Hunting Surprise
December 27th, 1753 – Kublanerasaka squatted between two tall, long-needle pines. He was comfortable for he could compact his tall, thin frame down the size of a small boy if necessary. Flexibility helped when he needed to be down low, in this case to peer under branches and see the legs and torso of an eight-point deer.
He reached around to his side pouch, and pulled out a long, thin arrow. Silently he nocked the arrow in his bow and drew it back. He needed to be almost perfectly silent. The deer and elk had become agitated since the white men started moving through the hunting grounds. At least they are driving game toward the tribe, he thought. But the animals would get used to this activity and even that small benefit would vanish.
Suddenly, the deer jerked its head toward him, jumped back and darted away into the brush. He stood up to get a better view, but the animal was gone. All he could see now was rustling branches. He released the tension in his bow and un-nocked the arrow. That was odd he thought; I made no noise, what made the deer dive into the wood.
He felt something cold and hard against his back. It felt like someone was trying to push a tree branch through his spine. He turned quickly and looked to see a warrior holding a musket about a hand length from his chest.
“Stand still,” the warrior said in a low voice with crisp cut words. Obviously not a Seneca thought Kublanerasaka, both the warrior’s appearance and voice were strange. He still held his bow, but he was too close to effectively use an arrow. And that musket was still right in front of his chest.
Then he heard what had startled the deer, three white men came stamping through the brush swatting branches and tripping over vines. Obviously French-men, ones he’d seen from the fort near the river. He couldn’t enjoy the site of their bumbling because his gaze was fixed on the strange warrior.
“Kuubla-nee-rasaka?” one of the white men shouted and waved his hands. They caught up to the warrior and stopped, apparently out of breath from running. One of the French-men was doubled over with his hands on his thighs. Another grabbed the barrel of the warrior’s musket and pointed it away from Kublanerasaka. The warrior gave him a disgusted look and backed off, letting the white men through.
Kublanerasaka unlocked his stare with the warrior and turned attention to the white men.
“Kuubla-nee-rasaka,” the French-man panted in broken Seneca “we need you to retrieve something for us, something that was stolen by a man named George Washington.”