Nathaniel could think of nothing to say after Cora's revelation about Hayward. Though he had suspected it might be something of that nature, he was still at a loss for words. He just looked at her. He had a slight distaste for his countrywomen in general and an irritation for this one and her sister in particular since the moment of meeting them, but he was not naturally unkind, and her downcast eyes, combined with her trembling hands, did stir some small atom of pity in him. He knew what loss was like, after all, had seen it firsthand. And was seeing it again, and would continue to see it. But it was never easy to watch.

He realized the expected response would be for him to express his sympathies and move on. But he still found himself wordless as he watched the tea leaves he'd given her scatter on the ground, spun around by the slight wind that also tugged at Cora's skirts.

After an indeterminate period of time, during which neither of them spoke, he moved past her in the direction of the cabin. Cora turned after him. "Where are you going?"

"I can be back by midday if I leave now," he answered, without glancing back.

Grimly, he set about preparations. There wasn't much to put together, as he was in a constant state of readiness; his rifle, Killdeer, hunting knife, and small bag of related supplies. He put on a heavier pair of moccasins than the ones he usually wore around the cabin, and changed his hunting shirt because the current one was sweat-stained and would attract bugs. He usually wore his long hair loose, or with loose with a few braids the way Uncas did, but now he tied it all back at the nape of his neck.

Cora was waiting outside in front of the cabin when he came out. She looked tired but seemed to have gotten control of her emotions. She was smoothing down the front of her stained dress with her hands. Her hair was a dusky tangle of curls. "Perhaps I should come with you."

"No."

"I know I will slow you down but..."

"Miss--" he spoke over her but she raised her voice.

"I need to know."

"No, you don't need to know. I will know." He tried to sound soothing and not irritated, but was not quite successful. "You can't come. Seeing it will make it worse, not better, despite what you may think. Stay in the cabin with your sister, bolt the door and if you hear anything outside, wake Uncas. Do you hear me?"

She nodded, and, thankfully, didn't look like she was sulking about it.

"Right." Nathaniel gave her a last hard glance and loped out of the clearing, instantly picking up the trail that his brother had come in on earlier than morning.

He was a good tracker, having been made so under Chingachgook's tutelage, though he was known more for his accuracy with a rifle than he was for his tracking skills. Even a poor tracker, at any rate, would have been able to follow the plodding path left by the two girls. Nathaniel reflected that they were going to have a hell of a hard time just getting the girls safely to the fort, much less getting them inside it. He wondered why Uncas held such a positive view of their chances. He wished his adoptive father was back already so they could get his opinion on the matter.

Nathaniel moved at a pace set somewhere between a fast walk and a run most of the journey, wanting daylight to be on his side as much as possible. By midmorning, he had reached the river, but after that, it took him some time, tracking upriver, to re-connect with Cora and Alice's path. There was no evidence that they had been followed, although that didn't necessarily mean that they hadn't been.

The scene of the ambush was familiar and sobering. To the side of a long slope, there was a grassy fielded area that was bordered on one side by thick woods, which would have been where the attackers had concealed themselves. The yellowing grasses were stained with blood in places as Nathaniel passed through, examining everything. Whatever rifles or armament the men might have had, none remained now; nothing but bodies. There were also horse hoofprints scattered about.

It was as he had thought. The men had been scalped, and it looked like by Huron, which meant that they were probably intending to get bounties paid for those scalps by the French. Nathaniel didn't find the scalping for bounty to be particularly gruesome--the British did the same thing, as had some colonial frontiersmen of his acquaintance. And the men were already dead, and had been dead when it had occurred. Still, for Cora's sake he'd rather hoped he would have been able to tell her that the bodies had been untouched.

Of course, he could always lie...

He stooped down by one of the men for a moment, gazing at the blank bloodied face, with its pallor of death upon it. A handsome face, or might have been while its owner was still living. Nathaniel moved on, looking for Hayward. Based on his uniform it would be easy enough to identify him.

Hayward's body had fallen, or been dumped, near the treeline. Based on its position and proximity to the shelter of the forest Nathaniel spent an uncharitable moment wondering if perhaps he'd thought he could outrun the attackers rather than stay to fight.

He contemplated the fiance of Miss Cora Munro for a long while. "I guess," he said aloud, "I should promise you I'll get her to safety. That would be the honorable thing to do." I'll try, but more than that I can't say...Poor fool. Hayward had been about his age, maybe a little older. Light-haired, lean. Tall. A likely enough fellow. He fingered the lapel of the blotched uniform, then withdrew his knife from his belt and cut off the bit of collar that bore the insignia.

The sun was climbing high, and it was time to get back. He took a drink from his water flask, made one last circle of the area, but could find nothing else of note. Rotating his neck and stretching, he resumed his loping pace and headed back down the hillside in the direction of the river. The wind was picking up and it was welcoming, blowing the smell of death out of his nostrils. He gave his head a shake and focused himself towards the journey home.

***

Alice was sitting so close to the fire that her skirts had little tendrils of steam curling upwards from them as they absorbed the heat. She hugged her knees. She was very tired, so tired that she felt herself nodding off as she looked into the mesmerizing fire. It had been difficult to get any kind of restorative sleep last night. Fearfully, she looked over at the young Indian, but he was still sleeping, one arm tossed out. All she could really see from her vantage point was a spill of black hair, some of which had colored twine and a few small braids woven into it, and his upper body, which, unlike those of their attackers, was at least decently clothed, thank goodness.

She was still in shock that he had spoken English. And she could hardly believe that Cora had decided to trust him enough to let him bring them here. Granted, they had been unarmed, and he might have killed them if they had tried to resist. Some uneasy part of her knew that this was probably unlikely, and that this particular Indian, along with the white frontierman Nathaniel, were not complete savages--even if they looked like them--but it was hard for her to accept the notion that they were fully safe with them. Cora seemed to believe that they were. Unless Cora thought they didn't have any other choice. And it was true, it was good to be within four solid walls again and have a fire to sit by, and tea to drink. More than good. It was wonderful compared to what they'd been through. But she still wished they were already at the fort and that none of this had ever happened....

With only a very vague sense of time passing she sat there, soaking in the heat, her head resting on her crossed arms and knees. She thought to wonder why Cora had not come back in and raised her head to look around. Just as she did, she became aware that Uncas--she made herself think of him by his name with an effort--had awoken. Startled to find his eyes on her, she scuttled back a bit against the wall, hoping he wouldn't speak. The cabin suddenly seemed very small.

"Alice," he said, in a tone of faint inquiry. He accented her name just slightly differently from the way she was used to hearing it pronounced, putting equal stress on the syllables. "Are you feeling better?"

"I am fine, thank you," she said, but her voice wouldn't go much above a whisper. Where was Cora?

Uncas watched her for a few moments without saying anything. Alice tried to do the same, lest he think she was scared of him, but she could not maintain the exchange and dropped her eyes. She had been taught not to stare, but clearly he hadn't. She played nervously with the tattered edge of her skirts.

"And your sister?"

"She's outside--I think."

Uncas rose in a lithe movement. He appeared to have thrown off sleep as easily as someone else might have thrown off a blanket. Crossing over to the cabin's one hand-cut window, which was covered by a wooden board, he slid it open an inch and looked out. Early evening sunshine flooded in the cabin for a moment, until he shut it again and moved instead to the front door. Alice followed him, keeping a respectful distance.

Cora was indeed outside, sitting not far from the cabin on a large flat stone around which some wildflowers had grown, making a pretty picture despite her somber face and general dishevelment. She stood up when she saw Uncas come out of the cabin, Alice behind him. Alice darted past their Indian guide and went to her sister, taking her hands. Cora squeezed them encouragingly, looking into her face.

"You shouldn't be out here now," Uncas said, making a quick scan of the perimeter.

"I'm waiting for Nathaniel."

"He went back?"

Cora nodded. Uncas hesitated, then disappeared within and returned with his rifle, which he brought over to them. "I guess neither of you knows how to use one of these?"

Alice eyed it. It seemed almost as long as she was. She waited for Cora to answer.

"No," Cora admitted, finally.

"Better ask my brother to show you when he has a moment, before we take you to the fort."

"I don't know that he would. He doesn't seem to want to help us."

Uncas looked surprised. "Why wouldn't he?"

Whatever Cora might have answered, Alice didn't have a chance to know because it was at that moment that this subject of their conversation himself appeared from among the trees, slightly dirt-streaked and grim, but not looking over-exerted.

He stopped in the shed first to unload his weapons, then came towards them. Uncas and Nathaniel held a brief conclave in their shared language, while Alice and Cora looked on. Alice did not understand any of what they were saying, of course, but at one point Uncas glanced in her direction and she was sure he had just said something in reference to her.

She turned to Cora, whispering, "Are they going to take us to Father?"

"I think so," her sister murmured. "Don't worry, Alice. They're not fighting about it, just trying to decide how and when." She said this with such confidence that Alice didn't think to doubt her.

"But there are only two of them. And we had many with us..." her voice trailed away as she became aware that Nathaniel and Uncas had stopped speaking and both of them were looking at her, Nathaniel with a curiously hard expression.

"Your fiance was unprepared," Nathaniel said. He held out his hand towards Cora and for a moment she didn't react, but when she realized he had something in it she very slowly put out her own hand. Nathaniel's fingers uncurled and let the small piece of cloth that bore Duncan Hayward's insignia unfold into Cora's palm.

Uncas looked uncomfortable, but Nathaniel's face, whatever he might be thinking or feeling, showed neither pity nor concern. Meeting Alice's gaze, he jerked his head towards the cabin, indicating, as they already understood, that Cora might want at least a few moments alone at this point. Alice, releasing her sister's hand and standing anxiously for a moment, hesitated, but Cora did not look up from her other hand that still held the bit of fabric. At last Alice followed Uncas and Nathaniel back to the cabin, glancing back as she went. Cora's dark bent head against her white flame of a dress stood out like a beacon in the dying evening light.