The band of Huron warriors and their English captives rounded the mountainside and after a long day's trek, finally arrived at a green valley, hidden from view from the ridges above. There, nestled in the meadow at its bottom, stood a Huron village. The hogans made of cut birch wood were set side by side in two rows, forming a long avenue down the center, leading to the end where a great pit had been dug out.

Dogs barked announcing their arrival and the whole village emptied their homes to watch them. Young men formed two lines beside the newcomers and whooped, raising their tomahawks in the air and jeering at the fright of the English. Women carried their babies wrapped up in skins and watched them in sullen silence, no doubt remembering some past battle against the colonists in which they'd lost a father, a husband, or a brother.

This was a hostile environment and Cora felt certain there would be no mercy to be found among these natives, who seemed so much more primitive than the Mohicans.

They stopped before the pit where a new pile of wood had been placed in preparation for the evening meal. Beyond it, sitting on top of a large pile of rocks, a weathered, old man wrapped in a gray blanket waited in silence. His face was lined with wrinkles and his features seemed carved of the same stone in which he sat. His grizzled, gray hair fell all the way to his elbows and his eyes were dark and cold, like bottomless pools. Before him, Magua stood straight and proud, his lips pulled back in a sneer, but the man was not impressed and he acknowledged him with a dignified nod, before they began speaking.

Perhaps it was the knowledge that all was coming to an end or the weariness of the long walk added to the stress caused by the battle of the day before, but suddenly Cora's legs buckled and she fell hard on her knees. Not once had her strength and courage waned during the ordeal, but fear had gotten the better of her and now she only waited for their fate to be decided.

Alice saw her sister go down but neither moved or said anything. Ever since their capture she'd retrated into herself, secretly waiting for Uncas, Nathaniel and Chingachgook to come and save them. Behind her, Duncan stood with his head up, his back straight and proud. He was afraid of what would come next and only hoped he was around long enough to protect the sisters until Nathaniel and the others caught up to them as he was certain they would.

Suddenly, there was a lull in the speech and Cora looked up in time to see the Magua staring down at her, eyes flashing in anger. She flinched as he came near her and grabbed the shoulder of her dress to pull her to her feet in a rough manner. No doubt her attitued was displeasing to him and embarrassing before the chief of the tribe, but she was beyond the point of caring.

At that moment, the whooping and hollering that had greeted them began once more, though it now had a more menacing edge to it. Cora exchanged puzzled glances with Alice and Duncan and turned to see what was upsetting the natives.

Despite the mass of people gathered before her, the young woman managed to glimpse the lone figure that'd just entered the Huron village and was walking up the avenue towards them. Nathaniel bore no gun or knife or even a satchel, only the clothes on his back and a belt of an intricate design made of white and black beads in his outstretched hand. Though she had never doubted he would track them down, relief mingled with dread now flooded Cora. Despite his Mohican upbringing, he was still Englishborn and if the Huron chose to, they could imprison him too.

Suddenly, a young warrior came up before Nathaniel and gave him a mighty shove. The young man reeled back, stepped to one side, and continued walking. A little farther ahead another man ran out to meet him with a bone knife drawn out. He tore open Nathaniel's shirt and grazed the skin on his chest with the sharp weapon. Cora did not fully understand what was happening, but she guessed he was trying to demonstrate he came to them in peace, and would not be deterred from his objective, facing the Huron's insults as long as they allowed him to speak before their chief.

The attacks grew rougher and the crowd louder in their indignation; even an old woman who'd been sitting outside one of the longhouses screamed insults at Nathaniel, making hand gestures whose meaning did not need to be translated.

Cora swallowed hard as Nathaniel approached; he was bleeding, not only from the cut on his chest, but also from a blow to the side of his head. He did not glance at the group, but walked past them to stand before the Huron chief, much like Magua had done.

The native's face redenned with rage at his arrival and he would have gladly stabbed him with his knife, had not Nathaniel spoken outloud before he had a chance to stop him.

"Translate every word in French for me, Major," he asked Duncan.

The exchanged laste but a few minutes, but to Cora and Alice it seemed like an eternity. Nathaniel asked them to be set free on account of Magua breaking the peace made with the French, but the Huron was wily and he argued, feeding with words the already blazing fire of anger.

It was then the old man spoke in a soft tone that denoted just how weary he was of these conflicts.

"White man came and with it the future of our people passed into the night, and the council still asks the same question since I was a boy: What are the Huron to do?

"Magua's victories show he is a great warrior, but his ways are not those of the Huron. He will take the light-haired woman so that his heart will heal and Munro's seed does not die out. The officer will be returned to the English, so their hatred does not burn brighter. The dark-haired woman will be sacrificed in honor of Magua's dead children. La Longue Carabine, go in peace."

The sentence fell upon the listeners like a blade and then a chorus of voices echoed from all around. Duncan and Nathaniel both yelled while Magua cursed at them and the chief. Alice was the only one who remained in silence as she watched several warriors drag a weeping Cora from her side.

"Me for her! I am La Longue Carabine!" Nathaniel yelled in despair. "My death is a great honor to the Huron, take me!"

The outburst angry voices did nothing to mute his cry, but another voice, strong and firm, spoke above the din. "Moi pour Cora! Moi pour elle!"

Cora did not register the words, merely stood, struggling against the hands that held her fast, knowing she was lost. Magua, his band of natives and the Huron villagers all turned back to the old chief in expectation.

Duncan and Nathaniel exchanged panicked glances as the chief regarded the tableau before him with his stony gaze

"Did you tell him, Major?"

Duncan swallowed the thick bile of fear that'd arisen in his throat. "Yes."

There was a tense moment of silence and then the old man spoke a single word. At this, Magua yelled violently at the chief and spit at his feet, while the Huron warriors cried out with glee at the sacrifice they had been given. Cora wept in terror and confusion as she was bodily thrust into a person. She looked up, ready to scream and saw it was Nathaniel, but he was barely aware of her. He bore a shocked expression as he called out to the group of natives that were dragging Duncan away.

"I said take me! Take me!"

"My compliments, sir. Take her and get out!"

"What are they doing to Duncan?" Cora screamed frantically.

The officer heard his name and managed to give her a brief glance of farewell, before he was lost from her view. And then Cora understood. Nathaniel had offered himself up in exchange for her, but the man who has the last word is the one who ultimately has the power, and Duncan had purposefully changed Nathaniel's translation: "Me for Cora! Me for her!" He had called out, sacrificing himself for her.

"Alice? Where are they taking Alice?" Cora screamed, losing all composure.

Nathaniel did not bother to calm her down, but rather allowed her to cry out her panic while forcing her to walk quickly to the edge of the tiny village.

Out on the mountainside, hidden by the dense foliage of the trees, Chingachgook and Uncas waited for Nathaniel to return. The old man had been against this plan all along, but there was little else they could do for the women and officer. All three had experienced the fierceness of the Huron before and they would have likely perished in an attempt to storm the village.

Suddenly a chorus of war cries and whoops echoed in the valley. Uncas climbed the lowest branches of a tree and from there strained to get a better look. He could see a group gathered around a pile of logs, a sacrifical pire, no doubt. A different group had detached itself from the mass of people, forming a long line that headed for the path which led away from the village. Among them, the young warrior caught sight of a pale figure with a beige skirt, bound in ropes and following the surly, lean figure of the Huron captain, Magua.

Relief, worry, and a stab of jealousy rushed through Uncas and he quickly scrambled down, rushing to get his weapons.

"What did you see?" His father asked.

"They've taken Alice; I am taking her back."

"Son, this has nothing to do with you," Chingachgook said with a pleading quality to his voice.

"You let Nathaniel go."

"Your brother's path is different than yours," the old man said. "His nature is akin to the English and he is compelled to act because of his feelings towards Cora."

"As am I, father." Uncas said, fixing his gaze upon him. "Alice and I are bound in the same way Nathaniel is to Cora and you were to my mother; we are a single being."

Chingachgook raised his brows in amazement of this admision. Watawah, his wife, was seldom mentioned, but the few times she was recalled, it was always done with great reverence. She had been the light of Chingachgook's life; a being who matched him perfectly in every way, and he had passed this awe on to both his sons, though they held but few memories of her.

Time and urgency pressed upon Uncas. "Father, I have to go," he declared without a tremor in his voice.

Chingachgook nodded, understanding he could not hold his son back, but there was a cold fear embedded in him, a fear that their luck which had long held, was soon to run out.

"Go, I'll wait for Nathaniel, and together we'll come after you."

Uncas smiled briefly, pressed his hand on his father's shoulder and ran up the steep incline, ready to do battle for the woman he loved.