Many miles away, Cora was panting with exertion, rivulets of sweat running down her back. It had been nearly a week since she had left The New Heritage Inn, nearly a week since she had been safe, and indoors, and certain of her future. And yet—she had never felt lovelier in her entire life.

She knew it was mad to feel so, mad to feel as though a candle had been lit inside her, a candle that was bright enough to burn down the entire world. As she tromped through the forest behind Nathaniel's lean back, she felt she was entirely and perfectly where she was meant to be.

All those things she had used her body for over the years-pouring tea, writing letters, dancing the minuet, walking sedately through Hyde Park-all these things seemed to now be the actions of a parakeet fluffing its feathers inside of its gilded cage. But now the gates were open and she was flying deliriously through a wide expansive sky.

Chingachgook, who was walking alongside her while Nathaniel cut a path, turned towards her and announced: "You are happy, Dark One."

Cora's hazel eyes shined. "Happy…happy, yes. But what a small word for such a large feeling."

"Are you not fearful of the Huron? Anxious to see your sister again?" he asked, taking a momentary break to readjust his pack.

"Oh! Certainly," she said, guilt playing across her face for a moment. "But…you can't fathom…could not possibly fathom how wonderful this freedom feels. To walk. To climb. To breathe the night air. To be free of a corset. Free of expectations and judgments and constraints. Yes, 'tis a hardship, but also 'tis a luxury."

Chingachgook bent his head in understanding. "Aye," he allowed. "English women have many luxuries, but being so tame and so secure does come with a price."

Cora smiled in relief. "You do understand then. But, tell me, how is it you know so much about English women? That you are so well-versed in our society and such a fine speaker of our language? I have noted it several times and wondered at it."

Chingachgook paused for a moment, and he seemed to be weighing a decision over in his mind. Finally, he spoke, but not without some difficulty, as though the words were traveling from some place deep and distant within him.

"Yes, 'tis true I am well-versed in English ways," he said, "I have been to your shores before."

Cora looked taken aback, but Chingachgook continued on without stopping, waving his arm slightly to command her forward on the path.

"As a young man, I traveled to England with several settlers from your land. They made many great promises to my people and I, and as Chief, they wanted me to experience your country with my own eyes. To see what they could do to our land. How they could build upon it and make it great," the old man said, his voice dripping with bitterness on that word.

"The journey was meant to forge a partnership between us. To encourage us to sign away our land and peacefully move along with their plans for progress. I was there for many months," said Chingachgook, his eyes beginning to glaze over as he remembered the time in vivid detail, "I shall never forget it. The noise. The stone buildings. The smoke. The people. Their eyes…how they stared at me! I am not ashamed to admit I was frightened. I looked around me and I saw many things that made no sense to me, things that seemed to fly in the very face of Nature. Things that seemed an insult to the Great Mother."

Cora listened, wholly enraptured as she imagined how this Indian must have felt seeing her loud, bustling city for the first time.

"I hated every moment," he said, walking with his head bent down. "All of the things the white men boasted of—the fine foods and soft beds and warm baths—I wanted none of them. I wanted my people, my land, my place back under the stars. Why, the buildings are so high there and the sky so cloudy, you cannot even see the spirits shining down!"

Cora smiled. He was describing the place to her as though she had never been there. "Aye," she said, and then a touch of wistfulness came to her face. She quoted dreamily,

"I wander thro' each charter'd street,
Near where the charter'd Thames does flow,
And mark in every face I meet
Marks of weakness, marks of woe."

Chingachgook's face brightened. "Is that a poem of your people?"

She laughed, "'Tis! But I have no idea why it just came to me. Alice, I suppose. She always has loved poetry. She can repeat scads of it by memory. She used to do it at parties before…before she was unwell."

"Ah," said Chingachgook, one hand holding a thorny limb carefully for Cora to pass by unscathed. "I should like to hear her recite someday. She seems to have a poet's nature."

Cora frowned a bit. "She's a dreamer, that's for certain. Let's just say she has never found reality to be very satisfactory, so she seems to constantly find ways to escape it, be it in a book or in her own mind."

The old Indian looked deep at her, then continued walking. "You find this frustrating," he said, "Her behavior. It insults you?"

She let out a ragged rush of air. "No..No! I—I just am tired. For 17 years, I have been her guardian. Father was always away, and even with our nurses and governesses, Alice just always was so needy. Always looking for love and affection. And then, of course…she found it."

Chingachgook said nothing, realizing that Cora was about to reveal something that had been weighing on her mind for a long time.

"It was a few years ago. There was a new lieutenant in town. The women were all simply mad for him. He was at every ball, every art gallery, every dinner…everyone wanted to be in his company. He was one of Father's favorites. He spent more time at home than he ever had before, just to be in this man's company it seemed. It was as if he was the son…the son he always wanted," said Cora sadly, her eyes misting over as she gazed ahead on the path.

For a moment she was silent, but then she began again. "But then, then things turned sour. This man…he began to develop a reputation. There were two girls, two girls from highly-regarded families—he, he spent time with them. Time alone. Unchaperoned. There were rumors, vicious rumors. They were ruined, of course, the women. But this man, he continued to hold his head high. Father continued to invite him over. He stayed with us for Michaelmas, him and several other friends and members of society. It was a packed house. Father was meant to be there as well, but he was called away suddenly to Cornwall."

Cora stopped suddenly. "Let's rest for a moment," she said to Chingachgook, the first time in days that she had asked for such a respite.

He nodded in concern and helped to ease her to a comfortable seated position.

"That's when it happened. The terrible…terrible incident. I awoke to screams, a loud banging. I thought we were under attack. That intruders were in the home. There had been a rash of robberies in the city," she said, her voice sounding far-off, "So that is what I thought. Robbers! I raced to Alice's room. It was just down the hall from mine. I saw—I saw her there, just there-"

Cora shuddered and put her head in her hands. Chingachgook said lowly, "Please do not continue if it so troubles you—please."

"No," she said, almost angrily, "I must! You see, I saw it. She was lying there on the rug. She was not…she was not dressed. Her clothes were torn off, on the floor. And that man—that vicious man—was holding her down, trying to climb atop her as she screamed and screamed. He was like an animal! I—I raced—I almost raced to her, but there were arms around me. Our nurse, she stilled me. I turned and saw that a crowd was gathering in the hall. So many people had been awakened by the noise. They all came running to see! And Alice, there, naked on her bedroom floor…this man atop her! Oh, I cannot continue!"

She began to sob. Chingachgook did not move to soothe her. He understood crying as a natural need, not something to be prevented or interrupted. The sobs moved through her like the clouds traveling across the sky, and he watched both in quietness.