Roger's Blade

Morning mist clings to the blackened Rogers homestead. William Hendrick Phillips stands ready beside the ash-streaked ruins, while a young teen Mohawk warrior, a teenage Mohawk boy with warm brown skin, dark braided hair, and a beaded leather hunting shirt gathers the party’s small salvaged bundle.

The young warrior, lean and sharp-eyed beneath a strip of red cloth, shoulders his pack. At the edge of the clearing, he stops beside a snapped trail marker.

Phillips crouches over the broken marker, touching its splintered face without disturbing the earth. Beyond it, bent fern stems lead north through the birches.

William slips into the birch treeline and settles behind a fallen trunk. His coat catches a twig, and the sharp crack carries across the clearing before the mist swallows it.

Phillips lowers himself among the ferns, motioning Otsí:io to the opposite side. The young warrior freezes, one hand resting near his knife.

Minutes pass. Then two Abenaki scouts emerge along the bent ferns, moving cautiously toward the burned homestead. One pauses and turns his head toward the treeline, studying the place where William’s twig broke.

The scouts continue into the clearing, unaware of the hidden party’s exact position. Their presence confirms the watchers came to inspect the ruins, while William’s careless trace leaves the hiding place under suspicion.

William eases forward from behind the fallen trunk, using the mist and ferns for cover. Phillips watches the clearing while Otsí:io holds the opposite flank.

He reaches the nearest scout’s blind side, but a dry birch twig snaps beneath his boot. The Abenaki scout whirls before William can close the distance.

The ambush breaks apart. Both Abenaki scouts dive behind the burned wall, abandoning their careful approach and keeping the ruins between themselves and the hidden party.

The scouts remain concealed behind the ruins, alert and listening. The party’s hiding place is compromised, and the open trail north is no longer safe to use without exposing their movement.

William slips wide through the birches, keeping the burned wall between himself and the scouts. Phillips and Otsí:io shift to cover him, their weapons trained on the ruin.

Behind a broad tree, William braces the British carbine against its rough trunk. A thorn tears his sleeve and scratches his forearm, but he settles his aim from the scouts’ exposed side.

The carbine cracks. Both Abenaki scouts are caught beyond the wall: the nearer man jerks back wounded, while the other stumbles and abandons his cover.

Phillips fires over William’s shoulder as Otsí:io looses an arrow toward the ruin. The covering shots keep the scouts from returning fire or reaching the northern trail.

The wounded scout crawls behind the wall, and the other disappears into the mist. William’s forearm burns beneath the torn sleeve, while the northern route lies open for the party’s withdrawal.

William crosses the open ground with his Scottish backsword drawn. The nearer Abenaki scout lies behind the burned wall, wounded and unable to flee, his weapon fallen beyond reach.

The finishing stroke is swift and without spectacle. William wipes the blade on the dead man’s discarded cloak, then turns from the ruins toward the northern trail.

Phillips gathers the small bundle while Otsí:io retrieves his arrow. They abandon the blackened homestead and move hard through the birches, keeping low beneath the drifting mist.

By late afternoon, the forest thins around Schenectady. The familiar palisade rises beyond the fields, battered but standing, and the town gate opens as the travelers approach.

William, Phillips, and Otsí:io pass inside the fortified town. The gate closes behind them, shutting out the forest and the scouts who searched the ruins.

Inside the gatehouse yard, William calls for the British garrison commander. Two red-coated soldiers turn from their muskets, while Phillips and Otsí:io wait behind him.

The soldiers lower their muskets across the passage, not attacking, but firmly blocking the way toward the inner offices. One points toward a cramped guardroom beside the gate.

Phillips steps nearer, his expression tightening at the dismissal. Otsí:io keeps watch on the gate, while the soldiers wait for a precise account rather than admitting William to the commander.

The soldiers exchange a guarded look, then lower their muskets a fraction. The elder of the two opens the guardroom door and gestures William inside, accepting the report for the sergeant's record.

Phillips steps into the doorway beside William, while Otsí:io remains watchful near the gate. The questioning has cost precious minutes, and the exact number of prisoners still needs checking.