At Nathaniel's urging, Cora had gone back to their own wikwam to get some rest, because she had been sitting up waiting for so long that her muscles were starting to twinge in protest. He had built up the fire and stayed with her, at her side, murmuring some kind of Mohegan prayer or lullaby or something designed to be calming until she drifted off.

She never really fell completely asleep, however, and it was with a dazed jolt that she roused herself at the sound of shouts outside. Nathaniel sprang into action, joining whoever was outside.

They were back. Cora felt her heart pound when she saw the limp body of her sister at the door, in Uncas's arms, both of them soaked and their clothes spattered with blood. He knelt, carrying her into the wikwam and laying her carefully on the deerskin hides. Nathaniel, Sanquen, Machque and Nachenum were all crowding around behind him at the entrance.

Alice's face was white, her lips colorless. Cora grabbed her sister's hands and chafed them in her own, trying not to panic. She's still breathing.

"What happened, Uncas? Where did you find her? Is she all right?" The questions spilled out of her.

Uncas answered only the last one. "She will be, if you get her warm."

Dripping, he ran a hand over Alice's face and checked the pulse in her throat.

Nathaniel intervened. "Come on, brother, you've got to get dry too. Let the women look after her first. Come." He had to pull him away, and as the men took him back, Sanquen slipped in, her small brown face concerned, and knelt beside Cora.

Alice's dress was completely water-logged, filthy and blood-stained. Cora could not see how it could be salvaged, and they needed to get it off her in a hurry, so she simply ripped most of it away, discarding the tattered shreds in a pile. The shift she left on, and then bundled her sister in the blanket. Alice's breathing was fairly steady, but she showed no indication of coming back to consciousness as they worked over her.

Sanquen darted in and out, bringing more logs to throw on the fire, which soon caused the little shelter to steam. She prepared hot tea, and came up with heavier furs, which they piled around Alice until they were sure she was getting warmer, though her hands and feet were still icy. As she sat with Alice, holding her hand, Cora was infinitely grateful for the young Delaware girl's quiet efficiency and inoffensive presence.

"Cora--" It was Nathaniel outside. "Uncas insists on coming back in to sit with her."

He held the flap open, up against the rain, to let Uncas, now changed into dry shirt and buckskins, back in. Uncas seemed exhausted, but clean. He squatted on his heels by Alice's head and took her hands from Cora, who was torn between resenting this bit of presumptuousness and yet blessing him for having kept his promise to bring her little sister back. She moved down and began to rub Alice's feet, trying to restore the circulation.

She was aching to know what had happened, who was responsible for the abduction, all the details of what had transpired, but she knew it was going to have to wait. Uncas looked remote and focused at the same time and she didn't think he was in the mood to answer any more of her questions.

Nathaniel came in then too, sending Sanquen out with a directive to bring more tea for all of them. The wikwam was barely big enough for four of them anyway, and the air felt too close for so many people.

It was not much later that Alice finally stirred, shifting within the confines of the blanket. Her eyelids fluttered, and she looked at all of them; Cora first, then Nathaniel, then her eyes at last settling on Uncas, whose face was closest to hers. She stared at him for a long moment and then her eyes, abruptly, filled with tears.

Though they had no context to understand it, it was such a deeply personal and private instant that both Cora and Nathaniel immediately felt their presence out of place, and had to glance away for a few heartbeats.

"Alice," Cora murmured then, her own eyes pricking with sympathetic tears. "You're back. How do you feel?"

"I...I don't know." Alice looked at her now, confused. "I don't remember anything since..." She swallowed. "I'm so thirsty."

Uncas took from Nathaniel the cup of tea Sanquen had brought back and held it to her lips, but he moved too quickly and she flinched. Chagrined, he hesitated, and Cora, taking the cup from him, helped Alice to sip a little.

Nathaniel was fast becoming aware he was the only person who currently had his emotions in check, so he said calmly, "You're uninjured, Alice? Everything works, nothing is broken?"

"I think so." She gave him a tremulous smile, as if relieved by the simpleness of the question. She looked very young to him now, wrapped in the blanket with one white shoulder out, her pale hand--which Uncas still gripped--lying on the dark hides beside her. She was very much the little sister he had never had. He was immensely relieved his brother had brought her back. But now that she was safe...

He put a hand on Uncas' shoulder and spoke in Mohegan. "We must go, let them rest."

"I will not leave her." Uncas uttered the words with vehemence.

"She is safe now. And--" he tried to speak gently. "You are scaring her. She needs more time."

Uncas hesitated, but Alice did look intimidated, and after another moment he released her hand, and let Nathaniel guide him outside.

"How does the girl fare?" Chingachgook inquired as they re-entered their aunt's wikwam. Uncas did not answer, so Nathaniel responded for him. "She has come to her senses, Father, and we can be hopeful she will make every recovery."

"Mm." The older Mohegan considered that, his eyes on his younger son. "To be able to predict that with certainty, we would need to know the nature and extent of the shock she has received."

"They did not harm her." Uncas spoke now. "She was merely exhausted from the pace. There was no evidence they bothered to stop at all along the way."

"And?" Chingachgook pressed. "When you found them?"

The young man wordlessly produced the French scalp from his bag, holding it aloft for inspection.

"She watched you do it?" Nathaniel demanded. "No wonder she passed out, poor kid."

His brother gave him an incredulous glare. The truth was they both knew honor had demanded such an action, though arguably it would have been better had Alice not seen such a thing performed.

"Do not berate him for that," Chingachgook said. "I have always taught you both to do as your conscience dictates and your family's honor requires."

"I'm just saying he might have told her to look the other way. I don't know--Englishwomen are sensitive creatures."

"Father," Uncas said, sounding immeasurably weary. He was crosslegged, his head bent as he stared at something they could not see. "You asked me a question yesterday. Today, I must give you a different answer."

Chingachgook sat forwards, his eyes becoming intent.

Nathaniel felt an inward sensation of something close to dread. He had a feeling they weren't going to like what Uncas was going to say, and from the expression on Chingachgook's face it was evident their father shared this feeling.

"I will not be going to Albany with my brother." Uncas paused for just an instant, then finished in a quieter tone, "Nor will Alice."

The aunt began to mutter in the background, but neither Uncas nor Nathaniel were listening to her as their ears were attuned only to whatever Chingachgook might say in response to this.

"Father? Did you hear what I said?" Uncas looked up. His gaze continued to be respectful, for which Nathaniel was thankful. He had yet to see his brother challenge his father in any matter and he had no desire to behold the outcome of such a circumstance.

"I heard," Chingachgook said at last, "but the meaning of your words escapes me. What is it that you have in mind?"

"Father, I am sorry. I do not wish to trouble or anger you. But I cannot take...the girl...back."

"You wish to wait until the spring?"

Nathaniel wondered if Chingachgook were being deliberately obtuse. He had never known him to be such, but, then again, how was it possible not to know what Uncas was getting at?

Uncas's cheekbones heated deeper beyond their normal rich copper color. "No. I am telling you that when you said her way is not my way, I agreed with you. But I have since changed my mind. There is no other way for her except with me."

"With you," Chingachgook repeated, and then, almost indulgently, "Uncas. My son. Day cannot dwell with night."

Uncas said nothing, just glanced down at his hands, striving to prevent his emotions showing in his face.

"What about dawn?" Nathaniel put in. "And twilight? Two times when--" he inclined his head in an apologetic gesture of respect "--that statement is rendered false, Father."

Chingachgook glanced at him but with no visible anger. "You have always been good with words, my older child, and with observations, but your quick-wittedness does not cancel out the truth in what I have said. Uncas knows it does not. Dawn and twilight are but moments in the day. Would you live each day for a moment, Fox?"

His son did not, or could not answer, but his black eyes shone with stubbornness.

"She knows nothing about cooking or home-building. She does not even know how to tan a hide."

"I will help her," Uncas said now, determinedly.

"It is not the job of a warrior to help a woman. It is her job to provide support to you. Will you hunt all day, and then come home at night to sit by the fire and weave a basket?"

"I will do that and more, if I have to."

Chingachgook sighed, as if the simple act of drawing in and expelling air would lend him an extra measure of patience. "Have you even spoken with the yellow-hair?"

Or her sister, Nathaniel thought, which was also a pertinent question. He had a feeling that it was not going to sit well with the older Munro girl. And who could blame her, really, if it didn't, all things considered? Nathaniel knew there was no better man than Uncas, and he had no reason to think Uncas would not cherish Alice above all else had he the opportunity to do so, but convincing Cora, a product of English society, that the two could make any kind of life together was...

Going to be his task, no doubt. Nathaniel spared himself a self-pitying internal groan before coming back to the present and focusing on his family.

"No, Father, but--"

"Then do not speak of this to me again until you have." Chingachgook rose, eliminating the possibility of any further discussion, ignoring too the impassioned chattering of his sister in the background. "I will keep watch with the others this night." He stooped and disappeared outside into the rainy dark.

***

Alice awoke the next morning with two sensations competing for her attention; one, that she was blissfully warm, and two, that she was powerfully hungry. She had not eaten since breakfast of the previous day. The coals of the fire built the night before still smoldered in the center of their wikwam. Her shift had dried on her, under the blanket and piles of fur that had been heaped on top. She wriggled into a sitting position. Cora came awake, too, then, hearing or sensing her move. "Alice. How do you feel?" Her sister scanned her face anxiously.

"Just sore. I need to eat something."

"You stay here. I will bring you some soup." Rubbing sleep out of her eyes, Cora pushed back her own furs and rose. "We were so worried about you last night."

Alice smiled wanly. The events of the previous day seemed like some unfortunate dream. She tried not to recall them, but moments flashed unbidden to her mind anyway; trudging through puddles, the ache of her wrists, the staring eyes of the scalped man...

She fought to control nausea.

"I'll be right back," Cora said, giving her arm a quick pat, and disappearing outside.

How could Uncas have done it? She'd known, even hoped the men would be killed if and when they were caught; she'd suffered too much pain and indignity following her ambush not to expect that, but it had never entered her mind that she might see a scalping, gruesome act that it was, take place. She didn't think she was ever going to forget what it had looked like.

Cora was back as she had promised almost immediately with breakfast, soup and some boiled corn, which Alice ate without tasting, she was so hungry.

"Uncas is outside," Cora murmured, watching her eat. "Waiting for you to wake up, I suppose."

"Oh," Alice said faintly.

"You don't have to go out, if you don't feel up to it. Maybe it would be better if you stayed inside today."

"No, I...I have to. I am not sick. Only tired." She set aside the bowls and moved, but despite her statement, almost every inch of her body hurt. Yesterday had been an ordeal which she knew she would not forget, even after the physical reminders faded. She touched the top of her shift self-consciously. "What am I wearing?"

"Your dress was not salvageable," Cora apologized. "Alice, it was torn, and the blood--I thought it was yours..."

Alice shook her head. It would have been the blood that had been all over Uncas, thus the blood of her captors. She didn't think she cared about the dress anymore. "It doesn't matter. I can wear the robe his cousin gave me before."

"I will go find out so you can get dressed." Her older sister left again.

It was a little unnerving, once Alice had gotten decently clothed and stepped outside the wikwam, to see that Uncas was indeed there, waiting patiently as if he was standing watch over her as he had most of the nights before they'd gotten to camp. Perhaps he was guarding her. He had his rifle at his side, and his tomahawk--she had to avert her eyes, remembering having seen it buried in the back of the Frenchman--tucked into his belt. He had been in the perpetual squat of his people, but he rose instantly upon seeing her at the entrance. He looked, for perhaps the first time she had seen him, unsettled.

"Alice. Are you--?"

"I am fine," she said quickly, uncomfortably. He came to her and took both her hands in his. She pulled back, hesitantly, aware of the curious glances from other villagers in the vicinity: women, children, even some of the men.

Uncas didn't seem to be bothered. "Look at me."

"I am looking at you," she said, staring at his shoulder.

"Alice. Please." She risked a quick glance upwards and wished she hadn't; the intensity in his eyes made her stomach clench in uncertainty.

Frustrated, Uncas spoke in Mohegan. "It is not the way of my people for a man to say this to a woman. I should be waiting for you to say it. But my father has insisted. I want you to stay with me. I want--"

Machque, passing by, gave Uncas an encouraging slap on the shoulder. Uncas barely noticed. He was focused on Alice's face. The others did not matter.

"I don't understand," Alice said, although she was terribly afraid that she did, if only even a little. Why were there so many people around all of a sudden? She was vaguely aware that Cora, too, and Nathaniel, were not far off, possibly watching them. Could there be no middle ground in this mad world; were they always to be either surrounded by staring faces, or completely alone in the desolate wilderness? She took a nervous breath. "Uncas, I don't..."

His gaze sharpened and he took firmer hold of her arm. "Are you going to faint again?"

"No," Alice said, managing to insert some indignation into the response. It was the 'again' that vexed her.

His hands were so warm, radiating strength. His thumbs drifted to her wrists, which bore the reddened marks of yesterday's captivity. Both of them remembered.

Machque called over, with what seemed like a ribald remark. Uncas glanced back then and gave him a reluctant chuckle. It was of embarrassment, but Alice perceived the two of them to be mocking her and a sudden rage welled up in her uneasy soul.

She jerked her hands away from his. "Do not touch me! I know what you are thinking. I will not be a...an Indian's whore!"

Though no one in the vicinity but her sister and his brother could understand this--Uncas himself looked baffled, for it was unlikely he'd ever heard the word before or could fully register its meaning in such a context anyway--heads turned at the vehemence of her declaration. Cora looked shocked. Even Nathaniel frowned.

"Let us go in," he suggested. "We are causing quite a scene."

Once the four were inside the wikwam, Alice sat defiantly on the other side of the fire. She regretted having spoken so rashly--she had long since stopped thinking of Uncas as just any other Indian--but not the emotion which had provoked it. So he had rescued her, certainly, but why were people acting as if that entitled him to something? Why did he think he had the right to hold her, to look at her with those brown eyes? To speak to her in his language as if he expected her to understand?

"Why is everyone looking at me?" she said, unable to prevent the petulance filtering into her tone.

Nathaniel answered her. "What you said outside was extremely harsh. No one has asked you to--"

"No one has asked me anything at all!" Alice retorted, though she knew Uncas had been about to, even if she wasn't sure what exactly it would have been.

Nathaniel gave her a quelling look. "In our culture, the man does not ask such questions. It is up to the woman to decide what path their relationship will take."

Alice said angrily, "In that case, I have decided. I will stay here."

"You cannot be serious, Alice?" Cora breathed. "You know nothing of living in the wilderness--and--and you would be cutting yourself off from any other society."

"Probably true," Nathaniel agreed. "Then again, there's not much in the way of your kind of society around here anyway. Unless they wanted to make their permanent home in Albany, and I can't imagine why anyone would, there is no one here who'll much mind their being together." He gave Uncas a wicked teasing grin. "With the possible exception of a few broken-hearted local lasses. Now, Cora, let's leave the two of them to discuss it in private, shall we?" He rose, and taking her hand, though Cora looked doubtfully back at Alice, led her out of the wikwam.

***

Nathaniel, without asking, tucked her hand in the crook of his elbow and strolled companionably at her side, ignoring the villagers. Cora walked along in a state of extreme distraction. "Nathaniel, I cannot help but think you are dismissing the difficulties of the situation rather too easily!"

"Not at all. Those kids? They're going to need all the help they can get. And I'd like to be able to stick around and offer some, but I'm going to be busy, taking you back to the city."

Cora rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand; she was beginning to get a headache. She had almost forgotten about the need to return to Albany...

"I guess we'd better winter there, once we pick up your things," Nathaniel continued casually. "Don't much fancy the idea of making the journey back in ice and snow."

The breeze stirred in the trees and at first Cora did not understand. "What--whatever do you mean?"

"Oh, I suppose we'll have to find ourselves a minister at some point. I'm guessing you wouldn't have it any other way." Nathaniel spoke in the same off-handed tone, but his gaze was fixed on her.

"You...you mean..."

"I do."

"I...I thought you said the woman usually makes such decisions..."

"Yes, but I'm white." He grinned.

"Nathaniel, are you teasing me?"

"No," he said, and stopped. "I'm quite serious."

Cora stared into his eyes that were the colour of the bright American sky. How was it possible that in the space of what had really just been a few days, not even a full season out of the year, she felt she knew him? Knew every line of his face and body, every expression and gesture? How was it possible that she had forgotten Duncan for this man? What kind of woman did that make her? Duncan had been her future husband.

She felt sick, and worse because she knew she had no desire to play difficult for Nathaniel. She had no desire to question him further, or to make him wait for her, or to refuse him. She just wanted to be at his side.

Cora didn't know if that was something to be ashamed of or not.

"So, miss," he said. "Your silence is unusual, and I must confess it makes me nervous."

She was unable to help laughing then at his rueful tone, and his affectionate use of the old appellation. "I am sorry." She straightened her back, and tightening her grip on his arm, said, "I find your proposal quite...acceptable, sir."

"Good." Nathaniel took her then, pulled her into his embrace and, right out in the open, delivered a quick, warm kiss that was rather more energetic than romantic, but which made her knees weak nonetheless.

Someone, somewhere, gave a whoop of enthusiastic approval.

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final chapter coming soon...