The breezes of Gola, the cold winter moons, continued blowing across the land and water despite signs that brighter life was returning after winter sleep.
Timpoochee Ulagu’s vessel - which he had acquired sight unseen from traders - deftly plied the waters of the sound as it headed west toward the grand Yonega trading post called Pensacola.
The winter had been difficult for Timpoochee.
Seeing so many other towns destroyed or ravaged left him shaken.
Leaving Rising Fawn to lead the mission of recovery for what they thought at the time was the worst destruction left him empty and without his touchstone and guiding force.
He’d felt singularly alone since then, despite being surrounded by his band of relatives and townsfolk; good, solid, loyal brothers upon whom he knew he could rely as pursued this mission of peace.
HIs mission was made so much worse, so much more difficult by so much destruction and death all along, all among his many peoples.
With the square-rigged sloop as close-hauled as it could be, Timpoochee and his small crew fought the wind and tides as best they could. Fortunately, he’d added to his crew some seasoned Yuchee sailors who proved invaluable to the mountain folk aboard the sailing vessel.
“Timpoochee Ulagu,” called Onacona from a forward deck. “I still think we are making a mistake by going to the Yonega settlement unannounced, without advance scout. They are not expecting us. Remember the Creek runners told us of war raging it its harbor.”
“All those things are not news to me,” my little brother. “I am aware of the surprise - and of the dangers.”