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starrikaTitle: Flutter
Fandom: Last of the Mohicans
Claim: None
Status: In Progress
Rating: PG-13 (may progress to R in later chapters)
Summary: A retelling of the movie from Alice's perspective
Warnings: Mild war violence.
.
It didn’t take long before her skirts were heavy with mud. The brocade flowers were stained brown, and the back of her skirts had already snagged itself on a branch, despite Alice’s attempts to hold it aloft. Cora’s were no better, she realized, bit her riding habit was far from being comfortable to walk in.
They had stopped at a stream about an hour ago, and Alice was exceedingly grateful for the water. Though her skirts were cumbersome, she was at least cool and able to breathe. They had walked in silence since then, the men walking much quieter than her and Cora. She found herself watching the man with the intense eyes once again, as he moved to the front of the party and the older man took the rear. It was odd, the silence. She didn’t even know their names, nor had Cora nor Duncan made any move to thank them. Looking once more at the back of the young man, Alice steeled herself to do what the others would not.
“Thank you for helping us,” she said clearly, yet surprised by how her voice was swallowed by the dense trees.
The man who was not an Indian turned and looked at her, an inscrutable look on his face. Alice dropped her eyes, feeling uncomfortable under his searching gaze. She had no idea what he was searching for, but he must have found it, for he replied with a terse, “You’re welcome.”
Duncan was looking angry at this point, and Cora looked affronted at the blunt reply. With a sigh, Alice turned away from them, not sure if her nerves could bear any more quarrels. And when she looked up, he was watching her again with those entrancing eyes of his. They were so dark and intense, she was a bit frightened of him. She had never seen eyes like his before. Realizing that she was staring, Alice felt a blush rise in her cheeks and dropped her eyes once again. She missed the small smile that graced his features as he turned back to surveying the surrounding area.
There was silence again, punctuated only by their steps through the underbrush. Alice wondered how they even knew the way through the forest, it was so dense. The sunlight was filtered by thousands of green leaves, which rustled lightly in the breeze. Looking up, she was in awe how tall the trees were. It was so very different from Boston, from Albany, and even Europe when they’d been on some of Father’s campaigns. The Frontier was so very beautiful with its untamed wildness.
And then the trees parted, and they came across the clearest river she had ever seen. She was grateful that they had paused, and she let the cool water run through her fingers and linger in her mouth. Alice drank greedily, unsure when they would pause again, and unwilling to let herself get thirsty. It already seemed like they had been walking forever, and she was sure it would be much, much longer before they actually reached the Fort.
Turning, the party followed the bank of the river, still unnervingly silent. Alice hated it. She was left alone with her thoughts, which she kept trying to divert to something pleasant. However, all she could see was a man’s gleaming scalp, hear the yells of savages as the tore through the trees, and smell the smoky tang of gunpowder. Suppressing a shudder, Alice lightly shook her head. It would do her no good to think of the attack. She must think of something, anything else. Instead, she kept repeating the mantra that Father would not send for them if it was dangerous. Though she couldn’t reconcile the attack with this idea, she found it best to simply cling to it, unwilling to admit that she might still be in danger. They would arrive at the Fort, and everything would be fine.
The ground had started to slope upwards, and the soft ground following the river became more rocky. She started to lag behind when the ground began to rise, and Alice was frustrated. Ever since she’d had the fever two winters ago, she’d gotten exhausted quickly. Despite their easy pace, she started to have trouble keeping up, and she hoped the man with the eyes was not angry with her. He’d fallen back to the rear again a while ago, but he was so quiet, she had no idea if he was frustrated with her or not. She noticed Duncan fussing over Cora, giving her an arm and being overly concerned with her welfare. Cora would be fine, she always was. And, knowing Cora, she was probably annoyed with Duncan’s display of attention. Cora had told her once that it seemed like condescension, but Alice thought it quite kind. She would not mind if some man was concerned for her, and would protect her. It showed he had a fine character to care so deeply for someone else. Cora didn’t realize what she had, Alice thought with a bit of bitterness.
Fandom: Last of the Mohicans
Claim: None
Status: In Progress
Rating: PG-13 (may progress to R in later chapters)
Summary: A retelling of the movie from Alice's perspective
Warnings: Mild war violence.
.
It didn’t take long before her skirts were heavy with mud. The brocade flowers were stained brown, and the back of her skirts had already snagged itself on a branch, despite Alice’s attempts to hold it aloft. Cora’s were no better, she realized, bit her riding habit was far from being comfortable to walk in.
They had stopped at a stream about an hour ago, and Alice was exceedingly grateful for the water. Though her skirts were cumbersome, she was at least cool and able to breathe. They had walked in silence since then, the men walking much quieter than her and Cora. She found herself watching the man with the intense eyes once again, as he moved to the front of the party and the older man took the rear. It was odd, the silence. She didn’t even know their names, nor had Cora nor Duncan made any move to thank them. Looking once more at the back of the young man, Alice steeled herself to do what the others would not.
“Thank you for helping us,” she said clearly, yet surprised by how her voice was swallowed by the dense trees.
The man who was not an Indian turned and looked at her, an inscrutable look on his face. Alice dropped her eyes, feeling uncomfortable under his searching gaze. She had no idea what he was searching for, but he must have found it, for he replied with a terse, “You’re welcome.”
Duncan was looking angry at this point, and Cora looked affronted at the blunt reply. With a sigh, Alice turned away from them, not sure if her nerves could bear any more quarrels. And when she looked up, he was watching her again with those entrancing eyes of his. They were so dark and intense, she was a bit frightened of him. She had never seen eyes like his before. Realizing that she was staring, Alice felt a blush rise in her cheeks and dropped her eyes once again. She missed the small smile that graced his features as he turned back to surveying the surrounding area.
There was silence again, punctuated only by their steps through the underbrush. Alice wondered how they even knew the way through the forest, it was so dense. The sunlight was filtered by thousands of green leaves, which rustled lightly in the breeze. Looking up, she was in awe how tall the trees were. It was so very different from Boston, from Albany, and even Europe when they’d been on some of Father’s campaigns. The Frontier was so very beautiful with its untamed wildness.
And then the trees parted, and they came across the clearest river she had ever seen. She was grateful that they had paused, and she let the cool water run through her fingers and linger in her mouth. Alice drank greedily, unsure when they would pause again, and unwilling to let herself get thirsty. It already seemed like they had been walking forever, and she was sure it would be much, much longer before they actually reached the Fort.
Turning, the party followed the bank of the river, still unnervingly silent. Alice hated it. She was left alone with her thoughts, which she kept trying to divert to something pleasant. However, all she could see was a man’s gleaming scalp, hear the yells of savages as the tore through the trees, and smell the smoky tang of gunpowder. Suppressing a shudder, Alice lightly shook her head. It would do her no good to think of the attack. She must think of something, anything else. Instead, she kept repeating the mantra that Father would not send for them if it was dangerous. Though she couldn’t reconcile the attack with this idea, she found it best to simply cling to it, unwilling to admit that she might still be in danger. They would arrive at the Fort, and everything would be fine.
The ground had started to slope upwards, and the soft ground following the river became more rocky. She started to lag behind when the ground began to rise, and Alice was frustrated. Ever since she’d had the fever two winters ago, she’d gotten exhausted quickly. Despite their easy pace, she started to have trouble keeping up, and she hoped the man with the eyes was not angry with her. He’d fallen back to the rear again a while ago, but he was so quiet, she had no idea if he was frustrated with her or not. She noticed Duncan fussing over Cora, giving her an arm and being overly concerned with her welfare. Cora would be fine, she always was. And, knowing Cora, she was probably annoyed with Duncan’s display of attention. Cora had told her once that it seemed like condescension, but Alice thought it quite kind. She would not mind if some man was concerned for her, and would protect her. It showed he had a fine character to care so deeply for someone else. Cora didn’t realize what she had, Alice thought with a bit of bitterness.
Still and contemplative, like the forest itself.
Date: 2016-09-19 03:18 am (UTC)