Snow pressed softly against the cabin walls while firelight painted the room in gold. The smell of venison stew lingered in the air, mingling with cedar smoke and the sharp scent of winter carried in whenever the door opened.

Uncas had returned with Hawkeye and Chingachgook only an hour before, their boots still damp from the hunt. The deer hanging outside would provide food for many days, yet Chingachgook seemed far more interested in the woman moving carefully around the cabin than the success of the hunt itself.

"Sit," he told her for perhaps the third time that evening.

She ignored him and continued arranging bowls upon the table.

Chingachgook frowned.

"Hawkeye."

"I see it."

"Tell her."

Hawkeye raised both hands. "Absolutely not. I've learned that lesson already."

Uncas, seated nearby while repairing an arrow shaft, watched the exchange quietly. His wife moved slower now than she had a month ago, one hand unconsciously supporting the weight of her swollen belly as she carried another dish to the table.

Before she could return for anything else, Uncas rose.

Without a word, he took the bowl from her hands.

She immediately reached for it again.

"No."

His voice was calm but firm.

She looked at him.

"No," he repeated.

The look she gave him suggested she was perfectly capable of setting a table.

Uncas nodded.

"I know."

Another look.

"I know that, too."

He set the bowl down and gently guided her toward her chair.

Across the room, Hawkeye smirked.

"Funny," he said. "You barely spoke before you married her."

Uncas shot him a glance.

"Now look at you. Whole conversations."

The smirk vanished when a wooden spoon narrowly missed his head.

Chingachgook laughed outright.

A rare thing.

The old chief moved to his daughter-in-law's side, settling another blanket over her shoulders despite the warmth of the fire.

"You are cold."

She wasn't.

"I am not."

The reply was inferred from her expression alone.

Chingachgook ignored it entirely.

"The chil.d must remain warm."

"The chil.d is warm," Hawkeye muttered.

"The chil.d will be warmer."

At that, even Uncas' mouth twitched.

When everyone finally gathered at the table, his wife instinctively reached for a serving spoon.

Again Uncas intercepted her.

He filled her bowl himself.

Then added more.

And then more still.

She stared at the mountain of food.

"You eat."

Another look.

"The chil.d eats."

Chingachgook nodded solemnly.

"The chil.d eats."

Hawkeye immediately joined in.

"The chil.d eats."

Uncas' wife appeared unconvinced that the chil.d required enough stew to feed a hunting party.

Nevertheless, she began eating while the three men watched with embarrassing levels of satisfaction.

Only once she had taken several bites did Uncas finally sit beside her.

Outside, winter winds swept through the trees. Inside, the cabin felt impossibly warm.

For a moment, Uncas found himself watching her hand resting upon the curve of her stomach.

A year ago he had imagined a wife.

Now there was this.

A home.

A family.

A future.

The chil.d shifted suddenly beneath her hand.

Chingachgook nearly knocked over his chair.

"Did you feel that?"

Uncas laughed softly.

His father looked ready to summon the entire forest to witness it.

The movement came again.

This time Uncas carefully placed his palm against her belly.

The kicking stopped.

Silence.

Then one powerful thump directly against his hand.

His eyes widened slightly.

Across the table, Chingachgook looked as proud as any chief who had ever lived.

Uncas remained there for a moment, his hand unmoving, his expression gentler than usual.

When he finally looked up at his wife, there was warmth in his eyes that needed no translation.

"He is strong," he said quietly. After a brief pause, a faint smile appeared. "Or she."

His thumb brushed lightly across her hand.

"Do you think our chil.d already knows how much trouble awaits us?"