Pocahontas

She was running as fast as she could through the forest, the wind and branches catching the edges of her hair. The pulling didn’t bother her when a piece got snagged, she was used to that. It motivated her to run harder and faster. She ran until she broke through the tree line out into the field. In front of her by a few yards the river roared towards home. She was almost there now, could almost smell the smoke from cooked fish and squash. She ran toward the river and turned at the last second to follow the flow south. Up ahead there was a cliff, the river jumped over the edge in great gulps of waves, splashing into the water below. It was getting closer and she sped up, feeling her heartbeat quicken. Right before she reached the edge she leapt into the air, inspired by the deer she’d watched jumping over fallen trees or off of rocks as someone hunted them. She felt the wind hit her even harder as she floated for a moment, she was flying. Down she went, riding air just in front of the waterfall until she landed feet first into the water at the bottom. Going down several feet she felt her extended foot hit the sand for a split second and she pushed hard to bounce herself back up. It was around twenty feet or more to the surface and the bounce cut the effort she would need to break through the water in half. She could see a figure on the bank of the river as she reached the surface. She broke through and gasped hard, taking in as much air as she could as she brushed the hair and water off her face. She’d been turned around, so she spun the water to see her visitor.

Large feet greeted her, seeming huge to her twelve-year-old eyes. She followed the tree trunk like legs up to see a tall angry man looking down at her with his arms crossed across his chest.

“Hi,” she smiled.

His lip quivered as though he was fighting a smile back at her, his will won out and he scowled, “Matoaka, what did I tell you about swimming in the river?”

“That it’s fun?” she tilted her head and giggled.

He let himself chuckle for less than a second but stopped himself, “it’s dangerous, you know that.”

“Father,” she complained as she crawled out of the water onto the bank. He grabbed the top of her arms gently to help her out, eventually standing her up in front of him. She dropped her head and then shook like an animal to get the water out of her hair.

“Hey now, watch that,” he said softly, only complaining about being splashed as a formality.

“It’s hot out father, the river is so refreshing,” she said.

He sighed, “what will we ever do with you? My little Pocahontas?” He took her hand and they walked together toward their village.

“Why do you call me that?” she asked him.

He laughed, “because you are wild, like the deer.”

“What’s wrong with that?” she asked.

He smiled, “I didn’t mean to imply there was something wrong with it, I am glad you are that way, I hope nothing ever tames you.”

“Nothing will,” she said.

“Not even Kocoum?” he raised an eyebrow at her.

“No, not even that annoying boy,” she said grimacing.

“You don’t like him? You play together every evening,” he said.

“There’s no one else to play with, but it doesn’t matter if I like him, I would never let someone tame me, never,” she said sticking her bottom lip out a little defiantly.

Her father laughed and rubbed the top of her head, “good.” As they approached the semicircle of houses and tents set up around a giant fire, a little boy Matoaka’s age ran over to them.

“Kocoum!” Matoaka shouted.

The boy smiled, “where were you all day? I looked for you.”

“No one can catch me, I’m the best hider in the whole tribe,” she smiled proudly.

“I’ll say,” Kocoum said.

Just at that moment another man, Matoaka’s uncle approached them, “Wahunsenaca, we have a situation.”

“What is it Opechancanough?” the Chief, Matoaka’s father, asked.

“A white man,” Opechancanough said, “he has entered the village, and no one can understand his language.”

“Stay here,” Matoaka’s father told her and her friend. She watched them rush away then grabbed Kocoum by the arm.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Come on, let’s spy on them,” she giggled as she pulled him with her to follow after her father and her uncle. They hid behind a tent to watch as her father and uncle approached three men. Two of the tribe holding a third by the arms, one on each side of him. This third man looked strange. One in that his skin was much paler than that of anyone Matoaka had ever seen. This hair was light colored like a deer and short above his ears. He wore strange clothing and shouted in indistinguishable words that sounded like the brook. There was intention and meaning in the sounds he made, there was a rhythm, but she could not make meaning out of them. It was as though they were getting caught in the wind and stirred before they reached her ears.

“What speech is this?” Kocoum asked her.

“I don’t understand him,” she replied. Her father held his hand up and the two men let the third one go. He reached behind himself and pulled out an object, holding it by one curved end with a thin pipe shape pointing forward. He held it out to her father, shaking it in his face. Her father grabbed it, the man looked stunned and stumbled back a little as her father examined the object. He held it up to the man in the same fashion and his face crumpled in fear as he sunk to his knees. Her father looked confused and tossed the weapon aside. Her father was speaking to him softly but she couldn’t hear what they were saying. She inched further out slowly as not to be seen.

“Motoaka,” Kocoum whispered. She held her hand back at him to tell him to stay put, then continued inching closer so that she might hear what was being said.

“Welcome, we intend you no harm,” her father was saying to him, as was the custom of the tribe he took out his staff. A big walking stick and held it out to show the man and then lowered it to his bent shoulder as he was still on his knees. He was trembling and looking at the men surrounding him.

Her father tilted his head in confusion, “are you friend or foe?” The man didn’t answer and her father held his free hand to his chest, “friend,” then placed it on the man’s head, “friend.” The man started babbling wildly and shaking his head.

“He’s our enemy,” her uncle said and held up his bow, aimed at the man.

“Hold off, I don’t think he understands us,” her father said.

“He could be dangerous,” her uncle said moving the arrow closer to the man’s head.

“Then we will lock him away until we can figure out his intentions,” her father said. By this time Matoaka was right behind her father, the strange man on his knees noticed her and started making sounds at her. Her father noticed and spun around, in being startled her uncle unleashed his arrow. Matoaka was quick and grabbed the arrow in the air before it struck the man.

“Matoaka, I told you to stay out of this,” her father said.

“I was curious,” she said to her father.

He sighed and looked to the heavens, “go fetch water and something to eat for this man,” he said to her. Then he looked to the two men who’d brought the pale one, “take him to the house that locks, tie his hands and feet so that he doesn’t escape in case he means us harm.” They nodded and grabbed the man’s arms again to pull him away. Matoaka did as her father asked and ran past Kocoum who quickly followed her.

“Matoaka, what type of man was that?” Kocoum called after her.

“We’re going to find out,” she said happily as she ran over to the cooking tent. She went in and started gathering things and he finally caught up to her.

“Did your father say it was safe?” Kocoum asked.

“He told me to bring him food, I’m not scared,” she said.

“Of course not, you’re never scared of anything. That doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be,” he said. She huffed in annoyance as she finished gathering all she could carry, including a cup of water.

“Don’t follow me,” she said as they got outside again.

“What about playing?” he asked.

“Later,” she said and ran off. She went to the prisoner tent and held up the food to show the men on guard what she was doing. They nodded and moved aside to let her inside. The man was on the far side on the ground huddled against the wall shivering. He saw her and furrowed his brows. She smiled at him, and he looked even more confused. She started sitting the food out on the table in the room. He watched her closely as she finished and brought the cup of water over to him. His hands were tied together at the wrist in front of him and she placed the cup in one of them. He brought it to his nose and sniffed, then he drank it all in three swallows.

“Towua,” he said, or rather that’s what she heard, more nonsense. But his expression was grateful so she nodded and waved at the food on the table. He rose from the ground cautiously and walked over to the table. She sat on one side and he sat across from her in the other seat.

“Eat,” she motioned to the food.

“A jeklk kjid nokkl wkjkjld,” he said.

“I don’t understand,” she shook her head. Back and forth they went like that until he finally gave in and started eating. He ate fast, and it reminded her of a wolf. She giggled at him as he tried to breath through his nose so he could keep his mouth consistently full. He ate at this speed until all the food she’d brought was gone. Daily she brought him two meals and tried to teach him her language. He in turn tried to teach her his. This went on for weeks until finally he understood that she was asking his name. He nodded and pointed to himself the way she had done.

“Your name?” she pointed at him.

“My name is… John, John Smith,” he said.