Chapter 3
She had done this to him. He had come to rescue her and this was his reward. It would have been better if she had jumped. Then they both would be at peace now.
Everything around her became a blur. Her breathing came out in ragged spurts and her body flinched every time the sticks made contact with Uncas' body. She opened her mouth to scream but her voice caught in her throat and she couldn't make a sound.
The sticks seem to grow in size with every strike and the hits intensified, crushing down on the immobile body faster and faster. Flames ignited from the men's arms as they brought the sticks crushing down. More and more people gathered around like a swarm of red wasps, stinging their helpless victim again and again. She felt herself grunt in pain but it didn't stop.
A sudden gush of wind hit her, moving the hair that had fallen over her face, and she looked up. There was a sea of stars above her. She starred dumbfounded at the full moon and it seemed to move away from her. She found herself tripping and invisible hands supported her. As she looked down, she realized she was walking.
The air carried a strong scent of fish … Smoked fish. She had eaten smoked fish that night. Mrs. Reynolds, the Patroon's wife, had insisted that it was a New World delicacy. Alice had never really cared for fish but she ate it dutifully just the same. Even though she had washed her hands after dinner, the scent must have lingered. She pressed her hands to her nose but all she could smell was dirt.
She should get back. She promised Cora she would keep her walk short this evening. Tomorrow they would leave for Fort William Henry and Cora didn't want her to be tired.
As she tried to turn back, she felt herself being pushed forward and the arm around her waist tightening. Was Cora with her? She couldn't remember …
She always worried so. Ever since their mother had died. Was that why she couldn't give Duncan an answer on his proposal of marriage?
Cora never discussed such things with her, but she had always known he was in love with her sister and one look at poor Duncan's face during afternoon tea was enough for Alice to know that she hadn't accepted him.
Alice felt a sting in the soles of her feet and, as she wiggled her toes to try to get rid of it, warm water splashed around her ankles. Yes … it was an old custom she had kept from her mother. She would always soak her feet in warm water before bedtime. But why did it sting?
She looked down to find the water colored red. She gasped as she moved her feet and saw her skin rubbed raw and bleeding through the water.
Callused fingers brushed against her skin and she looked down to see a pair of dark, able hands methodically undressing her. Her heart began racing and she looked up. Magua …
It was a woman, she realized in relief. She was older with deep wrinkles under her eyes and long hair, severally parted down the middle and tightly braided at the back.
Alice noticed other women close by, in what seemed a long but very dark room. As the woman that was undressing her pulled her gown down her shoulders, she instinctively brought her hands up to cover her chest. She was very close to a hearth and the flames of the fire left her in complete view of everyone in the room.
The woman must have noticed because she quickly got up and pulled a curtain in between them, while speaking angrily to the women on the other side.
She turned around and smiled. She carefully caressed Alice's face, before pulling the gown down her arms.
Water trickled down over her head and Alice jumped up at the sudden sensation.
"Shhh …," the woman said, patting her knee before continuing in a language that Alice couldn't understand, in a steady and even tone.
Another, younger woman kneeled next to her and began dragging a wet cloth over her skin, trying to clean her.
The older woman got up and slowly began wetting her hair while trying to untangle it. She started unbraiding the braid that has remained in her dirty, mated hair for days. Feeling her hair loosen, Alice jumped up from the low bench she had been sitting on. "No!"
She tumbled over the wooden basin, moving away from the women.
The older woman came closer to her, with her hands stretched out, making soothing noises, trying to calm her.
"No!" Alice screamed again, holding tightly to the braid with both her hands. As she struggled to breathe, the world around her began spinning out of control. She felt her knees give way and she collapsed.
XXX
Horses racing from all directions on the field … Painted men jumping from the cover of the trees straight onto the red coated officers, their small axes glittering in the sunlight. The yellow man holding her face, her heart drumming against her chest … The world spinning out of control, screams of men and women covered by heavy smoke.
Cora dragging her … Covering her ears so she could not hear, covering her eyes so she could not see.
In the distance, the horse fell, trapping the rider underneath. A leg twitching, in the last throws of life … Bloody hands holding bloody hearts …
Echoes of muffled words hitting the rocky walls of a cave … "Say nothing to Alice."
A curtain of water, glittering in the light. Walking aimlessly towards it …
Strong hands pulling her. "Get back!" Blood rushing back through her body. Arms wrapped up tightly around her. Safe … Safe …
His hot breath falling over her cheeks … Lips brushing against her forehead, falling downward … A twitch in her stomach as his lips pressed against hers. Wet … soft … strange. Have you seen the red man?
Long fingers running through her hair, slowly braiding it … His shadow swallowed by the falling water …
"I won't leave you. I promise." Safe … Safe …
She shook, even though she did not feel the cold. A soothing voice spoke to her, yet she could not make out what it was saying.
"Cora?" she whispered. The voice continued. She tried to concentrate, to pin it down but words jumbled in her mind without rhyme or reason. A great ache in her bones seemed to drag her out of a deep darkness and she realized that she was not shaking but rather she was being shaken.
Slowly, Alice opened her eyes. A woman was crouching over her. She willed her mind to focus, as she tried to remember where she was and what had happened, as images from the days past came flashing back. The woman must be a Huron … She recalled her trying to wash her hair and she instinctively brought her hand up to check if the braid was still there.
The woman smiled and nodded her head, rubbing her back lightly. Once she made sure Alice was awake, she turned around and began stirring a big pot that had been placed over the hearth.
In a daze, Alice got up from the deer hides she had been lying on and turned her head around, looking for a window, trying to determine what time of day it was. She only saw high walls made of wood. Still, she was sitting close to a burning fire. The smoke must have gone somewhere…
She looked up and saw a large, rounded opening in the ceiling of the building. The sky was dark and full of stars. She could vaguely remember arriving in the village at night. Did that mean she had been asleep a whole day?
The thought terrified her. She had traveled for three days and had slept for another one. That meant she was almost a week away from anything she could call even remotely familiar. Her entire life had slipped away from her.
Even her clothes were gone. She was now dressed in a long, loose dress, with a big ruffle around her chest and shoulder area. She touched the fabric on her legs. It was slightly coarse, the light blue color faded in places. Thankfully, it was clean. But, even though the dress covered her from head to toe, Alice couldn't help but feel exposed. For the first time in twelve years, she was not wearing her stays. She could remember Cousin Eugenia's words, as if they had been spoken yesterday: A lady without her stays is no lady at all, but a common fool bent on her own degradation.
As she pondered whether Cousin Eugenia would understand the circumstances that had led to her missing her stays, Alice watched as the Huron woman poured a ladle of a greenish liquid in a metal bowl. She turned around and handed it to her, bidding her to drink.
She tentatively brought the bowl to her mouth and inhaled its scent. It smelt like fresh mint and a mixture of other herbs. She sipped and the bitter taste made her mouth twist. She tried to push the bowl away but the woman insisted, cupping her hands and seemingly showing her how to drink. Her narrow, black eyes pierced through Alice and she wasn't strong enough to fight her. It had become a habit to give in to stronger wills than her own, so she quickly drank the liquid, not stopping even to breath, not sure if the potion was meant to nurture or poison her.
The woman looked at her for a moment before speaking. "Onatha," she said pointing to herself. When Alice didn't respond, she tried again. "Onatha". She pointed to Alice and waited.
Finally understanding what she wanted, Alice answered automatically: "Alicia Charlotte Eugenia Munro". This seemed only to confuse the woman.
"Alice …"
Onatha frowned. "A-li-ce …"
Alice nodded, slowly. "Ona-th-a".
Onatha smiled, satisfied and she stood up, extending her hand to Alice. After helping her up, she quickly wrapped a long, reddish shawl around her waist, pulling it tightly into a knot at the front.
She took Alice's hand and guided her through the darkness that lay beyond the hearth. It was a long building similar to the one she had been in on the first night, except that it was completely empty.
The faint light of the moon casted small pools of light through the cracks in-between the wooden panels and Alice could distinguish hides neatly arranged on the floor, pots and pans on shelves, even the occasional cot. It looked like communal dwellings, each separated by drapes made of cloth or deer hides.
At the entrance, a man was waiting for them. He only gave them a passing glance, before turning and walking away but it was enough for Alice's heart to start racing. He was young and tall, with protruding ears and a permanent frown etched on his face, black and blue feathers hanging defiantly on top of the narrow strip of hair on his head.
But it was the large tattoo on his upper arm that Alice remembered the most clearly. Big, curved triangles that seemed to move whenever he used his arm, as if they were flames. She remembered the flames moving when he had struck Uncas the night before.
Suddenly, Alice stopped and pulled her hand out of Onatha's grip.
"Uncas!" she said. "Where is he?"
Onatha looked at her with concern and more than a little confusion.
Of course! Stupid girl … She doesn't understand English. She remembered Magua and the older man in the other village speaking in French when she and Cora were taken there so she spoke hastily: "Où es…"
She stopped herself just as quickly as she had begun, recalling Uncas shaking his head when she tried to speak to the French officers. For some reason, he did not want them to know she spoke French.
"The man …" she said, pointing to the Huron that was still walking ahead of them. She swung her arms up and down, trying to mimic the action of hitting something on the ground. She pounded the ground furiously with her imaginary stick until Onatha came closer and put her hand on her shoulder.
Looking at the woman's frowns of worry, Alice sighed, feeling completely defeated. "Where?" she asked in a low, pleading voice, putting an end to the embarrassing debacle.
Just as she thought the woman had not understood or, worse still, that she would have to mimic back a corpse to her, Onatha pointed to her left, turning Alice towards one of the largest buildings in the village.
As she was being pulled away, she could feel tears stinging her eyes as relief washed over her.
The momentary exaltation was soon replaced by growing concern, however, when, in the distance, she began to hear the ever increasing rhythm of drums being played. The high flames of a large fire darted reddish arrows towards the sky, as if setting it ablaze.
Her hands tingled, as cold sweat griped her. Her legs were moving of their own volition, as she walked slowly behind Onatha. As she drew closer to the open field, she could see what seemed to be the entire population of the village sitting around the big fire, in large circles. Alice realized that before long she was going to burn on the pyre, as her sister had done.
The drums beat louder and louder as men jumped and moved around the fire. Magua was heading the procession, with his small axe raised high into the air, as he made the high pitched yelling sound that Alice had come to know as a "war cry". She had never seen him like this. His face was usually a mask of indifference and barely concealed disdain, but now, as he tilted his head back, his profile seemingly framed by the flames, he looked relaxed, as if in a trance as he moved his legs and flailed his arms erratically in what could not quite be considered a dance.
Being in the midst of so many people, the reality of her situation only intensified. Panic settled in and her whole body shook. Onatha came closer to her and wrapped her arm around her waist, supporting her as they continued walking. She was talking to her, in the same measured, calm voice she had used when she woke her up, but the words registered as only low humming to Alice, as the beating of her own heart against her eardrums drowned out even the loudest sounds.
Next to the circles of people, another fire had been lit and a big pot placed over it. Three women took turns, stirring into it continuously and Alice starred at it in horror, as Onatha led her closer to it. Did they mean to boil her alive?
Alice had heard of savage rituals being performed by the red men. Things that would terrify and delight the Portman Square crowd, on a particular dull evening but never in her wildest dreams did she think she would be the recipient of one. For a moment, she fervently prayed that the potion Onatha had given her was poison.
She then settled on the now familiar sight of the cliffs, her mind roaming free over the landscape. She remembered the blue sky above and the river flowing quietly below. She could almost smell the fresh, crisp air and feel the wind wash over her face. It lifted her up and carried her away. Away from the Hurons, away from the fires and men desperately trying to kill each other. She felt peace.
Alice was jolted back to reality as she tripped over one of the men sitting in the nearest circle to the fire. He starred back at her and started yelling, obviously upset at being kneed in the back.
"I apologize …" she said, dropping her eyes as the man continued to berate her. Onatha cut him off with a curt reply, delivered in the same loud tone the man had used. He shook his head and sighed but said nothing more, letting the two women advance.
The dancing had stopped and the rhythm of the drums had slowed down to a thankfully low pulsating sound. Onatha guided Alice across the field towards the people closest to the fire. The man that she had been presented to the night before was sitting in the middle, feathers adorning his head. Their king, Alice assumed since she had seen him sitting on a makeshift throne. To his left, the group of French officers eyed her carefully but made no sign of disapproval over what was going to happen to her.
Magua was sitting to the right of the king and, as she and Onatha stopped in front of them, he scrutinized her with the same indomitable, cold stare she had come to recognize from him.
She expected the woman to push her on her knees as Magua had done to poor Cora but she did not. Dreading the intense look the red man was inflicting on her, Alice dropped her eyes out of reflex, waiting for whatever came next.
When she saw Magua signaling her to sit, as he patted the spot next to him, she was caught completely off guard. She swallowed hard, still unable to move. As she looked around, she realized everyone, including the French officers were watching her to see what she would do.
Onatha gently nudged her from behind but it was enough for Alice's limp body to move forward as swiftly as a reed in a summer breeze. She clumsily sat down on the deer hide next to Magua and her acceptance of the invitation seemed to calm the French officers who began talking to the king.
Alice's mind wondered, between the fire that had now been brought to a gentle simmer as venison was placed over it to slowly roast, to the French that talked of forts and armies, to the people that were now spreading flattened bread between them and small, metal bowls that women were filling with the content of the big pot she had seen earlier. She was unable to focus on any of it but tried desperately, as she attempted to ignore her proximity to the Huron man that had hunted her down as if she were an animal and had caused her entire life to collapse before her eyes.
His presence unnerved her. She could smell his scent, a mixture of sweat and earth, and it burned her nostrils. The exposed skin on his arms brushed against the fabric of her dress and she felt it burn through her skin. His laconic manner of speaking and the way he would drawl out certain words sent a shiver down her spine and made her hands tremble furiously.
As the women holding the pot came closer to them, Magua shoved his bowl into Alice's hands, expecting her to serve him the food. The women poured a hot mixture of runny rice and small, red fruits that Alice could not recognize. As she turned to hand it to Magua, the tremor in her hands caused the stew to spill over the rims and Alice dropped the bowl, some of the content falling over Magua's lap.
The stew must have burned the exposed skin on his thighs because he grunted in pain. He slapped Alice's hands away and pushed her, as he angrily wiped the rice from his leggings.
The sight of him in pain caused Alice a small twinge of satisfaction and she allowed herself a small hint of a smile. But, when she looked at Magua and saw the vein in his neck twitching uncontrollably as he barely concealed his anger, she realized that her small triumph meant nothing.
He rose quickly and grabbed her by the arm, dragging her after him as they left the open filed and headed back towards the village houses.
The road was deserted and the complete darkness around, made it hard to see where they were going. The soles of her feet burned, the leather of her shoes digging deeply into the raw flesh, as she struggled to keep up with him. By the time they stopped, she was panting and almost ready to collapse as he pushed her through the thick, deer hides that were covering the entrance.
The room was small. Far too small. She heard Magua coming inside after her and she dashed for the hearth. She crawled on the deer hides laid on the floor and retreated to the corner, holding her legs to her chest and pressing her back to the wall.
She tentatively watched him as he came closer to her but he did not try to approach. He crouched down in front of the fire and poked at the ambers with a stick.
"If you ever do that again, I will whip you."
He stood up and placed a bowl of rice on the dear hides, next to Alice. "Eat."
She blinked rapidly, as his threat registered in her mind. She made no attempt to take the food, even though she had not eaten in 3 days. She did not dare to move or make any sound, hoping that by some miracle the earth would swallow her whole or that she would finally wake up from what had been a horrible nightmare.
Magua moved from the fire and sat down at the wooden table that dominated the room. He took out his axe and began dragging a small rock over its edge. The sound of metal grinding against the rock sent shivers down Alice's spine and she pressed her body further into the wall.
"Magua swore to end the Grey Hair and all his seed," he said. "You are the last to fall under my knife and I spared you. Never forget that."
He continued dragging the rock over the metal, with precise quick strokes and Alice trembled imagining how sharp the weapon must have been. She had seen the terrifying Indian custom of "taking scalps" on the George Road, when the red men shaved off the top of their opponents head with their axes and she wondered if that was what Magua was intending to do to her. On the wall in front of her, the skeleton head of an animal was mounted and imagined her "scalp" hanging next to it.
Moments seemed to drag until Magua looked up at her. His features softened somewhat, the corners of his mouth rising ever so slightly as they had done once before on the cliffs. "She had eyes like you. Big and round … But darker, like wood after a great fire. Since the moment she was born, she was my shadow. She fell under your father's musket when she was trying to reach me."
The mention of her father made Alice's breath hitch in her throat. The image of Magua towering over him, holding his heart in his bloody hand, made her eyes water and tears fell down her cheeks without her even noticing.
He continued talking but she no longer heard him. Her mind drifted away to another time and place.
XXX
Five days had passed and she thankfully saw little of Magua. After that first night she spent curled up in the corner while he slept soundly on the bed on the opposite side of the room, Onatha had come for her and taken her away.
He spent most of his time with the French officers and Onatha never took her to the gatherings in the open fields again, even though from the cot Alice had been sleeping on, she could hear the drums well into the night.
Onatha's calm manner and gentleness had made Alice become quite attached to her. Alice's shoes had broken down and Onatha had given her the moccasins she was wearing, the soft deerskin doing wonders for her tortured feet in the process. The problem was that they seemed to be the woman's only pair of shoes and she was now walking barefoot everywhere. Alice felt terribly guilty but when she tried to give them back, Onatha refused adamantly, shaking her head and arms and looking quite angry at the suggestion.
But, despite her kindness, Alice was still tentatively suspicious of the woman. Her feelings were exacerbated by the prolonged visits of the Huron that had attacked Uncas. He would come to Onatha's house almost every day and they would talk. There was a great familiarity between the two, with the woman often smiling at him or playfully ruffling his hair. It set Alice's teeth on edge to have him so near.
But she had no choice. She was forced to spend the entire day following the woman around, as she made her rounds through the village. She was a healer of sorts and she took care of all manner of injuries, from broken bones to fevers and poison oak rashes.
It was already dusk that day as they were returning to the house, having visited a man that had been attacked by an animal during a hunt. It had left an ugly, open gash down the man's arm and Onatha had dutifully cleaned and bandaged the wound every day since.
Alice mostly watched and handed her supplies, trying to guess what the woman was asking for but on this last day, Onatha had let her bandage the wound. She was not completely inexperienced, as she had helped Cora in the infirmary before, even though she had neither the talent nor the inclination for the task. The sight of blood still made her queasy at times and the screams of pain always seemed to render her entire body immobile. Still, all things considered, Alice didn't think she had made much of a mess of it.
As she walked down the main road, behind Onatha, she looked to her left, staring intently at the big building where she knew Uncas was being held. She bit her lip and stopped for a moment, still hoping to catch a glimpse of him.
She barely noticed Onatha stopping next to her until the woman handed her the weaved basket of bandages and ointments she had used throughout the day. Alice looked at her, not quite understanding what she was meant to do with the supplies until Onatha pushed her towards the building.
She took a few tentative steps, before turning towards her to make sure the Huron woman was not playing some kind of cruel game on her, but Onatha simply signaled with her hand for her to go on.
Alice took a deep breath and started walking faster towards the building. The thought of being in the presence of someone she knew for certain did not wish her harm made her almost run inside.
She had expected a prison, with cells and bars, as she had seen at Fort William Henry but it was nothing of the sort. It was a large barn filled with corn and bags of what she assumed was rice, stacked in neat rows, in between wooden barrels. Smoked fish was hanged from the wooden beams on the ceiling and it filled the air with its pungent smell.
She walked further into the building, directing her gaze towards the darkest corners and in between the wooden barrels. She could see no sign of him or of him ever having been there. Perhaps Onatha had tricked her …
Just as she was getting ready to turn around, she heard the rattling of a chain coming from the far end of the building. She quickened her steps and finally reached him.
He was laying on the exposed ground, curled up on his side, his foot tied by a chain to the wooden beam that supported the ceiling. Half of his torso was covered in bandages, his right arm tightly banded to his body He was shivering and his skin was covered in dirt.
"Uncas?" she said.
The sound that had barely surpassed a whisper jolted him immediately and he raised his head. His dark eyes still held the same quite confidence and innate calmness that she had come to expect from him and she couldn't help but smile.
"Alice …"
He had never spoken her name before. He had called her "miss" once, on the journey to the fort, when he told her that she needed to be careful when walking up a particularly slippery trail, instructing her to use the roots of the trees for stability. The rest of their communication had been reduced to small matter-of-fact sentences, worded in the heat of the moment. They had barely spoken more than five times in their entire acquaintance and yet she would recognize his deep, clear voice anywhere and always know when it was directed at her.
Here they were, unlikely companions and survivors of a world that seemed to have gone mad. He, without the family he seemed to value above everything else and she, the last surviving member of hers. Without thought, she ran to him and wrapped her arms around his neck. Safe.
He grunted in pain at the impact and Alice withdrew quickly. "I'm sorry …" she said, afraid that she had hurt him.
He did not seem to make note of it, instead scrutinizing her from head to toe. "Are you all right? Did they hurt you?" he asked.
She shook her head quickly. How could her wounds compare to his? His face was covered with soot and dirt. His long hair, usually neatly arranged and flowing, was disheveled and dirty. There were dark bags under his eyes and he had bruises from the beating he had received all over his body.
She couldn't bear to see him like this. She touched his face gently and began wiping his skin with her fingers. "What did they do to you?"
"I'm fine. Don't worry," he said, taking her hand and squeezing it for reassurance.
"I would have come sooner. But they've put this woman in charge of me … Onatha …"
"I know," he said. "She's been taking care of my wounds. It's good that you're staying with her. She's a good woman."
"That man … that man that beat you. He comes to visit her …"
"He's her nephew." Uncas touched her face lightly and smiled. "Don't be scared of him. He won't hurt you. He's just eager to prove himself a warrior."
Alice opened her mouth to object but as she noticed stains of blood seeping through his bindings, the matter was forgotten entirely.
"I brought bandages to dress your wound."
She began unknotting the white strips of cloth and she could feel his body tense up every time her fingers brushed against his skin. The contact made her blush, realizing just how close they were to one another. Being near a half naked man hadn't bothered her when she was dressing the injured man's wound. But this felt different. Feeling his breath falling over her neck, seeing his chest rise and fall made her hands tremble ever so slightly and her whole body tingle.
"What is going to happen to us?" she asked, trying to distract herself from her task.
Uncas cleared his throat before answering, a barely noticeable shake to his usually confident voice: "They've taken me as slave. I'm working in the fields for now …"
He was unable to continue. He let out a strangled whooshing sound when she removed the final bandages, as the strips of cloth had stuck to the fresh wounds.
Alice's breath caught in her throat when faced with the extent of his injuries. There was a red, throbbing gash running diagonally across his chest and another one horizontally, just above the stomach, with smaller puncture wounds in between.
She knew he had been hurt when he fought Magua but she hadn't realized how badly. And it was all because of her. She burst out crying, covering her face in shame and shaking her head. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I'm so sorry ..."
He wrapped his one good arm around her and pulled her in. She clung to him, burying her face in his chest.
"You were not the cause of this, Alice. It's not your fault," he said, softly.
He broke their embrace, lifting her head to make sure she was looking at him. "We need to leave this place."
"Leave? Where are we going to go?" she said, between sobs.
"We'll head east. Back to Fort Edward. Your sister is probably there."
The mention of Cora made Alice's stomach twist in painful knots. Did he not know? She could barely bring herself to say it. "Cora is dead …The Hurons …burned her."
Uncas frowned for a moment, as if confused. "No," he said. "It was the English officer that burned. Not Miss Munro."
"What?" she said. "No … I saw them taking her towards the pyre as Magua was dragging me away. I saw …"
Uncas shook his head confidently. "The Yengeese made a trade. I saw him burn before I ran to find you."
Relief overcame Alice. Cora … Her beautiful, brave sister was alive.
But then, Uncas' words fully registered and relief was quickly followed by regret as she realized that her happiness over her sister's fate, meant indifference over poor Duncan's demise. "Duncan? … Oh, God! Poor Duncan!"
Pangs of guilt clawed at her, thinking of the man that had treated her as a sister since the time she was ten years old. She thought of him protecting her on their journey to the fort and of his attempt to distract her from the dangers with thoughts of warm baths and tea. He was such a kind man and he had died in so much pain …
"Alice."
Uncas' voice snapped her back to reality and she lifted her head.
"Are the Français still here?"
"The French?," she said. "Aaaa … yes … Magua spends most of his time with them."
"You need to keep an eye on them. Find out what they're doing here and, most important, find out when they're leaving."
"You mean spy on them?"
Uncas nodded his head and Alice's eyes grew large with fear and uncertainty. "I … I cannot do that."
"Yes, you can. The building where they took us on the first night … Do you remember it?"
Alice nodded.
"The Français will be close by. Pick a moment when you are alone and try to listen to them. No one knows you speak French so even if they catch you, they won't suspect what you were doing there."
Alice shook her head adamantly. "I'm not good at that sort of thing. Cora …"
"Cora isn't here," Uncas said, grabbing her by the shoulder. "You can do this. You are strong."
She bit her lip and looked away from him. She wasn't strong, never had been. "I can't," she said, admitting defeat. "I know I'm a burden to you. I wouldn't blame you if you left without me. You've done enough …"
"Magua claimed you as his wife," he said, cutting her off.
Alice's face turned white with fear. His wife? The thought of being linked to Magua in any way felt like a sentence worse than death.
"He thinks he's taken your spirit," he said. "Or, even worse, that you never had any. But you do. Deep down, you're like the deer that confuses the hunter by standing still when all others would run. The hunter becomes confident, he relaxes his grip and then … the deer jumps up and escapes his musket, when he least expects it."
Alice starred at him for a long time. Tired and wounded as he was, through the archness of his brow, his eyes still burned with that quite intensity and inner calmness that stabilized her nerves and galvanized her. She realized she had spent the last few days completely paralyzed. It was time to evade the musket, as Uncas had said. She could not be an invalid schoolgirl any longer.
Author's note: Ok ... so I would like to start by apologizing for taking so long to post this chapter. I first missed the official deadline of one week and then every other deadline I set for myself :(. In my defense, I have been diligently working on this chapter every day for the past 2 weeks but between a busier schedule at work and complications with the prose, it ended up taking more time than I initially thought.
This chapter is rather slow and very long (it ended up being 14 pages in Word) so I decided not to include the secondary story of Nathaniel/Cora. Part of the reason for that was because the Alice's POV alternates between reality and her imaginings at times and I felt it would be too confusing to add the second storyline as well. Not to worry, the rest of the gang will be back in the next chapter.
I hope you like this chapter even though it's slow and confusing at times and, I admit, Alice is quite frustrating during certain scenes. I found myself angry at her that she wasn't being more assertive during certain situations but what I really wanted to do with this story is watch the evolution of Alice, a sort of coming-of-age story and, right now, she's probably at her lowest point.
One more thing I'd like to add. I know that some of the things Alice describes are not at all flattering regarding the Native Americans and Hurons in particular. When I write, I always write from my character's POV and Alice has preconceptions that are a mixture of her privileged British upbringing coupled with the fact that she is understandably angry and fearful of Magua, and by extension of all the other Hurons in the village. What I'm trying to say is that her views don't reflect my own on this issue. I'm just trying to stay true to the character.
Ok, that's about it for now. Thank you for reading and to everyone who has taken the time to comment so far. See you soon!