasted meat so tender and soft.

    That was the baby, the unborn fawn!
    Now my breakfast does come up. While I'm on my hands and knees, my stomach heaves again and again, as though by vomiting long enough, and hard enough, I could rid myself of everything that has happened to me.
    I curl up by a tree and sob and sob. "Why?" I wail to the four winds. "Why did this happen to me?"
    Escape, Mary. Run. You've got the strength, don't you? Stop waiting for a trapper or the king's men to come and rescue you. It may be years before anyone comes this way. If ever. Mrs. Stewart hasn't the nerve to run. She'll rot here, in misery and despair, for the rest of her life.
    I run south down the river trail.
    "South by southeast," I say aloud as I stumble over rocks and tree roots, "and then over the mountains. I've done it once-I can do it again. I'll be home by May. I'll eat the leaves as they come out, the berries, the acorns. I'll find ... find wild strawberries in the meadows. These Indians have been foraging for generations. I'll find enough to eat."
    At this very moment Constance is wearing a pretty dress and sitting in a warm and tidy schoolhouse, learning to read. Why should I have to live like an animal? Why should I never see Constance or my family again, never eat at a table again, never sleep in a bed again? It's not my fault Hepte's daughter died. Why do I have to pay the price?
    I laugh out loud. "Not westering, eastering," I shout.
    The Campbells ... I
will
see my family again by my birthday!

    What if trappers never do come here? What if the king's men decide the Cuyahoga is too far away and never come here to rescue me? What will happen? I'll live here the rest of my life, that's what will happen.
    Run away I Don't stop! Strength. Chita ... nee ... something.
    I trip over a tree root and sprawl into the late-winter slop. As I get up, I look behind me: One set of telltale footprints settling into the wet snow and mud. Tracking me would be as easy as tracking a
yah-qua-whee.
    Mary Caroline Campbell, what do you reckon you're doing?
    It must be three hundred miles to the Susquehanna. Three hundred miles of forests filled with hungry wolves, bears, and panthers. The Alleghenies are still covered with snow, and the passes must be freezing cold at night. For all I know, we're still at war with the French. That means they'd march me to Quebec City as a prisoner of war if they caught me.
    And what would these Delaware do to you if they caught you?
    You don't have a knife, Mary. Even if you knew how to load and shoot a musket, you don't have one. You don't have flint to start a fire. Your clothes are too small. You don't even have a blanket to keep out the cold.
    "And what am I so all fired up about going home to?" I say bitterly. "A brother who thinks calling me a
girl
is the worst insult there is. A mother who treats her son as
a prince and her daughter as a