He had killed a man. That was what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to shoot any Indian on sight. He was supposed to protect his comrade. He was supposed to repay John for saving his life. He was supposed to kill the man who had posed a threat to his angel. Why, then, did he feel this remorse? The Indian woman had yelled at him and John had taken her side. As if he wouldn't have done the same thing. It didn't make any sense. The savage needed to be stopped.

But it wasn't just that. He had killed a man. He had ended a life. A body would no longer move, because of him. A voice would no longer speak because of him. A set of eyes would no longer open because of him. All because of him. He wished he hadn't shot the savage. He wished he had never left the fort. He wished he had never threatened Rebecca, or even discovered her secret in the first place.

Rebecca.

Where was Rebecca?

But he was at the fort. And John was still in the woods. He had heard the awful screams of the savages coming to the aid of their kinsman. He knew John was not behind him. The savages probably took him away. All his fault. They would not be happy to see their warrior dead. They would attack. Starting with John. All his fault. There was the fort.

"Help! Somebody help! Help! Help!" he yelled as he approached.

"Easy lad, what is it?" Thomas couldn't seem to breath.

"It's Smith. They got him!" he cried as he ran inside.

"Who got him?"

"The savages!"

"Savages?"

"They captured him! Dragged him off!"

"Where'd they take him?"

"They headed north."

"How many were there?"

"At least a dozen."

The whole camp had erupted into panic. Everyone liked John and he was the key to defeating the savages. What would they do now?

"We've got to save him!" Thomas proclaimed. "He'd do the same for any of us." He knew too well that this was true.

"Thomas is right. We've got to do something."

"And so we shall!" came the booming voice of the governor. There was not stopping it now. A war had started.

As the men all began preparing for the war at sunrise, Thomas searched for Rebecca. She was not in camp. Not at the creek. He didn't know where else to look. But perhaps she had run to the clearing when she heard the commotion. Doubtfully, Thomas went to the clearing where he had killed a man.

He didn't even make it all the way there. Lying between the trees was a dark figure, bundled up in a thick jacket and completely frozen. His heart stopped.

She was dead. Cradling her in his arms, Thomas cried. It was all his fault. He never should have shot the savage. She wouldn't be dead if he hadn't. Remorse consumed him as he buried his angel in the clearing where the demon had died. As he said a prayer he looked around her final resting place.

He was contented to think that she would forever remain a part of such a beautiful place.

Returning to the camp, Thomas felt such deep regret and guilt. He was to blame. Above everything what he needed now was to be forgiven. To have this burden lifted from him.

there was no war. All the preparations. All the tensions. All the reasons to kill each other. Somehow led to the chief of the Indian tribe proclaiming that he would not make war, even though minutes before he had been planning to bash John's head in.

Thomas was touched. Though the chief could not know who had killed his compatriot, Thomas felt that he had been forgiven. Allowing John to survive was like allowing Thomas to live. He felt like he was the one up there prepared to be punished for his crime, then suddenly rescued by some angel from heaven. He felt cleansed.

"Now is our chance!" cried Governor Ratcliff. "Fire!"

Thomas didn't even have to think. "No!" He had found his strength. He didn't need to shoot to be a man. He didn't need to kill to be a hero. He could be strong.

"What?"

"They let him go!" For once Thomas did not lower his eyes. He was in the right. He remained strong. The other men began to chime in, all on Thomas's side. There he stood as their figurehead. Their leader. But Ratcliff was a greedy man.

Ratcliff had already lost his men to Thomas, but firing at the chief sealed the deal. John, brave man that he always was, took the shot, saving the chief and turning everyone against Ratcliff.

As the men seized Ratcliff, and later chained him up to be sent back to England, Thomas took command. The chief's daughter, John's lover, approached as they loaded the ship and Thomas went to meet her.

"Going back is his only chance. He'll die if he stays here." She acknowledged his words by resting her hand on his arm. And in her eyes he could see her forgiveness. As he stood on the banks and watched the ship leave, he was at peace, for he was finally on peaceful land. Here a war had been prevented. Here he had learned to be a strong man. Here he had buried an angel and no one would ever know her secret.