I do not own The Last of the Mohicans.
And that's good. Let them be free for us all. :)
The Dragonfly Woman and The Turtle Man
'Round the Family Table
Day is done and it is now time for evening meal.
Without, creatures of the falling night awaken and chirp, hoot, croak, and otherwise call out in the distance under the rising orange autumn moon.
Cadences and vocalizations in the cool night air.
All melding together in wakeful, rhythmic harmony, the untamed, merciless, natural world which will not cease nor even pause itself for any living thing.
And within the small cabin in the one day West Virginia wilderness, the family together.
Brothers and husbands, sisters and wives, children.
Fathers. Mothers.
These people, once strangers to one another, save the eldest and his natural born son.
The half sisters also.
And even them, there was a time before.
One by one, their paths have come together.
The father, the natural born son.
The adopted, traded from unkind French traders for all that could be offered up.
Years later, leagues later, wanderings later, the sisters, lost and in danger, traveled from a distant land.
The paths of life curve and twist and intertwine.
No man knows the direction of the path nor the ending that will be.
Not even . . .
"The Master of Life is good, Mimënstuk. To bring us all together once more."
. . . the eldest at this gathered table.
"And with these new little ones as well."
Smiles are shared 'round the table, quiet murmurs of agreement.
Nathaniel and Cora at either end, son upon his father's knee, secured by his father's arm comfortably around him.
Little George, ruffled dark hair amess, dark, eager eyes bright to the goings-on about him.
Burbling through mouthfuls of torn bread, father's similarly unkempt strands carrying bread bits the child's reaching hands have left behind.
Cora, mild and mannered, Cora, rising here and there amidst the communion to serve, to provide.
Hand unconsciously upon the mild swell of her belly.
Uncas, new father to his own tiny daughter.
She of the honey skin and dark, wispy hair.
Asleep once more, wakeful stamina spent, safe in her father's strong, warm arms, adored and cradled comfortably on his lap.
As he smiles and laughs quietly, partaking in the others.
Here and there dropping his eyes, and his entire being, down to attend to her.
This precious little one, sleeping face turned up to him, shadows dancing upon closed eyelids in the low flickering candlelight.
Baby hands tucked under her chin, so full and content from her recent feeding.
Her father loves her completely, yes, as does her mother.
Her mother, Alice, sitting shoulder to her life companion, knee to her reunited sister.
Alice, modest breasts drained of milk beneath her man's shirt, fulling ache relievedly gone. Child to the father and her simply content, for the moment, just to be.
To be and to sit and enjoy company, allow the conversation to drift over her and around her as it will.
And drift it does.
". . . think they will make the village? After such a long and arduous journey already?"
Here.
"I think they had come so far, they will go farther still of their own determination and accord. To the village or no."
To there.
And . . .
"Chingachgook, Alice tells me you named my niece after your wife."
. . . around.
"Will you tell us of her?"
It is Cora who has spoken.
Cora.
And her soft smile, gentile manner.
"I would very much like to know of the woman who touched your heart so."
And her peaked curiosity.
The table grows quiet, only the crackling of the fire heard within, night creatures beyond.
Neither the Mohican elder nor his sons frown at her question.
Quieten a bit, perhaps.
Consider.
The Mohican do not oft speak of the dead, Alice has been imparted.
No, neither the Delaware.
Out of respect of making the living sorrowful.
The names of those gone, and the sadness, must die with them.
This Alice knows.
But she has no doubt Chingachgook has thought of his beloved wife often, carries the memory and love of her in his spirit still.
It is evident.
In his medicinal teachings to her, of the naming of her daughter.
He thinks of his wife, the one who called him her 'Gruff Bear'.
Understanding he cannot escape sadness, accepting it within himself so that he may also remember the good of the life that is now gone.
Her Uncas has told her as much, quietly and to themselves.
And Alice respects this in her Wètuxëmùksit, feels she must allow him to be who he is.
As he does her.
And so it is not Alice who speaks and brings forth the memories.
Not her, nor the men.
But Chingachgook, thoughtful and quiet.
"The season for ancient stories has not yet come upon us."
And Alice knows his meaning.
The Delaware tell their stories in the winter when the days are short and the nights are long and there is little to do but huddle together for warmth and bring forth their memories and tales.
Chingachgook wafts a wry smile around his dimly glowing smoke pipe.
"But I am not so old. And neither was she when we kept company with one another. And so I will speak of her to you now."
And so he sits and they sit and the boy-child burbles and squirms whilst the girl-child dreams upon her father's lap.
And in time, Chingachgook speaks.
And his words are as he is.
Measured. And precise.
Calm and respectful of the past and all contained within it.
His story told in digestible batches.
Quietly rumbled.
Clearly spoken.
And painting visions . . .
"Chenoa's ancestors came from far away to the west. They followed herds of great beasts that supplied them with all they needed for their survival."
. . . as clear as any master of any art.
"They were peaceful and fought with no one. When a disagreement between themselves and another clan threatened war, they held a council of elders to decide what to do."
"Their decision was to leave and walk toward the sunrise until they found land upon which no other clan lived. In this way, they would keep their peace and harm no one."
"They settled close to where we found you and lived in peace for many generations. Chenoa's mother was a healer and Chenoa learned well from her mother."
"When we stood under the cherry blossom trees and bound our souls together, Chenoa's hope for us was to live in peace all our days."
"Uncas was the only child she brought forth in our time together."
"She cared for him well, fed him from her own mouth when he began to grow teeth and bite her nursings."
"She was patient and kind, my son was greatly blessed to be born to her. I was greatly blessed to be bound to her."
"When sickness came to the village, she cared for as many as she was able. She used all her healing skills to ease their suffering, sustain their spirits."
"And when the sickness took her, my heart was filled with sorrow so much so that I could not see or feel anything else. It was very hard to even see my own son."
"I thought there was nothing left for me but to care for him until he was old enough to walk his own path and then I could die and be rejoined with Chenoa."
"That is the way of things. When you are close to them, it is hard to see anything else. It fills your heart and your eyes and all else becomes dim."
"But when you walk away, when you are further away from the thing to which you were so close, you can see the things that are all around that you could not see before."
"As I am now, I can see all of the things that have come to pass since then and now."
"That is a gift from the The Great Creator and the Maker of All Life, vision to see beyond the sorrow and pain."
He ceases his speaking then, holds out an age-thickened, road-roughened finger toward his wakeful, eager, burbling grandson.
Watches as the boy-child reaches out, grasps the finger, giggling in childish delight.
Smiling gently in return, this man who has seen so much.
So hardy still of body and spirit.
To the grandchild with the bright eyes.
And four tiny teeth . . .
"Guuba . . . guuba. . ."
"Yes, Little One, I am here."
. . . on full, beaming display.
Mimënstuk is the Lenape word for "my children".
DinahRay requested our Chingachgook sitting by the fire telling stories. Thank you for the suggestion and I hope everyone enjoyed.
BlueSaffire and MedicineGal815, yours will be in upcoming chapters.
Thanks to DinahRay, BlueSaffire, chiarab87, MedicineGal815, and bcawriter01 for so graciously reviewing the previous chapter. I really appreciate that!
See you again soon!