Jaira struggled to keep up with the long-legged Frenchman. He wore fringed buckskin and mocassins, his steps sure as they wove through the dense forest.

"We are in hostile territory," his lowered voice reached her ears as her ankle twisted on yet another tree root.

"Hostile? As in what?" Jaira stooped to rub her throbbing leg before skipping two steps trying to keep up.

"Iroquois."

A wave of relief washed over the young woman. ...