Run.

The earth pounded beneath his feet. The dying sun stained the western sky with blood as Chingachgook raced through the grass like a snake.

The world is running to the rhythm of the never-ending chase

A light tap on his shoulder, and his son was gone, gone to chase after the colonel's golden-haired daughter.

Prey escapes and predator starves

He couldn't see his son. The green fabric of his shirt had vanished into the trees.

Predator strikes and devours prey

A glint of metal on the cliff. Uncas emerged on the ravine, and four Huron warriors leaped down from the rocks to ambush him.

There is no victory

The scream of a musket split the air. He saw his son fall

You will run the chase until you die

and he raced up the steep rock face, gripping his tomahawk so tightly it pierced his hand with splinters. Chingachgook raced in pursuit of death.

Run.

CORA RAN THROUGH THE TREES with a speed she did not know she possessed. The torn sleeves of her white blouse trailed behind her, now red with blood from their two-day trek to Huron country. A painful stitch was expanding rapidly down her side, and her arm throbbed where Nathaniel's fingers had dug into it as he dragged her away from the Huron camp with a grip tight enough to cut off circulation.

Nathaniel. He was far away, he had left her behind, along with Chingachgook and Uncas and Alice. Nathaniel, who had shot her friend and would-be lover Duncan so they wouldn't have to hear his screams as the flames of some twisted system of justice consumed his body. Nathaniel, who had gripped her arm with the same tense urgency when he whispered her father's fate into her ear two nights ago: "Dead…I saw him fall…a Huron cut out his heart." They had all left her behind, and she had nothing but stark memories chasing her steps. So Cora kept running, because she knew the moment she stopped running they would overtake her and she would drown.

She hardly remembered to slow down when she caught sight of him standing frozen on the ravine. He was staring at a spot a few feet in front of him, where Chingachgook knelt over Uncas' body. Four dead Huron warriors were sprawled carelessly on the ground. Chingachgook's tomahawk lay abandoned on the grass. It was clean. She looked at Nathaniel and with a start realized it was the first time she had seen him look scared.

"We're too late," she whispered. Slowly, Uncas stumbled to his feet. He brushed off his father's arm.

"Fine," he said, his breathing short and labored. "I'm fine." He leaned against the rock face. Dark blood stained his hands and his clothes, but Cora could not tell if it belonged to him or the dead Hurons. "I lost them," he said through gritted teeth. He glanced up at her and immediately looked away, but not before Cora saw a flash of something else beneath his exhaustion, something that resembled agony, or an apology.

The pounding in her ears started to subside. She felt her heart slowing down. The red sun seemed to hang suspended behind the trees, casting its silent light on the first fallen leaves of summer. Cora stared at the three men standing motionless beside her as the world screeched to a halt.

THEY SLEPT IN THE GLADE beneath the cliffs that night. Chingachgook even allowed them the luxury of a fire. No one took much comfort from it. A fire meant no one was looking for them, but the bright flames were a painful reminder that their quarry had escaped and was now miles, perhaps even leagues, away.

The Hurons had fled by canoe. Any pursuit tonight was out of the question. They were mentally and physically spent. Even if they weren't, tracking in the dark was nearly impossible. Chingachgook said their best chance was to wait until morning to look for traces of the Huron party, and everyone had silently agreed.

Uncas withdrew to a far corner near the trees to take first watch. He moved lightly, clenching his teeth as he walked. He wouldn't be using his right arm again anytime soon. He knew he ought to be grateful he could walk at all, but the gash in his side reminded him that the degree of an injury's seriousness and the degree of pain it caused only occasionally corresponded. As he scanned the horizon he fingered his musket and tried to think of maneuvers he could use to compensate for his useless arm because it was easier than thinking about anything else.

A soft footstep brushed against the grass. Uncas didn't turn around. He knew who made it, and it was the last person he wanted to see.

"You're hurt. You should rest," his brother said quietly. "I can take over." He was speaking Mahican, which at the moment made Uncas feel an uncharacteristic desire to strangle him. Nathaniel either didn't notice his annoyance or didn't care. He walked forward and sat beside him on the damp ground. For a few moments neither one spoke. Finally Nathaniel broke the silence.

"What were you thinking, going after them on your own?" he demanded. Uncas kept his gaze fixed on the trees, hoping his brother would take the hint. He didn't.

"Listen to me!" Nathaniel said fiercely, grabbing his unwounded shoulder. "Those men were trained to kill, and there were thirteen of them. You're lucky you weren't gutted like Munro. You should have waited for us."

"Like you, netohcon?" Uncas observed dryly. He deliberately used the address of a younger brother to an older one, not out of respect, but out of irritation. "Like you waited for us when you helped Jack and the rest of the militia escape?"

Nathaniel looked taken aback. Uncas did not lose his temper very often, so his father and brother both knew whenever he did he was completely serious. Nathaniel waited a moment before responding. "I couldn't let you get involved," he replied in a low voice. "You know that."

"Did you think I'd try to stop you?"

"No, I thought you would join me, and then I'd have that on my conscience," his brother answered. "Do you think I could have faced our father if I'd dragged you into Munro's garrison too?"

"We cared as much about the Camerons as you did," Uncas said coldly. "You had no right to go behind our backs. Or were you wondering why our father hasn't spoken to you since we left the fort?" To his satisfaction, Nathaniel looked away. He glanced at their father, who sat unmoving with his back against a black tree.

"Our father could live without me," Nathaniel said finally with some effort. "It would have destroyed him if you had died."

"You lied, my brother," Uncas retorted.

"Naugheesum," Nathaniel said urgently. He used the elder-brother form of address, but Uncas couldn't detect any sarcasm in his voice. "It's not your job to die for anyone." He waited for Uncas to reply, but Uncas returned to scrutinizing the foliage. After a brief pause Nathaniel did take the hint and wordlessly slipped away.

Uncas watched him out of the corner of his eye. Nathaniel paused at the fire where Cora had fallen asleep. The flames cast dark shadows on her exhausted face. She shivered involuntarily despite the warm air. In the absence of blankets, Nathaniel sat down next to her and gently stoked the flames. Without warning Uncas felt the dull ache he had been trying to suppress all night rise in his chest.

Uncas could not work out exactly what he felt for Alice Munro. Fragile, terrified, completely out of her element, he had seen all that the first time he had laid eyes on her during the Huron attack on the George Road. But he had seen something else too. Something inside her was struggling.

"Are you all right?" she had whispered to her father the chaotic night they crept behind the French trenches into Fort William Henry. They seemed like such useless words. He could see it in her eyes, though. A flicker of light so faint, Uncas thought if he breathed it would vanish. A small, insignificant thing. Forgettable, until that night in the cavern beneath the falls when he pulled her back from the edge, looked into her eyes and saw nothing at all. It was as though she had fallen into a dark abyss, and he could not call her back.

He supposed it made little difference now. Somehow the Huron had caught sight of him coming after her, and he had been sensible and cowardly enough to send four of his men to intercept him. Uncas did not even know if she had seen him. The thought of what was happening to her now made him feel sick.

Looking back, it seemed absurd. They hadn't really shared anything. A couple sentences, a few brief glances here and there. Uncas ran through the whole spectrum of emotions again and eventually settled on regret.

THE SKY WAS STILL DARK when Chingachgook woke them. He tapped Cora lightly on the shoulder, and she felt her stiff joints revolt as she sat up.

They dismantled the camp in silence. There wasn't much to do but dispose of the smoldering remains of last night's fire, and even that felt like a meaningless gesture. All the people who might have wanted to track them were long gone by now.

It took less than an hour to reach the spot where the Hurons had escaped the night before. Their canoes had left fresh grooves in the dirt. Uncas knelt down to examine them. "None of the tracks lead away from the river. They all left," he said impassively. "We'll have to look downriver to see where they docked." He winced slightly as he got to his feet. Cora resisted the impulse to walk forward and offer him her arm. He would understand it was a kind gesture, but he would not welcome it.

"Let's hope they didn't dock on the other side, because there isn't a crossing for twenty miles," Nathaniel said grimly. He shouldered his rifle and followed his brother downstream.

Cora gazed across the river at the endless expanse of trees on the eastern bank. A thin glimmer of light emerged over the canopy, flooding the forest with an ominous orange glow. A new day, she thought with a dull sense of depression. She turned away before the rising sun burned her eyes.