She had been carrying water from the river when the camp was attacked. Hiding she knew there was nothing she could do to save her family. It was over almost as soon as she heard the war cries.
With nothing but a bucket and the brown calico dress she wore, she quietly swiftly pushed the canoe into the water. She lay hidden in the canoe as it floated down the river, her only escape.
The trees and the sky were her view for miles as she silently cried for her lost family.
Day turned to night and she viewed the stars, allowing the river to carry her where it would.
She heard children playing in the distance and hoped maybe she had reached a settlement. The current moved toward the bank here. Exhausted with no paddle she simply lay in the canoe. Her fate was in the hands of the river.
Splashing, splashing, then hands on the canoe pulling her toward the shore. Feeling the canoe dragging on solid ground she struggled to sit after so many hours of hiding curled in the bottom of the canoe.
Rising, there were tepees as far as the eye could see. From a distance she heard the same war cry. She answered it with her own screams.