At the Fort - The Missing Scenes – Part IV

Author's Note: Thank you to Suchgoodluck whose review of Part I planted a couple of seeds for me, including the raging battle at the fort and Colonel Munro possibly having something to say. I didn't expect that he would but he did! And as always, I appreciate all the reviews—you never know what might spark an idea or help improve one's writing. This is an awesome fandom!

Words in Mohican (apologies for the lack of accent marks) with English translation:

Nkek – Mother

Nooch – Father

Wapaju Keesog P'chanim – Yellow Moon Woman


When Uncas returned to the sleeping quarters, his father was, as he had expected, awake and waiting for him, sitting cross legged on a sleeping palate. Others were just awakening, slipping out to take care of early morning needs.

"Uncas," he began in Mohican, "you never knew her, but you are very like your Nkek. Your heart is generous."

"As is yours, Nooch," he replied as he set his weapons aside and joined his father on the palate, resting his arms on his bent knees.

"Have you given yours to Wapaju Keesog P'chanim?"

Uncas looked down, remembering Alice sitting on the ground between his legs, leaning into him, clinging to him, tasting his tattoos, moving intimately against him. She'd caught him off guard, but he was learning she was full of pleasant surprises. "You think she is weak."

Chingachgook stared a moment, as if seeing something other than the dim, dank room they occupied. "She is young and has not experienced the world much—until now. She is like a new born fawn finding her legs for the first time. Everything is a wonder. Different than what she has known. Including you."

Uncas looked up at his father. "I know you wish for me to find a woman of our people."

"I wish for you to give your heart to one who will realize what it is you offer. I do not think Wapaju Keesog P'chanim has been given a gift such as yours before. She may not appreciate nor understand its value. I wish for you to be cautious and guard your heart."


When Cora entered her father's lodgings Alice, lying fully clothed on the bed, stirred. "Cora?" she murmured as she turned over.

"Alice, I'm sorry. I did not mean to wake you."

"It's alright, Cora. I've been up much of the night. You as well . . . with Nathaniel?" she questioned.

Cora wavered then nodded.

Alice sat up and swung her legs over the side of the bed. "You love him?" she asked. Cora looked at her, eyes wide with surprise, lips tightly closed. "You need not lie to me. I saw the way you looked at him . . . and he at you."

Cora expelled a deep breath. "Yes," she replied, "I love him. I cannot believe how quickly it has happened, but I do love him."

Alice rose from the bed and went to her sister, embraced her. "It will be alright," she whispered, "We'll find a way, Cora."

"Oh, Alice, I am certain of nothing right now." She clutched Alice to her. "Papa has surrendered to Montcalm." Alice pulled back, not entirely surprised. "We must decamp by tomorrow morning."

Alice had been expecting Uncas and his family to depart at anytime, but when Nathaniel was arrested, she knew they would not leave him behind. What would they do, now? What would she and Cora do? Where would they all go? She longed to once again be in Uncas' arms; no matter what was happening around them, she felt safe, secure, treasured.


Word had spread quickly that Colonel Munro had surrendered to the French. They had been given until dawn to pack up the camp and vacate the fort. He'd been with his officers to strategize and decide how to proceed before and after the meeting with Montcalm. Consequently, he had gotten no sleep for almost 48 hours. He was now making his way to his lodgings and his daughters, who were, he presumed, packing up their few belongings. When he entered his rooms, both Cora and Alice were doing as he expected. "Girls," he greeted.

As one, they looked up at him. He noted the opposing expressions on their faces. Cora pierced him with her dark, accusing eyes. Perhaps Major Heyward was right—his daughter was infatuated with Poe. He sighed. To be honest, he was not surprised that her fiery nature was attracted to the frontiersman. While he'd hoped she would marry the Major who would, perhaps, tame her a bit, he also did not want to see the trait he loved best in her stifled. It was why he'd allowed her to accompany him on some of his campaigns; he knew she'd face the pain and horror of warfare fearlessly and would, inevitably, be an asset. Her deep, almost black eyes penetrated, leaving no escape when she demanded an answer. He sometimes felt the urge to squirm under her direct gaze, but never had. Her backbone was as rigid and as strong as his own.

His gaze moved to his youngest daughter whose birth had caused his adored wife's death. She was nothing like her sister. She had been sheltered her whole life, raised as the daughter of an Officer of his Majesty's Army should despite their Scottish origins—privileged, pampered, subservient, obedient. And yet, she had survived an Indian attack, forged her way through difficult terrain, and had thought to ask after his welfare once they'd reunited. He had been away on military campaigns for a good portion of her life. Again, trying to be honest with himself, he admitted he did not know her as well as he knew Cora. And now she watched him with an uncertain expression, as if she did not quite know what to make of him.

"Girls," he repeated, "we will be leaving at first light tomorrow."

"What will happen to Nathaniel?" Cora demanded.

"When we are again under British dominion, you know what will happen, Cora. We've spoken of this already."

"Despite everything he has done for us? And after your surrender, you will still see him hanged?" Cora cried.

Colonel Munro blinked, but did not flinch. Even during his meeting with Montcalm, as dissatisfied and saddened as he'd felt then, he'd not experienced this overwhelming sense of being out of control of everything, including his daughters. "Cora," he said, exhausted, "I am sorry, but he knew the consequences. I will not discuss this with you again."

As Cora stared at him, he could see the anger emanating from her—rigid fists at her sides, lips clenched, eyes afire. Without another word, she stormed out, leaving the door swinging on its hinges in her wake.

With a deep sigh, Colonel Munro turned to Alice. For the first time in his life, he felt a need to explain himself to her. "You understand, girl, don't you?" he asked.

Alice stared, the fingers of one hand touching her lips as if she didn't know what to say, or . . . Munro watched her closely and realized he had never really given much thought to what might be going on inside that pretty head of hers. She had always been the obedient child, overshadowed by her spirited, outspoken older sister. Somehow, despite her beauty, she had often managed to fade into the background, except when she expressed her love for him. And now, as he gazed at her, he understood that there was more. "Unplumbed depths," as his wife used to say about certain gentlemen who did not feel the need to express their opinions on every topic and issue of conversation. He would tease her, saying she should have married a quiet man, for his own opinions were almost always on his face or coming out of his mouth. She would offer a small smile accompanied by a look in her eyes that said she was privy to something he was not. As his youngest daughter stood before him, he saw the exact same expression on her face. "Alice?" he strode towards her, grasped her arm and pulled it away from her face.

She sucked in a quick breath and blinked, her vacant gaze finally focusing on him. "Papa," she whispered, "Cora loves him. She may never forgive you if you go through with this."

"If I make an exception for him, even to please my own daughter, it will be seen as a weakness. Don't you see that, girl?" He waited for her answer, still not comprehending why he felt such a need for her to understand his position or why her opinion was of consequence to him. Alice sighed; her eyes looked so sad and as he stared at her he realized, old. It was as if she'd lived a lifetime and was nearing the end.

"Papa," she began, "we would not be here with you . . . we would not be alive if it were not for Nathaniel and his father and brother."

"But he went against my express orders that the Colonial Militia were to remain here at the fort."

Alice removed her arm from her father's grasp. She stepped back and looked directly into his eyes. "What happened at the cabin . . . it was . . . horrible. A mother . . . her children . . . everyone murdered."

"Ah, lass, the face of war is a fearsome sight. But the interests of the crown must take precedence over everything else." He found himself repeating the words he had spoken to Major Heyward the day before and again wondered why it was imperative that she understand.

"Is that why you surrendered? To preserve the interests of the crown?" she asked.

He was taken aback by her brutal honesty and her unexpected intelligence. "That is different," he looked away before continuing, unable to meet her steady gaze. "My responsibilities are for all who are here in this fort. General Webb will not send reinforcements." He caught her gaze again, "Everyone here would be slaughtered if I did not."

"As the Colonials could not stand by and allow their families to be slaughtered." Her voice was quiet but held an edge of steel.

He could not believe this was his little Alice, challenging his motives, his very ideals. Anger welled up inside him. "You dare to question me?" He stepped towards her and she backed up. He grasped her arm once again and said through clenched teeth, "You will not speak to me in this manner." Alice's eyes widen and he saw the sadness replaced by shock as she tried to pull out of his grasp. "Do you hear me, girl?" He shook her.

She gasped, "Yes, Papa. Yes. I'm . . . I'm sorry. I meant no disrespect. I only . . ."

Tears gathered in her eyes and he suddenly realized what he was doing. He dropped her arm and reeled back. "Alice. Ah, lass—"

But she did not wait for what else he might say or do. Instead, she scuttled around him and bolted out the open door into the bright light of the day.

Colonel Munro sat heavily on the bed. Never in his life had he manhandled either of his daughters, or any woman, for that matter. He lowered his head into his hands wondering what was happening to him. It was this new world. It made you do strange things, things of which you never thought yourself capable.


Alice clamped her arms against her stomach as she ran, unsure where to go. Her father! Her hero! She shook her head, not believing what he'd done nor what she'd said to him. What had she been thinking? She had not. She knew only that she'd felt the unfairness of it all—everything that had happened—to them, to the Camerons, to Nathaniel, to all the soldiers who'd been killed on the George Road, to all those at the fort. She wished she had never come to this continent. Then she thought of Uncas; had she not come, she would never have met him. A desperate urge to be with him, to be held in his strong arms overwhelmed her. And finally, she understood the feelings she'd been struggling to define. She loved him. As Cora loved Nathaniel, she loved Uncas. She could no longer deny it.