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The woods around the hickory-wood lodge were darkening. The dark green trees seemed even darker, if possible. It seemed that the bright sun often played with the contrasting shadows.
Beside the lodge that Uncas and Nathaniel hand-built in May, the owner of the wigwam sat under a towering oak tree. Uncas' dark brown eyes gazed up to the tree's emerald-colored leaves. In his strong arms lay his wife Alice. She had been tired from her day's work and had inevitably fallen asleep in the arms of her lover.
This season Uncas turned twenty-two. His people historically didn't keep records of a person's birth; nor did they see any use in celebrating it annually. Despite this, Uncas knew his birthday was sometime in mid-summer, when the leaves were their greenest and the peep frogs in the swamps were the loudest. Even though his people didn't celebrate birthdays, Alice did. She insisted on baking him a cake and spoiling him throughout the day. Alice insisted that, out of all the July days, today was the day he turned twenty-two.
Uncas rested his cheek on top of Alice's head. Twenty-two years. The number felt strange. When he was younger that number had seemed impossible. It felt like an age that old men should title. Men with wives, children, and a certain future.
Yet, here Uncas sat, surrounded by the smell of pine that the cooling breeze sent from the trees that made their home by the nearby creek. Alice shifted softly in her slumber, her hand grasping the hem of Uncas' hunting shirt.
Twenty-two years and most of those years passed without even the knowledge of her existence. And now here she was, with him. Uncas studied her soft face. Her almond eyes sealed in sleep. Her rose-colored lips were slightly open revealing two of her teeth. One thing that always stood out to Uncas, however, was a small mole on Alice's temple. It was hidden by her hair more than often but Uncas knew it was there.
Perhaps this stood out to Uncas most of all because his mother, Wah-Ta-Wah also had a mole hidden on her temple. He didn't exactly know why he remembered that when the rest of her face faded in his memory. Maybe it had interested him as a lad, but even more likely perhaps it had been the first mole he had ever seen.
His mother harbored a lot of firsts actually. She had been the first woman to love him, the first voice that Uncas could recognize, the first face he saw, and she had been the first to teach him things.
He still remembered after many years how she looked at his father. With such admiration and pride that Uncas himself could never understand the depths of. She had seen Chingachgook through so much and even before Uncas understood everything he did now, she loved them both.
However, time steals things that can never be returned no matter how hard one tries. Now Uncas could scarcely remember the sound of her voice, only some of the words she spoke. The words were soundless in his mind, similar to the words that the English taught him to read from paper. Uncas often yearned for a painting of his mother like Alice had told him of.
"Well, you see," Alice had once said, "the artist looks at the person that you wish to capture on canvas and paints the person as best as he can. Then you have a picture of that person even after they leave this world. Back in Portman Square, there is a painting of my mother. Even though I never saw her, I can tell what she looked like. I need never forget her face, even though I've never once seen it!"
It still amazed Uncas that even though she had never met her mother, Alice knew what she looked like. So, how was it that Uncas, who had once known his mother, was forgetting her, but Alice who never saw her mother in her life, knew her face?
Somewhere deep in the woods, a crow called from his branch, bringing Uncas sharply out of his thoughts. The sun was still sinking, the woods continuing to darken. A nearby group of coyotes trotted to the creek to drink and Uncas watched them. Most of the coyotes were drinking when at the other end of the creek, a raven swooped in and started to drink too.
As Uncas watched the coyotes at one end and the shiny raven at the other, he began to think of himself and Nathaniel. How different the coyotes were compared to the raven; and how different Uncas was from Nathaniel and Nathaniel's people.
Uncas remembered being young and the same thought occurred to him. He remembered sitting at the wooden desks where he was taught to read and speak English. He remembered being young, he was about seven or perhaps eight. He recalled looking around the room, the memory slightly blurry in Uncas' mind, he remembered seeing whites and reds alike. There was only one Mohican in that schoolhouse, however. Him. Just Uncas. The other red children were Delaware or Mohawk some even being Huron.
Uncas knew his father's stories of the large Mohican villages that once stood on the same land. Eventually, there were no villages or villagers left, just him and Chingachgook. This was the beginning of learning the story of his people and how they suffered. This was the beginning of learning his responsibility to his dying nation. To marry a Delaware woman and reclaim his dying heritage.
Uncas was once again shaken out of his thoughts as the coyotes swung around and began to slink back into the now dark forests. The raven, frightened by the sudden movement caused by the coyotes, flew away startled. He thought once again of how he and Nathaniel were different. Nathaniel was white and Uncas was red. Nathaniel was bold and Uncas was quiet. Nathaniel was older and Uncas was younger. There were similarities between the two, but try as he might Uncas could not imagine a life without him.
Uncas remembered fishing, hunting, playing, and competition with Nathaniel since Uncas could first grasp memory. He remembered the teasing, the annoying, but overall he remembered how much Nathaniel cared for him. Neither of them said it out loud, but there was deep, unhidden love in both men's hearts. He remembered the lessons taught by Nathaniel. Over everything, Nathaniel encouraged Uncas to really be who he wanted to be, to do the things he wanted to do, to be the man he wanted to be, and build the life that he wanted. Maybe most importantly to Uncas, Nathaniel didn't have expectations for Uncas' life. Many people expected Uncas to restore his people, to marry someone appropriate, and to obey Chingachgook completely even if Uncas' heart pleaded a different direction. Nathaniel, however, was the opposite of nearly everyone Uncas met. If Uncas had to single out one thing that Nathaniel taught him, it was to fully give reign to your heart and unlike many of Nathaniel's people, Nathaniel practiced what he preached entirely.
Alice shifted in her sleep, a lock of her hair falling over her face. Smiling softly at his sleeping bride, Uncas brushed the hair off her face before it could wake her. His dark cinnamon-colored hand contrasted with Alice's light tan. She had changed so much since she had first arrived and Uncas had witnessed so much of it. Now, she was his responsibility. He had to protect and provide for her.
Uncas remembered all the other responsibilities that he had handled throughout his lifetime. Unlike some privileged whites, Uncas had responsibilities placed on him since boyhood. It was small things in the beginning, like washing dishes after dinner or helping to pack up camp. When Wah-Ta-Wah died, all of the small jobs vanished and suddenly it was their men to provide for each other. Uncas was six when she died and then the woman's work was thrust upon him and Nathaniel while Chingachgook continued to provide for them. When trapping became in high demand and their livelihood, Uncas had been given a trapline as well as keeping up with his schoolwork. None of those responsibilities even slightly amounted to Alice.
As he aged, Uncas began to notice just how much more responsibility was placed upon him compared to other men. Going to the Delaware camp became stressful on him. Every elder watched him and whispered about what Uncas should be doing. Chingachgook frantically searched for a suitable wife for him, one that could help replenish a near extinct nation. The young Delaware girls themselves thought highly of Uncas and often flirted with him. Uncas often felt drowned with the attention that the young women showered upon him and more than often he felt guilty that his feelings didn't align with them. Uncas was highly aware that every choice mattered, that he and he only could make or break the Mahican nation. Through all of the pressure and pushing, Nathaniel and his words encouraged Uncas to choose the woman that Uncas loved or marry nobody at all. Nathaniel would, however, never truly understand how Uncas felt, and now exhausted he really was from all of the pushing and prying.
Uncas once again gazed at his bride. Well, he had indeed married the one he truly loved. Not without its pain or trouble but love was to be fought for and fight Uncas did. To be honest, Uncas was still fighting. Marrying Alice didn't take away the guilt nor the expectations from Uncas. He remembered the gripping conversations people had openly and with no respect for Uncas' own desires. It seemed everywhere they went people questioned and prodded. Even at the Cameron's, which was a second home to the Mohican family, asked why he wasn't married. Uncas loved Alexandria but the questions still bothered him. It also seemed that every person that inquired about his marital status only further concerned his father. Chingachgook had spoken to Uncas before beseeching him to marry a Delaware woman. To find someone suitable and let her love him. The conversations were always awkward and even though Chingachgook seemed more at ease after them, Uncas often had unmanageable waves of anxiety that threatened to turn into submission to his father's interests for him. Uncas never gave in however.
---
"You know you should marry soon." Chingachgook prodded one even when Nathaniel had left to bathe in the creek that they had chosen camp by.
Uncas had sighed, there was no use to change the subject or beg for him to not speak on the matter.
"I'm sure Nathaniel would be thrilled to be an uncle." Chingachgook pushed
Uncas just nodded and averted his eyes away.
"I know of a woman that I think would do well for you." Chingachgook continued, silently wishing that Uncas would say something. "Come this fall, I think we should pay her and her family a visit? What do you think?"
Uncas nodded, a pang of fear grasping him square in the chest.
---
"He said what?" Nathaniel asked moments after Chingachgook and Uncas' one-sided talk. "A Delaware speaking woman?"
Uncas nodded his eyes still wide with the worry that swam within him.
Nathaniel snorted as he dried his long, wet hair. "We can "visit" them but he can't force you to marry her if you don't want to."
Uncas looked dubiously at his brother.
"Why don't you just tell him no and then stand by that?" Nathaniel asked
---
Nathaniel never would come to quite understand what Uncas went through but he had been a needed blessing for Uncas all the same.
As a red-tailed hawk screeched in the periwinkle-colored sky, Uncas shook off his thoughts. It was high time to think of something lighter. Maybe starting with Alice's head, his shoulder was beginning to ache with her weight. He gradually nudged Alice's head onto his chest. It was still funny to him that he was actually married. He always assumed he would be married but never so late in life or to a Yengeese woman. Actually, there were many things that Uncas never thought would happen to him.
Take for instance speaking English fluently and speaking it so frequently. When Uncas and Nathaniel were taught English years ago, Uncas never thought that he would speak it so much more than he spoke Mohican. It was odd that over time even his thoughts were English rather than Mohican. Reading and writing, when he was a youth, felt unnecessary. The Mohican language didn't have a written language; nor did his mother's people the Delaware. Rather, their people relied on the elders and their evening stories told by the red licks of flame. His father's people used wampum belts as a capsule of time and story. To young Uncas reading a wampum belt proved easier and more exciting than the difficult to learn English letters. Art, belts, and oral traditions made Uncas and his people who they were. Reading didn't seem worth Uncas' time, but now he could see why his father encouraged him and Nathaniel to learn to read, write, and speak English as well as any white child. It was so much more necessary than Uncas could've deemed possible and without his knowledge survival would be difficult. He was grateful to his father for seeing ahead and gifting them with knowledge.
Thinking about gifting children things, Uncas' mind wandered to where it occasionally had been visiting more and more as of late. Children. It was likely that with time Uncas would be a father. That thought made him feel very old.
---
"Think you'll have a boy like me someday?" Young James Cameron had once asked the Mohican
"No. You are too strong. Turn me old too fast!" Uncas had replied, tickling the lad and making him chortle heartily.
---
He had meant what he said back then, perhaps even saying those words slightly more confidently than needed because his father was in the room, but now Uncas wasn't sure. Maybe having a son wouldn't be so bad. Someone that looked up to Uncas the way that Uncas looked up to his father. Uncas briefly wondered if his children would learn Mohican. Or maybe they would have a tiny touch of British in their accent like Alice. Maybe Uncas could make it so they could know both worlds.
Uncas jumped when Alice stretched deeply beside him, her long fingers reaching out in the air. She slowly opened her dark brown eyes, smiling when she saw Uncas.
"Are you staring at me?" Alice asked between a yawn.
Uncas nodded his head, his raven-colored hair bobbing in agreement.
"That is strange." Alice mused, as she sat up, stretching again. "Don't you know that is considered rude, young man?"
Uncas fought hard to repress the laughter that threatened to give away his joke. "But you were drooling."
Alice's eyes grew wide in embarrassment and she pitifully wiped at her shockingly dry face. She turned grumpily at Uncas.
"I was not!" Alice sulked, her bottom lip sticking out slightly. "You liar!"
Uncas lifted a teasing eyebrow. "Then why did you check?"
"Uncas!" Alice admonished, punching lightly him in the shoulder and then crossing her arms again.
Uncas allowed himself to laugh, happy with how his joke played out. Alice couldn't refine herself from laughing along with him.
"Come, Uncas, I need to make you something to eat!" Alice exclaimed, standing up and brushing the earth from off her light pink dress.
"Me?" Uncas asked, mirroring Alice and stretching. "You were the one drooling."
"You're hilarious, Uncas." Alice said sarcastically as she rolled her eyes.
"I thank you, ma'am." Uncas replied, with a curt bow of his head.
Alice hummed and shook her head and began to walk back to the lodge. "I like it when you say "miss" better."
Uncas shook his head. "Ma'am. I like that, because 'miss' would be wrong."
Alice chose to ignore him and began to light the fire for supper, leaving Uncas to watch.
The pink of her dress beautifully captured the hot fuchsia of the sunset. Uncas watched her lovingly.
Twenty-two years before I met you.
And now here you are.