note: the story of Rainbow Crow is not original; I assumed it was part of the public domain, but if it's not, then I'm certainly not claiming to have invented it.
The dam had been constructed of small saplings, several inches thick, woven tightly together with vine and dried rope to make a long rectangular box-like shape that spanned the river at a narrow point. It allowed water to flow through, but any river debris got trapped in it, so it had to be cleaned regularly to allow the passage of water.
It also trapped fish, and this was its main purpose. Once fish swam through, they were caught in the center and could not swim back out. The river had plenty of fish, and the Delaware depended on it as a main source of food. At least twice a day, morning and evening, men from the camp usually checked the trap and could bring back as many as half-a-dozen fish of varying sizes.
Uncas had a woven net for transporting them back. It already held two. He'd rescued them squirming from the trap and used a sharp rock to kill them. They now lay iridescent and damp in the net, their blank bulbous eyes staring at nothing. Sanquen would gut and prepare them later.
Back at his father's in the mountains, they rarely had the opportunity to eat fresh fish. The stream near the cabin held a few small ones, but none in any quantity. In the summer season the men usually brought back from the camp as much as they could carry, then dried and salted it for winter consumption.
Machque was near the opposite shore, knee-deep there where the river ran shallow just after the dam, and Nachenum was near the middle. They were pulling handfuls of river debris out of the dam, as the rains of the previous days meant that more cleaning than normal was necessary. The shaved heads of the brothers glistened cleanly in the sunlight.
The warriors had shed their leggings, and were barefoot, wearing only breechcloths. Uncas still had a hard time believing that Nachenum had grown so much over the summer. He was as tall as Machque now, with shoulders wide enough to carry a buck across.
"Nachenum," he called across the water. "What are they feeding you?"
The young man straightened self-consciously. "Nothing out of the ordinary, brother."
"Well, stop eating so much." Uncas picked up a flat chip of rock and sent it skipping across the water in his direction.
"That's why we're going to be here all day," Machque called back, capturing another trapped fish in the tail with his long fishing spear, deciding it was too small, and flipped it downriver. "My sibling would eat half a dozen at one sitting if we let him. And now we got two new women to feed, but they don't look like they eat much."
Nachenum shot Uncas a curious side glance. "So where are their men?"
"Their men?" Uncas repeated. Due to the difference in language, he wasn't entirely sure how to interpret this. "They don't have any men."
Nachenum looked puzzled, and Machque translated, "He means they're single, you idiot. Mateless."
"The older sister had one, but he was killed by Huron last week. The younger one--" Uncas hesitated for just a second. He had almost used his nickname for her in his own language. That would have been a mistake. "The yellow-hair," he said, altering his words slightly, "is too young."
"Right age for Nachenum," Machque said cheerfully, but gave Uncas a very direct, searching look when he said this.
Nachenum seemed embarrassed. "Except we couldn't understand one another. And I don't think she knows how to cook."
Machque's expression suggested that he was about to make a completely ribald remark, which Uncas quickly forestalled by joining them in the water. "Are we going to fish, or are we going to chatter like squirrels?"
His cousin's husband tossed him the spear, which he caught in mid-air. "Fish," said Machque, with a gleam of humor in his black eyes.
***
Evening had fallen upon the wolf camp. The fishermen had returned with a net full of fish, which had then been distributed amongst the different families of the camp.
Nathaniel had spent the morning in leisure with Cora at the glade, while she took her time washing and soaking in the pool, and she had, under the cover of the bushes, managed to dry off and change into Alice's clean dress before they came back to the camp. The afternoon had been spent in simple relaxation, recovery from the hardships of the previous week.
Most of the camp's members had already retired to their wikwams for the night, with a few women still making last-minute preparations for the next day's outdoor work around their spaces, but the four of them, and also Sanquen, Machque, and Nachenum were still sitting around the communal fire, finishing up their feast of fish and coal-baked cornbread.
Sanquen moved around making sure everyone had enough to eat--she was restless and rarely sat still for more than a few moments at a time. Machque and Nachenum were on one side of the fire in their habitual crouch, firelight glittering off their bare chests. Uncas was near them, and Nathaniel was on the other side of the fire, with Cora beside and slightly behind him.
Alice sat almost in the shadows, beyond Cora. She must have stayed in the wikwam all that day because Nathaniel hadn't seen her since his lecture that morning. But she didn't seem to be sulking, just chastened. He wanted to communicate to her that he was not angry, but she refused to meet anyone's eyes.
It was a beautiful summer night. Above them, the slender moon was slowly climbing to the center of the inverted bowl of midnight blue that was the sky, with stars carelessly scattered across it.
One of the hunting dogs trotted up, sniffed the air suspiciously, then deciding that no one there was a threat, flopped down between Machque and Nachenum, its gaze remaining alert although its body relaxed. Nathaniel tossed it the last, deboned piece of fish he'd been eating, and it caught the scrap with an adroit snap of its jaw.
"Nice night for a story," Nathaniel commented, breaking the silence.
He and Uncas had grown up with Chingachgook's stories, of course, and on nights like these, there was nothing better than to sit outside and hear one. Just when he thought he'd heard them all, Chingachgook would come up with something else--one that his grandmother, or his uncle, or someone else had told him many years ago.
He wondered if Cora and Alice knew any stories. Probably not. The Delaware had hundreds, though, and as they had no written language, the details had to be committed to memory, and with each repeating, the details became stronger.
"I'll tell one," Machque said. "If you think you're up to giving them the English version."
"Uncas can," Nathaniel said confidently. "My Delaware is pretty basic."
Uncas looked alarmed. "So is mine," he objected.
"You've spent more time here than I have," Nathaniel told him in Mohegan.
As this was true, Uncas couldn't refute it. "I'll try," he said, glancing at Cora and Alice.
"What are you saying?" Cora wanted to know.
"Machque's going to tell us a story and we were just arguing about who's going to translate," Nathaniel said, giving her a crooked grin.
"I hope it's a nice story," Cora said, sounding dubious. "No beheadings or..."
"I can't make any promises."
Machque, who was not at all shy and rather enjoyed being the center of attention, launched into the tale.
"Slow down," Uncas protested. "Mm.... This is the story of Menukon-Ahas, Rainbow Crow. Rainbow Crow had wonderfully colored feathers and a beautiful singing voice. All the other animals loved his feathers and song. The weather was very cold for a long time, and all the animals were cold. They wanted to know when the sun would come back. So..." he paused, poking the fire with a stick while he considered. Machque kept talking. "So, the animals decided to send a messenger to Manto, the Great Spirit, the Creator, to ask when they would get good weather again." Uncas frowned into the fire.
Machque finished up a very long, elaborately constructed sentence and looked expectantly at him.
Nathaniel snickered.
Uncas gave a reluctant grin, still gazing into the fire. "Rainbow Crow offered to be the messenger and make the journey to the Great Spirit. It was very...long and troublesome. But the Great Spirit rewarded him for it with the gift of fire. He carried the gift of fire back to his people, the other animals, in his beak."
Cora, and even Alice, were listening attentively now, their eyes going back and forth from Machque's animated strong features to Uncas' serious ones.
"But he was not the same bird as when he left. The fire burnt his feathers black, and the smoke from the fire made his voice rough and..." Uncas tapped his throat. "Strange. The animals were very glad of the gift of fire, and thanked Rainbow Crow, but he was sad because he was no longer beautiful and sounded bad. Then the Creator said to Rainbow Crow, 'Rainbow Crow, do not be sad. See what I have done for you. No man will ever put you in a cage to listen to your voice or look at your feathers. Nor will man ever hunt you, because your flesh will taste scorched.' This was all true, but Rainbow Crow was still unhappy.
"So the Creator said, 'And look very closely at your feathers. So Rainbow Crow did, and when he looked carefully he saw that within the black, there were all the colors of the rainbow, still glittering. And the Great Spirit said--" Uncas paused for breath--"The Great Spirit said, 'Everyone who sees you now will be reminded of what you gave to your people, the service you did for them. And it will never be forgotten."
He stopped. Machque, who also had finished, with a flourish, looked at Cora and Alice.
"Mmm," Cora said. She seemed relieved. "Yes. A nice story."
"Does she like it?" Machque wanted to know.
"She said you're the greatest storyteller of all time," Nathaniel said blandly.
"You are the greatest storyteller of all time." Machque threw a bit of bark across the fire at him, and from his crouch rose in a lithe motion. "It's getting late. We'll leave you to admire the moon a little longer." He departed, and Nachenum followed.
Cora stirred. Alice had been mute the entire evening, and with just the two couples left, the atmosphere had become too intimate to bear for much longer. "We should go in as well."
"I'll walk you to the wikwam," Nathaniel said, rising. He noticed that Uncas gave him an enigmatic look but didn't move from his position by the fire.
"Good night," Cora said, looking back at Uncas, and giving him a polite smile, which, Nathaniel thought, was her way of thanking him for the story. That pleased him, and evidently Uncas too, for he smiled in return. "Goodnight, Miss Cora."
Alice ducked behind her sister and Nathaniel walked the two of them as far as his aunt's wikwam. "See you in the morning, ladies," he said, giving a perfunctory bow.
"Good night, Nathaniel." They went within, and he returned to the fire pit, to stay up, and think, a little longer.
***
Chingachgook's sister snored gently. Alice had been listening to it for the past hour.
She was very, very close to smothering the woman with her blanket.
Rolling over, she glared into the fire, which was smoldering, much like her own temper. Sanquen was sleeping, too, as was Cora, but neither of them was making as much noise as the aunt.
It had not been an easy day. First, there had been Nathaniel's reprimand in the morning, the memory of which still caused her to squirm. Then, Uncas had vanished to go fishing with his Delaware friends, without so much as a word to her after he'd introduced Nachenum. Not that she would have gone fishing with them in any case, but he might at least have asked her if she wanted to. She had endured a long, hot afternoon in the wikwam with nothing to do and nobody for company but the stolid Indian aunt, while Cora napped, and had only come out earlier in the evening for dinner. She had enjoyed listening to Uncas's story around the fire, but again, during that whole time he had not said one thing to her. After she had gone to bed she wondered if he might be angry with her, although she couldn't think why, but as the night deepened and she remained sleepless she began to realize she was angry with him. He had no right to...to just ignore her like that. After everything. After the nights in the wilderness together when he had always been right there, an arms' length away.
Alice balled up a bit of the blanket in her fist, fighting back tears of frustration and irritation. She didn't know quite why she was upset and did not want to look too closely into it. All that she knew for certain was that Uncas had no right ignoring her.
Maybe Nathaniel said something to him. Told him not to talk to me. Nathaniel can't tell any of us what to do.
He is not my brother, at least, and never will be.
Why did Uncas ignore me all day?
Cora's back was to her, and suddenly Alice had had enough. She sat up, pushing away the blanket, and, moving on her knees, made her way to the entrance of the wikwam, checking behind her to make sure Sanquen and the aunt remained sleeping.
Her heart pounded, but she slipped outside.
Standing up, she almost immediately felt better. The moon was high overhead, and the sky glittered with stars, much more brightly than they had shone earlier. For a moment she just stared up at them, breathing in the cool clean air.
Then she moved quietly through the sleeping camp. She didn't know where she was going, exactly, but she had to get away. A few of the dogs raised their heads as she walked by, and one or two growled in warning disapproval, but none barked. Which was good, because she might have fled back to the wigwam if they had done so. But it was silent.
After a few moments of hesitation on the outskirts of the camp, she took the path that she had first come up the day they had come there, from the river. It was well-worn and easy to follow even though moonlight was her only illumination. She only stumbled once when the ground dipped suddenly and caught her balance before she fell, then resumed her walk. Shadows danced as she moved, but she ignored them. The last week in the wilderness had taught her that nothing looked by night as it looked by day and whatever she thought she saw could not be trusted. Nothing could be trusted, she thought bitterly as she came to the river.
The forest opened up to the rock beach, upon which the canoes had been pulled up. The river water shone black and uninviting, and yet, oddly, it beckoned to her. It was a pathway, after all. The closest thing to a road, out here. For a crazy moment, she wondered what would happen if she got in a canoe and let herself float away.
Probably nothing. Uncas wouldn't even have noticed she'd gone. She enjoyed this self-indulgent thought for a moment and then sighed.
Besides, she was still slightly scared of water, not being able to swim.
By the treeline, Alice spotted a larger rock amongst the pebbles and boulders that made up the shore, and it had a twisty tree winding upwards at its base. She picked her way across the rock bed to it and sat down on its rough surface. The tree made a nice thing to rest against.
Out here, she could at least breathe.
Though he'd been in the middle of a dream, all it took was Nachenum's hand on his shoulder for Uncas to awaken. "The yellow-hair," the other man murmured.
Uncas sat upright, shaking off sleep like a mantle. "What?"
"I saw her go down to the river not long ago."
Nathaniel and Machque slumbered on, not stirring. Uncas rose, pulled on his shirt and grabbed his tomahawk out of habit--his knife was always belted at his side--and came out of the wikwam. Nachenum looked rather sheepish. "I thought you would want me to wake you. She shouldn't be out there alone."
"Wanishi, nexisemes." Uncas patted him on the shoulder and passed him by. "Go back inside."
As he jogged down the path towards the river, though he knew Alice probably was not in any immediate danger, he couldn't help but feel a flash of irritation. She ought to know better by now. Their particular area was all Delaware hunting grounds and it was not likely that any French or English would have ventured into it without their warriors knowing well in advance, but still. There were wild animals--wolves, even the odd cougar had been spotted before--and women, or at least these women, seemed to have a way of finding trouble even when it wasn't looking for them.
His annoyance was temporary, however, dissipating when he saw her form. She was sitting on a rock with her knees drawn up to her chin, a pose he'd noticed she adopted when she was cold. There was a slight breeze coming off the river, though it was only a touch chilly.
Uncas watched her for a moment, knowing she didn't know he was there. She sat very still; the only movement surrounding her was that of her hair, which, moving in the wind, danced around her shoulders and face like a curtain of rippling wheat. She looked oddly natural wearing the buckskin dress now. He found himself wishing she would continue to wear it, if for no other reason than it was less obvious than her English clothing. Then again, it did nothing to disguise the fact that she was white--white everywhere--her hair was like a flag that would be spotted for miles. One would have to chop it off...
The thought of someone touching Alice's hair made his stomach twist unexpectedly. He remembered what he'd promised himself, way back at the other river, in those first few days of travel. I will keep you safe. For as long as I can...as long as you will let me.
No. Longer than that.
"Wiyon-ashay--"
He had called her that before. Irrationally, Alice felt fury that she did not know what it meant. It was not polite to give someone a name when they did not know its meaning. But she was so startled just at hearing his voice that she almost fell off the rock. Primly, she drew her legs up under her.
"What are you doing here?" he said, sounding confused.
"I couldn't sleep." Oh, so now he was talking to her.
He approached, tucking his tomahawk into his belt, the blade catching the moonlight as he did so and gleaming. He stopped at her side. "You should stay in camp."
There it was again, that almost high-handed tone she'd heard before. Perhaps it was only the contrast with the way she knew he could talk to her, so tenderly.
"Everyone tells me what to do. I am not a child." She would not have dared to say this back in the wilderness but now, here in the Indian camp, where she felt utterly stifled, and especially after the day she had endured, it would be said. She gazed up at him defiantly.
"I know that." He crouched down on his heels so that they were more level. "It's not safe for a woman either." Uncas reached out for her hand, but she pulled back, knowing that her eyes were glittering with hurt tears, but unable to keep them at bay.
"Alice--"
"Why did you come out here?" she demanded.
"Nachenum saw you and told me."
"Why didn't he just come?"
The young Mohegan hesitated, as if the thought had occurred to him as well. "I think he's scared of you."
Alice, despite herself, was pleased by this answer. Uncas sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose with the back of his thumb. "Manto, Wiyon-ashay, sometimes I know what that feels like."
"Why do you keep calling me that? What does it mean?" Petulantly she kicked the pebbles scattered in front of her.
Uncas looked at her without saying anything. Her words seemed to hang, to echo in the still night air around them. Then he pointed up at the moon. Alice followed the movement. Slowly, then, he reached out, and with his knuckles, grazed the skin of her cheek.
Moon-skin...
His touch was like a conduit of warmth. It always had been. Alice felt something--the anger, the petulance--breaking in her, as surely as if he had swung an axe and chopped a block of ice. She could almost feel herself splintering. Yet it was not the feeling itself that alarmed her--it was that she had no way to understand it, no way to make it make sense. He should not have been anything to her.
But he was.
What is he? What can a....a savage--she thought it defiantly--possibly be to an educated young Englishwoman, daughter of a colonel, like myself?
An ocean separated them. An ocean of differences.
Why did water seem like it could so easily be bridged?
Uncas's fingers lingered on her face. He smelled of the forest. Pine trees and campfire smoke.
Because she needed to say something, or become irretrievably lost in such distracting, dangerous thoughts, Alice blurted, "How long will we stay here?"
"As long as you want."
That was not the answer she had expected. "What do you think we should do?"
Uncas considered this, then said finally, "It is not my decision to make."
"Nor mine," she flung back.
"We are both younger siblings," Uncas agreed. "But neither is it completely my brother's and your sister's choice, Alice. When our father comes--"
"He is coming?"
"Within the week, we expect. But you should know that whatever is decided to be best for you, it's likely you'll still be here over the winter." He looked apologetic as he said this.
Alice ran her hands along the sides of the rough buckskin dress in frustration. "Your aunt doesn't want us here."
"That is not true. She has welcomed you."
"A strange welcome."
Uncas shrugged and said gently, "Yes, I do not know how it would be done in England, but she has welcomed you, and here you will be safe."
I don't want to be safe. I just want to understand. And be understood.
He stood up, and drew her with him, but he must have been expecting her to resist because she rose so suddenly that she brushed against his chest. For a startled moment they stood like that, in an awkward half-embrace. Then Uncas's arms folded around her, and he pulled her in, close. Alice's face bumped lightly against his shoulder.
"Don't--" he said against her ear. "Don't go anywhere alone. Promise me."
"I cannot," Alice said, wriggling, but not in any genuine attempt to get free. It felt wonderful to be held so close, if a little overwhelming. And suddenly, indignance asserted itself. "Who are you to ask me to make such a promise?"
He took her forearms and held her away from him for a moment so he could see her face. "I also have made a promise. I have sworn to protect you."
"I didn't ask you to," Alice muttered, a little sullenly.
"Yes, you did. Do you want me to stop?"
Alice let her body go limp, relaxing in his grip. He staggered back to offset the movement, so that neither of them fell. And then, he seemed to understand that she could not answer in words, and her yielding physically in that manner was her way of responding to his question.
She felt his hand on the back of her head then, not exactly caressing, and for a second she thought he was about to do something that she hadn't yet decided herself whether or not she would allow him to do, but then he muttered something in his native language, squeezed her in a bone-crushing hug and released her almost in the same instant.
"Let's go," he said, his voice a little rough, turning away.
She did not understand.