I do not own The Last of the Mohicans.
I am very glad to be back in this world! :D
Into The Wild
Kwilumël
And they walk.
Alone.
The three of them.
Together.
Yet unto themselves.
The relief she feels is a subtle undercurrent.
And awareness of not having to be so constantly aware.
Of the woman.
The child.
Her own isolation of her feelings.
It is a relief.
And a vastness of space.
The one she loves walks.
At a distance yet near enough.
She is not yet sure of the width of the gulf between them.
The depth.
She does know now that her task is done, she wishes to walk with her Mohican.
Be near him.
But at this moment, does not know how.
They have stopped.
A quiet day.
Followed by a quiet camp.
And not so populated as she would have.
For one is missing.
In time, Chingachgook comes near.
Demeanor calm and knowing.
As he so often is.
His presence soothes her, gives her a sense of grounding.
Of reassurance.
And then he speaks.
"My son stands alone by the river."
Alice attempts to betray nothing with a stoic countenance.
"Yes."
Feels she fails. Tries again.
"I think he prefers it."
But the man who has walked the earth many years, does not withdraw.
"He has stood alone long enough. So have you, these past days."
And so she must speak further of this.
"I was with Hannah and Timothy."
Without speaking of it.
"Yes. A burden you have been strong and good to bear."
Alice listens, she must.
"And now that is over."
For he is wise and true.
"And you no longer must stand alone."
And telling her to go to the one she loves.
And she wishes to.
But . . .
"I . . . I would not."
. . . she is hesitant.
"He is . . . discontent with me."
And her Wètuxëmùksit's lined, aged face is solemn.
"He is not discontent with you."
Tone low, words measured.
"He is discontent with a world that does not see him for who he is. Only what he is."
Eyes kind even as his heart within them lays heavy for his son.
"Even that, not so as they might think."
And he takes her hand.
"That you cannot change, Wënichana. But you can choose to stand with him. If it is what you wish."
And Alice, full of trepidation and a desire to hope, goes.
He is standing by the river, arms down.
Long gun at his side, right hand gripping the barrel.
His back is to her as she approaches.
She knows he hears her, the hunter, the tracker, the warrior, trained and steeped in awareness of the world around him.
But he does not turn.
He does not welcome her forward.
He simply remains, staring out over the eternally rippling waters.
She wonders if she should go back, allow him his time.
Perhaps his father was wrong, too willful in his meddlings of his only blood son.
"Hè, Uncas."
Mohican.
"Hallo, Miss."
English.
And she does not know whether to be heartened. Or no.
And so, with her heart in her throat, she goes.
To him.
One careful step at a time.
Until she is finally near.
Him still not turned. Still away.
And she does not know what to do.
Only that she wishes to be near him.
Feel his warmth. Feel his life.
And so Alicia Elizabeth Munroe takes the final step.
Right up to him.
Uncas.
Her Mohican.
And presses herself to his long, broad back.
Laying her head between his shoulder blades.
Upon the smooth cascade of his thick, dark hair.
Smelling it, his smell.
Reaching her arms around his middle, slipping past various accoutrements.
Traversing the sheathed hunting knife. The powder horn. Possibles bag
To him.
Hands meeting just under his ribcage.
One angling up, just a little, to cover his chest over his heart.
Come back to me, my love.
She holds tight to him, feeling him breathe.
Matching her inhales and exhales naturally to his.
And closes her eyes to the sun, the clouds.
To the river and the trees.
To the world beyond them.
"Kwilumël, Uncas."
I have missed you. I have longed for you, Uncas.
After a long moment thus, she feels the arm without the gun move.
Warm left hand covering hers, their fingers gently intertwining over his heart.
"Kwilumël, Alice."
Feels his deep exhalation of breath. The not quite relaxation of tense muscles.
"Ktaholël."
But it is a start.
"Ktaholël. Uncas."
The woman he loves stands with him.
Has taken hold of him, reached out.
Into his place of dark contemplation.
She has held on, she has refused to let go.
And now, at her gentle insistence, Uncas of the Mohican people allows himself to be brought back.
She has misunderstood.
He has not been angry with her.
He has been proud.
She has taken others upon herself, carried their burden.
She has them supplied with food, reassurance, strength.
She has done so of her own accord.
When before she may not of been able.
And he has been proud of her.
He has walked to the side, walked behind.
Prepared and willing to lend protection, support. Aid.
He has been glad to do this.
For he understands her path upward, her evolution.
And as he has stood back to allow her to move forward, he has stepped back.
Been pushed back.
Pushed down.
And reminded . . .
"Indian. Savage."
. . . that to the white men who encroach ever further into these lands that were once freely walked upon by others . . .
"Hardly more than animals."
. . . he is but dirt under their feet.
And it angers him.
He knows he is more.
He knows who he is, where he comes from, who he chooses to be.
And what he is.
And that it is all they chose to see.
It will always be so.
They are a breed apart. They make no sense.
And Alice one of them.
Or once was.
Alice, who has since stepped forward into his world from hers.
Insisted.
Embraced.
She is learning the ways of the wilderness.
She is learning to be more like them.
She is learning his language even.
But how much further may she go?
What lays ahead on their path that may stumble them?
He does not know. He cannot see.
And for now, he must decide, he must choose.
And he does.
"Kwilumël, Uncas."
To remain here.
"Kwilumël, Alice."
In the forest.
"Ktaholël."
Near the river.
"Ktaholël. Uncas."
In this moment.
With her.
So I hope you enjoyed this story arc. It really feels like the story could end here if we wanted it to.
But I still have so much more to tell! (Interested?)
Thanks to AsterLaurel, Eilan21, ELY72, DinahRay, MedicineGal815, and BlueSaffire for so kindly reviewing before.
You know, Social Distance Guest, I don't even think Uncas can help it. not even when he's mad, ha!
And thank you so much, I will. The break is also for the gentle readers and reviewers to not get story fatigue as well.
And when we meet up with our trio again, things will be much happier and easier going. Because I just want that for them. Don't you? ;)