"Go home."

Alice gaped in disbelief at the crumpled papers in her hand and looked at Uncas – it was her passage home to England via steamer and it was going to leave America in two days.

"Go home, Alice." His tone was harder, more resolute this time.

"Why?" She whispered, flabbergasted.

He regarded her for a long minute, his expression shuttered. "You don't belong here, "he stated succinctly.

"But we…we… we are…" she stammered, advancing closer to him. Uncas inched backwards, "We are nothing. We have nothing."

The finality in his response shook her to the core. He meant every word. He truly intended to send her home. He thought nothing significant about the three months they had spent together.

"Go back to England, Alice."

Eighteen months later.

Cora stared at the child nestled in her sister's arms, "What did you say?"

"Take him back to America, please." Alice uttered calmly, holding out her eleven-month-old son to her older sister. Cora blinked at the ebony-haired baby with solemn hazel eyes, his complexion the colour of dark honey. She never knew she had a nephew until five minutes ago. She travelled to England to settle legal matters only to discover her sister was newly wedded to an earl, with a son who obviously did not belong to her husband.

"Take him back to his father." Alice instructed coldly, depositing the baby unceremoniously into her sister's arms. Cora had no doubt the father of the beautiful boy she now carried was her brother-in-law – he was a miniature of his sire, right down to his inscrutable demeanour. He did not cry or fuss but remained still and silent in his bewildered aunt's arms. He simply turned his head to look at his mother, his tiny head cocked to one side. He was waiting for her to take him back. Cora instinctively realised as her heart wrenched for the little being.

"Why have him if you intended all along to abandon him?" Cora barked, cradling the child against her protectively. "When I found out I was pregnant, it was too late to do anything." Alice clipped, averting her gaze from her sister, from her son. "Alice, you cannot do this. He is a baby, for goodness sake. He needs his mother!" Cora shrilled, prancing up and down the opulent sitting room of her sister's country manor. Cora had wondered why her sister had been living in the countryside but now she knew – her sister had been hiding from the prying, haughty eyes of society.

"He is better off with his father." Alice reasoned coolly, passing a bundle to her sister, "These are his belongings." "Does he have a name?" Cora asked, her voice trembling with growing fury. Heartless. Her sister was absolutely heartless. "Callum." Alice provided tautly. Cora's anger abated a little at that – her sister had christened her son after their beloved elder brother, who had passed away at a young age of ten due to a drowning accident.

"He cannot speak yet but he does make some sounds. He rarely cries and never throws tantrums. He can walk though he wobbles. He rubs his mouth when he is hungry…" Alice recited mechanically, dusting invisible lint off her skirt. Cora snatched the proffered bundle, "You are going to regret this, Alice Julianna Munro." Alice watched as her sister marched out of the sitting room, her gaze honing in on her son, who continued to look at her expectantly. In that instant, the baby's unflappable countenance was so much like that of his father. Alice's fingers twisted in her skirts and she forced herself to stay where she was.

"Mama."

A little voice rang out clearly. Alice's head jerked up in shock as Cora slowed her pace. She whipped around to glare at her younger sister, "I thought you said he could not speak."

"Mama." The baby repeated loudly, his eyes clinging tremulously to his mother.

His first word. Alice sank down on the settee in defeat.

"Go." She ordered, tears blurring her vision.

Cora nodded grimly and left.

Seven years later.

"Hello, Cora."

Cora sighed regretfully at the sight of her sister whom she had not seen in seven years. Though Cora had wanted to make more trips to England over the years, she simply had been too busy to spare the time for lengthy travel with three children and a budding boarding house business to manage. Alice, on her end, predictably never visited America on her own. Until now. They had corresponded through letters but after what happened seven years earlier that afternoon in the sitting room, the notes felt more perfunctory than personal. Both did not wish to lose touch with their only surviving family member, yet both could not forget what happened that day. Certainly not Cora.

Cora went forward and embraced Alice warmly, " Welcome." Alice hugged her back tightly, "Thank you." Cora released her sister and crouched down, "Hello. You must be Mikayla." Her four-year-old niece, Lady Mikayla Caroline Anne Nicholson, only child and heir of Earl of Craven, returned her greeting with a wary stare. Alice nudged her daughter gently, "This is Aunt Cora, darling. I have told you about her, have I not? And your three cousins, Honon, Magena and Nadie." The little girl bobbed her politely but did not say a word. Cora took her small hand, "Come, dear. Let me show you to your room."

Alice surveyed her surroundings with newfound interest. Cora was doing an admirable job as owner of a cosy boarding house in Albany. That was the main reason why she had travelled to England seven years ago - she needed capital to get the business off the ground. The Munros' had three properties: one in London, one in Edinburgh and another in the English countryside. The sisters decided to mortgage the house in the countryside instead of selling it - Alice was financially supported well enough as the wife of an earl, thus all the money had gone to Cora.

In her letters, Cora reported that she had spent the first few years in Albany in order to keep an eye on things, only returning to the family cabin every couple of months. Nathaniel did not like city life but he dutifully accompanied her when he was not busy trading. Now that the business had taken off, Cora only ventured to the Albany twice a month to check on her hired hands. Nathaniel had relocated their family closer to Albany (just a day away) to reduce travel time, and Chingachcook had followed his older son.

Alice sat down on the edge of the bed and smiled as Mikayla wandered around their bedroom, her blue eyes wide with wonder. The little girl's bedroom back in London was akin to that of a princess so Alice worried that she may not be able to adapt to the simpler life in America. Her daughter had the best clothes and toys money could buy - her father had made sure of that.

Now that he was gone, Mikayla was one of the wealthiest four-year-olds in England. The earl had willed most of his fortune to his only child, though he remained very generous to his wife until his death. Alice had two large townhouses in London under her name, plus a lovely cottage in the Scottish Highlands. She was the main trustee of her daughter's inheritance and had a significant monthly allowance until the day she departed from the world. Alice would want for nothing for the rest of her life.

Which was why she decided to take a leap of faith and move to America. She had no idea how long she would stay in the Colonies but she wanted to give Mikayla a different perspective - and education - that her fortune could not buy. Cora had gotten a realtor to look for houses in Albany for her sister, so Alice would put up at the boarding house till she found a place that she liked. As for living in the wilderness... Cora had insisted Alice and Mikayla stay at the family cabin. Plus, the family cabin was just a ten-minute walk to Uncas' cabin.

Uncas. Alice closed her eyes - a hazy image of the handsome Mohican warrior flitted into her mind. Callum. Her last memory of her son was crystal clear: the way he looked at her with his innocent almond-shaped hazel eyes, patiently waiting for her to take him back from Cora. "Mama." That word had haunted her often over the last seven years. He would have celebrated his eighth birthday a few days ago.

She was going to meet him at the family cabin next weekend and she had no clue how to handle the reunion. She did not even know whether Uncas had told him about his birth mother and if he had, what had he said? At Alice's request, Cora had barely mentioned her nephew and Uncas in her letters, and had sent no portraits. But now that Alice was back in America, she had to face both father and son. She did not know which would prove more difficult.

"We are nothing... we have nothing." Her tender eighteen-year-old heart had shattered that night but on hindsight, her twenty-five-year-old grown-up self realised that there was practical truth in those statements. Uncas was right. They had nothing but a spirited dalliance founded on survival all those years ago. Alice figured she must had lost her marbles then to even consider a future with the Mohican. She had been young and foolishly romantic for even believing that she and Uncas shared something special...

Uncas trekked through the dense foliage, his moccasin-shod feet moving soundlessly over the damp forest floor. Seven years since he had become a father. Seven years since his son had seen his English countess mother. Eight years since he had seen Alice. For the second time in Uncas' life, he felt helpless and torn. He had been feeling this way since Cora announced a month ago that Alice was moving from England to America, the length of her stay undecided, indefinite. Uncas was certain that his sister-in-law knew about her sister's decision long before she informed the rest of her family. Uncas had been surprised that Alice was uprooting her daughter from her privileged background to the untamed frontiers. Then again, he should not be surprised as Alice had always been a quiet rebel at heart despite her blushing shyness. The existence of their son was a living testament to that.

"How long more, Father?" Uncas snapped out of his daze at his son's inquiry. The lanky eight-year-old was poised next to a huge tree ahead, his silvery eyes sharp and alert. "Just a couple of hours more, Ichante," Uncas answered easily, squeezing his son's shoulder affectionately when he came abreast. He had told his son of his mother's pending arrival - all he got in return was an unflappable nod of acknowledgement. He was definitely a product of he and Alice. The child was of few words, and as serious as the both of them.

Ichante thought he was only going to meet his mother the following weekend - Uncas did not tell him that they were on their way to meet her now. He did not even tell Cora. Nathaniel had thought he was crazy but Uncas desired for the reunion between the mother and son to be uncontrived. He did not want Ichante to overthink the situation - neither did he want Alice to do the same. What about himself? How did he feel about seeing Alice again? He admitted his memories of their time together had faded over the years, mostly due to a lack of determination to preserve them. There was no point mulling over an impossible dream.

Alice woke up to the sound of laughter outside her door. She kicked off the covers and sat up, peering outside the window as she did so. Dusk was approaching - supper would soon be served in the dining room for the boarders. She had napped for at least three hours, and vaguely recalled Cora entering the room earlier to take Mikayla out to the garden with a few of the boarding children.

After washing up and changing into a fresh set of clothes, she left the room. Cora's guests were mostly British, with the occasional Dutch and Native American. She spotted Mikayla playing with children in the front garden and was glad her daughter looked as if she was enjoying herself. Alice reached the kitchen, where Cora was busy cooking with her employees. Cora saw her and pointed to the back door, "Could you grab some tomatoes from the vegetable garden?" "Of course," Alice replied genially and headed outside. Humming, she picked the juicier looking tomatoes and admired the variety of vegetables growing in the garden. Tossing the tomatoes into a basket, she stood up and turned around. A young boy stood a few feet from her, eyeing her curiously.

Alice noticed he was Indian, probably the child of one of the boarders. The sun was in her eyes so she could not make out his face. Stepping into the shade, she prepared to greet the child when he raised his head. Piercing grey eyes so light until it appeared silver stared at her, his jet-black hair streaked with a few strands of golden brown, his skin the colour of rich maple syrup. Alice dropped her basket, her hands trembling violently. Those almond-shaped eyes, that stubborn jaw, those chiselled cheekbones, that strong nose, that uncanny, confident stare...he was the spitting image of his father.

Without a word, the boy bent over to retrieve the fallen tomatoes,, putting it back into the basket. He held out the basket to Alice.

"Callum." she choked out.

The boy blanched, his skin turning pale under his bronzed complexion.

He recognised the name.

"Callum." Alice repeated hoarsely. His eyes were no longer hazel but a mercurial silver.

He was beautiful - like his father.

"I am...I am..." Alice stuttered, wringing her hands agitatedly.

She had no right to introduce herself as his mother.

"Greet your mother, Ichante, " a low, familiar male voice issued in English from behind the boy.

Alice dropped her basket again, the tomatoes rolling forward.

This time, the boy did not attempt to pick them up. He stood frozen on the spot, staring at Alice.

A tall, muscular figure came round from behind a tree.

Uncas.

Alice felt herself hurtle back in time. Her heartbeat tripled.

He drew to a halt beside the boy. Their son.

"Hello, Alice."

Author's note

And there we have it - another Alice and Uncas story. :) Updates may not be as frequent since I'm haven't exactly decided how I want this story to pan out - yet. Again, please excuse all factual and historical inaccuracies. I hope all of you would enjoy this story, too. XXXOOOO