The afternoon sun felt wonderful as it beat down upon Alice's neck and shoulders, her honey brown hair glinting with strands of gold. A few stray clouds dotted the horizon, the hint of a cool breeze dancing on her skin: all in all, it could not have been more perfect, save for the fact that she was feeling uncomfortably exposed, being clad only in her shift while her freshly-washed jacket and skirt lay drying on the grass.

She and Cora sat together in easy silence by the edge of the stream, taking pleasure both in the weather and each other's company. It had been difficult at first to convince Cora to accompany her; her sister had not left the cabin or its surrounding clearing since she had returned, and only once Nathaniel had agreed to lend her his rifle did she finally assent. Alice was not sure that Cora even knew how to fire it, but it seemed to give her a feeling of security and for that, at least, Alice was grateful.

Cora had slept all night and most of the next day following their return, waking only when Alice brought her some food and even then, her movements remained small and watchful. The smallest sound seemed to catch her attention, her eyes widening like a startled foal. It seemed like the best thing – both for Cora and herself – was for Alice to keep continually by her side, providing comfort and reassurance against any imagined danger. The mood in the cabin had likewise turned quieter, more subdued, in the days following; whether the assault itself had sobered Nathaniel's natural joviality or he simply felt uncomfortable acting in such a way around them, Alice wasn't sure. He and Uncas had taken to silently carving bowls and other household implements in the evenings, although from what she could see, Uncas was at the moment working on something else, something smaller, but she did not allow herself to observe any further than that.

After a time, however, Alice began to strain within their semi-enforced confinement and, after discovering in the oak chest two bars of lye soap rolled up in cotton cloth, her mind began to rotate around the notion of finally having something clean to wear. She was still a colonel's daughter and did not, once they finally reached Albany and with it civilized society, want to be taken for a common slattern.

It was a shame they could not fully bathe, the Camerons possessing no tub large enough and the stream being too shallow, but Alice was content to wash those parts of herself she thought most in need of a thorough cleaning. As she scrubbed over her knuckles and under her fingernails, she was surprised to see how brown and rough her skin had turned, the calluses dotting her palms tough and unyielding. With equal parts dismay and curiosity, she examined the raised lines of muscle now appearing along her tanned forearms. How vexing, she thought with a sigh, although she supposed the patroon's widow, the kindly Mrs. van Rensselaer, would still recognize her, even without the pliant, white hands she had once taken so much pride in.

Now, as they sat, Alice thought what it would be like to return to London, back into the company of her circle of friends, of her cousin Eugenie, of the society that she had left. Would they have changed? Would they think her changed? And what could she tell them of what she had experienced that could in any way be true to the reality of having lived through it? How could she begin to describe the rough frontiersmen who had shepherded her through the wilderness, risking their lives for hers, asking for nothing in return? Would they simply be mocked in parlors and drawing-rooms as rude country louts, to be made a farce of within some witty riposte? She could not bear to think of it. It would be best, then, to remain quiet, to keep them safely within the walls of her own memory, where they could not be tarnished, where they would remain forever as they were.

Their clothes were very nearly dry, and soon enough they would have to return, before the afternoon gave way to evening. Cora stretched out her legs, sighing contentedly, as she looked over at her sister and, with a seeming hesitancy, broke the silence.

"Alice, I must ask you…"

She waited for Alice's small nod before continuing.

"…that is, I have noticed a change in Uncas, how he behaves towards you. He has always been very attentive…"

"Cora…"

"Has something happened? While I was gone?"

Alice turned her face away from her sister's, staring out towards the shallow, gurgling stream, her cheeks growing warm.

"This is not something I wish to speak about."

"You know that I have only ever wanted your happiness…"

"Please, Cora."

They retreated back to silence, to the shelter of their own thoughts, each passing moment full of weight and portent.

"Are you sure you want to go?"

"I must."

Alice scrambled up off the ground to collect her clothes, deliberately shielding her face from her sister, who would clearly be able to read what was written upon it.