Author's Note: This is not a true novelization of the movie; rather, it's an in-depth look at Pocahontas' thoughts as she goes on her journey. Throughout this story, I've changed dialogue, added scenes, and slightly changed situations to make it somewhat more historically accurate, flesh out her and John Smith's relationship, and make her a more rounded, flowing character. I promise you, you'll never be left wondering why she does what she does. Some sections have more dialogue and others have less, depending on the content. Anyway, I really hope you enjoy.
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Disney.
They said I had my mother's spirit.
I knew that my mother had once been a wise woman, gifted with insights into the spirits of the Earth. But how was I like her? Where she had always been certain, I was often fraught with indecision. Her feet had always known their path, and I…well, I just went wherever the wind took me. She had been my father's favorite wife because her strong will and single-minded nature were tempered by a gentle and caring disposition. But although I knew I was my father's favorite child, I wondered sometimes how he could stand my constant changes of mood, my temper that was likely to flare in a second, my curiosity that often ended up getting me into trouble, my reclusive nature. I was so disconnected from the people, nothing like my mother, whom everyone had loved and who had loved everyone.
But most of all, I knew I was not like my mother because she could hear the spirits. You can't choose to be a wise man or woman; it is something that is born inside you. It may not be apparent from infancy, but soon you'll know when Gitche Manitou-the Great Spirit-has chosen you because you'll be able to speak the language of the wind, the trees, the river, the fire, the clouds. My mother was able to teach me how to speak to her spirit guide, Grandmother Willow. But the rest cannot be taught. It seemed that I was not born with the ability to listen.
When my mother died, I felt lost. The world that I loved turned into an even more confusing place than it had been before. I began to lose my way in the forest. I could not canoe down the Quyocahannock anymore, because I always lost control, the rapids wrenching me from side to side. I could no longer jump, climb, or run with the wind at my back like the carefree girl I had once been.
After many moons, I began to feel breezes around me. Soft breezes that could easily have been part of a spring morning, a summer afternoon, an autumn evening, a winter night. But then I noticed the leaves that would come with them. They had a slight shimmer, as if lightning bugs illuminated them. And a song…a melody always came with them, low enough to make me wonder if I had truly heard it, but strong enough to make me shiver. It sounded so familiar, but where I had heard it always eluded me. Airy, woody, haunting. It seemed like the very voice of a chorus of wind, trees, and mountains. I didn't know where the breeze and its song had come from, but with it came a sense of direction and purpose I hadn't had since my mother died.
My newfound sense of security that had come with the wind was shattered when my father told me Kocoum wanted to marry me. I had always known my nature would bring sadness to my father, because I could not see myself married to him. True, we had grown up together and I admired his bravery and his loyalty to the traditions of the ancestors, but was that enough? His feet were always planted so firmly on the ground, and he would never let anyone, least of all his wife, budge him. Couldn't I have something like what my mother and father had? A complementary soul? Had my father forgotten that in his quest to find me a husband who would build me a house with sturdy walls? My father was constantly reminding me that the river chooses the smoothest course as he cuts his path. Always downhill, with smooth earth and no obstacles. But what kind of life was that? No challenges, no adventure, forever stuck in the same place till your course runs out. How could my father ask me to do that?
And then there was that dream. The dream that had puzzled me for weeks. An arrow that spun around and around and around. Didn't my sleeping mind know that arrows don't spin, they fly? I brought it to Grandmother Willow, but even she did not know what it meant, or did not want to reveal it to me. She did, however, know that it was pointing me down my path.
"There are spirits all around you, child. They live in the earth. The water. The stars. If you listen, they will guide you."
Didn't she know already? How could I listen? I wanted to tell her that I had not been born with the gift of wisdom like my mother had. As soon as that thought crossed my mind, though, I heard the strange chorus begin to strike up a melody once more. The voices were the same, but the song was not. It was more mystical, more insistent. I knew that somehow, the spirits were trying to talk to me, but my ears were closed. Didn't they know that I could not understand their language? As if she could hear me, Grandmother added some soft words that, in our language, mean "Listen with your heart, now you understand."
And I did.
All at once a tidal wave of images rushed over me. Things that I had never seen before rushed through my mind in quick succession, strange animals and people with distorted faces. I thought I was supposed to be hearing something, but then I understood that this was the language. I focused hard, trying to clear my mind until two images flashed before my eyes with sudden clarity: the strange arrow, and drifting clouds. My eyes flew open, and I climbed the tree to see if the message could possibly be true. And there, floating towards us from the middle of the sea, I saw it.
Strange clouds.
Was this my path? Towards this huge unknown? None of this made any sense, but when I climbed down Grandmother Willow's trunk and began to run towards the shore, I felt like I was flying.
