2 August, 1757

"Lie down, Alice, you look faint. Is it the sea sickness still?"

Alice Munro glanced into the mirror on the vanity. Eyes bright and rosy-cheeked, she wondered at her sister's concern.

"After two weeks? Of course not." Not that Alice had been the one with the sensitive stomach on their voyage to Boston—but that was neither here nor there. She lowered herself to the fainting couch but remained seated upright, smiling at her sister. "I'd like to see Duncan at once!"

"Once you're rested. And besides," Cora turned away to adjust her hat in the mirror. "He asked that we have tea alone."

Well, that explained all of the fretting.

"Is anything amiss?"

"Nonsense, Alice."

Alice watched her sister don her gloves in silence. She wished Cora would confide in her as other sisters did. Being four years her elder, Cora had treated Alice with maternal affection for as long as she could remember. Now eighteen years of age, Alice was starting to realize that may never change. While they each held each other dearest amongst all they knew, it seemed there would always be a certain distance between them.

Alice wondered how their relationship would have been different if her mother hadn't died. But perhaps Cora's staunch guardedness was simply a trait she had inherited from her own mother, and the sisters' dispositions would simply be as different as Cora's dark hair was to Alice's blonde.

Cora turned and walked to the door. "Shall I have tea sent up?"

"No, thank you."

Alice reclined against the couch and waited. As she stared up at the ceiling, she wondered at Cora's hesitancy to marry Duncan. He was a remarkably handsome man with a spotless reputation. He headed a landed estate near their father's, and his early promotion to Major attested to his loyalty, competency, and bravery. Above all, Alice knew that Duncan simply adored Cora. He always had.

Once Cora's footsteps echoed down the hall, she sprung to her feet and donned her hat and gloves. Alice exited the patroon's house via the front door and stationed herself behind a corner with a good view of the farm and of the romantic setup Duncan had prepared. With laundry flapping in the breeze, it was a far cry from the gardens of London, yet it was the most romantic location on the estate that he could possibly place a tea table.

Alice smiled sadly. Poor, sweet man.

Witnessing Cora's concerned expression and Duncan's heartbroken shock, Alice flounced over. She greeted Duncan with genuine enthusiasm then began prattling with little heed to her own words. Forefront in her mind was the relief that her face didn't flame with mortification; her childhood infatuation had ended in the time she had last seen him. As she accepted tea and sat in Duncan's own chair, she felt with triumph that her interruption had been attributed to girlishness, and the two were smiling again.

"Relax your grip, and choke up on the stick." Uncas held out his own lacrosse stick so the young boy could follow his example.

Uncas tossed the ball to him again. When James Cameron managed to catch it this time, he gasped with delight. Uncas grinned and prepared for him to toss the ball back.

Instead, the boy bolted around Uncas with a whoop.

"You dog!" Uncas made a mock lunge for him, causing James to jerk away and keep running for the goal.

"Come back!" Uncas called after him, laughing. "You dropped the ball!"

A crowd of children swarmed over the object in question and Uncas relinquished his stick to one. Catching his father's gaze, he nodded and retrieved his shirt. He tugged his dark hair over the collar, adjusted his belt and knife, then headed over to him.

"No! Let's keep playing." James waved his stick at Uncas.

Uncas shook his head and bent down to ruffle his hair. "Skins aren't going to sell themselves. Got to keep moving."

James scuffed the ground dejectedly. Uncas studied him, then snatched the boy around the waist and suspended him upside down. James shrieked with laughter and swung his stick around wildly. Receiving a beating to his legs, Uncas had to lower the boy back down in defeat.

James scrambled to his feet. "Can I come with?"

Uncas shrugged. "Depends."

"On what?"

"How much I could get for your hide."

James shrieked again and ran into the cabin while Chingachgook laughed.

Once Nathaniel had the horse loaded up with their pelts, they made their farewells. It hurt Uncas to say goodbye to the Camerons—especially the children. He knew it was likely the last time he would see them.

It could not be helped. The land of his ancestors was getting trapped out and the war had no end in sight. If they wanted to survive, they needed to keep moving.

They would make their way to Schuylerville and sell their skins first thing in the morning. Then, they were headed west.

3 August

With a sinking heart, Alice watched her sister release Duncan's arm. Cora hurried to pat the Narragansett's neck with uncharacteristic interest, placing it between herself and the Major.

Although both wore determined smiles and acted with the utmost decorum, the uneasiness had returned. It would be another long day of forced cheerfulness on all their parts, but at least they would see Papa by the end of it.

Alice grasped for something to say.

"I couldn't sleep a wink last night for all the excitement."

Grinning, she released Duncan's other arm and reached up for the pommel, nearly bouncing on her toes.

"Indeed, I don't think you need my assistance, Alice. You're about to leap into the saddle yourself."

"The sooner to see Papa!"

Smiling, Duncan knelt to the ground and hoisted Alice up. She adjusted her skirts as he assisted Cora, then mounted his own horse as the company set out.

Alice's heart beat in triple time to the marching tattoo. Now that they were setting out for Fort William Henry at last, her nerves were beginning to get the better of her. She had paid little heed to the sordid tales of the colonies as told in England. She knew them to be embellished, but there was little comfort in only knowing what little knowledge one had.

When her father had sent for them, Alice had attempted to rectify this failing. She read books on the Americas and its inhabitants, but vague drawings of red men and facts on burial customs, while interesting, had little practical value.

A sudden flash of movement at her heels caused Alice to give a startled jump. It was the first Indian she had seen so close. Blushing at her jitteriness, she watched him curiously. She decided that he must be the scout Duncan had mentioned. It wasn't until she saw his eyes that her blood ran cold.

The man looked at her sister with what could only be described as utter contempt. Shocked, Alice froze. What in the world had Cora done to earn such a slight?

When the scout's gaze met hers, her eyes widened. She wanted nothing more than to shrink away and hide. His own expression had not changed.

Yet just as suddenly as he had appeared, he turned away and kept walking towards the front of the line.

"Duncan, who is that man?"

Oblivious to the proceedings, Duncan turned to her, then forward once more to see the Indian's retreating back.

"That's our Mohawk guide, by the name of Magua."

"I don't like him."

"Alice!"

Her sister's rebuke nearly made her flinch again, but she sat up straight with resolution.

"Did you see the way he looked at us, Cora? It was wrong."

Cora only sighed. Frustrated, Alice turned forward to Duncan beseechingly.

"Call him back, please. I would like to hear him speak." At his incredulous look, she added, "It would put me at ease."

Duncan shook his head. "He's not one for speech I'm afraid. And anyway, your father sent him to guide us. Do you not trust his judgment?" As he said this last part, he gave Cora a sidelong glance.

Of course Alice trusted Papa. Torn, she met Cora's distainful eyes.

"Really, Alice. Should we distrust this man because his manners are not our manners, and his skin is dark?" (1)

Alice gaped and felt her face flush.

"Of course that's not… I mean to say…"

"Come along."

Cora gave her horse a light cut of the whip and trotted ahead to catch up with the company, with Alice reluctantly following after.

Exhausted, Alice paid little heed to Magua as he walked down the line that afternoon. She wished she had slept better the night before. And why had she waited to ask to stop until Cora noticed her fatigue? She strove to prove competent on horseback; now her pride would leave her nothing to show for it but to fall from the saddle.

The first shot did not concern her. With the naivety of one who had never seen war, she assumed it to be a misfire. The following volleys froze her in the saddle. Distantly, she was aware they were under attack. She fought to keep her mind working.

What was next? Control the horse. Make sure Cora was okay. What could she do? She could not fight. Should they run? Where was safety?

As the horse threw her she cried out for her sister in fear and apology. She landed in a heap on the ground, defeated, and raised her eyes to the carnage. Now she understood it for what it was.

Terror replaced shock. There was so much blood, enough to drown the world. The company was being butchered before her eyes.

Dimly, Alice was aware of her sister's arms around her. She held on tight to Cora and froze in place. What could they do? Nothing but wait for death. More than anything, she ached for Cora. As Alice had come into this world drenched in her mother's life's blood, she would leave it drenched in her sister's.

"No, Duncan!"

She looked up at Cora's shout, gasping. Her face tingled in the way it did when she forgot how to breathe.

"In case your aim's any better than your judgment."

Upon hearing the stranger's snide remark, she realized the fighting was over. They were still alive. How?

She stumbled to her feet and clutched Cora to her side. Three Indians approached; their unthreatening posture identified them as saviors. At once, the fear sapped out of her.

One caught her regard as he walked past them. Without understanding it, she knew his intention. She extricated herself from Cora and ran to intercept the man—but too late. He ran the horses off with a shout.

"Stop it, stop it! We need them to get out!"

He grabbed her as she attempted to run after them and held her securely by the arms. Startled, yet feeling no fear, she looked up into his dark eyes to meet his challenge. When she found none, she stumbled back in surprise. His silent consideration seemed only to reflect her own curiosity. He turned away; the moment passed.

"Why is he loosing the horses?"

Alice recognized Duncan's belligerent tone as the one he got when he was losing control.

"Too easy to track. They'll be heard for miles. Find yourself a musket."

She listened intently to the man's words and felt her heart seize. It wasn't over—they would be tracked and they needed to be armed. What kind of ruthless creatures would hunt down two women and a single officer?

As the fear began to press in on her again it drowned out the words around her. Vaguely she understood that they would escort her to the Fort, and her panic receded to a manageable alarm. If anyone was able to protect them in this wilderness, it would be these three strange men who saved them from certain death.

And Duncan, she amended guiltily.

Soon after starting out, Uncas drifted behind the others, glancing around every so often for signs of pursuit or other tracks. To this end he would disappear off the path to investigate before returning to the main group to start the process over again. Thus far he hadn't learned much; a mountain lion had crossed by earlier this morning and a small group of colonial militia had cut through the forest yesterday, headed north.

Uncas made his way back to the group as they reached the river. The yellow-haired girl was trailing behind the others, eyes straying to the water. His interest piqued as she cast a furtive glance to those ahead and began tugging off her gloves. One at a time, she tossed the gloves into the swift current. Almost as an afterthought, she reached up to tear her cap off and throw it in as well. Turning, she followed its progress as it tumbled along and became swallowed by the water.

She looked up at Uncas and stilled, eyes wide like a doe sensing danger. Yet it wasn't the frozen terror of prey with nowhere left to run, as he had seen in her on the road—simply a cautious awareness. As he continued to approach she quickly glanced away, cheeks reddening.

"For protection," she said, looking out over the river, then her bare hands. "In Scotland, they say that water is guarded by spirits. It's a silly superstition."

She smoothed down her skirt self-consciously and started after the others.

"T'sepoo mennitow."

She turned. "Pardon?"

"Water spirit."

He rummaged through his pack for the three New York pence he had lifted from a dead Huron. At her questioning gaze, he held the coins out in an open palm for a moment before tossing them into the water.

He preferred pieces of eight over colonial currency anyway.

He thought he caught a shy smile as she turned again to continue after the others. Assuming his role as rear guard, Uncas remained vigilant, but his eyes kept drifting to the yellow-haired girl.

Soon they approached the falls. She paused in her ascent to observe them, her face softening. Was her mind still on spirits, or did she wonder at the beauty to be found in a world so full of horror? But, he supposed he was merely attributing his own brooding thoughts to hers.

Having decided that they were out of danger, the Major began his interrogation of Nathaniel. It seemed he was determined to argue over things he didn't know: Huron war captains and colonial militia. He was a fish out of water.

"There is a war on, how is it that you are headed west?"

"Well we faced to the north and real subtle-like, turned left."

Uncas's mouth quirked. Nathaniel's rejoinder would not gain them any favors, but it wouldn't stop him from enjoying it.

"England does not protect me and does not war against France on our account. She uses us to war against France on her own account... of greed for land and furs." Nathaniel turned back to the Major. "Clear it up any?"

"I owe you gratitude or I'd call you out!"

"Do not let gratitude get in the way."

Furious, the Major made for his sword. The dark-haired girl (Miss Cora Munro, apparently) grabbed his arm, stopping him only because Chingachgook appeared before them. Uncas suspected if not for his father, she would have gladly helped cut Nathaniel down.

"Yengeese no good in woods. Make more noise, I kill him."

Chingachgook's threat did not mollify Cora and Major's anger, but they at least had the sense to remain silent. The yellow-haired girl's eyes widened in fright, as if she thought his father might actually kill the Major. Though, Uncas supposed if his shouting continued to threaten their safety, he very well might.

After glaring at Nathaniel's back for a time, Cora returned to the yellow-haired girl's side.

"Alice. I'm sorry. We should have listened to you about the guide."

Alice just smiled at her sadly and squeezed her arm as if to say, what's done is done. Though the words had been quietly spoken, the rest of the group heard them. Nathaniel turned a scathing look at the Major, who said nothing, though his neck turned red.

As the Major stepped back to walk with Cora, Alice began drifting behind the others until she was alongside Uncas. From the corner of his eye, he noticed her glance at him and look away. He waited. As if she managed to summon the courage, she turned to him again.

"What tribe are you affiliated with, sir?"

He glanced at her, surprised at the formal address though his face remained impassive. She seemed to be afraid of his answer. Despite his father's warning about noise, he decided her quiet words were safe to engage.

"Mohican."

"And have the Mohicans made no alliances in this war?"

"None, miss. You're looking at the last of us." He added a sweeping gesture to include the men at the front of the group.

"Oh." She glanced at Nathaniel and Chingachgook with solemnity and a bit of the confusion he recognized from those trying to place white skin in an Indian family. Instead of voicing the question, she made an unexpected comparison. "You're like Charles Stuart."

He supposed he should get used to being surprised by this unusual girl. At the question in his eyes, she smiled sadly and glanced away.

"A prince in exile."

As one, Cora and the Major turned looks of incredulity on the girl, while Nathaniel laughed.

"Prince of made beaver, maybe."

Alice blushed, but her smile now met her eyes. It fell away as she noticed the other Yengeese's expressions.

Nathaniel took the opportunity to raise his eyebrows in a teasing leer for only Uncas to see.

"I didn't mean anything by it, of course, he is a pretender, after all." The girl looked as though at any moment she would be charged with sedition. Realizing her new gaff, she turned imploring eyes on Uncas. "Not that you're a pretender, sir, that is—"

"Uncas."

"I beg your pardon?"

He smiled. "My name is Uncas."

"Oh. Alice."

The Major's back stiffened.

"Munro," she amended hastily.

They finished introductions in the group before lapsing into a more comfortable silence. Although Uncas had enjoyed his brother's expostulations, he was relieved that tensions had now eased somewhat.

It was not to last.

This was a lesson learned all too often on the frontier: when all is calm, disaster strikes. The moment Uncas smelled the smoke, he realized it was inevitable.

Chingachgook had already picked up his pace in front of them. Uncas exchanged a look of alarm with Nathaniel, and the two hurried ahead of the others to follow in their father's wake.

Uncas had witnessed much bloodshed in his life. Yet looking on the burnt ruins of the Cameron homestead, he was completely unprepared. Alexandra lay sprawled out on the earth, eyes staring ahead vacantly. He tentatively reached out to touch her, as if afraid he might hurt this young mother—but of course, she was beyond all hurts now. Grasping her shoulder, he willed her to be at peace, and his thoughts strayed to John and the children.

The dread was a heavy pit in his stomach as he rounded the cabin, but he had to check, to make sure. He did not linger over the bodies of the children he had played with two days before; he did not want to know how long they had suffered before death relieved them. He paused, rooted in the memory of two nights' past.

Young James had asked Uncas if he would have a boy like him.

"No, you're too strong. Make me grow old too fast."

Uncas had been joking, of course. Because he did want a child like him. More than one, if he could. The pride and joy he had seen on the Camerons' faces had driven home his desire to start a family—but not here.

It was this place that aged him. He wondered how far west he would have to go to escape all of this heartache. Perhaps never far enough.

Uncas forced himself to stop and think—to maintain self-control. That was how they survived. What happened here? He was surrounded by valuable goods. Nothing had been taken; it was simply murder.

He carefully stepped around James's body to exit the cabin, unable to look at the Yengeese. The trio stood a respectful distance away, staring in horror at what was left of Alexandra and James. He was grateful for the space. Aside from the obvious practicalities of keeping their tracks away, he couldn't stand to speak to any of them when his heart was this raw with pain.

He crouched down to consult with his family, gripping his rifle for support. They determined conclusively that it was another war party—Ottawa and French. That done, it was time to move. Even without the Yengeese, they would not hunt the murderers down, though it pained them not to. With this much activity in these woods, safety for the night was paramount. Tomorrow they could inform their friends in the militia of the war parties; they would then return to protect their families.

Nathaniel stood and laid a hand on his head, an acknowledgment of their mutual grief. They headed out. Uncas ignored the others as Cora started arguing.

The helplessness had altered something inside him, combusting into rage. Without a scream, without wetting his knife with blood, it would only remain inside him, consuming him from within.

As night overtook them in the forest, Uncas realized he was not paying attention to his surroundings. He looked to his father, who simply nodded toward the crag on their right in a silent command. He deserved a much harsher scolding for his carelessness, but it would wait until silence was no longer necessary.

He turned back and passed the others. Then, she was before him.

Uncas took Alice's outstretched hand automatically, assuming she needed assistance. Instead she stood in place, her big doe eyes looking up into his with sympathy and compassion. It took Uncas a moment to realize that she was offering her condolences.

He gave a small nod and stepped away. Yet before he could release her hand she grasped his between both of hers. He turned back, confused. Now frowning in concern, Alice tilted her head to the side. It was a question.

Touched, his eyes softened. How long had she observed him lost in the desolation of his thoughts? He reached out, fingertips brushing the shoulder of her jacket: a reassurance.

Yes. I will be all right.

She nodded and slowly released his hand.

Uncas felt her eyes on his back as he scaled the crag. Once he reached the top, she was moving again. He looked around the forest for signs of the enemy. Finding none, he walked along a parallel path to the others.

There was nothing he could do for the Camerons anymore—but this girl he could protect. All he had to do was get her to the Fort.

Alice stumbled into the edge of the glade with relief. She was completely drained, both physically and emotionally, after the longest day of her life. Still, she considered the area around her that was to be their camp for the night.

They were surrounded by mounds and curious wooden scaffolding. Alice frowned, trying to make sense of their purpose. After a minute of contemplating the lumps tied to the beams, she drew in a sharp breath.

Bodies. Those were human bodies.

None of the others seemed to notice or care. She turned to Uncas to demand an answer.

He was already approaching her, hands splayed as if he thought she was a horse that might bolt. She took a deep breath and released it, respecting the necessary silence the group had kept since the cabin.

He leaned forward to whisper into her ear.

"Sacred ground. Other Indians will respect it."

Alice looked at the bodies, then Uncas as he took a took a step back from her. Finally, this was something that made sense. As her body wilted in relief, she breathed out a single word.

"Sanctuary."

He watched her, unmoving.

"You are not afraid?"

She contemplated this, looking from the bodies, the forest, to him. Of course she was afraid, down to the marrow in her bones. But of this?

"I trust your judgment."

He paused a moment longer, searching her face. Just then, Chingachgook appeared from behind her and muttered something to Uncas in a language Alice didn't understand. Uncas nodded and immediately disappeared once more into the trees.

Alice avoided Chingachgook's gaze and followed the others. She collapsed into a ball by Duncan and Cora, willing her mind to believe that she was in the pews of a church, the relics of saints entombed around her. At once, blessed sleep took over.

With the click of a hammer being drawn, her eyes flew open. Uncas was next to her, positioned to defend. She rolled onto her stomach and looked to her right. Where was Cora?

Crunching leaves, whispers in the trees. She pulled herself up to peer over the log, eyes wide in terror. They were coming.

She only became aware of her gasps for air as they were silenced by a strong hand at her mouth. She stiffened as another wrapped around her, pulling her body against his and holding her fast by the arm.

"Sanctuary, remember?"

She knew it was Uncas even before the soft whisper brushed her ear, yet her fear was not assuaged. With shallow breaths through her nose, she struggled to turn to the right, where Cora had been before Alice fell asleep.

"She's safe, with my brother. You're safe."

Safe—if they maintained their silence. She stopped fighting him, trying to focus on her breathing, on his scent of woodsmoke and pine, and on the warm, solid presence at her back.

The voices drifted close enough for Alice to recognize the French words. She stiffened again, her breaths ragged once more. Forcing her eyes shut, she dipped her head down, heedless of his hand on her mouth. She gripped the grass beneath her, knuckles white as she pulled herself to the earth. Bone by bone, she forced her body to lie flat against the ground.

As the voices finally receded, her body melted until she was nothing but a puddle. Despite or because of the embrace she was in, her breathing began to regain its natural rhythm.

Uncas carefully released her arm and rolled off of her. The movement brought Alice to her senses. She blinked as his hand slid from her mouth, then turned to lock eyes with his. Quickly averting her gaze, she followed the movement through by craning her neck to look for her sister.

Cora was indeed with Nathaniel. Now that her sister had cooled off, Alice supposed she had gone over to apologize. That was he usual way of it when Cora's passion overroad her awareness.

Having been deeply affected by the homestead's destruction, Alice was unable to form the words that would end her sister's tirade. She wanted to ask Cora how she could not have heard Uncas talk about them being tracked after the ambush, or the care he had taken when he approached the body of the woman. Especially the way Nathaniel reached out to Uncas in comfort.

The sight had driven a lump into Alice's throat. It was a feeling that made her want to cry or scream, yet as always, neither would be summoned. Nor should they—this was not her grief. She had turned away from Uncas, knowing his pain was a private thing, and yet desperately wishing she could do something, anything to make it better.

She hoped Nathaniel would accept her sister's apology. She did not want the Mohicans to decide that they weren't worth the trouble and leave them to fend for themselves. Yet as she watched the pair, they had turned to gaze up at the stars together. Rattled by the intimacy of such a moment, she turned away, but not before seeing Duncan look on in distress.

To her immense relief, Uncas had his eyes closed. Still near, he lay on his back, hands tucked behind his head and face completely relaxed. He looked as though he was at home. Alice combed her eyes over his strange adornments, the clothes he wore, the tattoos on his skin.

She felt shame at her earlier fear of the group abandoning them. Uncas would never do so.

With sudden awareness, she looked up to meet Chingachgook's eyes. He leaned against a tree, keeping watch. Mortification eclipsed all of her jumbled emotions as she settled down, facing away from Uncas.

Eventually she cracked open her eyes and peeked up at the stars. It was a long time before she fell back asleep.

Notes:

Originally posted on AO3.

(1) Quote taken from the book, p. 59. (I honestly do not recommend reading it, but enjoyed a few tidbits that appear in this fic, including Alice's distrust of Magua and her and Cora having different moms.) Many other quotes taken from the movie or script, of course.

Songs:

Story title: Bare by WILDES

Holy Ground by BANNERS