A boy about 15 years old, one of the natives, you could see it from his hair, the way he looked around the harbour and the city folk passing by in a hurry, everyone deeply laden with goods or groceries they just bought at the lively market placed just behind the docks, and at least his clothes made of soft leather and dark, thik fabrics they use to make far behind the frontiers border. He carried a weapon at his belt, a small tomahawk made of stone and strong wood, but the boy was sure he wouldn't need it today. At least he hoped so. He had different manners to come here into the city.
Archilles didn't know about his reasons, he only saw him leaving early in the morning, a carter picked him up and brought him a fair way towards Boston, where he hoped to find what he needed.
Connors arms were wraped closely around the small bundle resting on his chest. It was warm, giving a small yelp from time to time that made the Mohawk fear people would stop and ask him what was wrong with him. It's not as if they would look at him critical faces anyways...
He walked around the city limits for about an hour or two, until he finally found the man he was looking for.
An Italian, not so tall and hair even a darker tones then Connor's was. The boy didn't knew the name, but he was dead certain about him being the man he was looking for! He recognized the way he moved, his eyes, and even the tone of his voice, which was actually a pretty average one, but for the young native, who only heard the englishmen and people of his tribe before, the accent seemed so individual and unique, Connor was sure he'd remember it to his death...
It requiered a whole lot of overcoming until the Mohawk made a step out of the crowd, still holding the small package close to his chest.
"Excuse me..", he began as Archilles and his mother taught him to bring your concerns to strangers the correct way, "May I ask you something..? I mean, would you have a moment to help me out?" Connor felt relieved as the man actually turned around and made a step foreward to him, seemingly interested in what the boy wanted. Or even ... as he just had been allured by something. A smell maybe..?
"I saw you in the woods a few days before.", Connor admitted, "You were there with the wolves." There was no fear laying in the Mohawk's voice, like it'd be something completely neutral that a man was with a full pack of wolves at night, treating the beasts like friends. And before the man could show any edge of hysteria, Connor pulled off the blanket he had wraped around the thing he carried with him, and a small, bright whelp blinked into the bright sun, gasping for air and beginning to struggle against the boys hold. "Please, I know you can help me, I found him alone beside the road, I couldn't let him be in this condition??! Do you understand? I need your help or he will die soon, I guess??"
