Alice screamed.

She had woken up just a few minutes earlier and, struggling to a sitting position in the dim morning light of the cabin, had seen the front door of the cabin open and a savage standing there, half-naked, blood dripping over his shoulders. Uncas and Nathaniel almost simultaneously exploded out of sleep into action, hands on knives that never seemed to be too far from their bodies, but then Uncas grunted in disgust or relief.

"It's Father," Nathaniel said, running a hand over his face.

By the time explanations and introductions had been made all round, Alice's heart had finally started to slow down, though she couldn't stop staring at Chingachgook, who to her eyes looked as foreign as the Huron who had ambushed them. He had an earring in his left ear, as did Uncas, but Chingachgook's was larger. He had plenty of long dark hair, too, but most of it was gathered into a scalping tuft and had many more feathers and twine braided into it. He was shorter and stockier than his sons, and his face had the set heaviness of middle age.

Cora and Alice came outside to watch the three men prepare the carcass of the deer that had been responsible for the blood all over Chingachgook's shoulders. It was a gory process that the men made quick, efficient work of. As they worked, the men talked amongst themselves in Mohegan. Chingachgook did not appear to be overly put out by the presence of the strange white women in his cabin, but conversed in a low, calm voice, interrogative and reasonable by turns. Alice knew Uncas and Nathaniel were telling the story of how they had come to be there because at several points she heard the words "Munro", Oswego", and "Hayward" although at this mention, Cora tried to seem like she wasn't paying attention.

Chingachgook wiped his knife on his deerskin leggings, the knees of which were soaked with blood. He sat back on his haunches, contemplating the cabin, and the women sitting out front, for a few moments. "Dark-hair," he addressed Cora. "Can your safety at the fort be guaranteed?"

"It must be, more so than it is here," Cora returned. "And I would not wish to...to endanger your family by our presence any longer than absolutely necessary."

Chingachgook exchanged a look with his two sons. "You have your sister to consider," he pointed out. "It may be that the passage of time here will reduce the potential danger that awaits any whites who try to make their way into the fort."

"We can't stay here, Cora," Alice urged in a whisper, because after Cora's silence she felt that the other woman was actually considering the Indian's suggestion. "Father must think we are dead. We--"

"Alice, please." Cora addressed Chingachgook. "As you say, that may be true. But I think we must press on, if we may have the gift of your guidance along the way. We are utterly dependent upon it."

"It'll take some time," Nathaniel reminded her.

"We have time," Cora said.

We have nothing but time, Alice thought. And the dresses on our backs.

Chingachgook considered for a few more moments without speaking. "Tomorrow," he said. "My sons will take you to the fort."

"Will you not come, Father?" Uncas asked.

"I think not. There is no better runner than you, Uncas, and no better shot than your brother. Together, you will be able to bring these women back to where they belong." Chingachgook rose, putting an end to the discussion.

For the midday meal, there was plenty of fresh deer meat. Then the men spent the afternoon readying their supplies for the journey of indeterminate length that was to take place on the morrow. Each of them had a deerskin pack that could be slung over the shoulders and fit to the exact proportions of the wearer. Into these sacks, they put ammunition for their rifles, layer after layer of jerky, and various other small tools and supplies that Cora and Alice were unfamiliar with and did not bother to question the purpose of.

Cora was using the comb that Nathaniel had given her to comb out Alice's hair. "Alice," she said. "I think I should braid it while we travel."

"Like they do?" Alice said, shocked at this departure from style. An Englishwoman's hair was always curled if possible and put up under a cap or a hat. Naturally they had lost their caps and had no pins to keep it up, but the idea that they braid it like she had seen pictures of Indian women doing was outlandish.

"It will keep it out of our way," Cora said firmly. She divided Alice's long blond hair into two equal sections and began braiding it. It actually looked rather charming when she was finished, if it made Alice look younger. She tied it back with two bits of twine and then took her own place in front of her sister. Alice sighed. "Cora, your hair will take much longer to do. It's hopelessly tangled."

"Just go slowly." Cora set her teeth as the comb tugged through her curls.

While Alice was still working on her hair, at one point, after a small consultation with his brother and father, Nathaniel came over to the women, obviously reluctantly but it was clear he had been appointed the messenger of whatever decision they had concluded by their meeting. "Ahem. Misses Munro. I have to ask you a rather delicate question."

"Yes," Cora said, thinking she should probably dread whatever he was about to ask but in actuality was relieved to have something put to her that only she could answer.

"Your dresses." Nathaniel gestured at their outfits, which, while the most serviceable and least embellished of all the things they had brought in their trunks from England with them--the trunks were still back in Albany--were still utterly impractical for woodland travel. They were plain oat-colored muslin frocks, with three-quarter length sleeves, slight hoops, and a bodice. "Are you wearing hoops under all that material?"

It was not so much the mention of hoops as it was the mention of it being under that caused Alice's gasp of dismay and Cora's slight reddening. "Yes," she said defiantly. "No well-bred lady goes without hoops."

"I beg your pardon," Nathaniel said with exaggerated courtesy. "I was not trying to insult you, but rather to point out that they are doubtless restricting your movement and should be removed before we set out tomorrow."

"That would be fine," she said, determined not to be shocked, "but then you must remove yourselves from the cabin so that we may have the privacy necessary to alter our clothes."

Nathaniel bowed, and in an odd way it pained her, reminding her fleetingly of Duncan. "Then we will return in a few hours. Is there anything else you ladies require before we make good our escape?" He was deliberately using more elaborate speech constructions, perhaps in imitation of her.

"Water," Cora said after a moment of thought. "We should like to wash before tomorrow."

"Certainly." Nathaniel withdrew.

He was back before very long with Uncas; between the two of them they were bearing a wooden tub filled to the brim with water. "It's from the stream, so it's not warm," Nathaniel pointed out, "but leave it by the fire for a while and it should be at least tolerable to sit in."

Alice was amazed that they even had a tub. Not that they looked dirty. She wondered if, to keep clean, they went swimming in lakes and rivers the way Cora had when she was younger. The thought of adults doing this seemed highly inappropriate to her. Immersing one's whole self into a natural body of water? What if someone happened by? She was grateful for the tub. Even though back home they didn't wash their whole bodies more than once a week anyway, there was something about living in the woods like this that made one feel like she could never be clean enough.

The men departed, and Cora, after bolting the door after them and ensuring that the window hadn't been left open, helped Alice to undress. Alice in turn helped her with her stays. Under the gowns they wore petticoats, and under the petticoats, their innermost layer of underwear--the shifts. The shifts were a last refuge of decency that they had no intention of taking off, even to bathe. Alice climbed into the tub first and crouched in it, squeaking at the cold, but Nathaniel had been right--it was warm outdoors, and next to the fire, the water temperature was tolerable. It wasn't relaxing, but it was enough to get clean by.

While Alice washed, Cora set about dismantling the inner layer of skirt that had the whalebone and metal sewn into it which formed the shape of their gowns from the waist down. Without it, their gowns would hang limp around their legs, but would probably be more comfortable for sitting and lying down at night. Once Alice was finished, Cora took her turn. Their hair would have to be washed some other time--right now in braids it was manageable, which was the most important thing.

They spent some time in their shifts in front of the fire, drying up. The shifts were thin and dried quickly, so they could then put their overdresses back on.

"That's better," Alice said when they were both fully dressed and examining each other's altered states.

"It doesn't look better. Turn around, Alice."

Alice turned obediently. Usually their skirts swirled around them when they did this but now the layers of fabric just hung from her hips. "It's scandalous how much you can see of your shape now," Cora remonstrated.

Alice giggled despite herself. "You look funny too. Like a pauper or a..."

"Alice! Mind your manners." Cora smoothed down the pleats on the front of her skirt. It was odd feeling the sides of the dress follow her movement, but they would have to get used to it. "Well. We are ready."

Sobering, Alice looked at her sister's dark determined eyes. "Are you glad to be going tomorrow?"

"I'm a little scared," Cora confessed in an unusual moment of frankness.

"So am I. I just want to find Father and be safe at the fort."

"I want that too." They hugged briefly.

"Cora, do you think we can trust them?" Alice pulled away.

Her older sister considered her answer for some time. "I think we have to, Alice."

***

Chingachgook was throwing leftover skin and various bits of refuse from the deer carcass onto a fire outside when Uncas joined him. Evening had settled in, and the fire pit, which was within sight of the cabin, was something they often used for this purpose or for when they wanted to sit outdoors at night.

"Was it a good hunt, Nohsh?"

"There were many tracks around," Chingachgook replied. "You will need to be alert tomorrow." His voice held an extra dose of caution. Uncas glanced at his father, but the older Indian's face was inscrutable as usual.

"There are no better eyes than Nathaniel's." Uncas picked up some of the discarded bits that lay in a pile at Chingachgook's feet and tossed them into the pit. Fat sizzled in the flames.

"I would not have let you go alone. Take care, my son. The eyes of the French are everywhere, and the Huron are many and deceitful. It will not be an easy journey."

Soft moccasin footfalls came from behind them, and Nathaniel joined his father and younger brother to stand in front of the flames, which lit up the dark night.

"Are the women settled?"

"If women can ever be settled."

The three shared a mutual chuckle. "You should also be sleeping," Chingachgook advised.

"I'm not tired," Nathaniel said, automatically, and smiled. It was almost a private joke between him and his adopted father. He didn't remember, but Chingachgook insisted these were the first three words he had ever heard him say. Chingachgook looked at him and rested a hand on his shoulder for a moment. The light of the fire danced on his face and brought out some heavy lines near his eyes. "Keep your brother safe. And don't expect too much from the Yengeese. They are a breed apart. Do not push them too hard until you know what they are made of."

"Yes, Father." Nathaniel exchanged looks with Uncas. They were both torn between affection for the older man and amusement that he still, sometimes, seemed to look at them and see the boys they had been.

"I will keep watch by the fire tonight," Chingachgook said. "Go in to the cabin and sleep."

They echoed their understanding with Mohegan grunts of assent and left him there by the fire. Uncas entered the cabin first, moving soundlessly so as not to wake the girls, but he could tell from their breathing that neither was yet asleep anyway.

He and Nathaniel settled down beside each other on their end of the room, on their deerskin mats. For a few moments they lay, on their backs, gazing up at the cabin roof, thinking of the morrow that lay ahead, both of them unable to resist relishing the idea of change. Then Uncas elbowed his brother.

"What?" Nathaniel muttered.

"Just glad you're coming tomorrow."

"I told you I would."

Uncas considered their conversation after Nathaniel had seen the Englishwomen for the first time. "Yeah, but it seemed like you might change your mind."

"I never change my mind."

They fell silent again. Uncas wondered what his older brother really thought of the dark-haired sister. There had been a few moments today where he had sensed Nathaniel's hostility towards her not only fade to the point of nonexistence but something else had taken its place. When he had given her his mother's comb. When they had come back into the cabin that night and seen the girls, washed, hair braided, in their more practical dresses.

He smiled up at the cabin roof. Nathaniel wasn't going to admit it, not now, maybe not ever, but there was something about Cora that was like him. And it wasn't just the shared color of their skin.

It was their mutual stubbornness.