Hello everyone! Thank you for stopping by and reading my story. LOTM has always been one of my absolute favorite films and after watching it about a 1 week ago for what must have been the 100th time, I just felt the need for more. So I delved head first into the fanfics here and eventually became inspired to start writing this story. I haven't written fanfiction in ages but I was feeling slightly drained creatively so I'm hoping writing this story will revive me in that respect.
As per the description, this will mainly be a Uncas/Alice fic ... I know every original of me :))). I couldn't help myself, I just love this couple and since they weren't really focused on in the film, it allows me as a writer much more freedom when writing their story. However, Cora/Nathaniel and Chingachgook will not be neglected in this fic, as I'd like to challenge myself and try to write from various characters' perspective.
I will try to stay as faithful to the feel of the film as my limited talent allows which means that this story will include romance, adventure, warfare, historical events slightly altered for drama and even a few historical characters along the way. Needless to say, it will be a multi chapter fic. The rating is T for now, might be upgraded to an M or MA later on but I haven't made up my mind on that yet. I'm sure there will be inaccuracies, historical or otherwise, along the way, so please feel free to point them out. This is, after all, a work in progress.
Here's hoping you enjoy the ride!
Chapter 1
Alice watched in horror as Magua's knife cut deep across Uncas' chest. The blood seeped out, staining the whole front of his shirt. No …she thought.
Magua climbed over the rock behind him and waited for the Mohican's next move. Calm and lethal, gripping a knife in either hand, he was taunting the younger man, daring him to come forth.
Uncas' looked up for a moment, as if in a daze, and met Alice's gaze. She thought she saw fear and defeat in his eyes. A wise man, she thought, would run away. He would retreat. Don't leave me, she pleaded inwardly.
He couldn't have heard her. She had not spoken the words out loud, she was certain of that. And yet Uncas's eyes became fierce and resolute once more and he charged, jumping on the rock and pushing Magua.
The two men wrestled with each other and fell to the ground, fighting for control over each other's weapons or a decisive blow that would end the struggle, pushing and pulling each other and getting dangerously close to the edge of the cliff.
Alice heard Uncas' muffled grunt as Magua climbed on top of him. She turned away and pulled herself out of her captor's iron grip. No …not him as well. There had been so much death. Trails of blood and screams everywhere. It seemed to follow her around ever since she had left Albany. She could not bare it!
As she opened her eyes again, she saw Uncas laying on the ground, his right arm limp and covered in blood. Magua towered over him but made no sign to attack. He was waiting for him to get up.
He would die … Uncas would die. In the last few weeks, Alice had seen enough death to recognize it casting its shadow. The faces of nameless soldiers shot or knifed down on George Road, the cacophony of guns firing and horrified screams of pain and anguish, her own dear father's body twitching helplessly as Magua tore out his heart …
"No!" she screamed and took a few steps back. Her sister burnt on the Hurons pyre …her father's body still laying on the road leading to the fort … and now this? Uncas protecting her … fighting for her … dying because of her. "No!" she screamed again and moved ever closer to the edge of the cliff. She half expected her captors to grab hold of her, but they did not move. They just stared at her, wide eyed and slightly shaken.
Finally, Magua turned his merciless eye from Uncas and towards her. His rage, violence and cold disdain permeated through her. Her body fell numb, her eyes void. She looked down at Uncas. He barely made a sound, his arm pressed tightly to his body and yet he was trying to get up.
"No …" The sound came out softer this time, almost pleading, as she looked up at Magua again. Her eyes welt up with tears and she took one more step back. She could feel a cool breeze hit her and a slight whooshing sound engulfing her. There would be no more steps to take.
She looked back at the great precipice below. The height was dizzying, the rocks at the bottom of the ravine foreboding and yet she felt no fear. For a moment, she thought of flying away from Magua's vengeful presence that had oppressed her without respite for days. And yet … somewhere in the background, she could hear Uncas' low grunts as he fought to get back on his feet. If he wasn't giving up, what right had she to do it? She would surely be damned for all eternity and perhaps there was still a chance, a chance to …
She returned her gaze upon the Huron chief and, this time, her eyes were fixed and calm.
Magua was clearly intrigued by this change. He came closer, scrutinizing her countenance and seemingly debating with himself whether she was decided on her course of action or not.
Her face remained motionless and calm and he swallowed hard, his expression changing to something more akin to empathy, if that was possible in a man such as him.
He finally lowered his knife and extended his hand towards her. A bloody hand … Uncas' blood … but a temporary peace offering nonetheless.
Alice looked at the bloody hand and then at Uncas, who was swaying on his feet, almost on the verge of unconsciousness.
A question lingered there in the air between the hardened warrior chief and the frightened, white girl and, to her dismay, after a moment, Magua nodded.
He turned towards his men and spoke to them hastily in Huron. The men were taken aback but moved quickly to do his bidding. Two of them grabbed hold of Uncas. He struggled and lifted his tomahawk to strike at them but he was quickly unarmed and subdued.
As she watched Uncas being dragged down the path, Alice found herself trembling and panting suddenly, as if she had awoken from some terrible nightmare. She ventured one more look at Magua and he signaled for her to start moving. She clenched her fists, digging them into the folds of her skirts, in a futile attempt to quiet her trembling, and put one step in front of the other, as she left the promontory of her deliverance behind.
XXX
Cora made her way up the steep side of the mountain as quickly as she could. The rain had fallen the night before, making the earth beneath her feet muddy and slippery. She reached for what she believed to be a drier patch, covered in leaves and her foot slipped, bringing her entire body crushing down. She slid down as if no more than a rag as she desperately tried to grab hold of a tree root. Her hands were worn raw by now and bleeding and she mercifully came to a halt as the lower part of her body came crushing into a tree trunk.
She screamed … in frustration or in pain, she knew not. All she knew was that she had to get up and keep moving. She could feel the water seeping through the fabric of her dress. Damn the dress! It was part of the problem! The ample skirts, the corset … all of the damn thing made climbing up this mountain three times more difficult than it already was.
The men had left her behind. They had been forced to make short change of the steep recline that seemed almost a Herculean feat for Cora, in their haste to reach the Huron party and Alice.
Alice … Poor, sweet Alice … How frightened she must be and she not there to comfort her.
Cora had failed her sister. She had promised she would always be there to take care of her and now, when she most needed her, she couldn't even get up this bloody mountain!
Cora doubled her efforts, lifting her skirts and almost crawling as she used her hands to pull herself upwards and her feet to push. In the distance, she could still hear the sounds coming from the Huron celebration. Men chanting, women cheering, guns firing … A celebration that had been ignited by the burning of Duncan.
She shook her head. She could not think about that now. She willed herself to stop from recalling his horrifying screams. If she allowed herself to think of it, she would be unable to do anything else.
A loud creek from somewhere to her left startled her. She looked around but she could see nothing lurking behind the tree trunks or through the thick foliage. An animal or a bird, she told herself even as her heart started racing and the hairs on her back stood up at the feeling of eminent danger.
She had almost convinced herself that it was only her imaginings, when something … or someone grabbed a hold of her. As she tried to pull away and scream, an arm encircled her waist and pulled her back. A foul smelling hand pressed up against her mouth, to muffle her cries, as she frantically tried to get away. It was no use. The man's grip on her was ironclad.
"Silencieux!" he said, through gritted teeth. "Cesser de lutter!"
French … he was French. But what was he saying?
Cora had never shown much interest in learning the language, even as her governess had attempted to drill it into her. She would always slip away, leaving Alice to do all the homework, as she much preferred to be outdoors or helping in the infirmary, if she was on campaign with her father. She cursed her lack of foresight.
From behind her, she could hear other voices. The Frenchman guided her to a clearing and pushed her in the middle of a mixed group of Hurons and French. The French were not in uniform so they were not soldiers, she guessed. They were dressed more like the men she had seen that night on the outskirts of the Camerons' lodge. They were talking animatedly, one over the other, paying her little mind.
Just as she prepared to run and start screaming, she noticed Chingachgook, sitting on the ground, leaned up against a tree, his hands bound. He had an ugly gash on his forehead and blood was slowly dripping down his cheek.
Two men emerged through the clearing dragging another between them. The prisoner was bound by both his hands and feet.
"Nathaniel!"
A Huron pulled her back as she tried to reach him. Nathaniel didn't make any movement. He was unconscious … or perhaps worse … "Let me go!" Cora said, pushing at the Indian who finally released her and started laughing.
The two men dropped Nathaniel unceremoniously on the ground, next to Chingachgook and drizzled some water over him. He jumped up almost immediately. "Difficile celui-là!", one of the men said laughing as he made his way towards the rest.
Cora ran to Nathaniel and gasped in horror, as she saw his face was almost entirely covered in blood. "What did they do to you?" she asked, as she pulled on her sleeve to try and stop the bleeding.
"It's nothing," Nathaniel said, through gritted teeth. "The bastard broke my nose, is all." He turned to his father, dropping his eyes in shame. "I'm sorry," he said in Mohican.
Chingachgook nodded in resignation.
Cora stared at the two men. They looked defeated and tired. She dreaded what was to come next. "Who are these men?" she asked, dropping her voice to almost a whisper.
"French trappers, most like. They probably saw us in the village and thought they'd turn a nice profit by handing us over to the French."
Cora held her breath. Being a hostage of the French was most likely better than being a hostage of the Huron, but how much better? "Where are they taking us?"
"Fort Carillon, maybe," Chingachgook said. "Maybe further, to Montreal."
"Montreal? But that's in the Canadas!" Cora gasped at the thought. That was so far! "What about Alice?"
The two men looked at each other desolately. Nathaniel tried to put on a brave smile but couldn't quite manage it. "Uncas will take care of her."
Thank you for reading! Hope you come back for the next installment. I will try to update once a week, however there might be some delays along the way depending on how busy I am at work or if RL complications get in the way. :)
