The brunt of the summer's heat was abating, leaving in its wake cool, crisp mornings, the edges of the leaves fading ever so slightly into gold.
Alice sat by the hearth, ostensibly mending a torn stocking, while her eyes continued to drift towards the hypnotic movement of the flames, her mind satisfyingly quiet. She had come to enjoy these moments of solitude, where she could simply be, without having to think about anything or anyone.
Sometimes it was very tiring, having to think about how to act around everyone, the right thing to say, the appropriate way to respond. All of her life, she had been schooled in these things, but somehow that didn't make it any easier. She often wished she could be more like Cora, who spoke her mind with such little fear, who said what she wanted and damned the consequences. But that would require of Alice something that she was not sure she had.
Uncas had made no further impositions on her since that afternoon in the woods, and as the days had passed, she found that they had stumbled into a relative ease of familiarity. He always smiled at her when he brought in the morning's load of firewood (and she smiled back, she supposed), offered to help her if she was carrying back something heavy from the stream or the well, and once, she noted, with some pride, he had complimented a dish she had cooked. If, on occasion, she caught his eyes resting on hers, what was it to her? She was prepared to dismiss his brashness in favor of the warm sense of contentment it gave her to think that someone might care about how she was doing.
Alice looked down at her mending, wondering when Nathaniel and Cora would be back. They had gone out earlier that morning, Nathaniel on the hunt for small game and Cora for apples and wild herbs, the excursion made much easier by the fact that they no longer had to act so secretively about leaving together.
She had come to realize through their time together that – despite his plainly unorthodox upbringing – Nathaniel was a good match for her sister, who needed someone as strong-willed as she. He would not confine her, he would let her be what it was in her nature to be, which surely would not have been the case had she married back in England. She wanted Cora to be happy. She hoped she would be here, with him.
Her ears pricked up at the sound of shouting outside; even in Mahican, she could tell it was Nathaniel, yelling for someone. She put down her half-finished work and ventured towards the door, wondering what would cause him to be quite so uncharacteristically loud. She gasped as she saw him running towards the cabin, blood streaming down the side of his face and neck, staining the right shoulder of his shirt.
Chingachgook and Uncas quickly appeared from behind the side of the house, coolly appraising the sight of Nathaniel's injury and then showering him with questions.
Alice began to feel a hard, cold fist in the bottom of her stomach. Something was very wrong. But what had happened? And why were they all speaking so that she could not understand?
"Where is Cora?" she asked, more loudly than she might have meant. It didn't matter; they continued talking without even looking up at her.
"Where is my sister?" This time it did not even emerge as a question, but more a half-screamed demand.
Nathaniel finally turned towards her, his eyes full of something she recognized as shame.
"She's gone."
"What happened to her?" Alice's voice was straining towards the edge of panic.
Nathaniel gazed at all of them in turn, as if unsure where to begin.
"We stopped for a moment…to rest…and we must have fallen asleep."
"You fell asleep?" questioned Chingachgook, his eyes narrow.
Nathaniel nodded, his eyes cast downwards.
"When we woke up, we were surrounded by a group of French, perhaps five, maybe six."
"Coureurs de bois?" asked Uncas.
"No. Deserters, I think."
"Pretty far south for that."
Nathaniel gave a shrug of his shoulders.
"One of them must have hit me in the head. When I came to, they were all gone. Cora too."
"What happened to your gun?" asked Chingachgook.
"Took it with them."
Chingachgook made a tight-mouthed grimace. Alice was aghast; surely they couldn't be comparing the loss of a firearm to the abduction of her sister?
"And so you just left her there?" she cried out. "You didn't think to go after them?"
"There were too many," he said to her, his eyes softening. "I couldn't get her back by myself."
He turned back towards his father.
"Should we go?"
"Yes," Chingachgook replied. He looked to Uncas. "Lend your brother your rifle."
Uncas shot both men a look of surprise.
"I'm not coming?"
"You won't be able to keep up, brother, not yet." Nathaniel dipped his head in the direction of Alice. "And we can't leave her alone."
Uncas offered only a resigned nod by way of reply.
Preparations were quickly made, Nathaniel and Chingachgook's movements filling the small space of the cabin as they loaded their powder horns and checked their ammunition. Wanting to stay out of their way but be useful somehow, Alice wrapped some smoked fish in cloth and tucked it into Nathaniel's pack.
The two men stepped out into the clearing, Alice and Uncas left standing on the porch of the cabin. Nathaniel looked back at her, a hard line of determination set on his mouth.
"I will find her, Alice."
She made a tiny, grim smile, partly to avoid crying.
Chingachgook, for his part, turned towards Uncas, speaking sternly to him in Mahican, just a few words, but she saw the younger man stiffen visibly, his eyes shuffling towards the ground.
And then they were gone, racing off into the distance, swallowed whole into the forest.
Alice looked over at Uncas. He was staring off at the distant point where the two men had disappeared.
"What did he say to you?"
He did not look at her.
"Nothing. It's not important."
She wrapped her arms around herself as a cool gust of wind caressed the side of her face. It was such a strange sensation, feeling utterly alone and adrift. She began to pray, as she had never prayed before, that he would keep his promise, and bring her back.