Ever since he could finally stand on his feet again, Uncas took walks into the forest.

His injuries were far from healed. That's why his walks were pitifully short in the beginning, his steps small and unsteady. He also needed a crutch to lean on. The first stroll he attempted didn't get him further than a few paces from the porch. But he was making progress. He could walk farther every day.

On the contrary to his father's belief that the main purpose of his frequent walks was to build up strenght, the real reason behind them was to get away from everyone. He knew they meant well, but they were overbearing at times. Constantly checking on him, wanting to assist him at every movement he made. On the outside he remained smiling and grateful, but it was driving him up the wall.

He was a man who needed his own peace and quiet. The crowded cabin couldn't offer that. But the forest had an instant calming effect on him. Ever since he was a child, really, not just now. After being among the greenery for a while, he could always return to the cabin refreshed, ready to put up with the immediate concern about his well-being again.

His father once said that this was the biggest difference between his sons. Nathaniel craved being surrounded by people, interacting within a community. If the atmosphere was too calm or quiet, he was often known to pick a fight, just to get something lively started. Even when they were children attending Reverend Wheelock's school, Nathaniel used any excuse to start drama. Uncas smirked. Even though he himself was never the troublemaker, he enjoyed being a spectator to his brother's disputes (and when a fight got really out of hand, his backup). But he personally prefered calm and less crowded enviroments. Therefore he was perfectly contented with traveling through the forests with just his father and brother.

Today he planned to go further than any prior stroll has taken him. He knew he would be exhausted, so he secretly smuggled some food from under Alexandria's watchful gaze and took it with him. She would recognize his lunch as a sign that he planned not to return for quite a while. Concerned as always, she would immediately notify his father and Chingachgook would tie him to a bed to stop him from leaving if he had to.

The sky was clear and the day pleasantly warm. Good weather, he noticed, reduced the uncomfortable and stabbing pain in his wounds. His pace of walking was slow, sluggish even. His weight had to be heavily supported by the crutch. But he didn't mind. It gave him an opportunity to more fully observe the beautiful nature surrounding him.

He often needed to stop and catch his breath. Regardless of how much time his frequent rests were consuming, he was slowly but surely getting somewhere. He had no fixed destination in mind. He went where he felt like going. Down a forest path, across a meadow. Anywhere where the terrain wasn't too much or too steep for his crutch. He worked up quite a sweat along the way.

By the time he reached a clearing, a couple of miles away from the cabin by his judgement, he was positively exhausted. But very satisfied with his achievement. He should probably not have gone so far (he was surely going to get an earful upon his return), but he trusted himself to build up enough strenght to make his way back. There was a big, flat rock surface in the clearing, all warmed up from the sun. He wished to lie down on it and bask in the warm sunlight, but was afraid he wouldn't be able to get up on his own again. The muscles in his torso were still damaged and weak, unlikely to lift his whole upper body from a horizontal position.

So he settled for just awkwardly sitting down and eating the lunch he brought with him to replenish his strenght. The air around him was warm and filled with the songs of birds, the clearing buzzing with life. Sunlight reflected from the leaves, making them gleam like emeralds. He sighed. That was exactly what he needed. The view and the atmosphere made all his efforts worth it. Such comfortable surroundings made daydreaming inescapable.

He wondered what it would be like to live in a place like this. To build a cabin in such a beautiful and secluded clearing. There was nothing wrong with living in a village full of wigwams, but still. On their travels, he and his family often stayed in the Delaware camp. It was nice to have some more company every once in a while. Nathaniel absolutely basked in it. But as he said, it could all get too much quickly. At such times he desperately wanted to leave the bustling camp and return to the quietness of the forest.

That was also one of the reasons why he was putting off his father's insisting wish to marry a Delaware woman, the first one being that he never got to know any of them better. Sure, he talked to some and maybe for someone like Nathaniel that was more than enough to call them friends and to claim he knew them well, but for him it barely scraped the surface. It was in his nature to be reserved around people he didn't really know, and suddenly being married to one of them was that much more uncomfortable to think about. Because you have to give your all to your wife and he just coudn't do that for someone he barely knew. He didn't want the Delaware girl he could potentially marry to suffer. And second, that would make him tied to the Delaware camp permanently. It was hard for him to grasp that idea. He could of course still build a secluded cabin and ask his wife to move there, but Delaware girls were used to the always social way of life and didn't like leaving the bustling camp much. And Uncas realized that being in the crowded camp forever would make him suffer.

But just because he wanted to live in a more secluded place and didn't want to marry a Delaware woman didn't mean he wished to be isolated and alone. He always wanted a family, just with the right person. He didn't really find one until now. Until Alice walked into his life. Well technically speaking, she came into his life riding a horse. Even better.

She was truly special. A kind and compassionate spirit who sometimes also tended to stray away from the most crowded path. If there was anyone he saw himself sharing his life with, it was her. He just truly hoped she saw it too. He wasn't quite certain, as she also wasn't one to show her feeling openly.

After finishing his meal and ending his contemplation on a pleasant note, he felt much better. The warmth of the sun burned the majority of the pain away and left him feeling well rested. After some awkward shuffling he was on his feet again. It was time to go back.

But his pleasant mood and the beauty around him urged him to go just a little further. Just a little deeper into the gleaming forest. Why not, he thought and indulged himself.

The part of the forest he was now in was very thick with growth. The sunlight only managed to penetrate the tree tops here and there, giving it a more mystic impression. It was harder for him to move around on such uneven ground and so he decided to turn back. But not before having a thorough look around, drinking in the enchanting setting. The trees were old and big, their roots dipping in and out of the ground, elegantly curling around each other like giant snakes. Some trunks were fallen over and covered with moss and mushrooms, looking like bridges to another world. It was breathtaking. There were some bushy branches, very naturally settled between and over one of the fallen trunks and the roots of a tree. They looked almost like they were broken off during a storm. Almost.

Uncas wouldn't even register the slightly odd angle of their placement if something else wouldn't suddenly blind him, falling right into his eyes. A glint of light, reflecting from inbetween the branches. That made Uncas look at the whole branch structure again and notice the squashed, trampled undergrowth around the area. His blood ran cold. Someone has been here. Recently.

And guessing that the glint from inbetween the branches was reflected from a weapon or some other metal tool stored in there, they were still around somewhere. He froze on the spot. He had his tomahawk with him, but was defenceless. He couldn't wield the weapon with his injured upper body. A gun would also be hard for him to use, but definitely easier. He should have brought a gun, shouldn't have underestimated the dangers one can come across. How careless of him. How stupid.

He willed his rushing thoughts and racing heart to calm down. He reassured himself that since nothing has stirred inside the branch den, it was currently empty, its occupant away somewhere. He knew he should turn back immediately and, as quickly as he could, hobble away while he still had the chance. But something got the better of him. It wasn't curiosity, it was something more like worry. Because whoever made his spot here, it was awfully close to the home of the Camerons and other settler families. A few miles might sound like a lot, especially since it took him so long to get here, but for a healthy man it was nothing. And he knew from experience that usually such random, well hidden dens in the forest meant nothing good. He, Nathaniel and his father have come across such dens before in the past. They were usually inhabited by bandits, Indians gone rouge or other men that were involved in some kind of illegal, bloody buisness. Finding one here, so close to the settlements, made his hair stand on end.

He knew it was dangerous to linger here longer. The den's inhabitant could return at any time. But his protective instincts were kicking in and he had to investigate. If it was indeed the shelter of some bandit, he had to warn the Camerons. His father and brother would be prepared for the possibility of attack and would protect them.

He stepped closer. The den was put together really well. It blended in with the surroundings, looking like a natural part of the scenery. When Uncas got really close, he started noticing some strange things. There was a crudely made wooden drinking bowl sitting in the moss, filled with water. But the surface was littered with leaves and other things that fall from the tree tops and a few drowned bugs were floating in it. This indicated the water bowl was sitting there for at least a few days, untouched. He furrowed his brows. He also noted a trail of ants leading to the den and dissapearing into it.

He followed them with his eyes and nearly had a heart attack when he spotted a pair of moccasin clad feet through the leaves. The inhabitant was inside the whole time. But he hasn't moved an inch, hasn't reacted to Uncas' not so subtle approach. Something was wrong.

It was also then that Uncas caught the smell. It wasn't strong, but it was foul. Remaining cautious, he pushed some of the branches out of the way.

He never asked what happened to Magua, but from the way everyone tried to avoid and dance around that specific topic, he knew the Huron got away. He honestly didn't give it much thought, concluding the man dragged himself back home. As long as he never saw him again, he didn't care what became of him. But he did see him again. He was right here. Uncas didn't know how to feel about that.

Magua looked like a corpse. His skin was of a gray shade, sickly discoloured against the colourful shawl covering his body. The fabric had a nice shine to it in places that weren't stained with dried blood and pus. There were different things scattered around his body. Uncas recognized a few medicinal plants and paste made from bark, bloody scraps of fabric used as bandages, the knife and tomahawk at arm's lenght. There was also a handful of berries, which the Huron was too sick to eat, now lying squashed under his arm. It was hard to say what attracted the procession of ants and flies. The berries or the smell of infection and decay.

Was he dead? That was the only thing Uncas wanted to know. He carefully studied the face of the torpored man before moving closer. He awkwardly slid down the crutch to his knees and loosely grabbed one of the sinewy wrists. He spent some time feeling along the inner side of it, pressing his fingers into the flesh, but feeling nothing. Just as he was trying to decide if he did in fact detect the smallest, weakest trace of a pulse, Magua's other hand came around his own body and took a hold of his wrist. His eyes didn't even open.

Uncas coudn't swallow a muffled yelp of startlement. Magua's grasp was too weak to hold on to him and he yanked his wrist out of the clutch with ease. So he was alive. Somewhat. Uncas didn't know whether he should feel dissapointed.

This was a very mentally and morally chalenging situation, which he hasn't been prepared to deal with. So he just sat there for a while, staring into nothing and trying to decide if he was obliged to do something and what. Perhaps put the old fox out of his misery? Whenever he tried to think of his next course of action, his mind just went blank and didn't have an answer.

Therefore he left the scene confused and slightly numb in the mind, leaving Magua as he lay. He only had just enough wits about him to put the branches he removed back in place, covering his body.

When he returned to the cabin, he nodded dutifully to every chiding word Alexandria Cameron bestowed upon him for worrying his father and the others sick. But her words didn't quite get through to him. He still couldn't comprehend how he managed to walk straigh into their enemy and how exactly did Magua end up like he did? He knew asking the others about what happened at the cliffs after he passed out would shine some light on the whole thing, but he didn't want anyone to suspect anything. Not yet, at least. He had to sort out his feelings and thoughts and consider how this could affect the others.

During supper Alice carefully asked him where he went, others also looking at him expectantly. He humored them and told them about the things he saw on the way, but kept his mouth wisely shut about his discovery.

A/N:

I really don't know the distance between the cliffs on Huron territory and Cameron's cabin (I think it's a lot), but for the purpouse of this story it is shorter.

Also I have an exam comin up, so I'll be writing the next chapter a little slower.