Burying the dead took a long time. There were many dead. Including Tosca, Annenraes’ man.
Some severally injured braves, near death, were comforted in their last hours.
Wounded braves were made ready to travel home.
Each nation prepared for the journey each to its home territory.
Kepitinet, shaken, was spoken to by his father, Annenraes, but the chief had little time for him. They would speak further when they got home.
Annenraes tried to think whether the idea of allowing his son, Kepitinet, to accompany the war party was wise. He couldn’t decide. The advantages were few except that the child now knew what war was. It might make him more sensible regarding the Pine Tree Chief possibility. Peace was better than this, Annenraes thought. But perhaps this experience would make his son more war-like. These constant and endless battles with no final result for his people is how these wars endure, he thought.
Kepitinet was of no help with Annenraes’ considerations. The child was practically paralyzed with trauma. He had been kept behind, protected by two braves during the battle but he saw everything from the forest. He had hugged his father long and hard after the battle but hadn’t spoken a word since.
The chief also thought it was going to be much more difficult to eradicate the French than he thought or hoped.
Wearily, all the tasks were completed, the men rested, the wounded were comforted and made ready as to travel well as possible, the Iroquois left the battle scene.
The shackled prisoners were hurried along to await torture and certain death.