I do not own The Last of the Mohicans.

I have loved it for nearly thirty years.

A Breed Apart

Into the Wild

The night is waning and they are together.

The man she loves has recovered his belt and shirt.

For the moment anyway.

Sits easy with his back against the oak.

She is leaned against him, reveling in the feel of her arms, his arms, their arms wrapped around her.

The feel of her back pressed to his front, her head at rest on his shoulder.

His lips to her temple when she turns her head just a little.

His legs on either side of her, one stretched out straight, one bent at the knee.

And her in the middle, enveloped by him.

Warm and content.

This is where she belongs, with him.

They sit and repose together, the sounds of the night and the sounds of the river peaceful and as they should be.

"It has been right for me to be here," Alice finds herself speaking quietly. "To learn and grow. To become stronger and more able. They are good people."

He makes some agreeable sound deep within his throat, his chest.

Alice smiles at this low rumble that resonates so well with the vibration of her soul.

Then continues.

"But I have no desire to stay. Set up a homestead, spend my days shut away in a cabin, never seeing the world beyond my fences."

It has been good for her, this time.

But now she wishes for something more.

"I want to come with you when you leave again. I want to follow where you go. I want to see everything, go everywhere."

He does not speak and she thinks of the wise, focused Nathaniel and his straight-forward practicality.

"I know it is not a game. I know I am not of the wild as you are. I know I am not ready. But I wish to learn. I wish to become so."

Still he does not speak.

She senses he is thinking this over, cannot help but speak once more before falling silent and allowing him his time.

"Please. Please let me be by your side. Let me learn to be like you, learn to be free. Please let me stay with you."

And then, she waits.

He does not remove his arms from her person.

He does not move away, does not press her removal from him.

He stays and she stays.

And in his own time, speaks.

"The first time I went hunting with my father, I became separated from him. Lost."

And she can see him, the little boy.

"I was scared. I ran around crying and calling out his name."

Alone and afraid.

"He finally found me. Gathered me up in his arms and held me. Waited until my tears were dry."

The firm, devoted father relieved to have found his son.

"Then he set me on his lap and talked in my ear. Very soft and very quiet."

Not punishing.

"He told me, if you ever become lost in the woods, stand still."

Inparting knowledge.

"The trees ahead and the bushes aside are not lost."

Calming the child.

"Wherever you are is Here."

Instilling confidence and assurity.

"The Here you must treat as a powerful stranger."

Respect for the world as it is.

"The forest breathes and you must listen to it."

Teaching the boy to be aware, understand.

"Stand still. The forest knows where you are."

Survive.

"You must let it find you."

And then the man she loves ceases his low, measured outpouring of spoken words.

And she meditates on this.

And finally responses, light yet sincere.

"Is this a lesson?"

He huffs the slightest.

And she feels his smile rather than sees it.

And his voice is warm and soothing when he responds.

"No. It is just a story."

And she smiles.

And thinks it must be a lesson nevertheless.

And so it is decided between the two of them.

Alicia Elizabeth Munroe, Yengee daughter of Lieutenant-Colonel George Munroe, will once more follow the Mohican Indian Uncas and his father when next they depart the relative safety and comfort of "civilized" man.

The man who held her under the waterfall holds her now.

Tattooed arms embracing the woman he loves.

The woman who has come so far, who may, if life would have it, go much farther still.

The woman who has awakened something within him he previously had not touched upon.

They will go and she with them.

Into the wild.

Pinterest unexpectedly gifted me with poem called "Lost in the Woods" by David Wagner.

Uncas' recollection of his father's words are based, quite tightly I might add (you cannot improve upon perfection), on this poem.

Before May, I never considered I would be able to revive these two, to let them live and be happy. It has made me so happy and lifted my spirit to be able to do this. Thank you for being a part of that.

In other related notes, I am thinking of continuing this story into a second part called, you guessed it, Into The Wild.

And though I do not crisscross-applesauce promise anything, you will let me know if you are interested, won't you?

Thanks.

Thanks to all the gentle readers of this story, reviewer and silent alike for taking this journey with me through some of Alice's personal evolution (and Uncas's personal perfection).

Speaking of reviewers, thanks to BlueSaffire, Eilan21, BrynnaRaven, blanparbe (hang in there), TithaJaime, ConBird, DinahRay, and MedicineGal815 for so graciously reviewing the iced tea/ tumbler o' Scotch chapter!

And to The Guest Who Doesn't Want It To Be Over, I can't tell you how much your review means to me. That's what I strive to portray, the love and innocence in balance with the heat and eroticism. Thank you so much!

And now, gentle readers of the fandom, I wish you happy reading of whatever pleases you.

See you along the path!

*hugs and beautiful stories*

Bye!