Day 7
The blue eyed soldier, who calls himself Ross, sits upon his horse and walks at a leisurely pace. I glance over my shoulder at him every few moments, uncertain about the man.
He has spoken to me a few times; his ability to speak my language fluently has me confused. Is he the only one who knows the language? If not, why do the other soldiers insist on speaking in foreign tongue?
Perhaps, it's so there is a thick barrier between us. As if the horses and the guns weren't enough; they have to speak in a language that appears to be superior to my own.
"Chin up. Do not give them the satisfaction of seeing you weak." I almost flinch away from the English accented tone. I glance up at Ross to see him frowning down at me, his pale horse nearly pressed into my side.
I jerk my head awayfrom Ross, chin lifted high as I continue onward with aching feet.
YOU ARE READING
As the Fires Burn
Short StoryJoin Haileah, a beautiful Cherokee woman who faces the tribulations of the long journey along the Trail of Tears. Who struggles with falling in love with an English soldier, sent to strip her away from her home.
