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Title: Snow (Flutterverse)
Fandom: Last of the Mohicans
Claim: None
Status: Complete
Rating: G
Summary: Alice and Uncas watch the falling snow outside their cabin.
Warnings: None
There was something beautiful about snow.
Snow meant more work, and cold, and bitter nights around the fire and huddled around blankets, but it also meant that there was a hush in the air, with tiny flakes spinning and floating like dancers in a waltz.
He had come up beside her, silent, as she studied the falling snow in the fading light. Once more, she was struck between the balance of beauty and power in America’s nature.
“It’s beautiful, even as it brings us hardship,” Alice murmured, the giddy sleigh rides and Yuletime parties of her father’s regiment a distant figment of the past. Now, she saw only the snow dusting the trees and ground, and the necessity of bringing in another log for the fire.
Uncas’ arm wound round her shoulders, and her head came to rest at the crook of his neck. “It is beautiful to balance the hardship,” he said quietly, echoing Alice’s thoughts from before. “But not as beautiful as you.”
Alice smiled softly, leaning closer to his chest to capture the little warmth he radiated. “I hope I’m not that much hardship, then, in balance.”
“Never. Each day with you is a gift,” he replied, and they both knew he thought about that day on the cliffs.
Alice fell silent, watching the flakes become larger as they circled to the ground. There would be quite a bit, come morning. She was sure, though, that the sun glinting off the white world would be a beautiful sight.
Fandom: Last of the Mohicans
Claim: None
Status: Complete
Rating: G
Summary: Alice and Uncas watch the falling snow outside their cabin.
Warnings: None
There was something beautiful about snow.
Snow meant more work, and cold, and bitter nights around the fire and huddled around blankets, but it also meant that there was a hush in the air, with tiny flakes spinning and floating like dancers in a waltz.
He had come up beside her, silent, as she studied the falling snow in the fading light. Once more, she was struck between the balance of beauty and power in America’s nature.
“It’s beautiful, even as it brings us hardship,” Alice murmured, the giddy sleigh rides and Yuletime parties of her father’s regiment a distant figment of the past. Now, she saw only the snow dusting the trees and ground, and the necessity of bringing in another log for the fire.
Uncas’ arm wound round her shoulders, and her head came to rest at the crook of his neck. “It is beautiful to balance the hardship,” he said quietly, echoing Alice’s thoughts from before. “But not as beautiful as you.”
Alice smiled softly, leaning closer to his chest to capture the little warmth he radiated. “I hope I’m not that much hardship, then, in balance.”
“Never. Each day with you is a gift,” he replied, and they both knew he thought about that day on the cliffs.
Alice fell silent, watching the flakes become larger as they circled to the ground. There would be quite a bit, come morning. She was sure, though, that the sun glinting off the white world would be a beautiful sight.