A/N: Hi all!
Yes, I'm not dead! I've just been very busy and I've honestly had writer's block on every single story and every single story idea. Though finally, something has come to me this evening and I really enjoyed writing this. Please leave a review on your way out, they truly do mean a lot and are greatly appreciated! Thank you so much for any reviews, concrit or any thoughts that you may have I love getting them and I hope you will enjoy this!
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Pocahontas; Disney owns the movie and History owns the real Pocahontas story.
Flames will be used to light firewood and candles.
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The tribal chief could not sleep.
Although dawn of the next day was soon approaching, chief Powhatan could not find any rest upon his comfortable sleeping mats. The older man heaved a sigh before tossing his blanket off and standing up in his longhouse. The man began to pace, glancing every now and then out the top of his hut.
'What is the matter with my daughter?'
'Why won't she speak to me?'
'Where has she gone?'
It was his last musing that worried him the most. After the preparations were complete for the morning's execution and the day's war Powhatan had gone in search of his wayward child.
The first place he had gone was her own hut. Upon entering he noted how unusually disorganized it had looked. Although his daughter was certainly not a lazy woman, it had looked to him quite untidy from how she normally kept her belongings. Clothes that were normally folded lay scattered on the ground, her various items of jewelry were thrown half hazard on her shelves and some of her ceremonial headdresses had fallen on the floor.
This had caused the father to pause taking in his surroundings of the disheveled place. Carefully moving around some of the fallen obstacles the man had knelt on his daughter's soft rug and had looked at the tiny engraved box that was lying open on the floor.
The tiny engraved empty box.
Sitting on his bed once more, the chief sighed as he again glanced outside.
'Perhaps a walk.'
The man thought as he got to his feet and quietly treaded outside of his longhouse. Where he was going he was not sure until he found himself outside of the prisoner's hut. The two warriors quickly straightened up as the figure of the chief came in to their line of vision.
Powhatan gave a quick nod as he spoke, "I must speak with this prisoner."
No question was asked; no objection was raised as he was silently let in to the hut in order to view the man. He sat as he did before, hands tightly bound behind his back and his shoulders slumped. For a moment, Powhatan wondered if he had been asleep.
If he had been, it did not last as Powhatan delivered a sharp kick to the prisoner's side. The other man gasped, his eyes widening though out of pain or surprise the chief could not tell in the dimness of the light.
"You are the chief," the prisoner spoke and this time it was Powhaton's time to be surprised.
The chief hid his emotions well as he harshly slapped the other man across the face.
"You speak our language?" he inquired after the echo of his hit had died down.
"Yes, I only know a little."
"So I see," he stated.
The warrior was not sure why he had come here, of what he had hoped to gain from his visit and most importantly why the Great Spirit had lead him here. The father in him knew he had to be searching for his daughter however the chief in him needed answers from this strange man.
"Why did you kill him? Does your kind even know how to feel? What is it that your kind want from my land? Why do you?..."
As the warrior had spoken his voice increased in volume as his dark eyes narrowed at the bound prisoner. His seething questioning halted in midsentence as he spotted a few small beads protruding out of his shirt pocket.
In one swift motion the warrior had snatched the chain out of the man's pocket and held it up to the sparse moonlight that was filtering in through the hole in the top of the structure.
"Where did you get this?" Powhatan inquired his voice thick with venom.
"It," the captive seemed to falter as his eyes moved to what Powhatan held in his hand which earned him another harsh slap.
"Answer me! Where, did, you, get this?" The father was shouting now, his mind going through any kind of evil magical spell this man could have placed upon his child in order to have her give him the chain of sacred beads he now gingerly held in his large hand.
"Answer me!"
"I took it," he quickly said his blue eyes never leaving the elder man's face.
The warrior only asked one question, "How?"
"Someone was wearing it and I…"
"Do not even attempt to deceive me! I can see your kind are not only murderers but thieves as well. As far as I am concerned this is only another charge to ad to your list prisoner. You somehow steal from us, you murder with no regard and you are not even man enough to admit your guilt when death is staring you in the face!"
Powhatan stopped, he becoming to overwhelm with emotion.
"How dare you use your wickedness in such an underhanded," the leader shrugged as the glair had not left his countenance, "I am not surprised. Whatever your spell is it will have no affect on you or my people come tomorrow morning. As soon as your head is smashed upon that rock you will be nothing. Kocoum and his family will have justice, your kind will be pushed back to the saltwater by which they came and your spell that you have cast will be reduced to naught."
No other words were uttered as Powhatan exited the prison hut, his steps going at once to Kekata's longhouse in order for him to perform a purification and blessing of his daughter's necklace.
How this captive had managed to get his hands on his daughter's beads of protection and prayer he would never know.
Not until the next day when he became aware along with everyone else that indeed a spell of a different kind had been performed. The true reason had been revealed for his daughter giving the captive her sacred beads.
The same reason he had given them to Pocahontas's mother all those years ago.
The reason was love.
..-..-..-…-…-…-…End of, "The Reason."-….-….-…-….-…