Roman, Emily, and I tagged along behind, exchanging confused looks.
Olivia
Never show your captor signs of fear—even if they might not be your captor.Those thoughts continued as I followed ten Native Americans, Roman, and Marcellious, through the woods. The Native warriors had brutally assaulted us, and I thought we were goners. Now, I wasn’t so sure what their intentions were. They’d led us to where they’d hidden their horses and told us to follow them on horseback.
Could the Native Americans be trusted after their vicious attack?
That remained to be seen.
The men were several paces before us, easily keeping up with Roman and Marcellious.
I stayed behind, leading our two horses since Emily didn’t want to ride.
She stayed glued to my side, her face pinched with worry. Every once in a while, I’d reach for her hand and squeeze it or offer a reassuring glance to let her know she was safe with me.
We tromped over fallen logs, clambered through dense underbrush, climbed hills, and navigated across plateaus, with the Native Americans showing no sign of fatigue or exertion.
Emily stumbled and tripped her way along, probably because of her tightly wound nerves. “I’m scared, Olivia. I don’t trust the men who attacked us.”
“Don’t worry,” I said, holding aside a branch for her to duck under. “You have me. I won’t let anything happen to you.”
I gave her a warm smile.
“Thank you, Olivia,” she said, a quaver in her voice.
After she’d passed, I followed.
Our horses followed along, picking their way through the brush.
The branches had scraped the hell out of my bare arms. Insects attacked the bites their friends had already made. I tried my best not to scratch my skin, but I lost the war. And, as hot as I was from all this exertion, sweat poured from my neck and face, trickling onto the bug bites and making them itch even more.
I was miserable, but I had to stay strong for Emily and be her protector, no matter how much I was quaking in my trousers.
Finally, we emerged from the woodsy hills and headed toward vast plains.
At one point, Roman circled back, waiting for Emily and me to catch up.
“Do you have anything to report?” I asked, comforted by his presence.
“They haven’t said much.” Roman gave my hand a squeeze. “But they’re no longer hostile, which is good. The lead Sioux, the man who confronted Marcellious, keeps reaching out and patting Marcellious’ leg. Marcellious is flanked by that man and another one. Two others walk directly behind him, and then the rest follow, so, while they seem welcoming, they also don’t want him out of their sight.”
I nodded. “All I have are questions for Marcellious. How does he know the language? And how does he know Dancing Fire?”
“I share your questions, Olivia. We need answers, and Marcellious stubbornly withholds anything save for the occasional grunt or glare.” Roman leaned past me to look at Emily. “How are you holding up?”
“I’m frightened,” she said.
“There’s no need to be scared,” Roman said warmly. “Olivia is a fierce warrior in her own right. She’ll take good care of you.”
Emily smiled at me, gratitude evident on her face.
Up ahead, one of the men let out a high-pitched call.
In the distance, someone called back.
The hairs at the back of my neck prickled. “We must be close to their village.”
“So it seems. I’m going to catch up with the others,” Roman said. He urged his horse onward.
