"Kocoum! Stop, please, Kocoum!"

I grabbed his arm, my expression panicked and my breathing coming out in short breaths.

I pulled him once, twice, thrice and pried him off of John Smith.

The warrior turned to me, as if to say something.

"Both eyes open!" A wavering voice called from across me.

Bang!

Kocoum's body convulsed in a large spasm and then relaxed, as if dying gave him peace of mind.

My hands were still gripping his arm, frozen to his caramel skin.

And then, I realized what had occurred.

It's strange, seeing things as a bystander, a 3rd person.

I saw me, as a plump baby, gripping on to Kocoum's equally plump hand.

I saw us as 2 year olds, crawling and cooing at one another in that baby language.

I saw us as 3 year olds, competing in races and archery.

I saw us as 4 year olds, losing the baby fat and growing into lean, strong children.

I saw us as 5 year olds, hitting adults with twigs and such.

I saw us as 6 year olds, me saving him from a wild bear.

I saw us as 7 year olds, me complaining about being a girl, him reminding me of the benefits.

I saw us as 8 year olds, our faces too small for our smiles carrying fish back to the village.

I saw us as 9 year olds, fighting about something or another.

I saw us as 10 year olds, ignoring each other.

I saw us as 11 year olds, him carrying me back to camp when I broke my leg.

I saw us as 12 year olds, me getting breasts, him learning how to fight.

I saw us as 13 year olds, Nakoma and other girls saying you were handsome.

I saw us as 14 year olds, you becoming my father's favorite.

I saw us as 15 year olds, me picking corn and braiding hair, you away for training.

I saw us as 16 year olds, your emotions banished to the deepest part of your heart.

I saw us get older, I saw us drift apart, and I saw him change.

I shook my head, focusing on the present.

I saw a white light, burning and whispering in my ear.

Finally, I saw him. Laying on the floor, eyes staring up at the celling.

"It wasn't your fault." The wind spirits whispered, their expressions somber.

But it was.

We were even, he had protected me, and I had protected him back.

But I failed.

And now, it was too late. He was gone.

The white light was hot, searing pain ripped through me when I grasped it.

Through my eyes, it saw the man who had killed Kocoum.

"Is he..." the man trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

I held the light, and it spoke for me.

"You killed him!" I heard it say.

"I thought that-" the man who had shot him seemed amazed that the bullet had hit its target.

"Get away from him!" my twig-like arms shot out, shoving the astonished man.

John, who I had forgotten was there, patted my arm.

"He was only trying to..." He trailed off, seeing that I wasn't in the mood for explanations.

"He killed him..." I whispered, more to myself than John.

I heard the footsteps before John did.

I knew what was coming.

I didn't think to tell John to run, but, ironically, he thought to tell his friend.

I remember my father, Chief Powhatan, telling me that I was a disgrace.

Then he left, and I was alone in the woods, the fireflies lighting up the darkened sky.

It was unfair, the fireflies got to be happy and vibrant, the forest got to be lush and beautiful, the man who killed Kocoum alive and running.

And, unconsciously, I wept hot, raw tears of grief, letting them pour down my dirty face, letting them leave scars.

I let them run, and it felt good.

It's hard, knowing that someone you love, not romantically, leaves you without knowing how much you love them.

But now, it's too late.

What's done is done, and I can't rewind the clock.

It's over, I can never tell him that I'm sorry, I'll never be able to laugh with him, or laugh at his funny habits.

He's gone for good, and he'll never know how much I loved him.

(A.N. Hi! I just saw Pocahontas so I wanted to write this. I always thought Pocahontas was so cute with Kocoum, and I knew they had some kind of backstory. Unfortunately, the movie doesn't focus on that, so I wrote one myself. Hope you enjoy it! - Mimi-Kiki-Dits)