Chapter 2

Two days they had been on the move … Or was it three? Uncas could clearly remember the sun setting at least once when the Hurons had held him down to stich up his wounds. He remembered the cold fever in his bones and the pain spasms that would shoot up through his entire body every time the curled needle would pierce his flesh. He watched the sun setting from the clearing where they had stopped and counted the seconds, trying to distract himself from the pain.

Time had expanded into a slow trek down slopes and through thick pine forests that never seemed to end. He thought they were heading West by the position of the sun. Or was it North? As he looked up to check on the position of the sun, he stumbled and fell. The noose around his neck tightened immediately, choking him, as the Huron pulling the leash dragged him and barked at him to get up. From behind, another man clobbered him with a stick. Uncas dug his left hand into the ground and pushed himself upwards. His people had called him the Bounding Elk, for his swiftness and agility. There was nothing agile about him now, as his limbs trembled and the dizziness caused him to sway as he slowly tried to stand up.

As the rocky beach of the great lake came into sight, he understood why the Hurons were in such a hurry. They were heading West, he concluded, slightly satisfied that he was still able to assess his surroundings and collapsed on the wet sand as soon as his captor released the noose.

He threw Uncas a flask of water and turned towards the beach where the rest of the Huron party was gathering around a grouping of 10 canoes that were being dragged ashore.

The water flask hit Uncas on his right shoulder and he winced in pain as he clumsily got a hold of it with his left hand. The sudden movement put strain on the newly stitched wounds on his chest and he had to pause for a moment, panting in pain, before being able to drink the lukewarm liquid.

As fever and exhaustion threatened to overcome him, he shook his head and forced himself to focus. Days ago, he had accepted that his father and brother were not coming. He had seen Nathaniel safely exit the Huron camp with Miss Munro, but something must have happened along the way. He sighed and silently gave a quick prayer to the Great Spirit to watch over them.

He was on his own.

In the distance, he could see new Huron men descending from the canoes to greet Magua's warriors. This didn't surprise him. The moment they had reached the beach, he knew they were deep into Huron territory. Magua had taken them to the Lake tribes.

As Magua finally emerged from the forest, Uncas watched the group closely, waiting for the Yengeese girl to appear.

He had not seen her since that day on the cliffs and when she finally came onto the beach, flanked by two warriors, he exhaled in relief. Her hands were still unbound, he observed. That was good.

Her state, on the other hand, was a different matter. She shook violently, her fists clenched tightly as if the mere act of walking required a great deal of effort. Her already pale skin had turned slightly blue and there were deep circles under her eyes. She must have been bone tired. The pace of the Huron had been relentless. Magua had marched them during the day but also during the night, stopping only briefly for food or rest. For the delicate, high-born girl, fragile and sheltered as she was, the journey must have been nothing short of torture. But it was her spirit that gave him the most reason for concern. She seemed lost, confused, looking around as if she was admiring the scenery, unaware of the situation she was in.

He surveyed the men surrounding her. Two at the rear, two in front but they had already moved far ahead of her, joining Magua. He stood near the shore, talking to the men that had begun loading the warriors' supplies onto the canoes.

So only two men to take on, aside from the one standing in front of him. His back was turned. He had a knife and a tomahawk strapped to either side of his belt. If he acted quickly, he could disarm him and charge the other two men.

He tried to move but his legs were like lead. He could barely walk, let alone run. He had fashioned himself a sling of sorts for his arm, using his belt, but he could do nothing about the dislocated shoulder, rendering his right arm completely useless.

Useless legs, only one good arm and extreme lack of movement in his upper body …No … better to wait, he thought. If he made any attempt now, it might do more harm than good. If Magua had wanted the girl dead, he would have let her jump to her death when she bargained for Uncas' life. Yet he had not. He had speared him to keep her alive.

Uncas could barely remember the time of day, but he was still haunted by her face that day on the cliffs. Her big, brown eyes slashed into him more effectively than Magua's blade ever could, begging him not to leave her.

His heart beat faster when he looked at her now. So young, so vulnerable and so far away from anything she could call home …

When she turned her head towards him, he held her gaze, trying to reassure her. I'm still here … I'm not leaving you. She blinked in recognition as she staggered forward, and Uncas was a little relieved to see that she was not as lost as he initially thought.

Uncas' head was jolted by the noose around his neck, as his guardian forced him to his feet, dragging him towards one of the canoes. He stole one more glance at Alice, as she awkwardly climbed onto one of the boats, followed closely by Magua who sat himself behind her, like a hungry hunter guarding his prey.

XXX

It was already dusk when the canoes arrived on the beach outside the Huron village but the place was animated. From the hilled site, a steady stream of torches trickled down as people gathered to welcome the victorious warriors.

The commotion began as soon as the first canoes came into sight with people giving out cheerful war cries to which the younger men in the boats responded with great enthusiasm.

Uncas watched as Magua stepped onto the shore and began walking among the crowd. All the attention was on him and people stepped to the side, allowing him to walk unperturbed towards the village, all the while cheering his return. A small smile crept on the hardened warrior's face as he made his way, nodding to some, speaking to others. This was not just a Huron village. This was Magua's village.

Alice walked behind him, looking around only briefly, as she advanced deeper into a sea of people. They eyed her curiously, approaching from time to time to touch her hair or pull at her dress, to assess the fabric. Seeing her flinch or pull away, they would step back and simply stared at her as she walked by.

They were far less gentle with Uncas. The bad blood between the two tribes had run for generations and no Mohican would ever be well received in a Huron village. He consoled himself in the knowledge that his brother had gotten worse. In his case, it was mostly women and boys that came at him. Bound and wounded as he was, the men most likely considered challenging him to be beneath their dignity.

Still, when the first youth stepped out of the crowd and hit him in the gut, the pain from his open wound shoot up like a flame through his entire body and he fell to his knees. Blood dripped through his shirt and onto the ground beneath, as he crawled on all fours before regaining his footing.

The boiling cauldron of anger erupted once they entered the village. More and more people gathered, as the convoy walked down a narrow path towards the biggest longhouse in the village.

The path became so packed that the advance slowed down and Uncas had trouble breathing, as more people gathered around him, pushing and pulling at his shirt, until it was ripped to shreds. They jeered and hurled insults. Some he understood, others he did not but he clearly heard one women shouting: "Murderer!" before spitting on him. e He

He wiped his face slowly and continued to walk, even as his skin burned at the humiliation.

By the time they reached the end of the path, the unrelenting harassment had left him exhausted.

The deer hides that covered the large entrance of the longhouse were pulled apart and they were led inside. It was dark and hot, as tens of people huddled inside. He could hear whispers and low chatter coming from around him and he began coughing as he inhaled the heavy smoke laden air.

On the ground floor, a large group consisting of only males was arranged around the hearth at the center of the longhouse, some sitting cross-legged on the ground and others on low log benches. They watched them attentively but spoke not a word. From the raised platforms above, that formed the second story of the longhouse, women, teenagers and lower ranking men, Uncas assumed, eyed them curiously. From time to time, the solemn silence would be broken by a war cry or words of encouragement for the warriors, only to be admonished by the group of elders below that demanded they stilled their tongues.

Once they reached the hearth, Uncas also saw white men dressed in French military uniforms. One of them, a Colonel judging by his epaulets, looked at him for a long moment before turning to his Huron companion. He could not hear what the Frenchman said but he could make out the mumbled answer given in Huron, from basic words: "No … Huron … Mohican … dog."

Uncas was forced to his knees in front of the big platform, on which the Sachem of the Lake Hurons sat, flanked by two warriors carrying torches. He was rather young and wore a European type coat. It was similar to the French military blue coats that surrounded him, complete with epaulets and medals that conferred onto him the rank of general, a title as important to the French as it was useless and meaningless to the Huron.

He did not wear his hair in the Huron way but slicked back with oil and gathered at the back, decorated with a large, feathered head piece. He was a man set out to impress his French fathers.

Magua had also reached the hearth by now, brining Alice to his side. Uncas saw one of the French officers gasp in horror at the sight of a white woman in the settlement and he began speaking hastily to the Colonel, raising his voice at intervals.

Alice seemed to notice the man and she watched him for a moment, as if listening to what he was saying. Does she understand French?

Before he could get his answer, the Sachem silenced the room, standing up and greeting Magua. They began talking at length. Uncas could only make out words from what they were saying but the two men greeted each other with: "Brother". Magua spoke proudly of scalps and victory. He was recounting his success at Fort William Henry, no doubt.

The Sachem nodded in approval and, as Magua pointed to him, he turned his eyes on Uncas. Magua used the words "Mohican slave" when talking about him and the leader of the Hurons sized him up and laughed. "Half a Mohican," he replied.

Magua smiled with disdain and continued. He grabbed Alice and pushed her forward. Try as he might, Uncas could not understand what he was saying. He turned to look at her and saw that she kept her eyes downward, in a completely passive state. He had seen that behavior before. When tracking deer, a young fawn would sometimes freeze in place when given chase. The fear would be so great that it would be unable to move or react, even to save its own life.

But perhaps there was hidden strength to her passiveness, if he was to judge the expressions on the Frenchmen's faces. They were horrified at witnessing the way she was treated.

It was the young French officer that stood up, after a few minutes. The Huron, no doubt, had translated what Magua had said and he appeared enraged. He raised his voice and spoke angrily, pointing at Magua. Whatever he said, angered Magua to such an extent that he reached for his tomahawk. The Colonel and the rest of the Frenchmen jumped up and surrounded the young man, trying to silence him.

That's when Uncas saw Alice looking up. She licked her lips, as her fists clenched tighter into her skirts and she opened her mouth to speak. She does understand …

Acting on instinct, Uncas raised his bound arms and elbowed the closest man to his left. Just as he stood up, the man and a few others pounced on him and threw him to the ground, beating him with sticks. He grunted in pain but was satisfied that he had gotten what he wanted. Alice turned and looked at him with a horrified expression. He shook his head furiously. Don't speak. Now is not the right time …

The blows continued as Uncas struggled to get back up. When one of the men hit him hard across his right arm, his vision turned to black and he screamed out in pain. The sounds of angry voices around him began drifting away and a low humming noise replaced it, until, finally, there was nothing but silence.

XXX

Even though he was five years older than him, Nathaniel's earliest memory was of Uncas. He couldn't have been more than a few months old at the time and Nathaniel could remember clearly that the excitement of having a sibling had quickly turned to disappointment by that time. All he did was eat and cry. He would even get up in the middle of the night crying, waking up everyone in the small wigwam, only to eat some more.

Nathaniel couldn't play with him or talk to him and he was even saddled with more chores because of him, now that his father was away hunting. When he asked his mother why the Great Spirit had punished him with a useless brother, she only smiled and told him that Uncas would grow up and, in time, he would understand the great gift that the creator had given him.

Stuck inside, while his mother went to the river to wash their clothes, Nathaniel knew that the crib lizard was no gift. He did his best to ignore him and went about the business of sneaking on and attacking a large, invisible bear, meaning to strike with the small tomahawk that Chingachgook had made for him before leaving. He charged the bear with a loud war cry that had the unfortunate effect of waking up the lizard who started crying instantly.

Having had enough, Nathaniel dropped his tomahawk and went straight to him. "Shut up!" he said. When the baby didn't listen, he reached inside the crib, meaning to pinch him into silence. Flailing his arms around, the baby grabbed hold of one of his fingers and held it tightly in his little fist. And most surprising of all, he stopped crying. Nathaniel stared in shock at his little brother and, as the baby looked up at him and smiled, he realized that he had their mother's eyes … pitch black and deep.

His mother had been right, after all. Uncas was not only his brother, but, in time, he became his playmate, his accomplice and his best friend. They hunted together, learned everything about life together, suffered the death of a parent together. When Nathaniel's sharp tongue or rash actions got him into trouble, he was right there, by his side, supporting him or accepting the punishment, whether he had contributed to the deed or not.

Nathaniel couldn't remember a time when Uncas wasn't there. Until now.

"You think they're dead, don't you?" Cora said.

He turned his head towards her. She sat a few feet away from him, holding her legs pressed to her chest. He couldn't make out her face through the darkness, but her voice was shaking, and she trembled.

He didn't answer her and focused his energy back on sharpening a small rock on the stony floor of the cave they were forced to spend the night in. He tried to make as little noise as possible but most of their captors were far off, at the entrance of the cave, while only two huddled up inside, dozing off. All of them were exhausted.

They had been traveling for three days. The trappers had taken them straight to Fort Carillon, picking up other hostages along the way, all of them survivors of the Fort Henry attack.

Their plan for trade had been derailed when they arrived at Carillon and were denied access. Montcalm even refused to meet with them. The French were embarrassed over the attack and the murder of Colonel Munro and even though they had been unable to prevent it or had likely instigated it, now wanted no reminders of their involvement, in hostage form or otherwise.

Their rejection at the fort had caused most of their Huron companions to return to their villages, leaving only 20 men to guard the hostages and march them onward.

After having walked all day through pouring rain, on no food and very little water, they finally stopped to make camp for the night. No fires were lit, since the trappers hadn't rationed their supplies properly, most likely expecting a nice, warm bed inside the fort that night. The cold night air, coupled with their wet clothes, caused many a person's teeth to rattle, including Cora's.

"Don't you?" Cora said, more insistent this time.

Nathaniel looked up and searched for Chingachgook, as well as he could through the darkness. He saw him, close by, with his head pressed against the wall of the cave, sleeping.

He should have told them to leave at the waterfalls. He should have gone after Cora alone, not drag his father and brother into this. If he had done that, Uncas would be halfway to Can-tuk-ee by now and not …

He sighed and tested the sharpened edge of the rock in his hands. Judging it sharp enough, or as sharp as he would ever make it, he began dragging it over the ropes tied around his wrists.

"Nathaniel …"

"I don't know."

"Would … would it be possible for the Hurons to … spare them? To take them as slaves, as you …?"

He cut her off. "They are or they ain't. If they ain't, then they're gonna wish they were. And if they are, then your sister burns in the Huron fires and my brother is food for crows."

He could hear her gasp at his words, as she buried her face into her lap, trying to muffle her cries.

He shook his head at his own harsh words and continued to drag the rock across his wrists. Finally, he could feel the ropes loosening and he turned to Cora, speaking more softly this time. "Be ready to move when I tell you."

He stood and walked slowly to one of the men that was laying on the floor, sleeping. He stole one more look towards the entrance of the cave. The men had their backs turned, supposedly surveying the surrounding area but they seemed asleep to Nathaniel.

He crunched over the man in front of him and reached for his musket. The man's grip on it had relaxed in his sleep and Nathaniel was able to quickly grab it and point it at him, before he began waking up.

As he was signaling the man to be silent, he felt the barrel of a gun at the back of his neck.

He had forgotten about the other man inside the cave. He must have moved from the far end of the cave and, in his haste to escape, he had not noticed. He was a damned fool!

The Frenchman alerted the other men and they came rushing in from outside. He breathed deeply, preparing himself for the shot but instead felt the blunt pain of the butt of the pistol hitting him at the base of the head.

He fell to the ground and two trappers held him there as another man dragged Cora in front of him.

"No!" he said, struggling to get free. One of the men holding him pushed his knee to his back, forcing him fully to the ground, as his arms were painfully twisted behind him. He pulled him by the hair to force him to look up.

The man in front of him held Cora tightly. He looked at Nathaniel and then pointed at her. "Vous courez, elle paie!" he said.

He turned to Cora and slapped her across the face, with the back of his hand. She screamed, as blood came rushing out of her nose and he gave her just enough time to bring her body back to the initial position, before punching her in the abdomen.

There was no scream this time and Nathaniel watched as Cora's face turned white. When the Frenchman released her, she fell to the ground instantly and curled up in the fetal position, wrapping her arms around herself.

Nathaniel's whole body went limb and he struggled no longer. As he blinked, he could feel tears falling from his eyes.

So this was a much longer chapter than the first and it was a bit more challenging to write just because both groups are now on the move.

I always intended for the 1st part to be told from Uncas' point of view, instead of Alice, because he's a more active participant to the events, and Alice is more reactive, at this point in the story. Also because I figured he would understand some Huron words. Since the boys travel so much and trade, it seemed natural to me that although he can't speak the language, he would understand enough to figure out the general message of a conversation. I know that Nathaniel, from the movie, doesn't understand Huron at all but, in my head, Uncas is the more empathetic of the two, the one who analyzies those around him and the better listener, so having a knack for languages seemed a natural side effect of his personality.

The second part, however, I initially thought of writing from Cora's point of view but Nathaniel really wanted to share a piece of his mind with everyone (as he is prone to do, for better or worse) so the plan had to change.

In all seriousness, with the second part I really wanted to explore what the potential loss of Uncas and Alice would mean to their siblings. The movie ends shortly after their demise and we only really hear Chingachgook expressing his grief. Also, since in the film, Nathaniel succeds at everything he sets out to do, I thought it would be interesting to see him fail and explore the consequences of that.

On a side note, I would like to apologize to all French speakers out there. I don't speak the language and I'm using Google translate, so all mistakes are unintentional.

Thank you to everyone who has read and enjoyed the story so far, and thank you for the reviews. They mean a lot to me!