There was a time when fear was an emotion that Alice Munro had never truly experienced.
Of course, despite her privileged and care-free upbringing, she had naturally felt anguish and sadness at times. She could easily recall the heartache she endured whenever her father would declare his imminent departure for battles or, even more easily, she could remember the times Cora would leave to play her part in the medicinal recuperation of the war-wounded men.
Admittedly, Alice herself could agree that she had always had a somewhat ignorant outlook on life which, in turn, made it easy to presume their inevitable homecoming; as if there could be no other outcome.
Life had always unfolded in her favour and she never knew anything other than the comfort and safety of her everyday life in London.
That all changed, not five days ago.
Alice's inner fear was awakened the moment she fell from her horse and the subsequent attack on her company ensued. Though Cora had shielded her eyes, the sounds of brutal hacking and shooting were enough to pierce her ignorant safety blanket and tear her innocence from her.
Despite their rescue at the hands of three respectable strangers, her newly attained fear did not subside.
Upon the ambush by the Huron men on her father's cavalry, Alice bore witness to the savage slaughtering of noble English men and lost herself in the process. She could still recall the feeling of the savage's harsh grip on her cheeks, sizing her up to join the fallen before Cora had intervened; putting her own life at risk.
For surely, in that moment, Alice had reached the very peak of fear.
How foolish of me, she later thought.
It could no longer be pegged down to just fear now. The unfamiliar, all-consuming emotion was enough to choke her of all her other feelings. Even now, as her shoulder was pushed and prodded, she felt numb to the pain.
She followed their beaten path, kicked dust up with them in their stead and yet, she could not recall the previous second as a new one unfolded before her; even if she tried. She could no longer see nor hear, she only knew what it was to gasp for air; to silently pray to be free of this never-ending nightmare.
And it would never end, it seemed. With every passing moment, she was pushed the furthest she'd been from Cora since she was a small girl and Cora had left their home to go and assist Mr Phelps abroad.
For the first time in her life, she was completely alone.
Troublingly to her most, was that Alice knew not of her sister's fate; nor Nathaniel's, nor Chingachgook's, nor Duncan's, nor Uncas'. In such a short space of time, they had become her new reality and now even that was being taken from her. She didn't know how to reconcile with the fact that she was likely to never see any of them again.
She now dreads to imagine what lies ahead of her, once again choosing ignorance in hopes of delaying the inevitable.
The view before her was unlike anything she had ever seen. The seemingly infinite canyon reminded Alice of just how big the world was outside of England and here she stood, a miniscule speck of dust in comparison, feeling more lost than ever.
A quick glance down was to see that the cliff's edge was perilously close, and she half wondered if they were planning to just throw her off the side and be done with it.
As she sized up the dizzying height, Alice was reminded of just how lost she really was when her weak body collided with the back of the Huron in front; whose grip in dragging her had been so tight, she would probably feel the ghost of it for days to come. Her shoulder's then felt the barge of the men behind her, rushing to the front of the party to assist in the ensuing chaos that lay just out of vision.
A single gun-shot ricocheted out into the vast canyons and as they turned the corner, Alice's heart stopped at the sight of a familiar deep green tunic.
A lone tunic.
Where were the others? She dreads to think.
Entirely outnumbered, she helplessly watches on as the young Mohican disposes of three Huron's before boldly taking on Magua himself.
There was no method to his attack, which worried Alice. It didn't seem as though this was any kind of distraction or ploy. He really was alone…
Her lips were so dry, they almost hurt to part. Her throat so dehydrated, she could not even scream. The only moisture came from her eyes, as they shut in terror at the sight of Magua's dagger slashing Uncas' abdomen.
o - o - o - o - o
Uncas stared down at his newly acquired wound, visibly astounded at its very existence. It was like a firm slap to the face of one who was acting senseless. A reality check, so to speak.
He wondered how he had gotten himself here in the first place, for surely now his fate was sealed beyond all comprehension. His body froze with the weight of his actions; the realization that he was likely not to survive this encounter hitting him hard.
Nevertheless, Uncas instinctively raised his head and he soon clapped eyes on the reason for his valiant, if not reckless, cause. The little doll.
Alice had been taken, and that was reason enough it seemed. He was here now, there was to be no going back.
For honour, not glory.
Pushing Magua backwards, the two men climbed atop the rock onto the cliff's very edge and unsheathed their weapons properly.
In that moment, the normally fearful Alice would have taken the fate that was to have befallen her in Magua's camp thrice over, if it meant sparing Uncas' life. Even now she could not bring herself to watch as he was overpowered, instead shielding her head over her shoulder. Silently, she began to pray for God's mercy, wincing anytime she heard a new slash dice into Uncas' skin.
Only when the distant sound of gunshots rang out, did she dare turn again. All present, including Uncas and Magua, averted their attention to the approaching warriors.
Chingachgook and Hawkeye, undeterred by the outnumbering, descended upon the scene, shooting seamlessly as they quickly advanced upon the group. Like two eagle's swooping in, they glided across the rock front with the same ease and power as the birds of prey.
Eying his blood son's predicament, Chingachgook zoned in on Magua; leaving his white son to masterfully deal with the others. The elder would not live to see the day his son joined the great council fire of his people before him.
No.
He would go first, and Uncas would join him there. He assured himself as he leapt into action.
Alice did not know where to look or how to feel. Relief would not come until all were safe. Even then, of course, there was the burning question of her sister's location and safety. Perhaps Cora and Duncan had stayed back, allowing the skilled fighters to handle the rescue?
o - o - o - o - o
For honour, Chingachgook declared to the Maker, before spinning on the spot and delivering the final blow to Magua; in doing so, avenging the deaths of the fallen Mohawk brothers, English soldiers and innocent settlers that he had so ruthlessly murdered in his quest for revenge.
Uncas gripped his gut with his good arm and watched as Magua crumbled to the ground; his bones broken and his spirit now free to join his slain family before him.
He briefly shut his eyes and thanked the Maker that it was Magua, not he, who lay dead upon the cliff's edge. He also dared not look up. For to meet his father's gaze was to be confronted with the weight of his reckless actions and right now, Uncas did not have an answer for them.
o - o - o - o - o
Truthfully speaking, Chingachgook had been entirely dumbfounded at his son's radical mission to go after the captured girl. He would have expected this kind of irrational reaction from Hawkeye, it's true, but Uncas? Never.
He flicked his gaze and beheld the Yengeese girl, who stood off to the side, with her thousand-mile long stare and quivering frame. His mind and heart were heavy with the revelation that his son had almost lost his life for this little lamb.
Would she have forgone the gift of life and committed herself to the same sacrifice as my son? He wondered before mutely mourning the answer.
o - o - o - o - o
Dusk descended upon the blissfully reunited yet wholly spent companions.
'Where is Duncan?'
The second the words left Alice's mouth, Cora's eyes widened with sombreness. In that moment, she held the weight of a man's life on her shoulders and quietly accepted that she probably always would. Rightly so, she understood.
'Gone.' Cora barely croaked out, still attempting to tear the material of her dress though the ripples in the fabric gave away her shaking.
'Died with honour, a true testament of England's good men.' Nathaniel chimed in from across the way, as he observed the irreparable damages done to the muskets.
Alice's eyes glossed over, and her throat began to close in. Duncan gone too?
Her eyes pierced the air as she stared at Cora and Nathaniel continuing to perform their mundane tasks as though this disclosure was just a piece of trivial information. Was there truly to be no grieving? Were they simply to just carry on as though Duncan had been no more than a mere garment, ripped until it was no longer of use?
Pulling her legs up and resting her head low, Alice said no more for the rest of the night. Even as Chingachook and Uncas returned to the little makeshift camp, a couple of small foxes on the senior's back as Uncas limped behind him, Alice made no peep.
In their absence, Cora had effectively prepared everything she could with the limited materials they had and, not willing to wait until morning, began stitching Uncas up using only the campfire for light.
o - o - o - o - o
As the flames flickered and spat, Uncas took the time to observe his surroundings. His eyes began to skip along an imaginary path until they reached the other side of the fire.
Before the unspeakable happened, Alexandra Cameron had showcased an heirloom, a doll, that sat high on the shelf, away from the destructive minds of children. It was the only one of its kind in the region; so far as Uncas had ever seen, at least. Its exterior had been delicate, glass-like, and she had been painted to have colour in her cheeks with her light hair braided into perfection atop her head and she bore a gown worn by the white women of wealth.
Uncas had not known at the time that the doll was the representation of real women that existed beyond the frontier. Until now, of course.
Even if the Maker of all Life called down and asked Uncas why he had staked his life on the line for the doll, he would have no more of an answer than he had for his father.
The Munro girl had spoken not three sentences to him, as silent as the doll he now compared her to. Yet somehow, Uncas understood her silence.
For she was fragile, just like the doll. Her innocence to the perils of a harsh and hard-working life did not hold Uncas' judgment. Instead, he found it fascinating. Rare. The women he was used to seeing were tough, like the men. They bore children with the resilience of a warrior; they kept camp, they harvested in the sweltering heat and carved and weaved in the freezing chill.
It was obvious from the start that the doll could do none of that. Uncas wasn't even sure she knew how to light a fire...
But for some inexplicable reason, in the rare moment's he was out of tune with his surroundings, he would find himself helpless to prevent the drawing of his gaze.
He would observe her mannerisms and features, constantly comparing them to what he already knew. The Delaware women did not have light in their hair like she, nor were they dainty in shape. Their eyes were dark, almost black, like his own, and the Munro girl held eyes as light as the leaves that coloured in the fall, with skin just as fair.
Sometimes, Alice could feel the sensation of being watched but her non-subtle body language made it easy for Uncas to avert his eyes before she ever caught on.
Likewise, Uncas could always sense the piercing eyes of his father. They had spent their time hunting in devout silence, with Uncas worriedly desiring for a vocal reprimand rather than this torturous silent punishment.
o - o - o - o - o
Cora broke the silence of the camp first, inquiring 'what now?' and startling only Alice in the process.
'We continue North; we have friends, relatives of the Cameron's we must inform and bare our condolences to.' Nathaniel answered, stoking the fire.
'I see.' She nodded, her voice low and mournful.
Having finished wrapping the stitches in the fabric of her dress, Uncas nodded his head in thanks to Cora before rousing to his feet and walking over to assist his father in the skinning of the foxes.
From her spot in the corner Alice's pupils watched Uncas' movements with great interest, pulling her knees closer to her chest in the meantime.
They had spoken not a single word to each other since the cliff's and Alice could feel herself becoming overwhelmed by the heaviness of it all. How does one simply "thank" another for such a monumental sacrifice?
The longer they went without speaking, the more ill-mannered Alice felt. They may be far from home, but Alice still had some of her old ways about her.
Tomorrow, Alice resolved to herself, I shall do it tomorrow.