1...2...3...4...5...6...7...8...9...10

Alice mentally counted to ten and repeated the action all over again, And again. She finally opened her eyes. There was no light - just darkness. She heard the murmuring of voices outside the wigwam she was imprisoned. She caught hazy glimmers of candlelight outside but that was all. There was nothing beyond the wigwam. Nothing. Nobody. No Uncas. The traitorous voice in her head reminded her. Alice stared blankly into the pitch-black space in front of her. I will find you. Alice shut her eyes and began counting once more.

No matter how long it takes, no matter how far... I will find you. Her eyes flickered open. Nothing. Nobody. No Uncas. The skin at her ankles was chaffed and raw from being continuously chained up for...days? Months? Alice did not know. What she did know that no one was coming for her. Uncas was not coming for her. He had broken his promise. "Liar." she whispered bitterly, but she did not cry. She had cried all her tears the first night she was taken captive by Magua.

Uncas moaned in pain and forced his eyes to open with much effort. His eyelids felt like lead and he could not recall the last time he was awake...Alice. He sat up immediately and gasped as splinters of pain speared through every fibre of his being. His last memory of the English girl was she being dragged away by Magua at the Huron camp. His last image of her was the haunting fear etched all over her pale face as she desperately searched the hills around her, looking for him. Silently begging him to save her from the worst fate imaginable. Trusting him to rescue her from the man who murdered her father.

Uncas had gone after her but was waylaid by Magua's men along the way. The Huron captain had guessed the Mohicans would send someone after Alice and planted men to delay whoever was coming. When Uncas reached the cliffs, he was already badly injured and bleeding. Alice was not there - only Magua. Uncas realised he had been tricked and the men were a decoy. Alice was being led elsewhere via another trail. He had fought with Magua and could hear Nathaniel clashing with Huron warriors at a distance behind him. Where was his father? He thought dazedly as he exchanged blows with Magua, his strength diminishing with each strike at his opponent, blood pouring out from multiple stab wounds, his right arm dangling helplessly at his side.

Magua sliced deep into Uncas' side and yanked out his knife ruthlessly. Blood spurted from the wound like a geyser. "I'm not going to kill you. I want you to live the rest of your life knowing I took your white woman." Magua uttered clearly, a devilish smile lighting up his face. Uncas spat out blood and collapsed on the ground, keening in agony as he watched Magua saunter away. No. Not Alice. The world slowly faded into a black abyss...Uncas last thought before he lost consciousness was that he wanted to die.

Apparently, he was not granted his wish. He was not dead. Chingachcook rushed into his wigwam - his father must had been keeping vigil outside. Nathaniel followed him in clumsily, hobbling on crutches. The elder Mohican dropped on his knees beside his younger son, "You are awake." Uncas nodded weakly, wincing as his head pounded furiously at the action. Nathaniel gingerly crouched down and squeezed his less injured left arm, "Brother, you live."

Cora stumbled in, bearing a cup of water. She gently held the cup to his parched lips, "Drink, please." Uncas obediently took a few sips of water. When his throat was adequately soothed, he croaked, "Alice?" Cora looked away despondently while Nathaniel swallowed nervously. It was Chingachcook who answered him grimly, " We do not know. She seems to have disappeared."

Two weeks later.

Uncas sat along the banks of the river. Just getting from his wigwam to the river had taken him an eternity. How in the world was he going to begin his search for Alice if he could barely walk? Nathaniel had broken his leg in his scuffle with the Huron warriors, while Chingachcook had been a few minutes behind him, protecting Cora. By the time they had reached Uncas, Magua was gone and Uncas was on the verge of death.

They had sought refuge at the Delaware camp and Chingachcook could not leave to track Alice with his sons both seriously injured. Uncas had been unconscious for nearly a month. He did not have to imagine what Alice was going through now - he knew exactly how Magua would treat her. Bile rose in his throat and he clenched the dirt in agony. He would find her. He had promised her that night under the falls. He was not terrified of the arduous task ahead - he was terrified of the moment he did find Alice. Stay alive. He pleaded in his heart. Stay alive so I can find you.

While he had been unconscious, his father and brother had hired scouts to help them track the Huron warriors. The weather had been stormy for the past few weeks, thus it was frustratingly difficult to trace them. They were obviously were not making permanent camp anywhere, moving from place to place like nomads. Uncas was not even certain Alice was still with the Hurons. She could have escaped and be wandering aimlessly in the forest. She could have been traded to another tribe. She could have landed in a French fortress. All the options were ominous. Uncas went with his gut feeling and figured Alice was still with Magua...for now. Thus, he had instructed the scouts to track the group down.

Magua stonily regarded the blond daughter of the English colonel sitting mutely on the ground of the wigwam, her face averted. Her eyes were wide open, unseeing, her bare feet chained, muddy and scraped. She had not uttered a word since they left the Huron camp. The girl was bewitching, yet there was something about her that sent a chill down his spine. Those huge, grey eyes were wintry and defiant, daring him to touch her.

The first night Magua had tried to take her, she had fought and screamed. The second night, she had not made a single sound, not even a whimper. There was something about her that unnerved the seasoned warrior. He felt uneasy so he gave her to his best warrior instead, with the order that she would not be treated roughly. The warrior abided and similarly reported that the girl had not retaliated at all. She had simply closed her eyes and remained motionless. She had gone so still that the warrior had gotten spooked, abandoning the deed at the last very moment.

Magua was thinking whether to trade her to another tribe when he suddenly heard a shrill war cry and the air suddenly rankled with a burning smell. A raid. He heard men screaming in pain and swore angrily. This was the last thing he needed. Alice watched from the corner of her eye as Magua swiftly left the wigwam. They were being attacked. Alice did not give a damn whether she survived or perished. You stay alive no matter what occurs...I will find you. Uncas' deep, strong voice reverberated around the empty wigwam. Alice covered her ears. Liar.

One month later.

Cora fidgeted anxiously as she watched Uncas methodically strap on his knives - one inside his left sleeve, one on his ankle. He had not regained full strength and movement of his fractured right arm. Her newly minted brother-in-law was going to find her sister. Nathaniel and Cora had married in a simple ceremony the week before, with the groom promising his bride that they will head to Albany to register their marriage lawfully...once Uncas found Alice. Cora had no heart to point out to her husband she did not have full confidence that the Mohican warrior would find her sister - not when he was still heavily bandaged in several places.

The hired scouts had returned a few days ago with news that they may have found Alice. If they had found the right person, then she was no longer with the Huron band of warriors. The scouts were fairly sure the person matched the description and sketch of Alice provided, but then again, she was not the only blond, white woman being help captive by Indians. Uncas did not care - he was going after every lead he had, big or small. He had wanted to go alone - Nathaniel was still hopping around using a crutch - but Chingachcook has stated he was going too, along with one of Uncas' Delaware cousins, Elki, who was almost as good a fighter as the Mohican brothers.

Cora approached Uncas hesitantly, "Uncas?" When he turned to face her, she stammered, "Would Alice...would she have been... the men..." Uncas knew what she wanted to find out - it was the very thing that was skinning his soul inch by inch since he awoke to discover she had been taken captive. "Yes." he answered with brutal honesty. Cora's eyes start to glaze with tears but she blinked them away - now was not the time to engage in hysterics. They had to find Alice. She handed Uncas a neatly folded bundle, "These are clothes for her - I sewed them myself. If you find her, please make sure she changes into these. She would like new clothes -" " I will find her." Uncas interjected calmly, his dark eyes flashing with determination. Cora nodded and reached out impulsively to grip his arm, "Please do. I beg you, please."

One more day and he would see Alice for the first time in three months. Instead of joy, Uncas felt apprehension and trepidation choking him. And fear. "Are you ready to face her?" His father's voice rumbled from behind him. Uncas was taking the first watch, while Chingachcook would take the second, with Elki standing in for the third. Uncas was only about half an hour into his watch and thus was mildly surprised that his father was awake. It had been three days since they left the camp and the elder Mohican should be exhausted by now.

Uncas answered his sire's question with one of his own, "How did Aunt Chumani live through it?" Chumani, Uncas' mother's younger sister, was kidnapped by another tribe when she was fifteen. Chingachcook had helped his wife's male relatives search for the girl - they had found her two months later. They had escorted back to the camp where she refused to share with anyone what had happened to her. No one probed her for answers but simply watched her closely, always making sure there was someone beside her. One day, about half a year later, she finally broke down in front of her mother and sister and related her horrendous experience.

Chingachcook eyed his son coolly, "Are you prepared to live through it with her?" When Uncas remained silent, Chingachcook resumed, his voice laced with quiet warning, "Sometimes, living is more difficult than dying." The younger warrior balled his fists, his dark eyes glinting with tortured helplessness. Chingachcook was not shocked that his twenty-six-year-old son (who should have been married years ago) was in love with an eighteen-year-old English girl - especially one with Alice's character. They were two unusually reserved, kindred souls longing for someone who could understand them with one touch, one gaze. The moment Chingachcook spotted the couple's encounter on George Road - Uncas's burning intensity, Alice's shy curiosity - he knew an unexplainable connection had formed between them in that instant.

If you were meant to be, all it took was a moment to forge an unbreakable bond. Chingachcook reminisced about the first time he met Wyanet, Uncas' mother, thirty years ago. He had been friends with her brother and visited the Delaware camp one humid summer. Wyanet had served him stew with bubbly friendliness and he had fallen in love with her infectious smile even before he swallowed his first mouthful.

Uncas crouched in the shadows, peering sharply through the trees at the Ottawa camp that lay just metres ahead of him. The scouts reported that Alice - if it was her - had been with this camp for the past month. They had no idea how she had gotten away from Magua's clutches because when they had managed to trace her, she had already been with the Ottawa. He had been watching the camp for two days and had not seen Alice, or anyone white. There was a small wigwam in a corner - women went in and out of it, bearing meagre servings of food each time. Alice... is that you?

Alice broke off a piece of bread and stuffed it into her mouth disinterestedly. She only ate to sustain her physical strength - there had to be a way of escape for her. She would wait patiently for the opportunity. She did not know how long she had been with the Ottawa - not that she cared but at least here, the men did not attempt to violate her. She was treated more as a slave, doing menial tasks from dawn to dusk. She had sprained her ankle very badly a few days ago while carrying broken, empty cauldrons and thus, she had been confined to her wigwam until she was deemed fit enough for labour again. The people here called her Nascha - what did it mean? Alice wondered vaguely.

Uncas steadily crept towards the small wigwam, rounding the border of the camp. To avoid any resistance and bloodshed, he decided to break into the camp sometime close to midnight. By then, most of the people would be asleep and that would provide a head start for their escape before the Ottawa realised that their white captive was missing. Uncas did not think they would search long and hard for a captive...unless she meant something to the chief. Uncas' eyes narrowed at the thought. He had heard a couple of women chatting earlier about someone named Nascha, as they pointed to the small wigwam. Nascha meant 'owl'. He frowned. What was the significance of the nickname?

The clouds covered the moon, blanketing the camp in darkness. Chingachcook and Elki stood guard, while Uncas advanced towards the wigwam soundlessly. Let it be Alice, he prayed fervently as he lifted the flap of the wigwam. He carefully stepped in and stopped short when he heard soft muttering. It took awhile for his eyes to adjust to the blackness that engulfed the space but his ears pricked at the sound. The muttering stopped for a few seconds before starting again. His ears strained in a bid to identify what was being said. And suddenly he knew. Counting - the person was counting from one to ten in English - repeatedly. Alice. She remembered. His hand shook uncontrollably. He could not fathom the number of times she had counted over the past few months.

His eyes finally adapted and skimmed the interior of the wigwam. He picked out a glimpse of muted gold. Alice. He got to his knees and crawled over slowly. When he reached the huddled figure in the corner, he halted. It was Alice. She was wearing a buckskin top and skirt, her hair hung tangled around her ashen face, and her eyes were closed. Uncas struggled to breathe - he had found her. He did not dare to touch her lest she screamed. "Alice."

Alice's head snapped up and her eyes flew open. Uncas. Was she dreaming? She heard someone strike a match and watery illumination suffused the wigwam. She faced the direction of the light. Uncas. Those dark, almond-shaped eyes met hers solemnly. She watched in disbelief as one of his hands extended towards her and suddenly, she was overcome with a gamut of emotions.

Uncas' fingers were mere inches from Alice's cheek when she slapped them away. He froze at her rejection. Her grey eyes glared at him in furious repulsion.

Her cracked lips moved.

"Liar."

Author's Note

Here we go again :) As promised, a trilogy to the "Tender" series. I hope all of you will enjoy this ride, which I hope will bring a different experience altogether from the previous two stories and prove no less fascinating. Updates to this story may be slightly slower because I'm still figuring out how I would like this journey to unfurl. The main points are there - just need to connect the dots in a meaningful way. Thank you and fingers crossed Tender Promise would be a good read for all. :)