When night fell, the group finally had to stop, a fact which filled Alice with relief and horror all at once. The thought of a respite was heavenly, but she was terrified by the notion of spending the night outside in the dark. For some reason, she hadn't considered this reality throughout the day, being so focused on merely putting one foot in front of the other. Nathaniel said they would not even be able to light a fire.
"But surely, just a small fire wouldn't—" Alice began to argue.
Cora cut her off in annoyance. "Please ignore my sister, Nathaniel," she said. "She's nearly eighteen years and still afraid of the dark. She cries out from nightmares like a child."
For the first time since childhood, Alice had the urge to pull her sister's hair. Hard. Instead, she just looked at her hands in her lap, feeling sufficiently shamed once again in front of these men. In front of Uncas.
The older Indian, the one named Chingachgook, spoke for the first time. "I would not mock the dream-haver, Dark One," he said, in a deep, heavily accented voice. "Dreams can show us the way, if we know how to read them."
Cora scoffed. "Visions, you mean?"
Chingachgook raised his hands. "Perhaps. Is that impossible to believe?"
Cora laughed. "Indeed it is. I believe in reality—facts, science, things that can be proven."
Nathaniel looked amused. "I thought women didn't enjoy those kinds of pastimes. But then I guess you are not like most women?"
Cora looked flattered.
Alice rose quietly during this exchange. She walked quietly away from the party, feeling empty and angry all at once. Her nightmares had always been a source of contention between her and Cora, particularly as of late since they had to share a ship's berth. Night after night, Alice would wake and see figures in her room—the outlines of men, or demons, or even fireballs coming from the sky—and invariably she would scream herself hoarse as Cora shook her angrily. Truly, Cora had every right to find it annoying but to mention it front of these men? It deeply shamed her.
She wandered for a while, unheeding where she walked or how far. Her mind was too filled with thoughts of home—of Scotland, of London, of Father, of everything that had transpired to bring her here. When she finally came back to reality, she felt a sinking sensation as she realized she had no sense of where she was at all. The remaining twilight had almost evaporated, and now the woods were as dark and menacing as her own thoughts. She remembered the Huron and what Cora had said about being scalped and ravaged. The prospect nearly made her mind skitter away altogether.
Just as she was about to sink to the ground and cry pitifully, she heard a noise behind her. She whirled around as arms enveloped her. Gasping, she began pounding against the hard chest with her fists, trying and failing to wrench herself out of the tight hold.
"Shh, shh," said a voice, and Alice realized that both the sound and earthy smell was familiar. Uncas.
She stopped fighting and instead collapsed against him, her hands turning from fists and into claws that curled desperately into his shirt. "Oh, I was so lost," she cried.
She felt him smile even in the darkness. "No, little mouse," he said, "You are not so lost. You are barely 100 yards from camp."
She sighed in relief, though once again she had embarrassed herself before this man. Suddenly she realized she was the one prolonging the embrace—that she was the one clinging on to him and pressing her curves against his hard frame. Though she knew she should move away immediately, she didn't not want to let go of this comfort, deadly improper though it was.
He seemed to sense what she was thinking. The smile dropped from his face and his expression changed to something else entirely—something needing and primal and aching. Then, just as quickly, he began to untangle her fingers from his shirt, essentially pulling him away from her even as she remained rigid and unwilling. He looked down at her in what Alice presumed was disgust. Apologies and explanations battled on her lips, but in the end she settled on saying nothing at all. She went to her safe place in her mind and turned herself off.
"I will follow you back now," she said obediently and emptily. The least she could do was make less trouble for this man.
Though she kept her tone even and simple, it was clear that Uncas noted the change as the girl seemed to disappear before his very eyes, even as she stood there without moving. His dark eyes flashed with emotions she could not discern, but she cared not. Let her sleep. Let the night come. She cared not.