Blood Brothers in Louisbourg by Philip Roy

but there were always some. There were soldiers on patrol in pairs, and sentinels here and there. There were late-night revellers, staggering home from houses that appeared to be used for nothing but drinking. Some were fishermen, who lived outside the main gate and who had to make their way down the long path before they were let out. Some were traders, who slept outside the fortress. Some were Mi’kmaq, like the ones Two-feathers had met on his way. There were also some children, usually with their parents but sometimes not.
    Occasionally some of the revellers would fall asleep along the path, which was not a good thing to do because the bluecoats would pick them up, drag them over to the fortress walls, throw them into dark holes inside, and not let them out for a day or two. And sometimes, if the revellers were making too much noise or fighting amongst themselves, the bluecoats would lock them up in wooden frames, trapping their necks and arms and forcing them to stand in a most uncomfortable position where everyone would see them and laugh at them. Two-feathers could not understand why the bluecoats encouraged everyone to drink so much in the first place, then punished them when they did.
    In the early summer the windows of the houses began to open. Now he could search for his father in earnest, for he felt certain that, should he stand next to him, he would know him.
    He made his way from roof to roof. Once inside a house, he pounced like a cat from windowsill to floor and stepped silently through the rooms, even though the sleeping rooms were anything but quiet. Some bluecoats made as much noise in sleep as they did awake, women as much as men. Some breathed with sounds like a crackling fire, or a sack of stones being dragged across a wooden floor or waves rolling up on the beach. Some whistled through their noses with sounds like baby birds in the nest or the piercing blasts made by blowing on a blade of grass between the thumbs. Some talked nonsense in their sleep, shouting out with voices full of pain and anxiety. Others shook their nightmares out with a great shaking of their beds and thumping on the floor. There was at least one snorer, nose-whistler, sleep-talker or bed-shaker in every room of two to ten sleeping bluecoats and some had more. This made Two-feathers’ quest easier, although the noises were sometimes akin to the sounds he imagined evil spirits would make, and that was disturbing.
    But his father was not easy to find. Night after night Two-feathers returned to the swamp disappointed. He was also growing lonely. It had been so long since he had been with his own people, and though he passed amongst people every night, it was as if he wasn’t really there because he never spoke with anyone nor was seen by anyone. He was missing the warmth of friendship, although there wasn’t anyone in the fortress he wished to befriend. Except one.
    But he did not have to seek her at night. He merely had to hide in the little shed and wait for her to come out to water the flowers. It was not something he chose to do every day, because once he crawled inside and the sun came up, he was stuck there until the sun went down. And while no one ever came inside except to let the sheep in and out, and he could sleep there as comfortably as in his muskrat den, the summer sun could sometimes get hot without wind in the courtyard, and he had nothing to eat or drink all day. Still, it was a temptation he could not always resist. To gaze upon her, just a few feet away from him, was so pleasant. Then one day she came a lot closer than he ever expected.
    The sheep had given birth. There were three new lambs in the shed. Since Two-feathers had visited before and offered words of congratulation, the sheep did not mind him. As the sun rose and warmed the walls of the shed he found a comfortable spot at the back and promptly fell asleep. His nightly travels and broken sleep had caught up with him. It was noon when he was