I do not own The Last of the Mohicans.
But I will go hide in a cave with them at this point.
Into The Wild
What Might Have Been
She cannot breathe, she cannot blink.
She can do nothing but stand on the side of the straight cliff's edge.
And watch him work his way through the Huron warriors.
On his way to her.
First the long gun.
A strike.
A shoot and the scream over the edge.
Another strike.
And another.
Then, the knife, a slice straight across the belly, slumping the wounded to the rock at his feet.
Five he has downed in a matter of seconds, dead or wounded.
And now, the leader, the savage.
Magaw, she thinks it has been said.
Tomahawks now, clanging and screeching as they meet.
And she, caught by the arm, her mind still exhaustively repeating the entreaty she heard Nathaniel speak to her sister-
"You submit, do you hear?"
-before plunging into the waterfall.
Absolute command for them, the women.
Unable to fight strong enough to kill, to maim, to escape.
Their effort, their defiance, only would serve as an irritant to those men with their flat, dead eyes.
Who would only kill them for their insolence.
So they, the abandoned ones, had done as they were bid in order to survive.
Moved. Eyes cast down. Bodies without resistance.
Led and pushed and pulled.
Not daring to speak, not to the men who marched them, not to Duncan.
Not even to each other.
No words aloud, but the cadence within. Playing over and over in her mind as a relentless recitative of terror.
Submit, do not fight. Submit, do not fight-
And when they had taken her sister, given her back to the man who had come for her, Alice had panicked.
What of me?! What of me?!
And they had taken her with them, the Huron warriors, for the one with the pocked, cruel face.
Submit, do not fight. Submit, do not fight-
The one leading even drawing a dagger, brandishing it just enough that she knew one misstep, one falter . . .
Submit, do not fight-
. . . might mean her death.
And there had seemed no hope left.
Her sister gone, claimed by her lover.
Duncan, sacrificing himself to the flames.
And now, only her remaining.
Would he come? Would he even try?
Would anyone? And how long?
And would become of her, be done to her in the meantime?
Still she had moved, numb and helpless.
Submit, do not fight. Submit, do not fight-
Alone and abandoned.
Looking about her, trying to find her bearings, out here on the top of a world she had never seen.
Wondering if she could somehow make it back to them, the ones that had saved them before, if she could only somehow escape this band of dark-skinned warriors so like the one who had held her under the waterfall.
And so very different.
Escape them and find her way back, but how?
And then, out of the very rock, it had seemed, he had materialized.
And her heart, already hammering so hard her chest ached, had leapt to further pounding at the sight of him.
Ears ringing, blood racing.
And fear, drowning, screaming waves of fear.
Please, please, save me!
From whence he had come she could not surmise.
Only that he is come. Now. Here.
And fighting to save her.
Fighting and bloody.
His nose, the broad forehead.
Now, in a blink, taking a cut across the arm, the midsection.
And her breath catches.
Her heart stops, jutters, erratic and flailing.
And she knows then he will die here on the side of this mountain.
He has come for her, he has made it all this way.
And now he will die.
He will die because of her.
And Uncas the Mohican takes pause. Looking upon from his dismayed examination of his own newly bloodied chest.
Looks fully upon her, their eyes locking across a great distance she knows now they will never close.
And she has never dreamed a man would look upon her so.
Her heart is breaking, her soul is screaming.
And yet that look, that one look silences it all.
Just for the briefest of moments.
He looks fully upon her without reservation.
And she would be his, she would follow him anywhere forever.
To the very ends of the earth.
For that one look alone.
He remains, a eternity of a moment.
As if drawing the strength and determination to press onward, fight with honor until his last breath.
Just by looking upon her.
And Alice feels the whole world stop in that moment.
But he does not.
He shifts, with an effort it seems, his gaze away from her.
Back toward the one waiting for him.
Leaping upon the outcropping, shoving the foe back to gain footing.
And they clasp bodies.
Grappling now, straining and groaning through gritted, bared teeth.
And Uncas is borne to the rock at their feet, rolled and sliced.
His enemy inexplicably stepping back to allow him to stand once more.
And she sees the blood, the ruined arm.
No. No. He must not, he must not-
And she sees him find the strength, the will, one last time, to stand tall and fight strong to the very end-
No-
-and the cruel-eyed bastard catches the remaining arm on the swing-
Please-
-drives his knife into the belly of the one who has come for her-
No-
-turns him, slicing as he goes-
No-
-pausing-
No-
-and making the final cut.
Long and deep across the smooth throat of the one who has come, who has fought, and who is now dying.
For her.
Oh-
And throws him unceremoniously from the high precipice.
Please-
Down to the rocky valley below.
No-
He makes almost no sound, Uncas-
Please-
-as he tumbles down to his death.
No-
And then it is over.
He is gone.
And she is alone with them.
With him.
And she will not-
You.
-allow this any longer.
Her feet move of their own accord and he turns.
The bastard man turns.
She locks eyes with him, the one who has murdered the one who came for her, the one who held her, the one who fell.
And shuffles to the edge.
I will not.
She holds his gaze, allows him to see the broken, wide-open gaping maw of her empty soul.
Shows him what he has done.
And then looks down.
I will not be yours.
Sees broken body of the man who came for her still up the rocks, blood spreading in a dark welling pool.
And she feels nothing. For she can no longer feel.
I will be only his.
Only a great, swelling blackness consuming what is left of her.
And when the living, breathing man before her dares to lower his knife, gesture her back-
Uncas,-
-she turns away.
And goes to him.
Straight down.
Without a sound.
Without a hesitation.
Without a heart . . .
-I am coming.
. . . to live in this world any longer.
What is going on with the movie revisit, you may ask? (Probably not, you probably already know.)
Well, clarification is coming in the next chapter.
Previous reviewers, thanks to BryannaRaven and her fantastic vocabulary choices, BlueSaffire and her understanding of thunderstorms and our pair, and DinahRay and her gracious applause (I did not coin the phrase but I do enjoy using it). You're just lovely lovelies.
Blanparbe, I just can't tell you how much your review meant to me. It's one of the best compliments I could receive, seriously. I even showed it to my husband and said, 'see here, this is what I'm talking about'. Thank you so, so much. :D
Scott Air Pac Guest, lots of helpful info there, our trio just might need that at some point. And thanks for reviewing.
Alright, gentle readers, see you again soon.