Sooooo... I was going to write about Amerigo Vespucci and Columbus but they explored South America and the Carribean primarily. So I skipped them. I'm kindof ashamed that that I had to research Christopher Columbus. pushes fingers together So we're starting with Juan Ponce de Leon. And you like me you really like me! Yay! This one is from America's POV.
He sang as he walked a song about springtime and new birth. It was spring for his southern boundaries and already the sky was a merciless blue, the heat rising off the swamp in long shimmering waves. All the same he was cheerful as he walked. So far his neighbor had had no more troubles with the strange white men he had encountered and he had yet to see any himself. It was strange, he mused, to be thinking about the strange men after so long. For now they had remained in their tiny “settlement” as they called it. In comparison to the rest of their lands they were inconsequential. His neighbor remained troubled. He did not like the new name they tried to give him, the strange sounding “Vinland”. He did not like their hunting habits. He did not like the way they built things. He despised their manners. They hurt his people. All this trouble over one small village!
His smile faded. One of his people was approaching. They knew to expect him around this time of course but never had they left a scout. Was something wrong? Had an illness struck the village? It was a little boy. “Karahkwa! Karahkwa!” He yelled waving furiously. “Welcome back!” He smiled, a blinding, sunny smile that was his namesake.
“Hello little one.” He greeted gently. “Is something wrong? Why are you not in your village? It is a fine day to work.”
“An even finer one to play.” The boy grinned. He threw his head back and laughed. A child after his own heart. “Mother sent me to find you. There are strange men on the shore!” His heart stopped. Here? But this was so much farther south and none of his coastal people had ever mentioned anything about white men or strange canoes! But then he forced himself to calm. He had no proof that these were the same men. It was more than likely more slavers, none of whom had ever expressed an interest in settling here. All the same his heart beat faster as he casually asked the boy about the men. Were they the slavers? No but they looked like them. What did their leader look like? He had a funny beard and long hair. Was there anything strange about them?
“Yes! There's a man with them that Mama says is like you! He looks funny! He has eyes that look like the spring grass!” A different one? His other was very sure that his visitor had purple eyes. His lips thinned. His good mood was gone. He did not like this at all.
It was impossible to miss them. They were in the center of town. He did not like the look in their eyes. It was possessive and condescending. He wanted to hurt them, to scalp them and wear their skins on his belt. He could see the boy's mother and made to go to her but before he could a dark head swung his way and he was staring into arrogant green eyes. He bristled and fingered the short ax at his side. The not-man saw this and sneered before whispering something in the “leader's” ear and striding over. He was not fooled. He knew who the real leader was here.
The man stopped a short distance away. “Yo no creo que otro país estaría aquí. Como se llama?” He scowled, not understanding, and the man huffed before waving over one of his cursed kind. A slaver. He recognized him now. The not-man was foolish to bring his kind here. They spoke for a moment before the slaver turned to him and clumsily translated. “He asks what name is?”
He tossed his head proudly. “I have many and you do not need to know any of them.” The green eyed man bared his teeth in a barbaric grin apparently understanding the gist of it if not the actual words and was speaking before the man ever finished. “He says add Floridia to list. Soon you belong to him” He snarled and the slaver cowered but the green eyed not man was already striding away. Now he understood what his other hated about the violet eyed not a man. But he would not be like his other, he thought possessively fingering his ax. He would take a different path.
Re: The world according to us Part 2
He sang as he walked a song about springtime and new birth. It was spring for his southern boundaries and already the sky was a merciless blue, the heat rising off the swamp in long shimmering waves. All the same he was cheerful as he walked. So far his neighbor had had no more troubles with the strange white men he had encountered and he had yet to see any himself. It was strange, he mused, to be thinking about the strange men after so long. For now they had remained in their tiny “settlement” as they called it. In comparison to the rest of their lands they were inconsequential. His neighbor remained troubled. He did not like the new name they tried to give him, the strange sounding “Vinland”. He did not like their hunting habits. He did not like the way they built things. He despised their manners. They hurt his people. All this trouble over one small village!
His smile faded. One of his people was approaching. They knew to expect him around this time of course but never had they left a scout. Was something wrong? Had an illness struck the village? It was a little boy. “Karahkwa! Karahkwa!” He yelled waving furiously. “Welcome back!” He smiled, a blinding, sunny smile that was his namesake.
“Hello little one.” He greeted gently. “Is something wrong? Why are you not in your village? It is a fine day to work.”
“An even finer one to play.” The boy grinned. He threw his head back and laughed. A child after his own heart. “Mother sent me to find you. There are strange men on the shore!” His heart stopped. Here? But this was so much farther south and none of his coastal people had ever mentioned anything about white men or strange canoes! But then he forced himself to calm. He had no proof that these were the same men. It was more than likely more slavers, none of whom had ever expressed an interest in settling here. All the same his heart beat faster as he casually asked the boy about the men. Were they the slavers? No but they looked like them. What did their leader look like? He had a funny beard and long hair. Was there anything strange about them?
“Yes! There's a man with them that Mama says is like you! He looks funny! He has eyes that look like the spring grass!” A different one? His other was very sure that his visitor had purple eyes. His lips thinned. His good mood was gone. He did not like this at all.
It was impossible to miss them. They were in the center of town. He did not like the look in their eyes. It was possessive and condescending. He wanted to hurt them, to scalp them and wear their skins on his belt. He could see the boy's mother and made to go to her but before he could a dark head swung his way and he was staring into arrogant green eyes. He bristled and fingered the short ax at his side. The not-man saw this and sneered before whispering something in the “leader's” ear and striding over. He was not fooled. He knew who the real leader was here.
The man stopped a short distance away. “Yo no creo que otro país estaría aquí. Como se llama?” He scowled, not understanding, and the man huffed before waving over one of his cursed kind. A slaver. He recognized him now. The not-man was foolish to bring his kind here. They spoke for a moment before the slaver turned to him and clumsily translated. “He asks what name is?”
He tossed his head proudly. “I have many and you do not need to know any of them.” The green eyed man bared his teeth in a barbaric grin apparently understanding the gist of it if not the actual words and was speaking before the man ever finished. “He says add Floridia to list. Soon you belong to him” He snarled and the slaver cowered but the green eyed not man was already striding away. Now he understood what his other hated about the violet eyed not a man. But he would not be like his other, he thought possessively fingering his ax. He would take a different path.
Last bit and notes below. Damn word limits.