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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.
How Alice slept, she did not know, but she awoke with the dawn to find her head still in Uncas’ lap - the lap of a relative stranger, the lap of a savage. It was impropriety at its height.
She lifted her head in a daze, the only sound the tinny chirping of the birds above them. Uncas was breathing lightly, body curled protectively around the spot where she had lay. Cora and Duncan were also still asleep, as the light had not yet grown strong enough in the sky to rouse them.
The clouds were tipped in pink, and if she ignored the corpses overhead, she could almost feel at peace.
There was a slight stirring as Nathanial sat up from where he lay, and he gave her another inscrutable look when he noted her position. Alice’s cheeks burned. There was no excuse for her wanton behavior.
Her embarrassment was acute when she realized Chingachgook had kept watch for their party through most of the night. He had seen her embrace with his son, had seen her unseemly actions.
She could not bear for Papa to find out. She could not wait to reach the fort, to travel back to Albany, or Boston, or most of all, dear London, away from this savagery.
Away from unladylike behavior.
Alice fiddled with a piece of grass, watching Nathaniel from lowered lashes as he observed a sleeping Cora. Her hair had descended into a mass of tangled dark curls, rose lips parted in sleep. She could not fault the man for admiring her sister, as many had done.
He was an interesting man, Nathaniel. Sometimes quick to speak his mind, other times maddeningly silent. Brave and outspoken to a fault, he seemed to not care a whit for any opinion. His personality alone would attract Cora to verbally spar with him.
He was also well-framed, with darker hair and skin that made him seem more like a savage than a man. While Alice did not know what Cora admired in a man, she could tell her sister was intrigued by Nathaniel.
Duncan could tell, too.
What these men thought of their party, of Cora, of herself, Alice had no idea. Nathaniel had spoken the most of the three men, with most of his speech to antagonize Duncan. Uncas seemed to take after his father, preferring silence. For all they had spent hours with these men, Alice still did not understand their motivations in leading them to the fort.
Nathaniel moved to speak with Chingachgook, and Alice saw Cora stir, although she did not awaken. How her sister managed to slumber, unafraid, in a savage burial ground, she did not know.
Her thoughts turned back to her improper behavior and Alice pressed cool fingers to burning cheeks. She stole a glance at the man still lying beside her, one hand resting on the rifle next to him. She had used his thighs to rest her head. She had slept next to his prone form.
It could never happen again.
Nathaniel and Chingachgook were still speaking lowly, so Alice looked once again at Uncas. His skin was brown and smooth, his clothing rough. His fingers looked as if they could play the pianoforte beautifully, despite the dust from travel. He was of slighter build than his adopted brother, although he was still well-muscled. His eyelashes, long and dark, rivaled a woman’s.
Alice thought him a beautiful man.
She forced herself to turn away, to think of proper things. Duncan and Cora would be awake soon, as would Uncas. She was hungry, now, with nothing to sustain her until they reached the fort. It was necessary to travel quickly, to place distance between themselves and then men still tracking them.
Neither Cora nor Duncan had told her as much, but Alice knew it was not a coincidence that there was a group of men near their hiding place last night. They were being followed. They had to reach the fort, the only place they would be safe.
There was no time for eating or for weakness. Nor could Alice worry about impropriety. When they began walking, she would have to be strong, like Cora.
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.
How Alice slept, she did not know, but she awoke with the dawn to find her head still in Uncas’ lap - the lap of a relative stranger, the lap of a savage. It was impropriety at its height.
She lifted her head in a daze, the only sound the tinny chirping of the birds above them. Uncas was breathing lightly, body curled protectively around the spot where she had lay. Cora and Duncan were also still asleep, as the light had not yet grown strong enough in the sky to rouse them.
The clouds were tipped in pink, and if she ignored the corpses overhead, she could almost feel at peace.
There was a slight stirring as Nathanial sat up from where he lay, and he gave her another inscrutable look when he noted her position. Alice’s cheeks burned. There was no excuse for her wanton behavior.
Her embarrassment was acute when she realized Chingachgook had kept watch for their party through most of the night. He had seen her embrace with his son, had seen her unseemly actions.
She could not bear for Papa to find out. She could not wait to reach the fort, to travel back to Albany, or Boston, or most of all, dear London, away from this savagery.
Away from unladylike behavior.
Alice fiddled with a piece of grass, watching Nathaniel from lowered lashes as he observed a sleeping Cora. Her hair had descended into a mass of tangled dark curls, rose lips parted in sleep. She could not fault the man for admiring her sister, as many had done.
He was an interesting man, Nathaniel. Sometimes quick to speak his mind, other times maddeningly silent. Brave and outspoken to a fault, he seemed to not care a whit for any opinion. His personality alone would attract Cora to verbally spar with him.
He was also well-framed, with darker hair and skin that made him seem more like a savage than a man. While Alice did not know what Cora admired in a man, she could tell her sister was intrigued by Nathaniel.
Duncan could tell, too.
What these men thought of their party, of Cora, of herself, Alice had no idea. Nathaniel had spoken the most of the three men, with most of his speech to antagonize Duncan. Uncas seemed to take after his father, preferring silence. For all they had spent hours with these men, Alice still did not understand their motivations in leading them to the fort.
Nathaniel moved to speak with Chingachgook, and Alice saw Cora stir, although she did not awaken. How her sister managed to slumber, unafraid, in a savage burial ground, she did not know.
Her thoughts turned back to her improper behavior and Alice pressed cool fingers to burning cheeks. She stole a glance at the man still lying beside her, one hand resting on the rifle next to him. She had used his thighs to rest her head. She had slept next to his prone form.
It could never happen again.
Nathaniel and Chingachgook were still speaking lowly, so Alice looked once again at Uncas. His skin was brown and smooth, his clothing rough. His fingers looked as if they could play the pianoforte beautifully, despite the dust from travel. He was of slighter build than his adopted brother, although he was still well-muscled. His eyelashes, long and dark, rivaled a woman’s.
Alice thought him a beautiful man.
She forced herself to turn away, to think of proper things. Duncan and Cora would be awake soon, as would Uncas. She was hungry, now, with nothing to sustain her until they reached the fort. It was necessary to travel quickly, to place distance between themselves and then men still tracking them.
Neither Cora nor Duncan had told her as much, but Alice knew it was not a coincidence that there was a group of men near their hiding place last night. They were being followed. They had to reach the fort, the only place they would be safe.
There was no time for eating or for weakness. Nor could Alice worry about impropriety. When they began walking, she would have to be strong, like Cora.