A blur of inchoate movement around her, the press of bodies, raised voices that seemed somehow just beyond her hearing, as if she were underwater. But time remained still, each moment heavy and ponderous, the only sensation the weight of his hand in her own, the feel of the steady but faint beat of his lifeblood on her palm. She did not turn her gaze from his, nor he from hers, their eyes held together by a strange calmness, all while the blood ebbing from his body continued to soak into the layers of her skirts.

Her shoulder was being shaken. Pulled from Uncas's sight, she looked up at Nathaniel, his jaw clenched tight with anxiety. Her forehead knit in confusion: it was as if he were speaking to her in another language, until she realized that he was. Realizing his mistake, he switched to English.

"You all right?"

She nodded, both their heads then turning down towards Uncas, whose gaze had turned weak and unfocused. She noticed Chingachgook standing on the other side of the rocky shelf, his fingers grasped tight around the handle of his war club. Before she had even gotten a chance to ask about her sister, Cora had appeared over her other shoulder, running the last few steps towards her and finally throwing her arms around Alice's small frame. Alice had turned to embrace her, but kept Uncas's hand in hers, refusing to sever the link between them. Having ascertained that nothing was physically wrong with her sister, Cora turned her attention to the wounded man lying prostrate on the rock.

Nathaniel and Chingachgook had been arguing in their language, clearly over what to do about Uncas; turning to English, they brought Cora into their deliberations.

Alice had stopped listening. She gazed back down again at Uncas, who was looking in her direction but seemed to see right through her, his eyes glassy and unmoving. His hand seemed slightly colder and she grasped it tighter, imparting what little warmth she had to give.

Pieces of conversation drifted by her as she sat quiescently by his side.

"…lost too much blood. He can't be moved…"

"…not a proper surgery…"

"…can you at least…"

"…need hot water, some clean material. And a sharp knife…"

Alice watched as Chingachgook scrambled down the rocky path, determination set hard on his stony features. Nathaniel dropped to a crouch and began to search through the men's packs. She looked up towards her sister.

"What should I do, Cora?"

"Stay with him."

Alice obediently nodded, even though she would not have wanted to leave him in any place. The connection that had been made between them when he grasped her wrist had yet to be broken, and she thought, however childish the notion seemed, that if she let go, he would somehow slip away, and not return.

Soon enough, Nathaniel had found what he was looking for and had begun to start a fire, and Chingachgook had returned, uncharacteristically out of breath, a full canteen of water in hand. Preparations began in earnest, Cora gathering clean squares of animal hide, Nathaniel handing over to her a sewing needle and what appeared to be a few lengths of waxed string.

"Catgut," he replied to Alice's inquisitive gaze. She must have looked horrified. "From a deer," he explained.

They had moved her so that Uncas's head was resting in her lap, his hand still held in hers. How strange it all was, she thought, as Cora cut away the remaining fabric of his shirt and began to inspect the bloody gash along his midsection. How decidedly improper. She thought of the red-bricked façades of Portman Square, what her circle of friends and acquaintances would have thought, seeing her so, a slatternly mess of dirt and blood, the head of a savage so close to her person. But there was nothing of this place that could be considered in any way proper.

Uncas groaned as Cora cleaned the wound, his head turning deeper into Alice's thigh. She put her palm onto his forehead, moving his head and shoulders so they might lay straight. His eyes fluttered then closed. Moving her hand back, she began to smooth out his straight, black hair, a soothing motion she associated with a beloved governess of her childhood. Though still unconscious, he cried out as Cora began to apply the sutures. She silently willed for Cora to be as quick about it as she could.

Cora worked deliberately, carefully placing each stitch, tying the ends together and cutting off the excess thread. Alice was surprised and impressed by such methodical work; it was something she associated with their hard-headed father, whereas she and her sister had concerned themselves mostly with social engagements, poetry and drawing, and all other occupations of well-accomplished young women.

At last, she had finished, a neat line of knots sprayed along Uncas's torso, and she stood up, running the back of her blood-stained hand across her brow.

While she had been working, Nathaniel and Chingachgook had been assembling some sort of stretcher, consisting of a blanket wrapped around two straight tree limbs. They came over to the makeshift-surgery, clearly intending to lift Uncas up and onto the stretcher.

Cora looked at her sister, her eyes soft and full of concern.

"You have to let go."

Alice looked down at the young man still laying on her lap, the broad planes of his face relaxed into sleep. She took a breath and unknotted her fingers from his, laying his hand upon his heart.

Please come back.