I do not own Last of the Mohicans.
I will always love it.
The DragonFly Woman and The Turtleman
The Fence and The Cabin Beyond
There has been rain. There has been sun.
There has been chill and there has been the thick dampness of humidity.
There have been snakes and bobcats and runaway children and the long weariness of a seemingly neverending trek through the untamed wilderness of The New World.
There has contentment and joy and tired feet and her aching back.
Alice has drifted into slumber each night to the rhythmically soothing cadences of crickets and frogs, the distant howls of the stalking, predatorial night creatures.
The cracklings of their low, warming camp . . .
Do not cross.
. . . fires.
And she has awoken each morning of their journey . . .
Yes, dear daughter, yes, . . .
. . . to the chirping, twittering birds in the tall, tall trees.
. . . I am wakening.
Singing to reassure one another the long dark night is over and they . . .
Would that your father had the means to break your fast now and again.
. . . are still upon the dawning earth.
I would not be displeased of it.
And thriving.
Alice has longed for the unknown over the next ridge, she has longed for the safety and settledness of the Delaware village they have left behind.
She has smiled secretly at the merest glimpse of her strong and virile Mohican moving smooth and sure amongst the trees.
She has awed at the continued wisdom and calming steadfastness of her adopted Wètuxëmùksit.
She has wondered and joyed in the miracle of the honey-colored girl-child she carries upon her back, holds close to her milking bosom.
Loves and adores with all of her being.
There has been all of this and so much more whilst on this travel to the place her sister has chosen to settle with the man she loves.
And now, finally, in an open field to catch as much of the life-giving sunlight as possible, there is also a fence.
Thinly railed and rough and hewn by hand axe.
Marking the perimeter of a settler's "property".
"Property", a term unfamiliar to the original inhabitants of the land through which they now travel.
Property.
As if a man or woman whose lifetime spanning mere decades of life could truly own something there before their birth and continuing on without so much as a by-your-leave long after their bones became dust.
And yet the white man does so.
Claims the land upon which he is born and upon which he dies for his own "property".
The white man.
Fences such as these they have skirted, homesteads passed by, wishing to keep themselves to themselves.
And now they have reached . . .
"Tash kwënchi?"
How do you know?
"Tamwe xinkòkunk nëkhìkwëti menàxk. Mixekën lòchèsëwakàn."
See upon the trunk of the tree near the fence. That cut is his marking.
. . . the settled homestead of the once ever wandering . . .
It is a long rifle.
. . . Nathaniel Long Rifle.
And this fence.
No different than all the rest.
And yet for Alice here and now, all the difference in the world.
For she sees.
"Pëna."
Look.
The field.
The cabin beyond.
Sister?
And the woman . . .
Is it you?
. . . upon the porch of it.
Nathaniel himself she would see, were she to turn her eyes away from the joyous sight of her dear beloved older sister.
"Alice?"
Nathaniel there, harvesting in the field, sweat upon his brow, dirt of the earth upon his hands, dark eyes catching upon them, broad smile widening upon his rugged face.
"Cora!"
But Alice does not see, looks only upon her sister.
"Alice?!"
And quickens her pace, so much so the girl-child upon her back, so safe within her am'pusin begins to . . .
"Ablaaa . . ."
. . . vocalize her displeasure.
Hold fast, Little One. We are almost here!
Alice is not running, not running as she did to the one she loves so many springs ago.
Not running in a bloody, screaming field of gunfire and war.
Not even running for the sake of running . . .
"Alicia Elizabeth Munroe, do not run so! It is not befitting a lady!"
"Apologies, Aunt Eugenia."
. . . for the simple joy of freedom.
"Alice?"
"Cora!"
She has only hastened her step . . .
"Alice!"
. . . toward the sister . . .
"Cora!"
. . . she has come so far to see.
The men have come upon her left side, her Nëwitaemàk and their father.
Freshly slain and dressed deer . . .
"You will be alright while we hunt?"
"We will, yes. Have no fear."
"That will not be possible, Nëwicheyok."
"Perhaps. But it will be possible to try."
. . . swinging on an even fresher cut pole . . .
"Keep your musket close."
"I will, my love. Rocks as well."
. . . between them.
Separating from her toward the third of their group who traveled so long with them, now gone so long away from them.
"Nimàt!"
Brother!
And now, finally, finally, . . .
"Oh Alice, . . ."
. . . stumbling over a basket of sweet potato her sister has brought up from the field . . .
". . . dear Alice!"
. . . Alice Munroe wraps her arms around her sister, wraps her arms around her and holds her tight.
"It has been so long!"
And allows her tears to freely flow.
"Oh, Sister! Who is this you have brought with you?"
Alice, spirit full of joy and relief and homecoming, finds herself bursting with words.
"This is my daughter, our daughter! Chenoa May, please meet your Aunt Cora!"
And she unstraps herself, unstraps the child.
"Daughter?! Oh sister, it hasn't been so long, has it? She only . . ."
"A few months old, yes."
"So that would mean . . ."
Alice laughs, face coloring, embarrassment only a fleeting thing . . .
". . . busy I see!"
"Busy as you, brother . . ."
. . . as Nathaniel chides his brother as her sister does her.
Is it so with all siblings about the world?
"Yes, dear Cora, the baby was begun here."
And Cora's face colors even as she laughs so joyously here . . .
"I was not watching you close enough, my sister!"
"Nor I you at the fort either!"
"Ablaaa . . ."
. . . in the reunion and first introductions . . .
"And what do I see here, Cora? No close watchings anywhere about you!"
. . . of their newly extended . . .
"Yes, I suppose I have to account for myself as well."
"You certainly do! So soon?"
"Yes, that is the way of it."
The way of those without tea.
. . . families.
Hello all! I hope you are safe and well and I also hope you're willing to continue on this journey with me, I mean, us. ;)
It's been a while so I hope I don't leave anyone out:
Thanks to waterproof1995 (everyone welcome our new addition to The Joys and Beauties of Uncas and His Wild-Eyed Bro, ahem, I mean Last of the Mohicans), MedicineGal815 (holy moly, look at all them chapter reviews, woman, wow), chiarab87 (gracious as always, thank you), BlueSaffire (a fellow Uncas adorer), MohawkWoman (who is pretty badass in and of herself), and DinahRay (seven years, seven years, it's been, woman, how do you put up with me?!) for all the lovely reviews and gentle encouragements. Lovely, gentle readers, you! :)
Thanks also to VLS2 and HannahT62 for adding your support to this story!
See you all soon for another chapter, I'm hoping by the end of the week.
:)