6 August

As Alice rushed away from him, Uncas was seized by doubt until he nearly gave in and took it all back. Had he done the right thing? But before he could change his mind, he turned and made his way back to the barracks. He wondered all the while if he imagined the lingering taste of wine from Alice's lips.

Lost in his thoughts, it wasn't until he met his father's meaningful gaze that he stopped to take in his surroundings. Where was everybody? Of his friends, only Sharitarish was here. His own Mohawk was limited, so Sharitarish spoke in Delaware to prevent being overheard.

"Hawkeye still off with the Yengeese girl?"

Uncas shrugged, though he was sure that was the case. It was one of the last things he wanted to think about right now. "Looks like the militia are down a few people."

Sharitarish nodded. Though he had clearly elected to stay behind with others of his tribe, he would have been privy to talk of desertion.

Well, good for them. Uncas appreciated that they didn't say their farewells; it would only make his family liable for not reporting their escape.

He removed his weapons before laying down on a cot, but as always, kept them within easy reach. As he closed his eyes, he was no longer able to tear his mind away from Alice.

He had been so focused on minding himself around her, that he had not been prepared for the possibility of her making the first move. As she pulled him down to her, he saw the inevitability of what would happen—and if he were being honest with himself, he had let it.

Uncas had ample opportunity to pull away before her lips brushed his, but he wanted this. Wanted her. Even as he knew he would have to stop it, he allowed himself a moment to enjoy the feel of her hand on his skin, and a single chaste kiss.

He knew breaking away from Alice would be hard—had not known it would be hard for her too. Somehow the guilt that settled on his shoulders stemmed not from having touched her, but rather, pushing her away. It was not as it should be. Uncas was finally doing the right thing... wasn't he?

Eventually Nathaniel crept in and lay down between him and Sharitarish. Uncas did his best to ignore the stab of jealousy he felt. Logically, he knew his brother would have as little long term success with Cora as he could with Alice. Their worlds were just too far apart—not to mention Col. Munro's open distain for Nathaniel. Yet his brother was able to lay all that aside to enjoy himself. It would be hard for him too when the moment came for him to part from Cora, Uncas suspected. But he was always able to bounce back, move on.

But Uncas was different, wanted different things. A family: a wife to come home to, and children to raise. It was not about carrying on his tribe. They would not be Mohicans; there were no Mohican women left. Whatever children he had would be of their mother's tribe.

His parents had known each other their whole lives; had fallen in love and married young. He had hoped to to do the same. But by the time he reached twenty-five years of age with nothing to show for it, he had decided that he would just have to choose.

A Delaware woman was the most logical choice. She would speak the closest thing to his native language, and their family already had close ties with the tribe. A union would solidify the bond between the Delaware and Mohicans and and provide the social support that would be forever missing from a tribe of three men. It was a good plan, yet now the idea filled Uncas with unease.

He was just managing to doze off when the door crashed in.

"You, sir!" His eyes flew open in confusion, blinded by torchlight. Soldiers. Who were they talking to?

Nathaniel surged to his feet first, followed by his father and Sharitarish. Uncas didn't know why the Yengeese were there, but it suddenly became clear that they were targeting his brother. He snatched up his knife and tomahawk as he lurched to his feet, ignoring the pull of his stitches.

"As you were!"

He threw himself at the Yengeese only to be held back by his brother as Chingachgook knocked aside a bayonet. Nathaniel must have known what was going on because he was telling them to stand off. He recognized Captain Beams as he growled out the same command in English, pointing his pistol at Chingachgook and Uncas in turn. It was the officer who greeted them at the sally-port when they first arrived at the fort. What was he doing?

They stood that way, the four of them against eight Yengeese soldiers. Though still seething, Uncas was filled with a fierce pride at seeing the terrified look on the soldiers' faces. Unfortunately their nervousness might lead to a slip of a finger, and their muskets were pointed in the faces of his family.

Captain Beams held out a pair of manacles to a soldier. "Take him."

Chingachgook addressed Nathaniel. "Why do they take my white son prisoner?"

"I helped Jack and the others leave." He did not resist.

Foolish. Nathaniel should have told them. They would have helped, then left together.

The Captain still aimed his pistol at them. "As you were."

"This fight is not yours. I love you and my brother..."

Uncas broke his scowl to look upon his brother in astonishment. Nathaniel was speaking as if he would never see them again.

"...and you should leave this place now."

As if they would abandon him. As if they could.

His father stepped forward and called after Nathaniel. "What will they do with my white son?"

He received no answer as his brother was led away. But Sharitarish must have understood because after a moment he quietly spoke up in Delaware.

"Munro said the penalty for sedition is hanging."

Chingachgook said nothing. But Uncas met his eyes and the first time in years, found fear and grief there. He was sure his betrayed the same.

They did not go back to sleep. Instead, they collected their things and followed after Captain Beams, only to be forced to wait until he returned from inside the stockade.

Without Nathaniel, Uncas spoke for them. "We demand to speak to Col. Munro."

"The Colonel has retired for the day. You may request an audience after the siege." He turned and walked away.

"After the... hey!" Uncas started after him.

Beams reached for his pistol and Uncas scowled in frustration. The Yengeese sure were jumpy.

"What are you going to do to him?"

"He'll be tried properly."

"When?"

"After the siege, in Albany. This conversation is over."

At least it wouldn't be right away, and not here. There was still time to sort it out, if possible.

One thing was for sure. They were not going to get any sleep that day.

Uncas spotted Nathaniel behind the bars of one of the cell windows in line with the ground. He glanced at the guards to see if they were looking, then promptly approached and crouched down to meet his brother's grin.

"Got a whole room to myself now. Should've been arrested sooner!"

"Silence, brother, and answer me this: what were you thinking?"

"Well, which is it? Silence or answers?" At Uncas's stern look, Nathaniel sighed. "I wasn't going to leave the boys unprotected!"

"And you didn't think we'd help?"

"Of course you would, that's the problem."

"We could have left with them!"

"Wanted to stay. Thought you would understand, but I guess I was wrong."

Of course he wanted to stay too—to be near Alice, to protect her and her sister. That task had not ended when they reached the fort only to find it under siege. The waspish remark cut deeper than Nathaniel could know, but Uncas didn't want to divulge any of what happened between himself and Alice. He masked his pain with more anger instead. "Stay to do what? Keep sneaking off from the parade ground together until you earned Munro's blessing?"

Nathaniel scoffed.

"Then what, convince her to run off with you to Can-tuck-ee? Trade a manor full of servants for a corner of a longhouse?"

Nathaniel shook his head in frustration and glared at Uncas. "I love her. She loves me too."

"Now she can mourn your corpse. Very romantic, brother."

Uncas looked away, running his hand over his head as he tried to get a grip on himself. When he looked back, Nathaniel was leaning his forehead against the bars, shoulders sagging.

Guilt pierced through Uncas. He glanced around the interior of Nathaniel's cell, confirming that it was very much surrounded in iron. "Listen. Can't do anything while you're locked up, but you'll be tried in Albany."

Nathaniel looked up at him, frowning.

"Plenty of opportunity for distractions between here and there. We'll figure it out."

"Don't—"

"If it were one of us, would you leave us behind?"

"Course not—"

"Then be quiet."

To his surprise, Nathaniel obliged. After a moment, he squinted at Uncas. "So... you saw us sneak off then?"

He sighed. "Everybody saw, brother. Militia, Mohawks, her sister, our father, everybody."

Nathaniel nodded, ducked to hide his smile, then snorted with laughter. "Guess I slipped up."

"Yes, you did." Uncas shook his head at the understatement, but allowed himself a begrudging smile. It was difficult to stay angry with Nathaniel for long.

"Hey!" The guards had finally caught sight of him. What did he think Uncas was going to do, hand his brother his tomahawk so he could try hacking at the iron bars?

Uncas sighed, stood, and walked away.

Alice tried to ignore Cora's incessant cheerfulness as they brushed each other's hair.

"What a gorgeous day!"

"Too bad we slept through most of it."

"It is, isn't it?"A pause. "Alice?"

When Cora suddenly turned serious, Alice nearly started in alarm. "Mmm?"

"I'm afraid I had to formally end things with Duncan last night."

"Yes, I presumed so."

"I do hope you're not cross with me. I know how very... particularly fond you are of him."

"What? No..." Alice frowned, trying to clear her sleep-addled mind. "Cora—what are you implying?"

"Oh, nothing, of course." Cora's flippancy made the lie obvious.

With frustration, Alice realized that further denials would just make it worse. Of course, Alice certainly had strong feelings for Duncan once, but that had been a holdover from childhood infatuation.

Her cheeks flamed with the knowledge of how obvious she had been about her affections back then. She'd also paid him particular attention on the journey here. No wonder Cora thought her in love with him or some such.

"Alice?" Another tentative question.

She braced herself. "Yes?"

"What do you think of Mr. Poe?"

Alice glanced at her sister in surprise. Cora never opened up to her like this, and her hopeful gaze made it seem like she was actually searching for approval from her.

"His sense of humor terrifies me as much as his wrath. But... he's a good man. And brave." She thought of the way he had helped his friends escape last night. Though perfectly illegal, it had seemed an honorable thing to do—nothing like her feminine theatrics. He could have been arrested, whereas the most she risked was being dismissed as the silly Colonel's daughter.

"He's full of spirit." As Cora smiled, her eyes went distant. "And you don't think... given his family..."

"His family is the best part about him." Alice felt herself becoming wistful as well. As Cora beamed at her, she hurried on. "But I doubt Papa would be of the same mind."

"Good heavens, no." Cora laughed. "They couldn't get on worse."

At least she didn't seem to care. Alice smiled reluctantly.

"Hurry up, and we'll bring them breakfast. Supper?" She gazed out at the lowering sun.

"Why don't you go on ahead? I'm still getting ready."

In truth, Alice very much wanted to avoid Uncas at the moment and needed time to collect herself. Ultimately she knew she would act with the propriety expected of her.

"Good idea!"

Cora hurried from the room, no doubt eager to find Nathaniel, and Alice sighed in relief. As she dressed, she strove not to daydream over a stolen kiss or wallow over its terrible end.

Glancing at her father's desk, she paused, remembering a conversation from last night with the Mohawk chief. In a sudden burst of energy, she riffled through folios of papers until she found what she was looking for: a missive dated from last spring. A quick scan of it made her heart drop. She reread it, forcing the details to stay in her mind.

Col. Munro led a joint expedition with Mohawk allies into Canada. The objective was to rescue eleven British prisoners being held in a Huron village. The end result: thirty to forty Indians killed, seventeen British soldiers killed, thirteen wounded, and only seven prisoners recovered. A Lt. David Ashton was to receive a commendation for his actions.

Ashton? She recalled the pitiful creature that was sick by the barracks the night before. And how could they not know exactly how many people they killed? Details were missing. She would have to ask for more.

A knock sounded on the door as Duncan asked for the room. She hastily replaced the papers before he entered, features grave.

"Ah, Alice. I apologize for ousting you last night, it was poorly done." At her polite dismissal, he added: "I fear I must do the same again, you understand."

She nodded, studying his face. The man looked completely exhausted. "Are you all right?"

"Certainly."

Another lie, but Alice respected his privacy. Though she was still terribly disappointed in his behavior at the fort, she imagined his heart ached as much as hers at the moment. Moreso, as he had been in love with Cora for ages. Did she even have a right to pine over Uncas, knowing him for only days?

He stood awkwardly, waiting for the other officers to arrive as Alice collected herself to leave. "You seem to be holding up better now."

"Certainly." They exchanged a weak smile, each acknowledging what the other had meant.

She glanced out the window where activity was as usual in the fort. Again, she felt that plummeting sensation in her chest. "Have reinforcements not arrived yet?"

Duncan shook his head. "Webb must be taking his time. But as long as they arrive tomorrow, we should be in the clear."

"Why would he delay?"

"He could be waiting on additional forces to arrive at Edward. Not that he needs to. So the real answer is: his utter ineptitude."

Alice smiled, appreciating the rare moment of candor. But then... "I don't think he likes Papa very much. He always calls him 'The Scotsman' in the most derisive manner." Would Webb's prejudice be strong enough to withhold troops?

Duncan tilted his head. He must have heard the same. But before they could continue, Papa walked into the room. He sighed, no doubt taking in their sudden silence and serious expressions.

"So you've heard about your Mohican friend."

"What?!" Alice froze, her mind racing. Had something happened to Uncas?

He frowned and Duncan shook his head. Papa was forced to explain. "Some of the militia deserted before dawn, assisted by one Mr. Poe. He's been arrested for sedition."

Alice gaped at him. Sedition was a hanging offense. "No—but, Papa—"

He held up a hand tiredly, as if long expecting this. "I know he helped you, dear. But this is the law."

She realized Duncan was leading her to the door by her elbow, herding her out. "No, wait—how do you know it was him for certain?"

"I could have had him arrested the moment he spoke seditious words at our meeting. But last night a group of his friends subdued my Lieutenant. To be frank, I'm no longer feeling very lenient towards Mr. Poe."

But Alice had been there and hadn't witnessed any violence. She racked her mind for an explanation and her eyes widened. "Not Lt. Ashton?"

He nodded in affirmation.

The lieutenant hadn't been accosted; he'd been tossing his supper behind the barracks. But of course he couldn't admit to being otherwise incapacitated, and she couldn't admit to having been there. Even if Papa didn't punish her, he'd only blame Nathaniel further for involving her.

As Duncan closed the outer door behind her, she spotted her sister and started. Cora had no idea. Alice wasn't sure of the extent of her feelings for Nathaniel, but her sister's clear affections for the man were above and beyond anything else she had witnessed from her. Duncan had been her intended for ages, and their courtship was very proper.

"Cora, wait!" She ran after her sister, but she was already approaching Uncas and Chingachgook with their meal. By the time Alice had reached them, they had already informed her sister of the bad news.

"What?!" Cora turned wide eyes to Alice. She nodded in confirmation, then watched as Cora snatched up her skirts and bolted for the stockade, leaving Alice alone with Uncas and Chingachgook.

Guilt gripped her. This family had saved their lives, and now her father had condemned Nathaniel to die. She could not bring herself to look them in the eyes as she silently took over the distribution of their food, leaving one serving of chowder and cornbread on the tray.

"I'll bring Nathaniel his share."

"Wait." Uncas's voice.

She halted, heart pounding in fear of what was coming next. Anger? Blame? She turned her head just enough to watch Uncas dig through Nathaniel's pack and pull out his brother's shirt and leather belt. "Can you take these too?"

"Of course." She watched as he placed Nathaniel's things on the tray. Had her father's men not even the decency to allow Nathaniel to dress before hauling him away?

"Alice."

She stopped again, hesitant.

"Thank you."

She walked away without a word, her mind a tangle of confusion. Alice deserved no thanks. She didn't know how Uncas managed to be so polite given the circumstances. If he hadn't realized that saving her life wasn't worth all this bother before, how could he do anything but hate her now? Perhaps she shouldn't be surprised at his decency. He was a remarkable man.

As Alice approached the stockade, she was relieved the guards opened the door for her without a fuss. Cora was near the end of the corridor, speaking fiercely to Nathaniel through the bars.

"I don't care who knows, let them talk!"

So focused was she on not spilling anything, that Alice didn't realize Cora and Nathaniel were locked in a passionate embrace until she approached them. Their arms were threaded through the bars of the cell door in a tangle of limbs, their mouths intertwined. And of course, Nathaniel's shirt was still on Alice's tray, not on his person.

She began to back up slowly when Cora pulled away from Nathaniel.

"I'll speak with my father."

Nathaniel reached out and clutched her hands. "No. I don't want you to get involved."

"Anything that involves you, involves me too."

They began to kiss again and Alice cleared her throat softly.

Cora broke away from Nathaniel once more. "Thank you, Alice." She rushed away without embarrassment—only determination.

Alice approached Nathaniel and held the tray out awkwardly, making a point not to look at his bare chest. If she hadn't just seen his tongue in her sister's mouth, it would not have been so unsettling.

"Your affects, Mr. Poe."

"I think given my familiarity with your sister, you can call me Nathaniel now, don't you?" She could hear the smile in his voice as he put on his shirt and belt.

"Ugh." She grimaced but ultimately couldn't hold back a small smile of her own. Privately, she realized she'd been thinking of him by his first name for a while, just like his family. "Very well." She paused, suddenly anxious again. "Look, I want you to know, it wasn't me—I didn't say—"

Nathaniel shook his head at her and gestured around them. They could easily be overheard. He approached the bars again so they could talk in lowered voices. "I know. Some lieutenant."

Alice scowled, releasing her frustration in an angry whisper. "That odious toad. I saw him casting up his accounts behind the barracks. I didn't even think..."

Nathaniel seemed to be enjoying her tirade, as his eyes crinkled with amusement. But his tone was serious. "He may have seen you too."

Alice nearly laughed. "And what will he do, tell Papa I abetted by swooning? Not if he wants to keep his commission." He shrugged, ceding the point, and she glanced down at the bowl of chowder she carried. "I don't think you'll be able to fit this through the bars I'm afraid. I didn't think of that."

"Then you'd better bring me another one."

Her eyes widened. "Of course."

"It was a joke, Alice." He reached through the bars and held the bowl in one hand, and spoon in the other.

"Oh. Right." Her face heated.

She stood holding the tray awkwardly as he ate and scrutinized her between bites. Eventually she tired of his noisy slurps and frowned in consternation. He responded by discarding the spoon entirely and drinking from the bowl. Simply to vex her, she was sure. At least he wasn't angry.

Suddenly, he looked intent. "Do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Send a message to my family. They won't let them in, or near the bars." He nodded to his window.

"All right, what's the message?"

"Wichëmakuna. Nutëm."

Did it have to be in Mohican? But, she supposed he had a right to privacy. After she had the message down to his satisfaction, she exchanged his cornbread for the empty bowl and returned to his family.

Uncas shared a startled glance with his father.

"Can you repeat that?"

Alice did so.

She helped us. Watch over her.

How was this possible? Didn't he see her enter her father's quarters last night? No—he only watched her leave. He had done the same before his temptation to change his mind won out and made him stop her.

After a moment, she shifted uncomfortably. "Did I not say it right?"

"How did you help them, Alice?"

She froze. "What? What did I say?"

He raised his eyebrows, waiting.

"Ugh—Nathaniel, I'll kill him." Her eyes widened in horror as she realized the meaning of her words.

Before Uncas could assure her they meant to do the same, Cora came bursting out of her father's quarters in tears. His heart sank. She barreled into Alice and flung her arms around her sister, sobbing. It had obviously not gone well.

Uncas realized then that he had been holding out hope that Munro's daughter could sway his mind. But of course, once the man had arrested Nathaniel publicly, there was no going back.

He studied Alice's retreating back after her sister rushed back to the stockade. What could she have done to help the militia leave? And what kind of danger was she in? Her refusal to confide in him cut deep. Did she not trust him? She seemed angry with him, at the very least.

A minute later, Uncas crouched down in front of the bars of his brother's cell window and spoke in Mohican, ignoring Cora beyond the cell door.

"Brother, what have you dragged the Doe into?"

Nathaniel stood from his cot to meet him, and replied in kind. "I didn't drag her into anything, she was just there!"

Uncas scooped up a pebble and pelted it at him.

Nathaniel narrowed his eyes, but there was a hint of laughter behind them. "What, she hasn't told you herself?"

The last thing Uncas wanted to do was tell Nathaniel what occurred between him and Alice. "You tell me."

His brother shrugged. "She was talking to Jack. Must have caught on, so she distracted a guard."

"What?!"

"Fell right into him, playing possum. Maybe that's what we should call her instead." Nathaniel grinned and Uncas pelted him with another pebble. This time he was prepared for it; he swatted it away and it hit the bars with a clang.

"He caught on?"

"No, even walked her back to Munro's room. But listen, this lieutenant that reported me—"

"Back off!" A guard approached, fingering his musket.

Uncas had no choice but to stand and walk away once more. But to his surprise, Cora soon joined him and his father, and she was in a temper.

"I can't believe them."

Nathaniel must have informed her of the situation. Good. Uncas nodded in commiseration.

"I would have helped!"

He stared at her incredulously. "Aren't you worried for your sister?"

"Alice? Nonsense. Who'd suspect a thing of that child? But she deserves a good scolding for keeping me in the dark, where is she?"

As Cora stalked away, Uncas threw Chingachgook a bewildered look, expecting sympathy. To add to his confusion, his father seemed almost amused.

"Has Wah's spirit."

The intrepid Cora Munro was indeed like his mother. No wonder Nathaniel liked her.

As Alice got to work in the infirmary, she didn't notice her sister enter until she pulled her aside.

"Alice, dear, how could you? And without letting me know?"

Alice started guiltily. It was as she feared; now everyone would know her humiliation. "He told you?"

"Yes, and apparently you put on quite a show."

Alice gaped. She'd never expect Uncas to divulge what had happened between them, or to describe her thusly. But perhaps he was right. Of course he would think her a wanton now.

"Sounded to me like one of Eugenie's tricks," her sister continued. Their married cousin made secret advances on other men? "To be honest, I'm impressed."

"What? You're not upset?"

"It was quick thinking. What else could you do but throw yourself into his arms?"

Alice stared at the ground, unable to respond past her embarrassment. If Cora were angry, that she could understand.

"At least the men got away. I just wish Nathaniel..." she trailed off, tears beginning to pool in her eyes.

Alice frowned in confusion then wilted in relief as she realized Cora was not talking about Uncas. It was short lived, however, as the import of Cora's words hit her.

"I'm so sorry, Cora." She embraced her sister, not knowing what else to say. If Uncas were condemned to die, she'd be devastated.

Cora kept disappearing to visit Nathaniel throughout the night, leaving Alice to assist Mr. Phelps alone. Though she was no replacement for Cora, she and Mr. Phelps worked out a system that suited them both. Alice mostly ran errands, but eventually became competent enough to treat small cuts and scrapes despite her squeamish reluctance. She managed by looking at blood as little as possible, and retreated to the store room each time the screams and shelling got to be unbearable.

The small store room held crates of the surgery's most valuable items, such as tinctures and alcohol, and was an excellent place to be alone. Mr. Phelps was the only other person allowed inside, and even he didn't enter when Alice was there to fetch him things.

"Alice—rum, please."

So she was Alice to Mr. Phelps now. It felt like a commendation. She looked up with a smile only to find Lt. Ashton, of all people, standing with him. She obeyed silently, hiding her confusion as she disappeared into the store room.

Alice pulled a bottle from a crate and returned to find Lt. Ashton alone, Mr. Phelps attending to business elsewhere. She handed the bottle to the Lieutenant as he watched her speculatively. Did he know that she had helped the militia escape last night?

"I'd like to have a word with you, Lieutenant, if you have the time." She could finally get a first hand account of the expedition that ultimately sent Magua after her and her sister.

"Is that so?" He raised his eyebrows in the pompous manner of a coxcomb back in London, as if to say: I would be shocked, if I weren't so bored. She guessed he must be a younger son of a lord or some such.

"If you don't mind."

"Very well. I'll find you later tonight."

Alice had hoped to get this over with now, but she was at the mercy of his schedule.

His departing smile made her skin crawl. Perhaps it was simply because she already despised him for reporting Nathaniel, but still, she wondered if she had made a mistake.

Alice tracked down Mr. Phelps. "Why did that man need rum?"

"Received a beating last night—it's for the pain." He lowered his voice. "Not much in the way of marks on him, mind you. Our men here are made of sterner stuff. But that's an officer for you, eh?" He chuckled at his own joke before seeming to recall whose daughter she was. "Oh, not that officers... You know..."

Alice smiled. "I understand you perfectly, Mr. Phelps."

As the green of his shirt became stained through with red, Uncas realized he could no longer put off having his bandage changed. He approached the infirmary to see Alice handing an officer a bottle of rum, followed by a brief exchange of words.

He didn't appreciate the way the man looked at her.

Curiosity got the better of him and he remained in the shadows outside. Hadn't Nathaniel mentioned a lieutenant? He watched the officer take a generous swig as he left, presumably to return to duty.

A nearby militiaman confirmed him to be a Lt. Ashton. Uncas resolved to keep an eye on him—but first he'd ask Cora to change his bandage.

He entered the infirmary only to find Phelps instead. To his surprise, he called for Alice. "Fresh bandage."

Alice stilled when she saw him. She looked down at his bloodied shirt, and Mr. Phelps left them to it as Uncas approached cautiously.

"Where's Cora?"

"The stockade, I believe." She turned to collect some bandages.

"You don't have to—"

"I don't mind," she cut in, then paused. "Unless... if you don't want me to, of course."

Uncas didn't respond, but hoisted himself onto the table behind her. Alice turned to face him, waiting expectantly until he lifted his shirt. She blushed and glanced away before seemingly forcing herself to look at the bloodied bandage.

Using economical movements, she plucked the strip of cloth from the other side of his waist, her fingers brushing against his skin with a feather light touch. She then carefully cut it away with a small knife.

"Has it been bleeding this much the whole time?"

"No."

As the dressing fell away she quickly dabbed a prepared rag over his wound, then glanced beneath it briefly. "You should mind the stitches."

He smiled, enjoying being fussed over by her. "Yes, miss."

She glanced up at him with a slight frown. Did she think he was mocking her? It seemed he could say nothing right. She pressed a clean rag to his wound and he held it there, his fingers brushing hers as he spoke so quietly only she could hear. "Please don't be angry with me, Alice."

She stilled, her arm remaining outstretched as she met his gaze and answered just as quietly. "I'm not. Aren't you angry with me?"

"What for?"

She turned away, picking up a strip of cloth. "My father..."

"... is not you. Nathaniel's fault for getting involved." At her silence, he continued. "Alice, if that Lieutenant is bothering you—"

"He's not." She hesitated with the bandage that needed to be tied around his waist.

Uncas wordlessly exchanged roles with her, Alice holding the dressing still while he wound the bandage around himself. Still, he made a point to hold her gaze. "You can trust me."

"I know." She blushed and looked back down at the wound she covered. "Truly he's not, I just wanted to..."

She trailed off as he secured the cloth and looked up in time to see Alice glance over his body. Her eyes widened as they met his, blush deepening as if she had been caught doing something sinful. Perhaps that was it was to her, yet he made no effort to hide his own longing as he studied her face. By denying her, telling her they couldn't be together, had he contributed to that shameful attitude?

Her gaze lowered to his mouth and away as she briskly turned to wipe her hands, though she hadn't touched any blood. "You should drop off your shirt at the laundry. The sooner you do, the easier they'll get the blood out."

"All right."

He watched her sort strips of cloth until Phelps called her away again. There was an awkward rift between them now, something Uncas was unable to fix with words. Maybe he couldn't get too close to Alice anymore, but nothing would prevent him from looking out for her.

Notes:

I'm not sure what Michael Mann intended for Sharitarish, but I assume him to be a Mohawk despite his Pawnee name. (Because why would a Plains Indian be in New York?) "Chingachgook" is sort of Lenape and "Uncas" is Mohegan, so I'm thinking we can let the name's origin slide.

Lt. David Ashton is our first original character. He's based off of a couple 18th century soldiers, more details to follow in future chapters.

Inspiration: The Trouble with Wanting by Joy Williams