Colours of the Wind - Chapter Six
Author: emocezi
Title: Colours of the Wind - Chapter Six
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 3174
Disclaimer: I don't own Pocahontas nor do I make any money from this work of fiction.
A/N: Yay! Another chapter. And on a bonus note, I'm not just blindly flailing about, I know where the plot line is going. :D
Previous Chapters: ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE
Thomas barely breathed, moving quietly through the forest. He moved the way Ahanu had shown him, heel first, the rest of his foot following in a near-silent tread. His heart was pounding in his ears so loudly he could barely hear the wind rustling through the underbrush.
All at once the forest receded and he stood in front of a large willow tree that sat half on land and half in the water. It's long vine-like leaves trailed in the water, and Thomas found himself pulling off his moccassins and stepping into the water. He waded out until the water hit his knees and pulled himself up onto the flat stump that stood just above water level.
The vine-like leaves that had seemed parted when he'd stumbled across the willow tree slid back into place with a whisper in the air and a ripple in the water. Everything seemed to slow and Thomas felt at peace for what seemed like the first time in years.
There was a gnarled knot on the tree that looked like the face of an old woman, wrinkled and wisened with age. Thomas sat and stared up at the face in the tree, wondering why he was here, how he'd found this place.
The faint sound of a flute floated through the air, and all at once the face in the tree came to life. Thomas smiled up at it, unafraid, as if he known all along this could happen.
"Hello young man." The tree smiled back at him, vine-like leaves caressing over his shoulders and flicking at his cheeks playfully. "I've been waiting for you."
"Waiting for me? Why? I'm no one important."
"Oh child. You will change the minds of the people the way the spring floods change the course of the river."
"But...how?"
"Listen for us. We are all around you." The tree closed her eyes and Thomas followed suite, fillling his lungs with the sweet air that differed so mcuh from the smog filled streets of London.
The wind rustled through the leaves, water flowed into the pond from a small stream, even the dirt made soft noises, being lifted and moved by the creatures that lived in it's depths.
"We are with you always. Just as you are with us. Listen for us child, when you need our help, listen for us and we will lift you up. Listen with your heart and you will always hear us when you need us."
"Wait. Who are you? What are you?" All at once Thomas found himself back in the forest, alone in the place he'd been when Kocoum had found him. The sky was black with roiling storm clouds and lightening crackled across the sky, thunder following behind it in a menacing crash. "Hello? Please. Don't leave me alone. Please." The first fat drops of rain began to fall and Thomas moved to stand beneath a large pine tree, trying to shelter himself from the storm.
Thunder crashed and he shut his eyes, bringing his hands up to cover his ears. A moment passed and then the forest was gone and his feet were tangled in ships roap while the storm raged on overhead. He stumbled backwards, hitting the rail and tumbling overboard.
He fell for what seemed like forever, his cries of terror torn away by the wind even before they left his mouth. The water struck his skin like a thousand razorblades, the cold cutting deep as he sunk into the depths of the ocean.
The knowledge rose up at once. No one was coming for him. No one cared enough to save him from this, not like John had once done. Forgetting his own well being to rescue a skinny, untalented nobody.
He held no place in Virginia camp or in the Tribe. He was adrift on the open sea, without a hope of rescue.
He was alone.
The stubborn part of his brain sneered at his weakness. Insisted that he'd always been alone and this was nothing to fuss over like the child he'd once been. Alone in the world, parents both long dead from the black plague. He shuddered and kicked for the surface, refusing to give up without a fight after he'd come this far on his own.
"Thomas." He knew that voice. "Thomas, Wake up."
XxX XxX
Kocoum smoothed a hand over Thomas' ochre-red hair as the man jerked awake. He was shaking and gasping for breath as if he'd been swimming in the lake. Both his skin and hair were drenched with sweat, adding to the illusion that he'd been soaked only a few moments before.
"It was a dream." Kocoum spoke softly, not wanting to spook Thomas.
"I know." Thomas scrubbed his hands over his face and sat up, blankets and skins piling around his hips. "Sorry for waking you."
"Why are you sorry?"
"I didn't mean to disturb you. So I'm sorry."
"There's no reason to be sorry. Stop apologising." Kocoum frowned, then threw his arm over Thomas' chest and pushed him back down onto the furs, pulling him close and holding him tightly. It was the first time this particular move had been made when both men were fully awake and Thomas felt frozen, wondering what he was supposed to do.
Rather then release him like Thomas had assumed would happen after a few awkward moments, Kocoum half turned, sliding a leg inbetween Thomas' and tucked his head in the curve of Thomas' shoulder.
"Go back to sleep." Kocoum mumbled against his shoulder and Thomas blew out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He shut his eyes and listened to Kocoum's deep, even breaths, waiiting for sleep to overtake him.
XxX XxX
Kocoum inched forward, readying his bow and steadfastly ignoring the way Ahanu was grinning lecherously at him from a few meters away in the underbrush. There was a small group of wild boar in the clearing just ahead and ay distractions could result in injury, death, or their evening meal escaping.
Hassan was on the other side of the clearing with Kitchi and Hurrit. The plan was to swoop in from all sides and leave the boars no where to run. Kitchi and Hurrit held a large net that had been taken from Virginia camp and had proven to be usefull when hunting game such as wild boar.
Hassan flashed his palm in the gloom of the underbrush, giving the signal to move and all at once the clearing exploded in a flurry of motion and sound. The net was thrown over three of the boars, effictevly trapping them.
Hassan and Ahanu had gotten the same boar with seperate spears and were in the process of arguing who had struck first and who's kill this was. They sounded like children fighting over the last piece of bannock. Kocoum rolled his eyes and went to help Hurrit ad Kitchi with the three boars under the net. Two sows and a huge male with tusks sharper then obsidian skinning knives.
Kitchi had thrown himself onto the net to prevent the boars from escaping and was nearly shaking with the excitement of his first hunt. With a successful hunt under his belt he was one step closer to manhood. Hurrit was waiting for Kocoum to help with the slaughter of the boars. A dangerous job for the most skilled of hunters.
A decision had apparently been made between Ahanu and Hassan about who's spear had struck their boar first, and they headed over to the net, readying spears and knives.
Four boars in one hunting trip. It had been a good day.
"So tell us Kocoum, what did you do last night to have our Thomas looking like a bride after his wedding feast?" Ahanu said with a leer. The braves snickered as they worked, ignoring Kocoum's scowl. Kitchi seemed nervous about the teasing, but in time he'd learn that Kocoum was like a wild nut. Only hard on the outside.
"He looks happy. Whatever you're doing, keep it up." Hassan grunted as he worked, earning nods all around.
"Yeah. He's ours now." Hurrit chimed in.
"I like him." Kitchi spoke quietly. "He tells the best stories."
Kocoum grunted and went to cut saplings to make a sort of sleigh. It would make getting the boars back to the village much easier as they were far to heavy to carry. The smallest sow weighing in at just over a hundred pounds.
"Do you think they finally-" Ahanu wiggled his eyebrows and grinned at Kitchi's fierce blush.
"No." Hurrit shook his head. "Kocoum will wait until Thomas comes to him. The pale one is skittish, always running at the first hint of danger."
"He stands his ground." Hassan argued. "He's brave for a pale-face."
"He runs into his own mind." Hurrit explained patiently. "He stands physically, but he escapes into himself. His own people have beaten him down, made him afraid to speak his own thoughts." Hurrit leaned forward and whispered, keeping his voice low. "Pocahontas says they kill the two-spirits in their homeland. Beat them to death with clubs and fists. It's barbaric."
"Why would they do that? How could they?" Kitchi looked at his fellow braves in horror at the thought of anyone doing harm to Thomas. "Those savages."
"Easy Kitchi." Ahanu laid a hand on his shoulder. "I don't think they're all like that. Those other two fellows, they didn't seem as narrow minded as the yellow-haired one."
"What does Thomas call him? Jo-han? Strange name." Hassan said with a grin. "Besides, he's ours now. We'll just have to show him that there's nothing wrong with the two-spirited. Even if Kocoum's way too serious." The trio snickered and went silent when Kocoum stepped out of the forest, watching them all with narrowed eyes that suggested he knew what they were discussing but didn't want to get into the drama of actually discussing it.
XxX XxX
Thomas was once again sitting in the weaving circle when the braves got back. Ahanu shared a look with Hassan, grinning at the look on concentration on his face as he struggled to keep the weave even and just loose enough to keep it from lumping up.
"Thomas, how are you?" Hassan asked, the duo kneeling on either side of Thomas. Awenita glared at both of them and then turned her back on them, ignoring the two braves and going back to talking to Nakoma about the proper way to weave a good fish basket.
"Yes Thomas, how are you. You've improved so much in your weaving. It's beautiful." Ahanu reached out to stroke a finger across the basket and Thomas jerked it out of reach, his eyes narrowing.
"What do you guys want?"
"What do you mean?" Hassan all but purred, draping an arm around Thomas' shoulders. Thomas' eyes narrowed to slits and he opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it again and went back to his weaving, ignoring the two biggest troublemakers in the village.
"We can't just want to spend time with our favourite pale-face?"
"Don't call him that. He's not like the other pale-faces." Hassan frowned. "Let's call him Miskwa."
"Yes. That's a good name for him."
"What is that?" Thomas asked suddenly. He'd never heard the word before and he was curious.
"It's the colour of your hair." Ahanu announced, sliding a hand over Thomas' braid, fingertips brushing against the pale skin of Thomas' neck. "Miskwa."
"Red?" Thomas frowned thoughtfully.
"Red." Hassan said softly. "This is the name of the colour in your tongue?"
"Yes. Red. I'm a red-head."
"Red-head. This is a strange word Thomas." Thomas shrugged, not sure how to explain that their words had been strange to him when he'd first arrived.
"What does red-head mean." Ahanu asked, cocking his head to the side, fingers still stroking Thomas' braid. The man's hair was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It was nearly as soft as rabbit fur.
"It means the same thing as Miskwa. That I have red hair."
"Maybe we're calling you Miskwa because of how red you get out in the sun. Not because of your hair." Hassan said with a smirk, poking at the light sunburn Thomas had obtained after helping the children gather berries the day before.
"Go away." Thomas scowled. "Go kill something."
"We've already done that today. We've got nothing left to do Miskwa, but sit here and annoy you."
"Away with you. Yapping like crows. Leave the boy alone." Sakanon snapped, throwing a leftover piece of birchbark at Hassan. "Can't you see he's busy."
"Get lost and stop distracting him." Awenita added. "You're like wolf-pups that always have to be watched. Go bother someone else." At that the entire weaving circle started jeering and throwing insults at the two braves who stood and skulked away like young boys, embaressed at being caught with their hands full of honeycakes.
XxX XxX
"Is anyone here having trouble with a thief?" Thomas asked after Ahanu and Hassan had left to go bother someone else.
"Someone is stealing from you?" Sakanon asked, eyes narrowing in the direction the two troublemakers had gone in.
"No. No, not a person. It's a....I don't know the word. It looks like a dog with a ring tail."
"Racoon. It's a racoon." Awenita sighed, setting her finely woven blanket aside to pinch the bridge of her nose. "It's Pocahontas' damned racoon, though how she got the thing to follow her is a mystery to us all."
"He steals from everyone, Miskwa." Kanti spoke up from her place beside Aponi who nodded quietly, fingers flying over her basket. Thomas ducked his head to hide his smile, secretly pleased at the new nickname.
"Last week he tried to take the fish I had hanging outside my door. Ran off when he saw me coming. The best thing to do is to keep everything with you so that damn theif can't grab it. He almost made off with Powhatan's second best headdress, would have gotten away with it too if Kocoum hadn't caught him." Sakanon said with a frown.
"He took the necklace my mother gave me for my wedding feast." Isi said quietly. "But Pocahontas got it back for me. Meeko means well."
"Meeko is a pain in the ass." Aponi said dryly. "Don't defend him. It's only a matter of time before he takes something from the wrong person and ends up being the liner of a nice pair of moccassins."
"We can give the tail to Powhaten. He needs a few more for his cape." Thomas muttered, smiling at the hoots and laughter that arose from the group.
"Just don't tell Pocahontas. That girl's been touched by the spirits. Did you know she says she can talk to the trees?" Sakanon shook her head, and all at once the conversation took a turn from Meeko the theif to his lady, the Princess who talked to the spirits.
Thomas sat in stunned silence, suddenly very afraid that his nightmare hadn't been just a silly thing to forget and ignore. If Pocahontas could talk to the trees, then maybe the willow tree that had talked to him in his dream wasn't just something that his mind had dreamed up after the raw sturgeon eggs he'd eaten the day before, as he'd first assumed.
He set his basket aside, marking his place with a twig and getting to his feet. His hands were shaking and he smiled at the group and excused himself, making up the excuse of having to see to something.
At this time of day Pocahontas was probably at the lake with Nakoma, pretending to fish while they braided each other's hair with flowers and lazed the day away.
XxX XxX
He knew he was on the right track when he came across Meeko, trilling to himself as he stripped low lying raspberry bushes and stuffed the tart, ripe berries into his mouth as fast as physically possible.
Wherever Meeko was, the small colourful bird wasn't far off, and soon Thomas could hear the sounds of feminine laughter. He quickened his pace, near stumbling on a root and catching his footing just in time to keep himself from falling into a thicket of bramble bushes.
"Thomas, is that you?" Nakoma called and broke down into giggles at something Pocahontas said in a low voice. Probably something about how no one else in the village was as clumsy.
"Pocahontas, I need to talk to you." He knew he sounded out of breath, and his braid was messy from his rush through the forest. "Please, it's urgent."
"Did something happen?" Pocahontas was on her feet in an instant, helping Nakoma up almost absent mindedly. "Is my father alright? Is it John Smith? Has something happened to him?"
"No, no. Everything is fine. It's just...I had a dream the other night. I...can we talk alone?" He shot an apologetic glance to Nakoma who rewarded him with a warm smile and kiss on the cheek as she headed back towards the village.
"Is everything alright Thomas?"
"Sakanon says you talk to trees." Thomas winced at the look Pocahontas gave him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to sound like that. The dream I had. There was a willow tree-"
"You spoke to Grandmother Willow in a dream?" Pocahontas stepped forward and grabbed Thomas by the shoulders, squeezing until he winced. Her grip lessened almost immediatly and she took a step back, her face a mask of shock. "When did this happen? What did she say?"
"You mean....it's real?" His breath left him in a rush and Thomas found himself sitting on the forest floor, blood rushing in his ears and spots dancing in front of his eyes.
"Thomas" Pocahontas' voice sounded far away. "Thomas breathe. You need to breathe."
"I don't know what's happening anymore." His voice broke, shaming him and he scrubbed his hands over his face, wiping away any tears his traterious eyes had produced. "She told me I had to bring peace to this land. I don't know how. I'm just one man. How am I supposed to do that?"
"The spirits never give us more then we can handle" Pocahontas said quietly, running a hand over Thomas' messy braid. "You should talk to Kocoum about this, he doesn't like to admit it, but he's talked to Grandmother Willow more then once." She paused then, weighing her words. "Would you like to meet her? Not today, it's too late for that. But tomorrow. We could go tomorrow. She's asked me about you, about the pale-face they call Miskwa."
"Is everyone calling me that?"
"It's a good name. It suits you." Pocahontas smiled again, helping Thomas to his feet but keeping hold of his hand when they started back to the village. He sighed and squeezed her hand and once again she wished Kocoum hadn't met Thomas first.
He was a good man and she hoped the spirits knew what they were doing.
NEXT
Title: Colours of the Wind - Chapter Six
Rating: PG
Wordcount: 3174
Disclaimer: I don't own Pocahontas nor do I make any money from this work of fiction.
A/N: Yay! Another chapter. And on a bonus note, I'm not just blindly flailing about, I know where the plot line is going. :D
Previous Chapters: ONE, TWO, THREE, FOUR, FIVE
Thomas barely breathed, moving quietly through the forest. He moved the way Ahanu had shown him, heel first, the rest of his foot following in a near-silent tread. His heart was pounding in his ears so loudly he could barely hear the wind rustling through the underbrush.
All at once the forest receded and he stood in front of a large willow tree that sat half on land and half in the water. It's long vine-like leaves trailed in the water, and Thomas found himself pulling off his moccassins and stepping into the water. He waded out until the water hit his knees and pulled himself up onto the flat stump that stood just above water level.
The vine-like leaves that had seemed parted when he'd stumbled across the willow tree slid back into place with a whisper in the air and a ripple in the water. Everything seemed to slow and Thomas felt at peace for what seemed like the first time in years.
There was a gnarled knot on the tree that looked like the face of an old woman, wrinkled and wisened with age. Thomas sat and stared up at the face in the tree, wondering why he was here, how he'd found this place.
The faint sound of a flute floated through the air, and all at once the face in the tree came to life. Thomas smiled up at it, unafraid, as if he known all along this could happen.
"Hello young man." The tree smiled back at him, vine-like leaves caressing over his shoulders and flicking at his cheeks playfully. "I've been waiting for you."
"Waiting for me? Why? I'm no one important."
"Oh child. You will change the minds of the people the way the spring floods change the course of the river."
"But...how?"
"Listen for us. We are all around you." The tree closed her eyes and Thomas followed suite, fillling his lungs with the sweet air that differed so mcuh from the smog filled streets of London.
The wind rustled through the leaves, water flowed into the pond from a small stream, even the dirt made soft noises, being lifted and moved by the creatures that lived in it's depths.
"We are with you always. Just as you are with us. Listen for us child, when you need our help, listen for us and we will lift you up. Listen with your heart and you will always hear us when you need us."
"Wait. Who are you? What are you?" All at once Thomas found himself back in the forest, alone in the place he'd been when Kocoum had found him. The sky was black with roiling storm clouds and lightening crackled across the sky, thunder following behind it in a menacing crash. "Hello? Please. Don't leave me alone. Please." The first fat drops of rain began to fall and Thomas moved to stand beneath a large pine tree, trying to shelter himself from the storm.
Thunder crashed and he shut his eyes, bringing his hands up to cover his ears. A moment passed and then the forest was gone and his feet were tangled in ships roap while the storm raged on overhead. He stumbled backwards, hitting the rail and tumbling overboard.
He fell for what seemed like forever, his cries of terror torn away by the wind even before they left his mouth. The water struck his skin like a thousand razorblades, the cold cutting deep as he sunk into the depths of the ocean.
The knowledge rose up at once. No one was coming for him. No one cared enough to save him from this, not like John had once done. Forgetting his own well being to rescue a skinny, untalented nobody.
He held no place in Virginia camp or in the Tribe. He was adrift on the open sea, without a hope of rescue.
He was alone.
The stubborn part of his brain sneered at his weakness. Insisted that he'd always been alone and this was nothing to fuss over like the child he'd once been. Alone in the world, parents both long dead from the black plague. He shuddered and kicked for the surface, refusing to give up without a fight after he'd come this far on his own.
"Thomas." He knew that voice. "Thomas, Wake up."
XxX XxX
Kocoum smoothed a hand over Thomas' ochre-red hair as the man jerked awake. He was shaking and gasping for breath as if he'd been swimming in the lake. Both his skin and hair were drenched with sweat, adding to the illusion that he'd been soaked only a few moments before.
"It was a dream." Kocoum spoke softly, not wanting to spook Thomas.
"I know." Thomas scrubbed his hands over his face and sat up, blankets and skins piling around his hips. "Sorry for waking you."
"Why are you sorry?"
"I didn't mean to disturb you. So I'm sorry."
"There's no reason to be sorry. Stop apologising." Kocoum frowned, then threw his arm over Thomas' chest and pushed him back down onto the furs, pulling him close and holding him tightly. It was the first time this particular move had been made when both men were fully awake and Thomas felt frozen, wondering what he was supposed to do.
Rather then release him like Thomas had assumed would happen after a few awkward moments, Kocoum half turned, sliding a leg inbetween Thomas' and tucked his head in the curve of Thomas' shoulder.
"Go back to sleep." Kocoum mumbled against his shoulder and Thomas blew out the breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He shut his eyes and listened to Kocoum's deep, even breaths, waiiting for sleep to overtake him.
XxX XxX
Kocoum inched forward, readying his bow and steadfastly ignoring the way Ahanu was grinning lecherously at him from a few meters away in the underbrush. There was a small group of wild boar in the clearing just ahead and ay distractions could result in injury, death, or their evening meal escaping.
Hassan was on the other side of the clearing with Kitchi and Hurrit. The plan was to swoop in from all sides and leave the boars no where to run. Kitchi and Hurrit held a large net that had been taken from Virginia camp and had proven to be usefull when hunting game such as wild boar.
Hassan flashed his palm in the gloom of the underbrush, giving the signal to move and all at once the clearing exploded in a flurry of motion and sound. The net was thrown over three of the boars, effictevly trapping them.
Hassan and Ahanu had gotten the same boar with seperate spears and were in the process of arguing who had struck first and who's kill this was. They sounded like children fighting over the last piece of bannock. Kocoum rolled his eyes and went to help Hurrit ad Kitchi with the three boars under the net. Two sows and a huge male with tusks sharper then obsidian skinning knives.
Kitchi had thrown himself onto the net to prevent the boars from escaping and was nearly shaking with the excitement of his first hunt. With a successful hunt under his belt he was one step closer to manhood. Hurrit was waiting for Kocoum to help with the slaughter of the boars. A dangerous job for the most skilled of hunters.
A decision had apparently been made between Ahanu and Hassan about who's spear had struck their boar first, and they headed over to the net, readying spears and knives.
Four boars in one hunting trip. It had been a good day.
"So tell us Kocoum, what did you do last night to have our Thomas looking like a bride after his wedding feast?" Ahanu said with a leer. The braves snickered as they worked, ignoring Kocoum's scowl. Kitchi seemed nervous about the teasing, but in time he'd learn that Kocoum was like a wild nut. Only hard on the outside.
"He looks happy. Whatever you're doing, keep it up." Hassan grunted as he worked, earning nods all around.
"Yeah. He's ours now." Hurrit chimed in.
"I like him." Kitchi spoke quietly. "He tells the best stories."
Kocoum grunted and went to cut saplings to make a sort of sleigh. It would make getting the boars back to the village much easier as they were far to heavy to carry. The smallest sow weighing in at just over a hundred pounds.
"Do you think they finally-" Ahanu wiggled his eyebrows and grinned at Kitchi's fierce blush.
"No." Hurrit shook his head. "Kocoum will wait until Thomas comes to him. The pale one is skittish, always running at the first hint of danger."
"He stands his ground." Hassan argued. "He's brave for a pale-face."
"He runs into his own mind." Hurrit explained patiently. "He stands physically, but he escapes into himself. His own people have beaten him down, made him afraid to speak his own thoughts." Hurrit leaned forward and whispered, keeping his voice low. "Pocahontas says they kill the two-spirits in their homeland. Beat them to death with clubs and fists. It's barbaric."
"Why would they do that? How could they?" Kitchi looked at his fellow braves in horror at the thought of anyone doing harm to Thomas. "Those savages."
"Easy Kitchi." Ahanu laid a hand on his shoulder. "I don't think they're all like that. Those other two fellows, they didn't seem as narrow minded as the yellow-haired one."
"What does Thomas call him? Jo-han? Strange name." Hassan said with a grin. "Besides, he's ours now. We'll just have to show him that there's nothing wrong with the two-spirited. Even if Kocoum's way too serious." The trio snickered and went silent when Kocoum stepped out of the forest, watching them all with narrowed eyes that suggested he knew what they were discussing but didn't want to get into the drama of actually discussing it.
XxX XxX
Thomas was once again sitting in the weaving circle when the braves got back. Ahanu shared a look with Hassan, grinning at the look on concentration on his face as he struggled to keep the weave even and just loose enough to keep it from lumping up.
"Thomas, how are you?" Hassan asked, the duo kneeling on either side of Thomas. Awenita glared at both of them and then turned her back on them, ignoring the two braves and going back to talking to Nakoma about the proper way to weave a good fish basket.
"Yes Thomas, how are you. You've improved so much in your weaving. It's beautiful." Ahanu reached out to stroke a finger across the basket and Thomas jerked it out of reach, his eyes narrowing.
"What do you guys want?"
"What do you mean?" Hassan all but purred, draping an arm around Thomas' shoulders. Thomas' eyes narrowed to slits and he opened his mouth as if to say something, then shut it again and went back to his weaving, ignoring the two biggest troublemakers in the village.
"We can't just want to spend time with our favourite pale-face?"
"Don't call him that. He's not like the other pale-faces." Hassan frowned. "Let's call him Miskwa."
"Yes. That's a good name for him."
"What is that?" Thomas asked suddenly. He'd never heard the word before and he was curious.
"It's the colour of your hair." Ahanu announced, sliding a hand over Thomas' braid, fingertips brushing against the pale skin of Thomas' neck. "Miskwa."
"Red?" Thomas frowned thoughtfully.
"Red." Hassan said softly. "This is the name of the colour in your tongue?"
"Yes. Red. I'm a red-head."
"Red-head. This is a strange word Thomas." Thomas shrugged, not sure how to explain that their words had been strange to him when he'd first arrived.
"What does red-head mean." Ahanu asked, cocking his head to the side, fingers still stroking Thomas' braid. The man's hair was unlike anything he'd ever felt before. It was nearly as soft as rabbit fur.
"It means the same thing as Miskwa. That I have red hair."
"Maybe we're calling you Miskwa because of how red you get out in the sun. Not because of your hair." Hassan said with a smirk, poking at the light sunburn Thomas had obtained after helping the children gather berries the day before.
"Go away." Thomas scowled. "Go kill something."
"We've already done that today. We've got nothing left to do Miskwa, but sit here and annoy you."
"Away with you. Yapping like crows. Leave the boy alone." Sakanon snapped, throwing a leftover piece of birchbark at Hassan. "Can't you see he's busy."
"Get lost and stop distracting him." Awenita added. "You're like wolf-pups that always have to be watched. Go bother someone else." At that the entire weaving circle started jeering and throwing insults at the two braves who stood and skulked away like young boys, embaressed at being caught with their hands full of honeycakes.
XxX XxX
"Is anyone here having trouble with a thief?" Thomas asked after Ahanu and Hassan had left to go bother someone else.
"Someone is stealing from you?" Sakanon asked, eyes narrowing in the direction the two troublemakers had gone in.
"No. No, not a person. It's a....I don't know the word. It looks like a dog with a ring tail."
"Racoon. It's a racoon." Awenita sighed, setting her finely woven blanket aside to pinch the bridge of her nose. "It's Pocahontas' damned racoon, though how she got the thing to follow her is a mystery to us all."
"He steals from everyone, Miskwa." Kanti spoke up from her place beside Aponi who nodded quietly, fingers flying over her basket. Thomas ducked his head to hide his smile, secretly pleased at the new nickname.
"Last week he tried to take the fish I had hanging outside my door. Ran off when he saw me coming. The best thing to do is to keep everything with you so that damn theif can't grab it. He almost made off with Powhatan's second best headdress, would have gotten away with it too if Kocoum hadn't caught him." Sakanon said with a frown.
"He took the necklace my mother gave me for my wedding feast." Isi said quietly. "But Pocahontas got it back for me. Meeko means well."
"Meeko is a pain in the ass." Aponi said dryly. "Don't defend him. It's only a matter of time before he takes something from the wrong person and ends up being the liner of a nice pair of moccassins."
"We can give the tail to Powhaten. He needs a few more for his cape." Thomas muttered, smiling at the hoots and laughter that arose from the group.
"Just don't tell Pocahontas. That girl's been touched by the spirits. Did you know she says she can talk to the trees?" Sakanon shook her head, and all at once the conversation took a turn from Meeko the theif to his lady, the Princess who talked to the spirits.
Thomas sat in stunned silence, suddenly very afraid that his nightmare hadn't been just a silly thing to forget and ignore. If Pocahontas could talk to the trees, then maybe the willow tree that had talked to him in his dream wasn't just something that his mind had dreamed up after the raw sturgeon eggs he'd eaten the day before, as he'd first assumed.
He set his basket aside, marking his place with a twig and getting to his feet. His hands were shaking and he smiled at the group and excused himself, making up the excuse of having to see to something.
At this time of day Pocahontas was probably at the lake with Nakoma, pretending to fish while they braided each other's hair with flowers and lazed the day away.
XxX XxX
He knew he was on the right track when he came across Meeko, trilling to himself as he stripped low lying raspberry bushes and stuffed the tart, ripe berries into his mouth as fast as physically possible.
Wherever Meeko was, the small colourful bird wasn't far off, and soon Thomas could hear the sounds of feminine laughter. He quickened his pace, near stumbling on a root and catching his footing just in time to keep himself from falling into a thicket of bramble bushes.
"Thomas, is that you?" Nakoma called and broke down into giggles at something Pocahontas said in a low voice. Probably something about how no one else in the village was as clumsy.
"Pocahontas, I need to talk to you." He knew he sounded out of breath, and his braid was messy from his rush through the forest. "Please, it's urgent."
"Did something happen?" Pocahontas was on her feet in an instant, helping Nakoma up almost absent mindedly. "Is my father alright? Is it John Smith? Has something happened to him?"
"No, no. Everything is fine. It's just...I had a dream the other night. I...can we talk alone?" He shot an apologetic glance to Nakoma who rewarded him with a warm smile and kiss on the cheek as she headed back towards the village.
"Is everything alright Thomas?"
"Sakanon says you talk to trees." Thomas winced at the look Pocahontas gave him. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean it to sound like that. The dream I had. There was a willow tree-"
"You spoke to Grandmother Willow in a dream?" Pocahontas stepped forward and grabbed Thomas by the shoulders, squeezing until he winced. Her grip lessened almost immediatly and she took a step back, her face a mask of shock. "When did this happen? What did she say?"
"You mean....it's real?" His breath left him in a rush and Thomas found himself sitting on the forest floor, blood rushing in his ears and spots dancing in front of his eyes.
"Thomas" Pocahontas' voice sounded far away. "Thomas breathe. You need to breathe."
"I don't know what's happening anymore." His voice broke, shaming him and he scrubbed his hands over his face, wiping away any tears his traterious eyes had produced. "She told me I had to bring peace to this land. I don't know how. I'm just one man. How am I supposed to do that?"
"The spirits never give us more then we can handle" Pocahontas said quietly, running a hand over Thomas' messy braid. "You should talk to Kocoum about this, he doesn't like to admit it, but he's talked to Grandmother Willow more then once." She paused then, weighing her words. "Would you like to meet her? Not today, it's too late for that. But tomorrow. We could go tomorrow. She's asked me about you, about the pale-face they call Miskwa."
"Is everyone calling me that?"
"It's a good name. It suits you." Pocahontas smiled again, helping Thomas to his feet but keeping hold of his hand when they started back to the village. He sighed and squeezed her hand and once again she wished Kocoum hadn't met Thomas first.
He was a good man and she hoped the spirits knew what they were doing.
NEXT