II

"What are you doing here?" Her eyes lit up in surprise.

"I had to see you again."

It took him a few days to sneak away from camp, but he finally found her in a cornfield outside her village-not much further from the riverbank she fled to. He could see she was secretly appreciative he came back, as opposed to forgetting her. How could I? As much he tried to rationalize his thinking of their differing cultures, she stayed on his mind.

"Pocahontas, Pocahontas?" A man was calling for her.

Based on how her eyes lit up, it wasn't someone she wanted to see-let alone for him to see. She said something to a friend in her language. Perhaps where she was going?

"Quick, this way." She led him away before he could see the man behind that voice... .

Before he could ask, she challenged him to race her. They made it to a clearing before they stopped to catch their breath around a tree. He looked at her and chuckled.

"What is it?"

"Oh, nothing-simply that you're nothing like the women I've met before."

"You mean in your village-London?"

"Well everywhere, especially London."

She became curious. "What are London women like?"

He thought for a moment."Well, they're all quite different. Some shy, some less so; a few that are nice; while others are not so nice, pretty or plain...but none are like you."

"What do you mean?"

"English women are hardly adventurous. They like being at home, talking amongst each other about other men, women, and the gossip around town. They rarely go out unless going to the store, or to a friend's home."

"What do they look like?"

"Well, they're fair in complexion, typically shorter, sometimes plump or thin, but not curvy. They like to wear several layers of clothing and far too much powder and makeup, to try to look prettier, I suppose."

"What kind of clothing?"

He became a little nervous. Why is she asking me this?! "Well, to begin with, they wear undergarments, such as garters and corsets... ." She used leaves, branches and twigs to dress herself based on his descriptions, and tied up her hair. After speculating for a moment, he took all the branches, leaves, and twigs off, and undid her hair. "No, this is you."

She smiled. "London women must be rather complicated."

"You haven't the faintest idea."

He hoped she wouldn't ask him how he knew these things... .Nor did he want to mention most English women would consider her underdressed, although he found their multiple layers unnecessary. He rather liked her simplicity, and appreciated her natural aura.

He looked around some more in awe. He found her world more fascinating the more he saw. Would she even like London? He wondered.

She interrupted his thoughts. "Follow me. There's a place I like to go to reflect, which I find rather peaceful, not far from here." He couldn't imagine where, but he liked the idea of a secret place. "There's also someone I'd like you to meet."

She took him to a large willow tree. It became their favorite meeting place, as they would come back and talk; away from the fears of each of their people. They, being so similar, couldn't help but be reminded they were from two different worlds. Her people disliked the newcomers. His people would leave if they didn't find the riches they were seeking. Despite their worlds threatening to tear them apart, they wanted it to work.

"Will you go home?"

"Well...not like I have much of a home...I never really belonged anywhere."

"You can belong here."

Before he could respond, he sensed the tree moving.

"Hello, John Smith."

How did it-she talks...? This is too strange. He began to really wonder about the woman he was getting involved with, as this tree seemed to have a spirit of it's own-and a name "Grandmother Willow," as Pocahontas called her. Her grandmother is a tree? Never-mind-I don't need to know. My comrades would never believe this, anyway. At least she liked him.

He could feel Pocahontas resting against his shoulder. He suspected if she was proud enough to introduce him to someone (or something?) she highly respected, she really wanted him to remain a part of her life. Good-she's honest and actually means what she says-unlike others who leave you guessing.

"Smith!"

After it was discovered some of his comrades were looking for him, he remembered his responsibility. He better go back before the men complained.

"When will I see you again?"

He would have kissed her then, knowing this time, she was willing and wasn't afraid of the risk they were taking in seeing each other. He stroked her hair, while looking directly in her eyes, and made her a promise to meet again at a certain time. He was a man of his word.

—

It was more difficult to sneak away thus time, as the men were becoming wary of his whereabouts. He was certain no one saw him sneak away while all the men gathered around the fire.

She was worried this time-concerned her people and his people would not get along, trying to convince him to speak to her father. He had wondered about this man, only hearing his voice, and seeing his shadow leave in the cornfield. He could tell he was a man of authority, but he wondered if he would be as open and welcoming as his daughter?

"Only when the fighting stops can you be together," Grandmother Willow told them.

After he finally agreed, she tightly embraced him. Well, that certainly made her day, as he wrapped his arms around her. Feeling her warm embrace made him desire to become more intimate with her. He wondered if she thought the same? In the midst of their passion, they exchanged a kiss, that was unlike any he had before. He wished their embrace would last forever.

"Ayeyeyeyeyeyow!"

Who...? Well, that was short lived. Before he could think, an Indian warrior suddenly attacked him, pushing her out of the way, and trying to kill him. What's this all about? He's obviously the jealous type. He didn't know who he was or how he knew he was there, but he did not want this to be his end.

Suddenly, a shot fired. Someone came crashing backwards into the water. It was not him, nor was it him who fired the shot. The young soldier stood bewildered until the captain commanded him to leave. Within a short instant the captain was captured by a group of warriors.

—

"Your weapons are strong, but our anger towards you is stronger."

This wasn't exactly the kind of meeting with the chief that he had in mind. He figured, however, he would soon face the same fate as that warrior, as another warrior nearly pierced his neck open with an arrowhead. While he couldn't understand their words, one word that kept coming up, between now, and the attack, was "Kocoum."

Was that a name? He wondered, as he was dragged and tied to a pole inside a dwelling. Who was Kocoum? That man that was looking for her? Was she already married?

"Pocahontas!"

She rose his head to reveal her face. The only face he wished to see-which would be the last he would see.

"I'm so sorry..." She started hugging him. "I never told you about my betrothal to Kocoum."

She explained Kocoum was a warrior her father wanted her to marry, but she didn't want to. Strange how the thought didn't occur that another man would be in her life. She was betrothed! Why should that surprise me? Of course other men would see how unique she was. Why is it always the good ones? At least he could be relieved in knowing that warrior wasn't already her husband or someone she agreed to marry.

When she became sorrowful of the two having met, he had to stop her:

"Pocahontas, look at me...I'd rather die tomorrow than live a hundred years without knowing you," he assured her.

Her friend called her. "I can't leave you," she told him.

"You never will. No matter what happens to me, I'll always be with you forever."

And she was gone. Unable to move from his position, he kneeled there, thinking to himself the moments they shared. At least she'll always know that I love her. He remembered first seeing her, and all the times he had awoken with a different face. While all were certainly beautiful, none of them were memorable, or any that he cared if he ever saw again. Of all the (many) woman he kissed, it was merely flirtation or playfulness. They never had the sense of love or passion that he sensed with her. Finally, he found someone who he was willing to trade all those forgettable moments for, and he couldn't be with her. Why, when he finally found someone worth holding onto did he have to let go?

—

"Bring out the prisoner!" The chief demanded.

This was the moment he was (not) looking forward to, as he was forced up a cliff. He could see his men ready to fight down below, as his head was pressed down on a rock. He looked back to see a large club about to come down on him. He made one final prayer... .

"No!"

"Daughter, stand back!"

"I won't! I love him, father!"

Thank God. He couldn't understand the words she was telling her father, the chief, but having her long ebony hair drape over him, as she covered him-just knowing she was there, put him at ease. After a moment, his wrist, which were tied together, were set loose. He stood up and embraced her once more. Thank you, he whispered, as he kissed her hair.

But the Governor had a different plan, as he fired a musket right at the chief. In a split second he jumped in front, falling to the ground, grabbing his side.

—

"Going back is his only chance. He'll die if he stays here," the younger soldier told her. He wished Thomas didn't say that. He'd rather die here with her rather than go home without her.

She brought him some bark from the spiritual tree, and food for the journey, and held his hand against her face looking down at him on the cot that would soon board the ship; Her tears of anxiousness hinted her not wanting to let go. He didn't want her to.

"Come with me?" He waited for her response... .

—

The bright light from the balcony window of Smith's flat, gleamed over his face; forcing him to awaken. Excited about the events that would soon take place, he gradually sprung up and stretched out his arms with a yawn, before wrapping his arms behind his head, landing back on his pillow.

"John?" A woman was stirring next to him.

John turned to his wife, and stroked her long ebony tresses, her deep, dark eyes now wide open. "Morning, Love. Today our ship sails to Virginia. Are you ready?"

"Yes, Dear."

They shared some passionate kisses, and rolled over a free times, before getting ready. After gathering all their things, he carried all their bags. His wife was expecting their first child; most of the bags were rather heavy. Before they left the building, they said their goodbyes to Mrs. Porter.

"'Twas a pleasure having you here, Mr. And Mrs. Smith." She then whispered to John. "And 'twas high time... ."

He merely chuckled and winked as the couple walked down the stairs. He knew exactly what she meant... .