A/N: So sorry for the wait, I've been caught up with other stuff and books and iCloud Drive not loading. If you spot a typo TELL ME PLEASE.
A/N 2: I am posting the missing chapters BEFORE I finish the last part in which we find out whether Uncas can save Cora. I will put them in the places they should be chronologically. To make it a bit easier to find (hopefully) they will have a number in their names. So: (2) The Third Meeting, is the name of the first of the missing ones. It is chapter 2 and Dinner is now chapter 3. That means if you get an email saying I have posted something but you cant find it you should look at the table of contents for a chapter with a number by it.
cutemara, I'm so glad you have enjoyed this so far. :)
JM, it seems to me that is what everyone says. 'The book was good but hard to read, I'll see if this is better.' For the first time this week I was able to relate to that feeling. I was trying to draw a map so that I could understand the distances better and suddenly I realized, 'Wait, what? They were in a cave?' P.S. I know you won't read this for a while, but I am glad you've liked what you have read so far.
Languages are written like always. And italics are Uncas' thoughts.
At the head of my men I slunk through the shadows. On every side was silence, but I knew that my warriors were there. As far as my eye could range, in every direction, through the long and shadowed vistas of the pines and maples there was no disturbance; nowhere was there any object that did not belong to the peaceful scenery. From tree to tree, cover to cover, I slipped; a panther king on the war path. Within my chest my heart beat in anticipation for the coming struggle. A rattle of leaves from my right hand caused me to turn my head but only the apologetic face of my countryman met my inquiring glance. All was well.
A half hour passed as we made our silent progress through the woods before we heard the first echoing report of a volley of rifle fire on the wind. At my signal those under my command halted and we listened for the returning thunder. It came in all its haunting cacophony of sharp, cracking reports. Then we pressed on more cautious than before. Rifle fire continued far to the right, along the creek, always pushing forward, retreating away from me. A few rods before me I heard a rustle. For all it was it could have been a rabbit or squirrel, but some instinct that I had honed all my life instructed me to raise my fist. We halted smoothly. My eyes adjusted, I saw the dim forms of warriors, I found the figure of the man who had shifted his position and caused the noise which had alerted me to the ambush.
Flicking my eyes to my left I found Strong-will gazing at me, asking silently for permission to attack. I raised my hands to point out the number that was hidden in the underbrush. Five. He nodded and drew his long knife, I drew my own and signaled to the man, Luck-shot, to do the same. Then together we slipped around behind the ambushment and pounced upon the Mingos. They were unprepared and in shock. By the time they had gathered their wits three were dead, The last two Lucky-shot and I made quick work of. Then I call the rest of my warriors up and they surround me.
After a short conference I take the advice of Hard-heart and we begin to creep to the right. When we reach the place where Hawkeye was making his stand a half hour later, I was glad I had harkened to his words for the contest between the opposing parties of warriors was stationary. Each had its cover and never exposed any part of its many members.
But as I watched I perceived my friends' danger, the enemy was throwing out men on Hawkeye's flank, which rendered the task of keeping himself and his men covered so very difficult, as to nearly silence their fire. At this moment I raised my cry and leapt headlong up the small rise with my company bounding alongside me. As one we discharged our pieces into the enemy and then dived into a cover to recharge. The effects of this attack were instantaneous, and the Wyandots on Hawkeye's right flank began to rapidly retreat upwards towards the village. My men now discharged their rifles at whatever pace they wished and the thunder roared in my ears and hummed in my veins.
As I discharged my piece I saw more than heard Hawkeye begin to press his enemies back. His party charged, pushing from cover to cover, nigher to the enemy, yelling and shooting. The Hurons were compelled to withdraw, and soon I and my band were alone.
Lucky-shot and Strong-will hunched at my sides behind good cover and in silence we aimed, fired, and reloaded; aimed, fired, and reloaded… again and again. Repetition after repetition, report after report. Huron after Huron fell, but there was always another… always another to take his place. Over my sight was a red haze—a bloody haze—my rifle found another target and I shoot. The man has a wife perhaps, children maybe—he is dead. I dashed from my cover and began the hard push up the hill. The Hurons to their credit were stubborn and gave way unwillingly, but inch my inch we pushed them up the sloping incline. I did not need to move from one place to another encouraging my warriors like the pale-faced officers did, they did not need it, they knew their duty.
Up the hill, one rod at a time till they were were fleeing and I had to break into a lope to follow. At my side I heard a strangled cry and I glanced back, for a moment wholly human. Lucky-shot, who had for the entirety of the mission fought at my side, was wounded. The blood trickled slowly from the small neatly pierced hole in his neck. Slowly, almost confusedly, he raised his free hand to the exit wound. I paused in my run, then leapt back, skidding to a stop beside him as he began to collapse. The warriors around us pushed on and we were left alone.
"Tell my mother… to…" he gurgled as the blood dribbled out of his mouth, he spat with disgust momentarily displayed on his face. "Tell her to not stop…" his momentary strength vanished as his head fell forward and his hand fell away from his neck; his voice trailed off leaving his last sentence left unfinished as he choked on his own life blood. No wolf ever tore open the throat of its prey more efficiently than did that bullet. Lucky-shot, the son of Dancing-feet, was dead only minutes after he had sustained the injury.
"I will," I vowed to his now lifeless husk, I would take his love to his mother.
Reverently I covered him with fallen leaves till to another he would have appeared but a small, sharp rise in the ground. Then I turned away from the friend of but a few hours, like a young panther, to seek revenge for his blood and returned I to my companions.
As I took my place at their head once more I heard a low call and around me solidified nearly eighty men. Their chiefs came towards me and gave their reports in whispers. Then, as a body, I led them up after the Mingos. For a brief time we paused at the fringes of the forest and I looked out on the broad expanses of short grass in the near distance the village in which I was held captive was visible. But I had no eyes for it just then, and I stared fixedly at the knot of men clinging to the cover of some ancient pines.
Lucky-shot they killed. Cora they hold captive. My people they disdain. The Wyandots shall never triumph over the sons of the Turtle! She would be freed, he would be revenged, if it is the last thing I do. Magua you shall die!
The red haze descended around me and at that instant a loud whoop was given on the hill above, and a dozen Hurons fell as a discharge from Chingachgook and his band rained down. The Hurons staggered, deserting the centre of their line. My father gave a loud yell and I raised my head letting loose my own war-cry as I bounded forward. From the throats of the hundred warriors who ranged out behind me came a whooping howling answer. And they followed me from into the sunlight.
Waving my hands to the right and the left, I pointed out the enemy to my followers, who separated in pursuit of the two bodies of men. The battle was now divided, both wings of the Hurons seeking protection in the woods again, hotly pressed by the proud and swift warriors of the Lenape. A minute might have passed, but the sounds were already receding in different directions, and gradually losing their distinctness beneath the echoing arches of the woods. One little knot of Hurons, however, had disdained to seek a cover, and were retiring, like lions at bay, slowly and sullenly up the slope which Chingachgook and his band had just deserted. It was on these men that I set my sights, for Magua was standing amongst this party, easily recognizable both by his fierce and savage mien, and by the air of haughty authority he yet maintained.
Raising my voice, I recalled some six or seven warriors, and reckless of the disparity of their numbers compared to that of my rival's, I rushed upon them. Magua paused for a moment and I closed in upon him. I was but a few yards away when Hawkeye gave a shout. I did not turn, but the Huron spun instantly, and rapidly retreated up the ascent.
I did not change my course, and continued the pursuit with the velocity of the wind. In vain Hawkeye called to me to respect the covers; I braved the dangerous fire of my enemies, and soon, with my deadly and accurately swung tomahawk, compelled them to a flight as swift as my own headlong speed. It was fortunate for them that the race was short, for if not I would have most assuredly picked off the stragglers. But ere I could close the small distance, we had entered the Wyandot village.