Across the Great Divide
The forest is dark.
Little light filters through the leaves. There is a soft, almost imperceptible crunch as they weave their way through the forest; darker, darker, further, further.
Closer to father?
In her mind, she hears the cry of a man, the sudden burst of gunshots.
Death, death.
It is all around her. She sees them falling- men who rush, try to protect her- the Colonel's daughter- men who fall, lifeless, their eyes staring into nothingness.
Death.
"Cora," she calls weakly, but Cora does not turn around- she is too busy arguing with that white red man. Hawkeye, he said his name was.
There is a sudden movement in the trees beside her.
She gives a cry and slips, but a hand reaches out, steadies her arm.
"Thank you, Duncan," she gasps, and turns to smile at him.
Only it isn't Duncan who has held her arm- it is the Indian, the one who let the horses go.
She flushes, embarrassed, and turns away.
How stupid of her to have slipped like any child. And to have this man help her!- a red man, who didn't know the etiquette-
Only he had helped her.
How foolish she had been!
"How are you, Miss?" he asks her.
His voice is soft, almost gentle- but no. They do not even know each other. She almost voices this, but knows it would be entirely improper.
"I am perfectly well," she says brightly, instead, and tries to smile at him. It is hard- she fears his eyes. They pierce her, as though he is trying to see past something.
"I was a little shaky from the road, that is all, but now I am perfectly well, thank you very much." She almost attempts to pull her arm away from his when something makes her catch her breath.
The sides of his face crinkle. For a moment, she stares at him, wondering what the matter is, when realises with no small level or mortification that he is laughing.
He- a red man!- is laughing. At her.
"You were not expecting it to be me?" he says, a chuckle barely contained behind his words.
For a moment, she feels a stab of indignation, then instant shame. A thousand British courtesies run through her mind- "Why on earth should you think that?" "Oh! Well, it is so hard to tell in the woods"- but she cannot bring herself to say them.
Instead, she meets his gaze.
"No, I did not," she admits, softly.
He smiles then- a broad smile, one that makes his dark eyes light- and her breath catches slightly.
The thought flits through her mind that she should perhaps curtsey to him, but such an action is frivolous and she does not know inside her whether she can ever bring herself to be the girl she was before. It takes too much energy.
His eyes linger on her a moment longer, and she feels her cheeks almost begin to burn before he turns away and moves to join his father. It is almost as if he had never been there.
She stands, silently, for a moment.
Duncan comes buoyantly beside her and offers a gallant hand.
"I saw that chap trying to help you before," he says. "It was rather nice of him- nicer than I had expected."
Alice feels something snap, and she raises her head and speaks before she can think.
"And what had you expected, Duncan?"
He starts at the edge in her voice, and she herself is shocked.
"I am sorry, I do not know what made me speak that way," she says, apologetically. "Forgive me, Duncan."
He blinks strangely, but gives her small smile nonetheless. His eyes are welcomingly distant compared to his eyes- but she feels something inside her longing for something more, something deeper.
"Well, certainly this day has not gone as expected." He does not seem to be talking about what happened earlier in their journey, but Alice sees the blood once more, hears the gunshots, sees their unfocused, cold eyes.
"Yes," he continues, though his voice is distant to her ears. "It's strange how- events happen sometimes. That Indian," he said, nodding at him. "Uncas, isn't that is name?"
"Yes," Alice murmurs.
"Yet things return almost immediately to the way they were," Duncan finishes, almost merrily.
Alice does not miss the slight hardness that enters his voice as he stares ahead- at her sister, no doubt. But she does not focus on this for long.
Instead, she watches Uncas. He moves to speak to his father, inclines his head slightly then turns to the strange white man.
Uncas, she thinks.
Almost instantly he turns around, and something leaps inside. He indicates that they must hurry- she can almost hear Duncan's impatience and irritation. But in the same action, his eyes linger on her a moment, and she feels a smile cross her face.
Then she looks at Duncan and remembers his last comment.
Things return almost immediately to the way they were.
"No," she says, and is almost surprised by the strength of her voice.
"I don't return. I change."
A/N: Wow, it seems I have finally- if only momentarily- broken my writer's block- or at least, my exams have broken the drought. While studying for English, I was struck by the thought that Alice and Uncas have a quiet relationship almost in the manner of George and Lucy in A Room With a View. It's simply that in both their relationships, I feel that the depths of their emotions are conveyed in little actions like looks and a quiet honesty- things that break past the social and cultural divides.
Well, enough of my rambling! I hope you enjoyed this story, and many thanks to those who have read this far! God bless.