The Last of the Mohicans

FADE IN:

The screen is a microcosm of leaf, crystal drops of

precipitation, a stone, emerald green moss. It's a landscape

in miniature. We HEAR the forest. Some distant birds. Their

sound seems to reverberate as if in a cavern. A piece of

sunlight refracts within the drops of water, paints a patch

of moss yellow. The whisper of wind is joined by another

sound that mixes with it. A distant rustling. It gets closer

and louder. It's shallow breathing. It gets ominous.

We're interlopers on the floor of the forest and something

is coming.

SUDDENLY:
A MOCCASINED FOOT

rockets through the frame scaring us and...

EXTREMELY CLOSE:
PART OF AN INDIAN FACE

running hard. His head shaved bald except for a scalp-lock.

Tattoos. He's twenty-five. He seems tall and muscled. Heavy,

even breathing. We'll learn later this man is UNCAS, the

last of the Mohicans.

PROFILE:
UNCAS' ARMS

flash as he runs. One carries a flintlock musket. Sweat on

the man's skin. A calico shirt is gathered at the waist with

a wampum belt of small white beads over a breechcloth. He

wears leggings to protect his legs. A long-handled tomahawk

is stuffed in his belt.

CUT TO:

ANOTHER PART OF THE FOREST - DAY

MASSIVE WAR CLUB

in the hand of another running man. He's heavier, older...

CHEST:

A green bear claw is tattooed there. Silver armband. A snake

is tattooed over his left eyebrow. Silver rings in his ear.

He's forty to forty-five. His head is shaved into a scalp-

lock. It says:
"Come and lift this from me. Take it, if you

can..." That prospect strikes us as extremely unlikely. This

man is

CHINGACHGOOK:

The French call him "Le Gros Serpent," the Great Snake,

because "he knows the winding ways of men's nature and he

can strike a sudden, deathly blow."

WIDE ANGLE:
CHINGACHGOOK

runs, disturbing no leaves, no branches; making no sound.

He's running parallel to Uncas through the cathedral of mature

forest. It's heavily canopied. There's very little brush.

The girth of the trees is huge. Shafts of light illuminate

motes of dust and turn leaves emerald where the sun breaks

through. Sometimes there's ferns; rhododendron, sometimes

pale grass and outcroppings of rock.

These men run the forest streams, over boulders, fallen trees

and down into ravines as if they own them. They do.

CUT TO:

EXT. ANOTHER PART OF THE FOREST - DAY

LONG BLACK HAIR:

Rocketing through trees. His torn buckskin shirt is tied at

the waist with a wampum belt holding a tomahawk and a large

knife. A long rifle in which is carved the name "Killdeer"

is in his right fist. Indian tattooing on his chest.

His name is NATHANIEL POE. He's a few years older than Uncas.

The French and the French-speaking tribes know him as La

Longue Carabine (Long Rifle). Other frontiersmen in New York

colony and the Iroquois and Delaware-speaking tribes know

him as Hawkeye. Sweat stains his shirt. He flashes through

the tree branches disturbing nothing. Making no sound.

HAWKEYE'S POV:
A PIECE OF TAN

two hundred and fifty yards away, a few square inches buried

in the foliage...

SUDDENLY HE STOPS

Killdeer's at his shoulder...

HAWKEYE'S THUMB

c*cks the lock holding the piece of flint: click.

UNCAS:

stops dead, holding out his hand... no sound.

CHINGACHGOOK:

slips through young trees and stops, shouldering his

smoothbore musket. Is this an ambush?

HAWKEYE'S POV:
RACK FOCUS THROUGH THE GUN SIGHT

Five feet and fourteen pounds of rifle is elevated a half

inch and shifted left, off target. It's a precise, smooth

movement. No human quiver.

KILLDEER'S TRIGGER

tighter...

THE COCK:

holding the flint hits the iron file of the frizzen, shooting

sparks into the pan of priming powder which flashes and...

TAN:

is a huge elk that leaps at the sound.

KILLDEER'S MUZZLE

CRACKS like lightning.

AN ELK:

leaps where the .59 caliber round was programmed to intercept

him. On the moment of impact...

WIDE:

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