[Archive]The Colonization of Canada [France]

[ghostehaccountx]

August, 1608.
The Colonization of Canada or, as it was known back then, New France.
Newly founded Quebec City, the capital of New France.



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It was cold that night, and the moment Matthew's bare feet touched the coolness of his bedroom floorboards he instantly regretted what he was doing.
However, even with all the nervousness that was pumping through his veins, the child did not hesitate once, and the second he was out of his bed he pulled down with him what appeared to be a life sized toy polar bear cub. Although, anyone who believed it to simply be a toy would surely be in for a surprise, as the animal was very much alive, and as if to prove this point it growled and pawed restlessly at it's owners face, annoyed at having been woken up at such a ludicrous hour.
"Sssh, settle down. You'll wake everyone up", the child hissed in broken French, lilac eyes flashing in the moonlight that seeped in under his curtains. After a brief bout of struggling though, the cub at last seemed to get the point, and was soon dozing softly in Matt's arms, too exhausted to question the motives of the young boy or ask who he even was in the first place. Breathing out a sigh of relief, Matt effortlessly hoisted the animal further up into his grip and padded silently towards his bedroom door.

The hallway was even worse than the confines of his room. It swept out before him like the throat of some hideous monster - the kind that lived in the stories Monsieur Bonnefoy told him - and he feared that if he was to even take one more step he'd get swallowed up by it, never to be seen again.
Gulping, he squeezed his eyes shut before snapping them open, shuffling boldly out into the darkness, looking a lot more intrepid than he felt.

Portraits and mirrors donned the walls of Monsieur Bonnefoy's house - one of many houses, in fact, that he had dotted across the land. Matthew was pretty sure that he had been to most, if not all, of theses houses, and their was little doubt left in his mind that his carer did indeed have exquisite tastes, not only in decoration, but with everything from the food he ate to the cloths he wore. Maybe, had he been older, he would have been a little repelled by the over-the-top frills and bows he was constantly forced into wearing, but he really didn't mind, for Matt was at an age where concerns were few and the focus was simply on being a five year old. Young and free.
Of course, had he no worries at all he wouldn't have been in his current situation, but he still struggled to comprehend the seriousness of his attempts at running away. All he knew was that, while Monsieur Bonnefoy looked after him very well, he still felt that he didn't belong. He needed his home, the real one, not the one that tempted him to stay with gifts and luxury. The place he longed to be was with the original People, those who had given him 'life' and had raised him before the first colonists had arrived. Yes, that's where he belonged, not here...

Stopping suddenly, Matt assessed his surroundings carefully and came to the firm conclusion that he was hopelessly lost, the alien quality of his home at night time only further adding to his confusion.
He was in a part of the house he'd never been in before - most of his day was not spent exploring, but rather being fussed upon by all manner of visitors who all too frequently came to do business with Monsieur Bonnefoy, speaking about topics that he couldn't even begin to understand. They would bless him with gifts, and treats and toys and all sorts of things, and he would smile politely, nod along with their conversation, laugh at their jokes... feign interest in their lives in general, basically.
Mewing pitifully, Matt pressed the sleeping bundle of fur even closer into his chest and proceeded to slowly march forwards, determination alone wiping away the hot tears that were swelling up behind his eyes. This was his third attempt at running away this month, and last weeks venture had been the closest he'd ever actually gotten to escaping. After having managed to locate the front door though he'd taken one look outside, realized he couldn't do it, and had ran crying back to the safety of his bed, much to Monsieur Bonnefoy's confusion.
But tonight was going to be different. He would find the front door to this impossibly large house, he would slip out into the night and then he would go find the Iroquous... To him, this plan seemed simple, as his mind was still wrapped in the innocence and naivety that came with childhood, and he spared not a single thought to what dangers might befall him in the wilderness. The only thing that was holding him back was the thought of getting into trouble with his new found big brother, or, even worse, getting attacked by the monsters he knew were hiding in the dark. Whimpering, Matt picked up his pace and hurried along the seemingly endless corridor, ignoring the feeling of eyes on his back and the imaginary demons that were chasing after him.

A few more minutes passed and eventually the corridor widened out. Here, the doors were much more ornate then the ones he had previously passed, their dark frames and looming structures not helping to comfort Matt's frazzled nerves. Briefly, he considered the idea of turning back, but he pushed it off and continued to let his frozen feet blindly lead him forwards, even though he knew he was now in a place where he shouldn't be. Shivering, Matt noted that the walls were closing in again, and it wasn't long until he found himself at a place where he really didn't want to be. A dead end. Honestly, he would have burst into tears right there and then if his mixed emotions hadn't stunned him into silence. 'Cause he was cold and tired and hungry and so confused and he didn't want to run away, he really didn't and he was so guilty now, he just... wanted to go home.
Lower lip trembling, he pressed his face into the warm fur he was carrying, wanting nothing more than to just know what to do...

Crouching down, he pushed himself into a tiny ball in the furthest corner of the aforementioned dead end, pulling his knees up and cocooning the sleeping polar bear in his arms. He was going to get into so much trouble now... and he knew full well why he would.
A few months ago, a good friend of Monsieur Bonnefoy, an adventurer by the name of Samuel de Champlain (who was supposedly very famous, although Matt failed to see why), had been saying that the Iroquois were not friends of New France, and that upon first contact with them they had been attacked, with many of his men being killed in the process. If his big brother was to find out that Matt wanted to escape back the people who had supposedly killed innocent men... what would he think of him then?
Now, while politics flew over Matt's head (at least for now, anyway) he knew that their was a fragile line growing between the native people of this land and the colonists who were slowly pouring into it, and very soon he was going to have to choose sides whether he wanted to or not.

Sniffing, Matt rubbed at his eyes with the sleeve of his night gown, staining the white cotton and leaving big, red marks across his cheeks. He didn't cry properly, but he did allow a few solitary tears to stream down his face before he settled down, holding back the anguish even though he'd done nothing wrong.
Feeling the cub in his arms stir, he relaxed his grip and watched as the animal let out a massive yawn, beady black eyes uninterested and indifferent to what was going on. Even so, Matt found the sudden company extremely soothing.
"What am I going to do, Kumajiro?" he whined soflty, fingers gently stroking the aniamls fur.
"Who are you?" was the polar bears reply.

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Notes:

*Mmm, so, I got the dates mixed up while plotting... I think. -is confused- ;A;

*I use the term 'five year old' loosely, as he's obviously a lot older then that, he just looks five in this time period. c:

*Iroquois is the name given to the indigenous people who originally lived in Canada (or, as they called it, Kanata) before the settlers came.

-cough- Well, uhh, forgetting historical accuracy, I figured that because of all emotional turmoil stuff that was happening to poor 'Little Canada', he'd probably be trying to run away a lot... so... here you go. xD

Also, after reading this over I realized that most of it is just me rambling so you have my apologies. |D