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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.
Their flight to the fort had increased in pace as the fog began to roll in and over the land. Between the density of the fog and the branches, Alice had difficulty keeping their entire party in view. Nathaniel had taken the lead, with Cora not far behind. Naturally, Duncan had followed. Despite her embarrassment, Alice had somehow remained close to Uncas.
Despite her impropriety, she felt comfortable around him. It was a strange dichotomy of discomfort and ease.
She was faint from hunger, shivering from chill, and could not stifle her wheezing breath. She knew they were far from safety, but in his presence, she felt safer. Therefore, she did not move ahead to join Cora, or even Duncan, as she was sure she should. Instead, she remained tucked firmly in the middle of the party, with Chingachgook behind them.
What he thought of her grip on his son’s hand, she was not sure. Had she been thinking clearly, Alice would have been ashamed. However, Uncas’ grip on her hand was the only thing keeping her upright.
If she wasn’t so damnably frail-!
“Much futher?” she whispered, wishing she did not sound so piteous. The ground had sloped upward, uncomfortably so, and the dense fog ensured her a stumble every few paces. Sticks and branches snagged her skirts, and Alice wanted nothing more than clarity.
“Top of this ridge. Fort and Lake George are downhill of it,” Uncas replied quietly, looking unsettled.
There was a roar of thunder and Alice shivered. She hated storms. The sooner they reached the safety of the fort, the better. With rising hope, Alice wondered if Papa would arrange something once they reached the fort. Perhaps they would be able to bathe. It was a wondrous thought.
As her spirits rallied, Alice missed Uncas’ look over his shoulder and the signal he made with Chingachgook. Their pace picked up, and Alice could not help the winded breaths she took, struggling with the speed and slope. Why were they moving so quickly?
Perhaps the storm was rolling in, she thought.
Uncas’s grip on her arm tightened as he looked over his shoulder, this time catching Alice’s attention. Before she could glance back, he had lifted her, picking up the pace to ascend the hill more quickly. Alice had gasped, thinking of the impropriety, but as she saw Nathaniel hustling Cora over the ridge, she began to wonder at the pace. She slid her arms around Uncas’ neck, resting her head against his chest, trying to catch her breath. Just as they reached the top of the hill, there was another roll of thunder.
Nathaniel, Cora, and Duncan stopped abruptly at the top of the ridge. Following closely, Uncas set her down, keeping a grip on her hand as they slowly stepped to the top.
It was not thunder. It was the French.
Alice had seen siege cannons before, but from the English side. Now she was gazing down at the French battering their safe haven, the flashes of light she had assumed were lightning nothing more than mortar bombs and rockets. She wanted to cry, but the tears would not come through her shock.
And then Uncas hurriedly conferred with Chingachgook and Nathaniel, foreign words falling over one another in their haste to be spoken. Alice turned away from the fort, only to view the war party behind them.
They would never be safe.
They scrambled down the ridge towards the water, with her heart pounding so hard it felt as if it would burst. There were a few canoes littered on the edge of the lake, and she and Cora ducked into one, crouching down as far as they could get. Dear Lord, please protect me, Alice whispered, terrified of the flying bullets and cannons.
The war party was clearing the ridge as Duncan moved to the push the canoe into the water, and Alice watched, horrified, as more men were dispatched. Thankfully, none had been scalped, but Alice had to fight the bile rising in her throat.
The canoe pushed off, and then there was the disconcerting feeling of floating away with no direction. The men were still fighting, and the war raged over their heads. Tentatively, Alice reached out her hand across the canoe to grip her sister’s tightly. With God’s mercy, they would survive.
The men were still fighting, but it appeared the ranks of the war party were thinning. Just as it looked they would get away cleanly, Alice saw Uncas bayoneted, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from crying out. He did not fall.
Duncan was the first to enter the water, but the other three men were not far behind, with the savage war party injured or still on the ground. They slid slowly over the black water, sticking to shadows so that those on the ramparts would not mistake them and shoot. Alice closed her eyes, whispering the prayers she had learnt as a child. There was another heavy thud of the cannon and the sound of cracking wood. She winced at every crack of a musket, sure that with each new sound, it was their time to perish.
By the time they reached the sally-port, Alice felt numb. Exiting the canoe was a blur, and she barely noticed Cora’s cold arms around her. The noise of the fort was deafening, and her eyes watered at the acrid, bitter smoke of the torches.
They had traveled through a nightmare, only to arrive in hell.
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.
Their flight to the fort had increased in pace as the fog began to roll in and over the land. Between the density of the fog and the branches, Alice had difficulty keeping their entire party in view. Nathaniel had taken the lead, with Cora not far behind. Naturally, Duncan had followed. Despite her embarrassment, Alice had somehow remained close to Uncas.
Despite her impropriety, she felt comfortable around him. It was a strange dichotomy of discomfort and ease.
She was faint from hunger, shivering from chill, and could not stifle her wheezing breath. She knew they were far from safety, but in his presence, she felt safer. Therefore, she did not move ahead to join Cora, or even Duncan, as she was sure she should. Instead, she remained tucked firmly in the middle of the party, with Chingachgook behind them.
What he thought of her grip on his son’s hand, she was not sure. Had she been thinking clearly, Alice would have been ashamed. However, Uncas’ grip on her hand was the only thing keeping her upright.
If she wasn’t so damnably frail-!
“Much futher?” she whispered, wishing she did not sound so piteous. The ground had sloped upward, uncomfortably so, and the dense fog ensured her a stumble every few paces. Sticks and branches snagged her skirts, and Alice wanted nothing more than clarity.
“Top of this ridge. Fort and Lake George are downhill of it,” Uncas replied quietly, looking unsettled.
There was a roar of thunder and Alice shivered. She hated storms. The sooner they reached the safety of the fort, the better. With rising hope, Alice wondered if Papa would arrange something once they reached the fort. Perhaps they would be able to bathe. It was a wondrous thought.
As her spirits rallied, Alice missed Uncas’ look over his shoulder and the signal he made with Chingachgook. Their pace picked up, and Alice could not help the winded breaths she took, struggling with the speed and slope. Why were they moving so quickly?
Perhaps the storm was rolling in, she thought.
Uncas’s grip on her arm tightened as he looked over his shoulder, this time catching Alice’s attention. Before she could glance back, he had lifted her, picking up the pace to ascend the hill more quickly. Alice had gasped, thinking of the impropriety, but as she saw Nathaniel hustling Cora over the ridge, she began to wonder at the pace. She slid her arms around Uncas’ neck, resting her head against his chest, trying to catch her breath. Just as they reached the top of the hill, there was another roll of thunder.
Nathaniel, Cora, and Duncan stopped abruptly at the top of the ridge. Following closely, Uncas set her down, keeping a grip on her hand as they slowly stepped to the top.
It was not thunder. It was the French.
Alice had seen siege cannons before, but from the English side. Now she was gazing down at the French battering their safe haven, the flashes of light she had assumed were lightning nothing more than mortar bombs and rockets. She wanted to cry, but the tears would not come through her shock.
And then Uncas hurriedly conferred with Chingachgook and Nathaniel, foreign words falling over one another in their haste to be spoken. Alice turned away from the fort, only to view the war party behind them.
They would never be safe.
They scrambled down the ridge towards the water, with her heart pounding so hard it felt as if it would burst. There were a few canoes littered on the edge of the lake, and she and Cora ducked into one, crouching down as far as they could get. Dear Lord, please protect me, Alice whispered, terrified of the flying bullets and cannons.
The war party was clearing the ridge as Duncan moved to the push the canoe into the water, and Alice watched, horrified, as more men were dispatched. Thankfully, none had been scalped, but Alice had to fight the bile rising in her throat.
The canoe pushed off, and then there was the disconcerting feeling of floating away with no direction. The men were still fighting, and the war raged over their heads. Tentatively, Alice reached out her hand across the canoe to grip her sister’s tightly. With God’s mercy, they would survive.
The men were still fighting, but it appeared the ranks of the war party were thinning. Just as it looked they would get away cleanly, Alice saw Uncas bayoneted, and she clapped a hand over her mouth to keep herself from crying out. He did not fall.
Duncan was the first to enter the water, but the other three men were not far behind, with the savage war party injured or still on the ground. They slid slowly over the black water, sticking to shadows so that those on the ramparts would not mistake them and shoot. Alice closed her eyes, whispering the prayers she had learnt as a child. There was another heavy thud of the cannon and the sound of cracking wood. She winced at every crack of a musket, sure that with each new sound, it was their time to perish.
By the time they reached the sally-port, Alice felt numb. Exiting the canoe was a blur, and she barely noticed Cora’s cold arms around her. The noise of the fort was deafening, and her eyes watered at the acrid, bitter smoke of the torches.
They had traveled through a nightmare, only to arrive in hell.