There was a long silence as their horses moved down the trail. It was the first week in March, and only the conifers and a few water oaks had green foliage, while the beeches were still retaining the light brown, dry leaves of the previous season. Some of the trees were more than four feet in diameter, with an occasional giant half again as large. The sound of the horses’ hooves was almost completely muted by the sodden bed of leaves and needles. Ethan had drawn slightly ahead and did not notice for a few seconds that he was riding alone. He looked around to see that Kindred had stopped twenty yards behind him and was sitting quietly on his horse, looking down.

He called out, “Hey, what’s wrong?”

Kindred didn’t respond, but just shook his head slightly. Ethan rode back and asked, “Don’t you feel well?”

“I feel all right, but I have to tell you something.”

“What is it? We need to be getting along as quick as we can.”

Kindred looked up, a stricken expression on his face. “I knew the British were coming, but I wasn’t going to warn Ashe.”

“How did you know, Kindred?”

“Newota left his village two days ago to lead Prevost and his troops to Ashe’s camp.”

Ethan was shocked and angry.

“You knew this and didn’t tell me or anyone else?”

“It’s not my responsibility to protect these people. It’s the British who have tried to work with the Indians, and to protect them and their lands. Newota asked me to go with him, but I refused. I promised to stay quiet about what he was doing.”

“Damn it, Kindred! What are you going to do now?”

“I don’t know. You practically forced me to come with you. I guess I’ll go back home.”

There was an uncomfortable silence and then Ethan said, “No, you’ll have to come along with me. I can’t have you finding Newota and the British and getting us in worse trouble. We’ll have to work this out between us when we get back home. For now, we’ll just try to hold down the bloodshed. You stay right with me, and when we get there I’ll do all the talking.”