A Scottish Heather, not an English Rose.

(Author's note: I have only seen the movie. This is Alice/Uncas centered because their understated romance of the movie was amazing. Some back story to both Alice and Cora. For purposes of this story Alice's mother fiercely loved Cora as her own, much like Chingachgook and Nathaniel. Because the ongoing prejudice against Scottish people and the recent Jacobite uprising, both Cora and Alice have faced hatred and in some cases violence regarding their half-blood status. The have felt pressured to be more competent in all forms of lady like behavior as well as knowledge. And despite being strong women and flaunting society in many ways they are still products of their time. Also please note that the movie used Lenape as the Mohican language so I am continuing with that, and literally piecing together some of what Uncas is saying. For all Lenape speakers I apologize for butchering your language. I am also ] butchering the the Scottish Gaelic language, but I wanted to try to use some words. Also note I want Alice to sing songs in Gaelic, but will most likely be borrowing songs written well after the time period maybe even up to the 2000s.)

1757

Alice holds the small pendent in her hand as she pondered what might lay ahead. Cora had gonna above to find out when they would make port. She lets out a soft sigh, as she looks at the "white heather" in her hand. A gift from her father on her 14th birthday. How many in England would laugh if they saw how she cherished such a "gift". Alice Munro was the daughter of a Scottish officer and English Rose, all her life a child of two worlds. Now forever banished from both. Alice hadn't broached the subject with her sister, that she would never be able to return to England.

This being the first time her father allowed her to travel to his campaign. She had hoped to recapture some of the closeness with her sister of their youth. In some way to soften the blow of what Alice needed to confess. Instead it was made clear, that Cora thought her little more than a child, little more than the English Rose her father believed and wanted her to be. Yet she knew, that never would the gap be bridged. Never would her "Scottish-ness", not follow her everywhere. Never would that night not follow her.

Alice shakes her head to stuff dark thoughts back in the recess of her mind and affixes her pendent tucking it so as not to be seen by others. Gone were the days of childhood closeness with Cora. Of trips with their father to Ben Wyvis for climbing and Loch Glass for swimming. Running wild through the heather that grew near their home, in Cill Tighearna, within Fearann Dhòmhnaill. Of solidarity forged in trying to escape lessons with their governess. She wonders if Cora ever questioned or thought about Alice in those three years her father was away at war, unable to be reached. While Cora was away a school.

The most freeing three years of her life. Her French governess having run off and left her with only the house staff, and the cook Moire Munro née MacKintosh. Moire who in caring for the lost child of 11, had been the mother figure, that Alice had never known. Morie herself a walking contradiction, a devout Catholic who made sure they went to Mass as much as possible, (when Alice's family were firm Church of England(er)s), who taught her to pray the rosary. Morie who had run off and married a Munro, but remained a Jacobite at heart. Who called her nighean (daughter) and told her tales of Beria the Queen of winter, the Dracae (water spirits), the cat-sith (soul eater), the kelpies and selkies, and even about the Bean-nighe (washer women who herald death) and her favorite the Ghillie Dhu. Who spoke to her in Gaelic, made her feel like she had a place to belong, and so much more.

Alice pulled from her dress pocket her rosary. Made from black smokey quartz, a gift from Morie when she to was sent away to become an "English" lady at 14. She often wonders what her father and Cora would think if they ever found she carried it. How they would respond when they found out what she was truly capable of. While Cora was above ship Alice worried her rosary praying for safe passage to her father. She also prayed for Morie, and prayed she would see her màthair again in death if it be the Lords will, since she would nae see her in life again. Hearing the door beginning to open, Alice stuffed her rosary deep in the fold of her dress pocket.

Cora smiled at her younger sister, "We will make port tomorrow or the next day." Alice smiled wanly and affixed her English "mask" firmly in place, she had to be the person her father wished her to be, the one her sister believed her to be until she could confess the truth. And she only wanted to do it one time. Arranging her skirts Alice decided a nap was in order and let the movement of the ship rock her into a stupor.

Gaelic Vocabulary:

màthair (mother)