Tuesday Tales: From a Word: WASH

Welcome back to this week’s Tuesday Tales, the weekly blog where books are born. By consensus, the group decided to decrease the length of our weekly posts, even when we are working from a word, to a maximum of 500 words per post.

For me, that means cutting more than half from my usual scenes, but maybe less is better. Time will tell. Hopefully, I’ll still be able to paint a complete picture for you, or at least, leave you biting your nails for the rest of what I start.

This week’s word is WASH. I’m continuing with my historical romance, The Price of Courage.

Enjoy!

“You’re an excellent provider, my friend,” Yves said, setting the dressed birds on the snow beside the fire. “We’ll eat well tonight, not having to rely on pemmican and corn soup again.”

The young Mohawk brave grinned. “Your woman’s pemmican is rich and full of fat. That’s why it makes good soup.”

Yves smiled. “Catiche adds bear fat to the meat.” He patted the man on the shoulder. “When our mission is over, you must come and stay with us.” He chuckled. “Her sister is fifteen, ready for a mate.”

Lucien laughed. “Matchmaking?”

“What?” he asked shrugging his shoulders. “He’s an excellent provider and my father-in-law’s old. Since I’m away so much, having a good hunter in the family is only logical.”

Okwaho crouched in front of his fire. “I will come to your village, Michaud, and look upon the female. Since the great sickness killed so many Mohawk women and children, many braves have traveled north looking for suitable women. Balavas, my friend, didn’t find a woman, but he found a family. Perhaps I can do both.”

Lucien laughed. “Ever the optimist,” he said. “Yves, help me set this in the branches and secure it. We got lucky last night, but tonight may be different, and we’ll need the extra protection. It’s almost dark, and if Okwaho says we’ll have snow tonight, I believe him.” From his large pack, he pulled out the oiled hide they used as a tent. “We should cut more logs before we eat, too.”

By the time they’d finished, Okwaho had the two birds roasting on a makeshift spit, roots buried in the fire, and was wrapping the dough for the bannock that would accompany the meal.

Lucien grabbed a dipper and filled it with the water from the pot on the side of the fire. No matter where he was, he liked to wash his face and hands before he ate.

“If it doesn’t snow, we should reach the Montagnais village tomorrow,” Lucien said, sitting back on the heavy bear skin he’d spread for himself under the tree, the air filled with the aroma of roasting meat. His stomach grumbled. All he’d eaten since breakfast had been a couple of mouthfuls of dried fruit and seeds.

“How do you think they’ll react when they see him?” Yves asked. indicating the Mohawk who was transferring melted snow into a smaller pot for tea.

“Lallier and his brothers will be more interested in the goods we’ve brought him rather than the fact we travel with a Mohawk guide, but convincing Atika, the Montagnais chief, that Okwaho isn’t a threat may take a fair amount of discussion. If Champlain hadn’t helped them defeat the Mohawk at Ticonderoga, they would never have signed an alliance with the French. Sometimes, necessity makes for strange bedfellows. Akhilesh is the first Mohawk chief to align himself with the French. That hasn’t made him popular with some of the other Mohawk chiefs.”

“Nor with other tribes,” Yves agreed.

That’s it for this week! Don’t forget to check out all the other posts on  Tuesday Tales.