Ok, just so you know. In my mind the second film doesn't exist. It completely ruined the whole storyline so this story takes place five years after the end of the first film :)


It was the one place on earth I had sworn never to return to. Yet here I was, five years on, stood on a cliff looking over the vast land that was Virginia. I stuffed my hand into the pockets of my trousers, subconsciously feeling for it's contents. They were the reason I had found the courage to return to a land that haunted my nightmares, a land which had lost me so much. Remembering Pocahontas' words as she pushed the letter and her necklace into my hand, I forced my best foot forward. I had made my friend a promise. There was no knowing if she was even still alive but I would do what she wanted. Putting up with bad memories was worth it if he could give Pocahontas some comfort in her last days. Yes, He would carry on and find her father. It was the least he could do.


But it was five years since Thomas had last walked on this land and five years had made an impact. Thomas was in a dream as he walked through the woods, his vision clouded by memories and his feet unsteady by the feelings that were overwhelming him. He walked blindly for a few steps before tripping and falling flat on his face.

'Stupid tree root' he mumbled to himself as he scrambled to his feet. He glanced up and realised exactly where he was. The clearing hadn't changed, this was the same point of view he had the day he killed Kocoum. The trees loomed above him like prison bars.

Hearing footsteps, Thomas crept into the undergrowth, watching under the soft cover of the leaves. slowly the footsteps grew louder and across the clearing Thomas saw the figure of a young woman. She walked slowly, as if the whole weight of the world was on her shoulders. Clutched to her chest she held a small bunch of flowers. Carefully she knelt by the small flowing pool, letting the flowers float gracefully on top. Her long fingers curled gently into a fist as she raised her hand to her heart. Thomas watched as her shoulders gently rose and fell and heard the quiet sobs.

'Five years' He said quietly, 'It's been five years.' He shook his head sadly. That was the reason he didn't want to come back. He had told himself it was because of the bad memories but in his heart he knew. It was guilt that had stopped him. He had killed one of their tribe. Thomas knew how it was to lose someone you loved, how much it hurt. This girl was mourning much more than the death of a tribe member.

'You loved him' Thomas said, louder than he had meant to. The girl turned her head and looked straight at him. He stared back but her face showed no sign of seeing him. Thomas studied her face, he recognised her, he was sure but he couldn't remember who she was.

'What does it matter Tom? You killed the man she loved.' A voice inside told him he shouldn't care who she was but still he stared. Her face was round and her dark hair reached just below her shoulders. It was a deep melodic black and waved in a way Thomas could only describe as graceful. Her eyes were like gemstones, jet black and glistening with tears. As one tear rolled down her cheek, Thomas realised where he knew her from. She was the only one who had cried at the time they left five years ago. Even Pocahontas had remained strong yet in the background, Thomas had seen her crying. His heart sank as he remembered her name. Nakoma, Pocahontas' best friend and now she was gone too.

Climbing to his feet quietly, Thomas left the clearing. Before he knew what he was doing, he was running. Faster than he had ever run in his life. His chest was tight and his breathing was shallow. The branches from the trees ripped and scratched at his bare skin but still he ran. He reached the edge of the forest and his knees buckled.

Slipping to the ground he wiped away the wetness on his cheek. Blood and tears mingled in his hands as he broke down. He was aching all over and each scratch burned and stung. But the pain was welcome. Physical pain could distract him from the emotions coursing through his veins. It was his fault, he had killed the savage, it was his country that had killed their princess, he was the idiot who left home, betrayed his captain, destroyed their lives.

'I'm sorry, I'm so sorry' was all he could say as his heart emptied. It had been a bad idea to come back. Fresh wounds had been reopened, his broken world had resurfaced.


I never forget. Today was five years since he died and as always I laid flowers on the pond. And as always it nearly killed me.
I was always the emotional one of the two. Pocahontas used to joke that I cried at everything. I cried when they left, John and Pocahontas. They loved each other, they had something I would never have now that he was gone. Pocahontas had told me what had happened, told me about the red haired boy.

'He was young' she said 'he didn't know what he was doing.' I find that hard to believe. He killed the man I loved in the blink of an eye with his fire stick, no hesitation. Don't tell me he didn't know what he was doing.
The flowers float on the water almost peacefully. I pray my Kocoum is resting peacefully. After I had laid the flowers, I'd heard someone. I looked all around but I couldn't see anyone. Yet, for the rest of the time I was there, I felt like I was being watched. But I am Nakoma. I am practical and I carry on. My world continues to fall apart around me but I keep going. That's all I ever do. I keep going through heartbreak, death, hunger, illness, love and hatred. Other people die but I live on and I keep going.