We had landed in the wilds of the new land for near three months now. God had blessed this journey we had taken and through those long weeks and months on the ship and our voyage, I felt ashamed to ever doubt His goodness.

  My family were still upon the ship. The danger of encamping on this new land only added to my mother's worries. Sickness had taken our youngest in the family; he'd been buried at sea in the blanket mother had sewn before we left. James and Jane were the only remaining children in our family now. Now, waiting was all we could hope for, for the men to finish the third cabin, for us and others. The great walls had already been done. And, with winter coming, I felt it would be a long one.

  My father had had a parish in Holland, in our little village, but had been relived of that by the persecution of our beliefs. He taught still and read from the worn black leather Bible in the cramped cabin space, keeping hope up. Now, he worked with the others, under Captain Barton. I'd gone along, leaving the ship, being the strongest of the women and the oldest without children and a husband to care for. Tending to the men's linens, clothing, and cooking, along with the other women on shore, was not the hardest, they'd given up more then that at sea.

  Washing had not been the pleasantest task. Scrubbing what was left of old, white shirts and breeches had already worn my hands raw. 

  The wind was growing colder already, and I retied my white cap underneath my red chin.

  This land held beauty my native Holland could not. The pines grew so close, and when the wind went rushing through them, it whistled high and mourning, like a sad song at night as they swayed and creaked. A thick, pungent smell of sap stuck to me much like the earthy scent. I missed the smell of soap and cleanliness; I missed many things, a friend we'd left behind in Holland, the warmth of fire in a clean hearth, my little brother.

  I stood, sighing, and turned to hang the clothes to dry, across an old rope. I did this unpleasant task just outside of the camp, close to a stream the men had found. When I was done I quietly gathered the basket and began back to camp, to begin what supper the men had shot.

  And I heard a sound.

  My hands griped the basket, and I turned.

  Savage wild men had been seen, and the stories that reached England had chilled even father's heart, I knew. They were red, and brutal, painted themselves with hideous masks and shapes, killed and burned; "Godless and heathen" one man had said, "not conscientious of anything but murdering", said another. And the sound has issued from the brush, just on the edge of the forest. I glanced to see if anyone was within calling.

  I stepped forward. Perhaps it was only a rabbit caught in a trap. I heard they had placed some about. But when I'd reached the spot, I stilled.

  He was young, but a boy, red skin and black eyes, hair the same hue. But I wasn't afraid at all. Indeed, he seemed more frightened then a cornered rabbit. There were not hideous markings on his face, or body, that was rather unclothed, save animal skins and hide; and he stared, full and terrified at me from the hidden place.

  I reached my hand, slowly towards him, to calm him, perhaps. What was I doing, he could already have killed me. But why had he not?

  And he bolted. He swung his feet over his head and ran, from me, faster then I could call out, "Wait! Come back, I want to talk to you-"

  He was far gone, and wouldn't have understood me.

  It was then my heart gave harsh beats and I realized I was shaking. I clutched the basket, and hurried  back towards the encampment. Should I speak of this to the captain?