Contrary to his usual method of traveling to speak to the mystic tree called Grandmother Willow, Steven opted to climb among other trees near the site to advance towards it. During his time here, this kind of maneuvering had gotten a lot easier. Despite being relatively used to walking, a lot more was needed here. As such, Steven decided to learn the more fun ways of getting around.

He approached Willow's branches with caution. He climbed down a few levels on the tree he currently stood on and reached out, brushing them carefully to let her know he had arrived. Upon realization of his presence, several branches bunched together to form a flat, platform-like surface. Steven climbed onto this bunch of branches carefully, laying across it comfortably. After he was secure, the branches descended very slowly towards the stump before the trunk, giving Steven a view of Pocahontas and John, who were walking towards the tree. They were already in the middle of a conversation, so the branches stopped a good deal overhead, allowing Steven to observe.

"I must say, Pocahontas, this place is truly amazing." John sat on the trunk, sighing gently. "It makes a man not want to dig it up for gold after all."

"What's gold?" Pocahontas asked, tilting her head.

"It's...yellow," John attempted to explain. "And it comes out of the ground. It's very valuable."

"Oh!" Pocahontas smiled, reaching into a satchel she had taken with her upon fleeing the corn fields. She pulled one of the corn husks out and handed it to John, peeling it back so he could see the food within. "We have lots of that!"

John chuckled at Pocahontas' naivety, putting the corn in his satchel. "No, no," he replied, reaching into his pocket. He presented a compass to her. "Gold is this."

A confused expression crossed Pocahontas' face at the sight of the round, metal object that was presented to her. "I've never seen that around here before," she said.

"No gold, huh?" John tossed the instrument aside, letting it rest at the base of the tree. "Well, some of the men will be in for a disappointment when they find out we came all this way for nothing."

"Will they leave after they find out?" Pocahontas asked, a little hopeful.

John shrugged. "Some might go back, some might stay."

"Will you go home?" Pocahontas seemed almost worried that John would answer with a 'yes'. At least, she was until he spoke.

"I have no home to go back to," John admitted, his eyes rolling downward. "I go on adventures, but I haven't found a place I can call 'home'. Right now, there's nowhere in the world that I truly belong."

"You could belong here," Pocahontas suggested with a smile.

John sat up, looking into Pocahontas' eager eyes. After a few seconds of this, he smiled back at her. "I think I might like that idea." The two slowly began to ease towards each other, their gazes seeming to attract the two together.

Steven leaned over edge of the branch platform he was supported on and watched, a sly smile on his face. Go get him, Pocahontas, he spoke within his mind. Then the branches pulled away. It was abrupt enough to throw Steven off-balance, leaving only a fall ahead of him. "Aah!" he yelled as he plummeted and splashed into the water.

It broke the trance-like state that John and Pocahontas had found themselves in and the two turned to the water to see him arise. "Shakti?" Pocahontas gasped softly.

Steven put his hands on the edge of the stump and pulled himself up. His legs remained submerged while his hands kept the rest of his body upright. "Hey guys...did I interrupt something?"

A soft, familiar cackle began to come from the tree, causing John's eyes to go very wide. The image of Grandmother Willow began to present itself in the knot of the tree trunk. John stumbled back, his hands keeping his back from the ground as he stared up what he was certain was some kind of crazy mirage.

"My apologies, dear," Willow said, watching Steven climb out of the water. "But to catch you unaware like that was too perfect an opportunity!"

"Some trick, Grandmother!" Steven called up, shaking some of the water out of his hair. "You're lucky it's impossible for me to get angry with you."

"Oh, I'm shaking down in my roots!" Willow chortled in response.

"Pocahontas?" John muttered nervously. "That tree is talking."

"Nice of you to notice," Willow responded. "Hello, John Smith." She wasn't met with a response for a few seconds, as John couldn't muster what words he would say. "Don't be frightened. My bark is worse than my bite."

"Well, go on," Steven coaxed, nodding towards Willow. "I know it's weird your first time, but talking to a tree isn't hard."

"Come closer, dear," Willow requested to John, who got to his feet and stepped forward. The branches hanging behind him pushed him even closer, giving the two very close eye contact. John felt as if the tree was staring into his soul. "He has a good soul, I must say." Well, that just confirmed his thoughts. "And he's handsome too~" Willow added with a small smirk.

John beamed a little. "Oh, I definitely like you."

Pocahontas hugged John at his right shoulder, smiling. "I knew you would."

"Just be careful there, John," Steven warned, moving to John's left shoulder. "This is the nice in-law you get to meet."

"John!" A voice called from ahead, approaching from behind Willow and coming from the direction of John's camp. "Steven?"

"Sora!" Steven called. "We're up here!"

"Steven!" Sora began to go faster, Willow's branching parting for him as he entered the vicinity. "We've got some trouble!"

"Whoa, calm down!" Steven held up his hands, slowing Sora's pace and getting him to stand in one spot. Sora took a moment to catch his breath. "Take it easy, Sora...now what's going on?"

"Pete's here!" Sora answered urgently. "And what's worse, he's gotten in Governor Ratcliffe's good graces."

"Well that's just great," Steven replied, letting one arm drop to his side and scratching his head with the other. "See any Heartless around?"

"Not yet," Sora replied. "But if I know Pete, it's only a matter of time. Even then, there won't be very much."

"I've got a couple problems of my own back at camp," Steven admitted.

"What's happening?" Sora asked. "Is the tribe getting ready to fight the settlers?"

"Well, there's that, but there's something else too." Steven seethed a little bit with regret. "We may have a little bit of jealousy going on." He looked to Pocahontas. "Kocoum is a little peeved that I won your father's favor as far as marriage is concerned," Steven explained. "He confronted me in the corn field just after you left...it didn't end pleasantly."

"Marriage?" John looked at Pocahontas. "What's he talking about?"

"My father wants me to marry and take my place among our people," Pocahontas replied. "But I didn't want to marry Kocoum, so he suggested that I join with Shakti."

"But we're not!" Steven quickly clarified. "I'm even less ready to marry than she is. So she's all yours, John."

"Hold your horses!" John retorted, his cheeks flushing a little.

"Oh, stop it!" Willow chimed in. "Don't even try to deny it, you two!"

"Yeah!" Sora agreed, nudging John's shoulder a little bit. "You guys make a great couple. Don't try to deny it when everybody else can see it right before their eyes."

Steven stared incredulously at Sora for a few seconds, though Sora was oblivious to this. After a moment, he shook his head. More important things are going on now, he reminded himself. I'll chastise Sora when the time is right. He tugged his friend's arm in the direction behind Willow's tree. "We're gonna talk some things out over here. You guys keep doing...well, whatever couples do." Pocahontas blushed a little, but nodded to him. John, not about to complain about this opportunity, sat beside Pocahontas and struck up another conversation as the two boys stepped away.

"So what are we going to do?" Sora wondered aloud. "Pete's here, which means Heartless are probably going to multiply before long."

"I don't suppose we could just run to camp and take him out now?" Steven suggested frankly.

"We can't do that," Sora affirmed, shaking his head. "Not yet."

"Why not?" Steven questioned. "I've got my civilian clothes piled in the corner of my tent. I could run back, change into them, and we could take care of it." Sora's stance didn't waver and he shook his head again. "But he's the enemy!"

"I know, but the rest of the settlers aren't," Sora reminded his friend. "With Pete on Ratcliffe's good side, we can't do anything until Pete makes a move that shows his true colors." Despite the logic he was presenting, Sora could tell Steven was peeved that they couldn't act. "I want to take care of him as much as you do, Steven. I'll have to be in the same camp with Pete for a while. How do you think I feel about that?"

Steven thought for a moment, then a chuckle escaped him. A soft glare from Sora shut him up though. "Sorry...it's a funny thought at first. You have my utmost sympathy."

"I'll just think about how we're gonna take him down," Sora decided with a smile. "That'll keep me going."

"Soooora!"

Sora turned his head, then turned back. "That's Pete. Hide!" he cried in a hushed whisper. He walked quietly, but quickly. Steven followed suit, gesturing to Pocahontas and John to duck behind the front side of Grandmother Willow. They edged out of site as the bumbling fat cat made his way through Willow's branches, still calling out names.

"Sora! Johnny Boy!" Pete scanned left and right, but could not spot them anywhere in his line of sight. "Listen up, men! If you can hear me, the Governor wants you to come back to camp! So get your keisters in gear and- OOF!" The next second, Pete was sprawled on his front.

One of Willow's roots had risen from the ground, tripping Pete up. He sat up quickly, his face scrunched in pain. "Dooh, my face!" he lamented. "Darn this tree and its giant roots." He turned back to curse the root, but was instead just in time to see it lower itself back into the ground. Pete gulped softly. "Well, I can't find the two of them, so I'd best be getting off." Pete stepped carefully around the root that he had tripped on, only to have a branch snap at his very large rear. "OUCH!" He jumped up in the air, making a light tremor in the area as he landed and began to run as fast as his short legs could carry that round body of his. "This forest gives me the creeps!"

On the other side, Steven and Sora were covering each other's mouths tightly in fear that either of them might make a sound when listening to Pete. As soon as he was out of earshot, the two erupted with laughter.

"You call that guy a threat?" Steven shook his head as his laughter subsided. He gave a gentle pat of approval to the trunk of the tree. "Way to show him, Grandmother!"

Willow smirked, twirling her thinner branches. "There's still some snap in these old vines!" she cackled, very pleased with herself.

"Come on, Sora," John said, a little bit of urgency in his voice. "We'd better get back before the whole camp comes looking for us."

Sora took a moment to calm himself, taking a few breaths as the laughter subsided. "Okay," he agreed, turning to Steven as John bid Pocahontas farewell. "Let's all come back here tonight and we'll talk more about what we'll do next."

"Okay." Steven nodded, giving Sora and John a couple of quick nods in farewell.

The two quickly disappeared through into the forest, leaving Pocahontas and Steven alone with Willow, who shook her branches in what was clearly excitement. "What a day this has been," she observed happily. "I haven't had that much excitement since Shakti first showed up here."

Pocahontas sank to a sitting position, holding some of her hair in her hands as thoughts of worry filled her head. "What am I doing?" she questioned. "I don't think I should be seeing him."

"Why not?" Steven asked, sitting across from her. "You obviously like him a lot, right?" Pocahontas nodded. "And do you want to see him again?" She nodded again.

"Who wouldn't?" Willow agreed. "I want to see him again."

Steven glanced at Willow with a raised eyebrow before shrugging it off and speaking to Pocahontas. "So what is it in you that's telling you you shouldn't?"

"Not the inside," Pocahontas explained. "The outside. The visitors and our people are at odds with each other, even if there hasn't been very much fighting yet." She put a hand to her chest and lowered her gaze a bit. "But inside, seeing him feels...right."

"Perhaps it's your dream," Willow suggested.

"My dream..." Pocahontas got to her feet in excitement. "Do you think he is the one the spinning arrow was pointing to?"

Steven shrugged his shoulders. "Could be." He got to his feet, looking into Pocahontas' eyes. "Forgive me for sounding more like Sora than myself here, but a heart as good as yours will always lead you to the right place. You should trust it."

Pocahontas smiled at Steven before giving him a gentle hug. "Thank you, Shakti."

Steven patted her back, smiling as well. "You're welcome." He nodded his head in another direction. "Come on. We'd better get back to camp."


Sitting at the table in his tent, Ratcliffe felt things starting to fall into place. Though the gold appeared nowhere near within his grasp, he was now in possession of the means to get rid of the natives that stood in the way of gaining his fortune. Before him, a Heartless twitched obediently in place. It stood on its hind legs adorned in a protective tunic as well as the standard helmet that his men wore. It also carried a smaller form of rifle.

"Fascinating," he mused.

Pete stood a few steps to the side of the Heartless, beaming from the approval his creation was receiving. "I knew you'd like 'em."

Ratcliffe nodded. "Demons that they are, our equipment makes this one almost look like it could be of this world. Is this how the Heartless blend in?"

"Most are born a certain way depending on where they're from," Pete explained. "This is one of my special creations."

Ratcliffe got to his feet, eagerly envisioning the use the Heartless could be to him. "And you can make more of them?"

"As many as you need," Pete promised. He held up a finger, prompting some hesitation from Ratcliffe. "But for ones like these, I'll need the equipment to back it up."

"That could be a problem," Ratcliffe answered. "We have a limited surplus of weapons. I cannot afford to make too many of these special ones."

Pete put his hands on his hips, slightly irritated. "Well, if you're gonna make me put forth the effort of making 'em, you'd better have a job for 'em to do."

Ratcliffe put a hand to his chin. "You mentioned that Sora has been a problem to you before. What threat is a mere boy such as he?"

"He trips me up everywhere I go," Pete grumbled. "There's a bit you don't know about Sora...he's got this special weapon. It's called a Keyblade, which he can summon and send away whenever he needs to. That weapon spells death for these Heartless and there's no telling what he'd do if he found out you're using them."

"He is under my command," Ratcliffe reasoned. "He has proven himself thus far, but I'll have him tried for treason if he steps out of line."

"You'd make an enemy out of him," Pete warned. "Even against all your men, that kid ain't a pushover. You want him to keep in line? You gotta work around him somehow."

"But I need these creatures to get those savages out of the way!" Ratcliffe growled, pounding the table with his hand. He took a bit of a breath as he gathered his thoughts. "Or maybe I don't..." His eyes opened up. "Perhaps all I need these Heartless to do is convince Sora that the savages are truly an enemy worth fighting against..." He smirked gently as another plan came together in his head. "Create a few more of Heartless that look like these. Tell them to find the native camp and steal some of their weapons and supplies."

"Why do you want 'em to do that?" Pete questioned curiously.

"You'll create more Heartless in the guise of the savages," Ratcliffe demanded. "At the right time, you will unleash them upon Sora. Even if he manages to defeat them, it will force him to see those heathens the same way I do. He will be completely on my side."

Pete smiled widely. He chuckled a bit. His laughter continued to grow until it was booming within the tent. "Brilliant idea, Governor!"

In the corner of the tent, Wiggins nervously gulped at everything he had heard.


"There you are!"

Nakoma's voice drew the attention of Steven and Pocahontas as they neared the edge of camp. She advanced towards them and crossed her arms, lowering her voice to that of a harsh whisper. "What on earth were you thinking running off with that man?"

"Didn't you hear me before I left?" Steven reminded bluntly. "I told you: we have nothing to worry about from those people. One of them was a friend that I knew before I became part of your tribe, so I know he's good. The one you saw in the fields is trustworthy, too."

"This is crazy..." Nakoma shook her head a bit while her hands held it in disbelief. "We're on the verge of war, you two!"

"But we can talk to them!" Pocahontas assured.

"It might be too late for talking," Nakoma admitted dimly. She tugged their hands and led them into camp, dragging them all the way near the shore where several canoes had been left on the beach. Emerging from them were men who looked similar to members of their own tribe, though with subtle differences in the tribal markings on their clothes and skin.

"You gotta be kidding me," Steven muttered. This sight was exactly the opposite of what he was hoping would happen.

"There you are, Shakti!" Kocoum approached the group from behind, planting his spear in the ground at his side. "Our brother tribes have joined us. Now we will be able to chase these invaders from our lands!"

"No," Pocahontas whispered, rushing for the opening of the chief's tent, where several other chiefs were entering. Steven followed closely behind her, leaving Nakoma and Kocoum both in a state of perplexity.

"Father!" Pocahontas called out.

Powhatan stopped at the entrance of his tent, the last in line of the procession of chiefs. "Not now, daughter," he dismissed. "The council is gathering."

"Wait, Chief Powhatan!" Steven came up at Pocahontas' shoulder. "We don't have to fight the invaders!"

"You are a great warrior, Shakti," Powhatan said. "But you must learn that our paths are chosen for us sometimes, even paths that lead to war."

"Please, listen!" Steven pleaded with his chief. "I lived among people like them once. I can speak like they do. Let me try talking to them!"

"They do not want to talk," Powhatan dictated.

Steven opened his mouth to speak again, but a certain chill down his spine kept his words from being spoken. As he stepped away, Pocahontas kept pressing the issue with her father. "But if one wanted to talk, you would listen, wouldn't you?"

Powhatan's patience was starting to fade. "Pocahontas-"

"Wouldn't you?" she repeated.

Looking into his daughter's eyes and hearing the hopeful words she was speaking, Powhatan allowed himself to calm a little in her presence. "Of course I would," he promised. "If only it were that simple, but nothing is simple anymore. That is why I must ask you not to leave camp again. Stay here, where it's safe."

A few steps away, Steven was staring down at his hand. For the first time in a few days, he had sensed Heartless. This alert felt stronger than the other ones, though. The aura was darker than before and it persisted longer. He looked around warily, looking for his target. Sure enough, atop the chief's tent, he spotted a Heartless.

"Look out!" he cried. He summoned his Keyblade, signaling to Pocahontas and Powhatan to retreat inside the tent. The Heartless angrily bounded for him, holding some kind of weapon in its hand that it swung at Steven, who deflected it with his Keyblade. The Heartless shuffled away from Steven quickly and held its weapon up. That's when Steven realized the Heartless held a gun and also wore a helmet strikingly similar to John's. A thought ran through Steven's head, but the fight didn't allow him to ponder on it yet.

"Reflect!" he cried, putting up a barrier that absorbed the rifle's shot. Then he put both hands on his Keyblade and rushed forward, dueling briefly with the Heartless before he was able to knock the gun away. After that, he thrust his Keyblade into the creature's chest. He held it there for a moment, then pulled it out. Toppling over, the Heartless faded into a single heart floating into the air while its helmet clattered to the ground.

"Shakti!" Kocoum called. "They're in the camp!" The warrior turned back to his work, piercing one Heartless with his spear, then flinging it at Steven. Taking the hint, Steven leaped at it in mid-air and cut the monster apart with a single his bearings, Steven rushed into the camp.

Gotta keep them focused on me and the warriors, he reminded himself.

While sparring with another stray Heartless, Steven could spot a small pack completely ignoring the rest of the tribe. Save for the ones fighting the warriors, the pack headed into the war tent where tribal weapons and paint were kept. Curious as that was, he had to keep his head in the fight.

So it was that distraction that allowed the small pack of four to exit the tent without any conflict, making off with five spears and two jars of paint, white and red. Once they neared the woods and were beyond the threshold of the camp, orbs of darkness surrounded them and they vanished into thin air.

The other warriors became still, confused as the remaining Heartless vanished in the same fashion. The women and children hesitantly came out of the tents as soon as they could tell that things were okay. The warriors stood in the middle of them while Steven was left almost in the exact center of the aftermath. He could feel dozens of gazes upon him all at once. Glancing behind him briefly, the harshest one came from Kocoum. The harshness was not in anger at Steven's optimism, however. It was a plain look, one that demanded admittance from Steven about the issue at hand.

As the tribe parted and Powhatan stepped into the camp with a few other chiefs, Steven couldn't deny that admittance. The Heartless that attacked them were the spitting images of the threat that the settlers posed to the camp, right down to the weapons they carried and the armor they wore. John may have been a good man, but the rest of the men who had come here looking for gold were unspoken for and the evidence painting them as the worst of men was now stacked too high for him to simply convince the tribe otherwise.

So he turned to face Powhatan, forcing himself to look his chief in the eyes, and took a knee. Kocoum followed suit. The other warriors joined one by one in this gesture of loyalty. No words needed speaking among themselves about what should be done. War was coming and they were ready to fight.

Still, when the tribe dispersed and returned to their work, Steven waited a moment. Sure enough, Pocahontas approached him. The could see it in each other's eyes that they both felt trapped by the situation at hand. Like the bow the warriors had taken, no words needed speaking. Inversely, they both knew that if the situation was to be amended, they needed to talk to Sora and John again.

Tonight.


A good distance from either camp, Pete lurked in the forest. He waited, albeit less patiently than one ought to. He broke a few stray sticks simply from frustration, though he glanced over his shoulder with each one to make sure that none of the other trees were able to lash out at him.

However, the moment he waited for arrived, making him a little giddy. He was surrounded by dark orbs, through which his special Heartless entered. They dropped the spears and paint at their master's feet. Without further ado, Pete snapped his fingers, dismissing them. Then he snapped twice more, summoning a new batch of Heartless to him, six Neo-Shadows. He picked up the jars of paint and flung it at the Heartless. They all shuddered a bit from the impact of paint, but recovered just fine. In their claws, each of them took up a spear.

"All right, Heartless," Pete began. "On my signal, got it?" He snapped his fingers again and the Heartless vanished into the void to await their next calling. Pete ducked behind a tall and thick bush, watching as Sora and John walked towards their camp.

Thomas paced monotonously back and forth at the western entrance to the camp. Ratcliffe had set him up on guard duty in order to, as Ratcliffe put it, learn to shoot correctly or die trying. Condescending as that sentiment was, no natives had approached camp since then and he was getting bored of walking the same patch of dirt for hours on end when nothing was likely to happen.

Then a tree's branches rustled a little, which put Thomas at attention. He shook his head a little to shake himself out of his dull state and aimed his gun. A moment later, Sora stepped into sight, quickly holding up his hands.

"Whoa, Thomas! It's just us!" From behind Sora, John emerged as well.

"Oh Lord..." Thomas sighed heavily, lowering his weapon. "Goodness, Sora. I could have killed you!"

"Not aiming like that," John chided cheerfully. He walked beside Thomas and lifted the gun to the boy's shoulders, pointing out at the forest. "Keep both eyes open when you shoot. You'll see twice as well."

Sora walked ahead of John to re-enter the camp, meaning he was the first to be barraged with questions from the camp.

"There you are, lad!" Ben bellowed. "We've been looking all over for you!"

"Awful late for you to be out there looking for John," Lon chastised. "And where is he, anyhow?"

"Someone say my name?" John stepped into camp with Thomas, waving. "At ease, men. I'm just fine."

"Sora! Smith!" From his tent, Ratcliffe marched forward in the direction of Sora and John. "Where have you two been?"

"Scouting the terrain, sir!" John lied simply. "Sorry you had to send Sora out after me, but I had to be thorough."

"Good work, then," Ratcliffe complimented. "Then you must know the Indian's whereabouts. We'll need that information for the battle."

Sora tensed at the sound of that word. "Battle?" he repeated.

"Yes!" Ratcliffe declared. "We will eliminate these heathens once and for all!"

Sora shook his head firmly. "No!" he cried incredulously. "You can't do that!"

Ratcliffe narrowed his eyes at Sora. "Can't I?" The other men grew inquisitive as well.

"What's gotten into you, lad?" Ben demanded to know.

John stepped in to back Sora up. "We don't have to fight them. Sora and I have met two of them that we can talk with."

"What?" Thomas scoffed. "You've talked with savages?"

"They aren't savages!" John retorted. "They can help us! They can navigate the land and the rivers better than we can. And look at this." He pulled the ear of corn from his bag, peeling back the husk. "It's food!"

"What's that?" Lon puzzled, tilting his head.

"It's delicious, especially after three months of hardtack and gruel," Sora informed.

"I like gruel," Wiggins chimed in meekly from behind Ratcliffe.

"Not to mention it's the closest thing to gold we're going to find here," John replied, eliciting a few shocked gasps. "I'm sorry men, but it's true. There isn't any gold here."

"No gold?" Ratcliffe spat at the ground. "Did your savage friends tell you this?"

"They're not savages!" Sora argued, his irritation with Ratcliffe growing. "One of them is a friend of mine who's learned to live among them. He trusts them and I trust him." He crossed his arms firmly as he spoke to Ratcliffe. "I'm sorry, Governor, but I'm only speaking the truth."

Ratcliffe seethed for a moment, then he stormed over and took the corn from John. "Those liars don't want to feed us! They want to kill us! There is no place for those people in civilized society!" He threw the corn down at Sora's feet, glaring intensely at the Keybearer. "I am sorry, Sora, but that includes your little friend as well."

"Sir, listen!" John demanded. "Sora and I can speak to them. The least you can do is find a way to live in peace with them!"

"AAAAH!"

A scream sounded, a scream that Sora recognized instantly as Pete's. The fat cat bumbled into camp, running as fast as his legs would carry him. To Sora's surprise, they carried him at a pretty good pace. "They're coming!" he cried out. "Savages!" That was the last word he spoke before taking refuge in Ratcliffe's tent. The instant the word 'savages' was spoken, however, the other men were instantly cued to arm themselves with guns.

Sora and John stayed where they were, their eyes wide with shock.

"Pete has to be lying," Sora said to himself.

"This can't be happening," John murmured.

The entrance of the camp gave them a clear view to the approaching threat. Sora peered out, instantly recognizing the danger for what it actually was. "Heartless!" he cried out. Instantly filled with relief, he summoned his Keyblade and waited mere moments. As they got closer, his stomach plummeted a bit again. Though they weren't the natives, these Heartless were painted and armed with wooden spears, just like the natives.

Either way, Sora prepared for his enemy. "Everyone get back!" he warned. This proved to be an easy task. Having summoned his Keyblade, the men were in enough bewilderment to stay away. The fact that they weren't eager to face Heartless again helped that sentiment.

So Sora stood against five Heartless on his own. First, three stood back and charged him with their spears. Sora swiped his blade upward, batting the stone points of the spears up with the strike. He knocked both of the Heartless to the ground, only to be surrounded from three sides by the other ones. Each of them alternated jabbing at Sora, who had to weave his way back and forth between the spear points.

"Ow!" Sora rubbed his shoulder, where one had managed to poke him. He lifted his blade up in the air. "Thunder!" he yelled. On cue, the magic lightning came down around him, zapping the three Heartless out of commission for a few moments. Not about to let them have another poke at him, Sora smashed them against the ground with his Keyblade, where they vanished one by one.

The remaining two that Sora had knocked aside before got back up and charged at Sora again. Standing perfectly still for a few moments, Sora jumped barely of their way, nearly sending the two colliding with each other. As they hesitated, Sora swung to the left, then the right, obliterating both of them and standing alone once again.

Silence took the camp. The men were awestruck. Wiggins peered out from behind Ratcliffe, trembling with fear. Ratcliffe was beaming with approval.

Then the tent flap opened up slightly and Pete stepped out, clapping in a slow, dramatic fashion. "Well, well, well," he spoke with a feigned pride as he walked towards Sora. "Didn't I tell you, Governor?" He stood beside Sora, clapping him on the back. "Didn't I tell you that he'd be more than a match for the demons the Indians would send our way?"

Sora grew very angry in that instant, but he knew he couldn't lose his cool in front of the men. He glared up at Pete. "You did this!" he hissed so that only Pete could hear. "They may not see through you, but you can't fool me."

"Well let me tell you something, son." Ignoring Sora's fist clenching upon being called 'son', Pete continued to drawl. "Them's the only ones I need to convince. I just needed that little demonstration to reel 'em in." He leaned down and whispered into Sora's ear. "Thanks for the help."

Sora had never wanted to hit something with his Keyblade so badly. The only thing keeping him from wailing on Pete right here and now was the fact that he had protected the camp from Heartless, even if they were Pete's. In the meantime, Pete's recommendation for him hadn't fallen on deaf ears. Ratcliffe marched forward with an energetic stride to his step.

"Sora!" he announced, sounding much more pleased with the boy than he had been only minutes ago. "I've misjudged you. Though I took you for the child that you appear to be, I can see that your credentials have not been falsified. You are indeed the capable fighter you promised me you'd be." He leaned down to look Sora more directly in the face, his expression lacking just enough sincerity for Sora to know that he was being played. "I trust that you now see that these savages are walking an evil path and that war is unavoidable?"

Sora's breathing increased in volume with his frustration. In one fell swoop, Pete had destroyed any chance of the settlers talking peace with the Indians. War was inevitable and with the Heartless behaving that way, Sora didn't even know if he was on the right side anymore.

Still, he crossed his arms, nodding to Ratcliffe. "Tomorrow," he replied. "We should rest for a while and build up our energy."

"Right, then!" Ratcliffe turned to the men. "At sundown, head to the barracks. At daybreak, we attack!" The men cheered proudly at the news of a battle. The mundane and fruitless search for gold would be replaced by a battle with savages.

Ratcliffe relished in this secret triumph of his and he kept building the victory by marching coyly up to John, feigning sympathy once again. "I am so very sorry to disappoint you in saying this, Smith." He leaned in closer, whispering. "The savages are the enemy."

"But..." John searched for words and came up with only one plea. "But this is their land."

"This is my land," Ratcliffe corrected. "I make the laws here. Everyone!" he called to the other men. "I have a new decree to share with you. The savages are our enemy now. They are to be shot on sight. If there is anybody who disobeys this creed, they shall be tried for treason and hanged. Are we clear?"

"AYE!" The men had never sounded so united than when they expressed that enthusiasm. As they returned to their duties around camp, namely gathering their weapons, Sora and John stepped off to the side, lowering their voices as they spoke.

"This doesn't make any sense," John whispered. "I've seen your friend and Pocahontas. If there's any paint on them, it's neat. Those things looked like someone just threw paint at them. The Indians can't be using Heartless."

"They're not," Sora informed. "That guy, Pete? He's the source. He's the one commanding the Heartless."

"We've got to tell Ratcliffe!" John urged.

Sora glanced at the tent, shaking his head. "No. Ever since Pete arrived, Ratcliffe was completely in his pocket. He wants the gold and he'll do anything to get it, even if it means forcing a war."

"But there is no gold!" John emphasized. "Pocahontas told us so!"

"Can you get Ratcliffe to believe that?" Sora asked. John opened his mouth a little, though he was stuck in silence for a moment. He sighed, shaking his head. "We have to go talk to them tonight. We have to tell them what's going on."

"And what do we do then?" John asked.

Sora looked at Pete. "He'll make a move soon," he spoke, a sureness in his voice. "I just hope he does it soon so I can act before someone gets hurt."


Night descended. The full moon hung overhead. Sleep had claimed the entire tribe.

Pocahontas ran along the woven wall of the camp, slipping between one of the entrances near the corn fields. Now that she was here, she needed merely slip into the fields and get out of sight. She paused momentarily and glanced back at the entrance to her camp.

Steven stood there with a somewhat sunken face. "Your father has me on guard duty," he grumbled. "Since the Heartless have found the camp, I guess I can't blame him." He looked up at her with concern. "Will you be okay out there?"

"Out where?" Steven turned to face Nakoma, who had her arms crossed and who looked very cross herself. "You're going to them again, aren't you?"

"Nakoma, listen!" Pocahontas urged.

"No, you listen!" Nakoma stormed up to her friend and took hold of her wrists. "I lied for you once. Don't ask me to do it again."

"I'll be fine," Pocahontas promised, trying to step away. Nakoma's grip didn't let up.

"Pocahontas!" Nakoma's tone grew more firm. "If you go out there, you'd be turning your back on your people." She turned to Steven. "And you would be doing the same by not protecting her."

"I'm trying to help my people!" Pocahontas explained.

Steven stepped up and placed a hand on Nakoma's shoulder. "She'll be okay out there," he said. "I want to go out there, but her father has be guarding the camp."

"So who's going to protect her then?" Nakoma demanded to know.

"She won't need protection," Steven answered. "I trust the people we know over there.

"And what if the other men show up and take her?" Nakoma inquired. Her tone grew more pleading than demanding as she refocused on Pocahontas. "Pocahontas, you're my best friend. I don't want to see you get hurt."

Pocahontas stepped away from Nakoma, looking at her firmly. "I know what I'm doing."

Nakoma advanced. "Pocahontas, no!"

It was for nothing, though. Pocahontas was already deep into the field, Nakoma was left there exasperated. Pocahontas was venturing into potentially dangerous territory without Steven. If something did go awry, who would be there to watch over her?

She re-entered camp and her answer presented itself. Kocoum stood outside his tent, tending to a fire to keep himself warm on this night. In times of war, the man was often known for having the true blood of a warrior. Now that a war was inevitable, he was filled with so much vigilance that sleep couldn't defeat him.

Nothing could.

"Kocoum?" Nakoma walked up to him.

"What is it?" Kocoum asked, not even glancing up.

Nakoma took a deep breath. "It's Pocahontas," she revealed.

"What?" Kocoum got to his feet. "Is she alright?"

"Yes..." Nakoma nodded, though hesitant. "She's not in camp. I think she may be in trouble."

Without another word, Kocoum sprinted in the direction of the corn fields. As he passed through the entrance, a voice sounded.

"Where are you going?" Kocoum turned to face Steven.

"Pocahontas is not in camp," Kocoum answered. "I'm going out to look for her."

Steven's eyes widened, convincingly faking surprise. "I'll go!" he quickly tried to urge.

"No," Kocoum declined. "You are best suited to fight the black demons if they show up again." Steven raised his eyebrows at the statement, to which Kocoum spoke more gently. "I know we have disagreements, Shakti. But we are on the brink of war. We must put those differences aside and do what is best for all of our people."

Steven found himself practically speechless at the sudden admittance of Kocoum. He managed to gather a few words of caution for his fellow warrior. "Listen...Pocahontas has a good heart." He spoke slowly and carefully. "She goes down a path that is very much her own..." He looked up at Kocoum, speaking in a stern, yet calm manner. "I don't want to take that from her...even if the path leads away from marrying either of us."

At the last phrase, Kocoum tensed up a bit. "What are you saying?" he asked, a little more harshly than his previous words.

"Just...don't interfere unless she is in danger of being attacked," Steven finished.

Kocoum's eyes narrowed at Steven and he turned away, running at a comfortable pace into the corn fields to try and find Pocahontas.

Upon his departure, Steven quickly ran through the camp, glancing wherever he could. He had felt a chill in his body, namely his hand. Since that was his inner alarm to Heartless, he looked as quickly as he could, holding his Keyblade out just in case.

After a few minutes of searching, he returned to his post, relieved and confused. If there were no Heartless coming, then what had caused the darkness?

Thinking back to when his darkness had alerted him, he realized that he was speaking to Kocoum at the time. He was warning Kocoum about Pocahontas going down a path that led away from them.

From him.

"Oh no," Steven muttered. Last time he had spoken to Kocoum about Pocahontas, he had received a similar warning and dismissed it. A second warning told him that his hunch was coming to reality. He sprinted into the corn field, running to where he knew he might find Pocahontas. He only hoped he wasn't too late.


After resting patiently in the tent, John became convinced that true stealth was the only way to sneak away from camp. He would have alerted Sora, but the poor fellow had been assigned strict guard duty in case more Heartless showed up. What's more, Ratcliffe had Pete guarding Sora to make sure he didn't desert his post.

John, however, had simply retired to his tent early, freeing Ratcliffe from concern. He walked quietly through the camp, escaping the notice of the men sitting around the fire. As he stealthily maneuvered, he could overhear some of their conversation.

"What if Smith is right? Maybe there is no gold," Lon offered.

"If you ask me, Ratcliffe is a bit dodgy," one of the brown-haired soldiers pointed out. "Throwing in his lot with that Pete? The fat load's done nothing for us except run crying into camp like the fraidy cat he is."

"He helped get the message through the few stubborn skulls about the savages," Ben reminded him. "They didn't attack us for nothing. Did you see those demons? They looked just like 'em."

As the conversation continued, Thomas' apathetic attention to it alerted him to the shadow he saw nearby. He glanced out of the corner of his eye, spotting John ducking into the shadows. Thomas got up and walked over carefully, not wanting John to see him.

As John slipped from camp, Thomas peered out at the entrance, watching where his friend was headed. His focus completely settled on John, only to have a rough shove to the outskirts snap him to refocus. He turned back to the entrance and gasped. Ratcliffe stood before him, looking firm.

"Follow him," Ratcliffe ordered. "I want to know where he's sneaking off to and what he is doing. He held up a gun, then threw it at Thomas, who caught it. "If you see any Indians, shoot them."

"Yes sir," Thomas replied quietly, turning to his task. Ratcliffe was not finished, however, as he spoke again.

"Thomas?" The soldier turned to face his governor. "Thus far, you have been a shoddy sailor and a poor excuse for a soldier. Do not disappoint me again."

With that, he turned away and returned to his tent. Thomas stepped quietly into the night, picking up the pace as he entered the forest to try and find John.

Atop the walkway on the wall, Sora watched the exchange and sighed. "Be careful, John," he muttered.

"Quit talking to yourself..." Pete muttered from about ten feet away. Sora glared at his foe, who lounged against the wall, barely awake.

Sora knew that the moment was soon. He said nothing, waiting a the fire was put out and the other men returned to their tents. Before long, the entire camp was quiet and Pete snoozed away. Silently counting his blessings about how easy it was to slip away, Sora hopped quietly over the wall, landing quietly on his feet. He walked off carefully, being sure not to wake anybody up.


Running into the clearing where Willow resided and climbing to the trunk as quickly as possible, Pocahontas didn't even need to wait for Willow to appear in the knot of the tree. The spirit of her grandmother was already wide awake, her eyes wide with awareness.

"The earth is trembling, child," she said. "What is wrong?"

"Everything is wrong," Pocahontas confessed. "War is coming and nobody is convinced that it can be stopped."

"Pocahontas!" From behind Willow, John quickly approached her. "My men are planning to attack your people. We've got to warn them."

"You must talk to my father at once!" Pocahontas urged, tugging John's hand. John stood firm, however.

"Talking will do no good," he informed. "Sora and I tried, but this land has my men spooked. It doesn't help that some of those Heartless that attacked camp earlier looked like your people."

"Heartless that looked like your people attacked my village today!" Pocahontas echoed. "Have they turned?"

"No," John promised. "It's Pete. Sora's met him before. He says Pete's the one controlling the Heartless, but Sora can't act Pete without the governor declaring him a traitor."

"Don't give up hope just yet," Willow warned, lowering one of her branches towards the water. "I want you to see something." She dipped the tip of her branch into the water, creating a few ripples that spread outward. "See? They start out small, but look at the way that they grow."

John watched patiently as the ripples faded. "And?" he inquired flatly.

"Someone has to start them," Willow reminded. "Unless that someone can be persuaded not to."

"They wouldn't listen," John decided dismally. "They both think the other side attacked with the Heartless. Now that they want to fight, nothing can stop them."

"John, sometimes the right path is not always the easy one," Willow said. "And though I don't doubt you would fight for what you desire..." As she spoke, she shifted her trunk to slide John down to the forest floor, where Pocahontas stood. "You must realize that only when the fighting stops can you two be together."

John looked down into Pocahontas' eyes and she looked up into his. A few moments passed and John reflected on what he had learned to see in those eyes. She had shown him what a so-called savage is like when one really learned to understand their way of life. If he'd never known her, he'd have gone on in life knowing only an inkling of how precious life could be.

That won him over. "All right," he gave in. "Let's talk to your father."

Pocahontas smiled widely, hugging him. "Oh John!" she cried happily. It took only another moment for their eyes to meet again. Grandmother Willow respectfully vanished, leaving them completely alone as their lips met passionately.

From one end of the area, Thomas pulled back a few branches to see his friend and mentor kissing an Indian. He was commanded to shoot on sight, but his mind couldn't comprehend the sight he was seeing. A part of him questioned if it was correct.

On the opposite side, Kocoum watched as well. He was breathing quietly, but heavily. The moonlight leaked through the trees above them, shining a circle of light around the two of them as they kissed. In that moment, it became all too clear to Kocoum. Pocahontas had been secretly wandering off and seeing one of the enemy. What's worse, Shakti had known about it, told no one, and though Shakti had been granted Pocahontas' hand over Kocoum, he had never intended to take it.

The jealous rage within Kocoum built up until Kocoum let his emotions loose the only way he knew how: with war cry.

"Ayiyiyiyiyiyao!" Kocoum cried, rushing into the clearing. Upon hearing the noise, Pocahontas and John broke apart, leaving John open for a tackle. Kocoum toppled John to the ground, then pulled a tomahawk from his waist and started chopping.

"Kocoum, no!" Pocahontas tried to approach the warrior. Before she could, John picked up a stick and deflected one of Kocoum's blows, proceeding to toss him away and get to his feet. Kocoum recovered quickly, pulling out a carved knife and lunging. John took hold of Kocoum's wrists, keeping him at bay. As the seconds ticked by, John felt the raw strength of the enraged warrior pushing him to the ground.

Thomas rushed from his hiding place, but kept his distance as he prepared his rifle for a shot. John only had seconds left, as Kocoum was bearing down on him with the knife.

"Leave him alone!" Pocahontas pleaded, grabbing at Kocoum's left shoulder, tugging him away. She wasn't strong enough, however. Kocoum shoved her away without a second thought and she rolled away. Without her distracting him, Kocoum used the force of both hands to push the knife towards Kocoum.

It was in this moment that Steven had rushed onto the scene. He could see what Kocoum was doing and made haste. With the knife mere inches away from John's neck, he barreled into Kocoum and used the momentum to haul him to his feet, away from John.

Kocoum staggered a bit, surprised at the sudden assault, but his strength gathered again as he saw who had gone against him. "You!" he growled. As he lunged at his fellow warrior, Sora had reached the outskirts and was witnessing the conflict.

Then Thomas lifted his gun, opening both eyes.

BANG.

Kocoum seized up where he stood. In an instant, the rage-filled eyes had gone blank again. The life in him was fading and his strength had disappeared. He seemed to fall slowly when he crashed into the water below. He laid there, motionless.

Pocahontas, who had roused herself, gasped upon the sight of him. She crawled over to his side and peered down at his face.

Then Thomas emerged from where he was. The past few seconds had been a blur to him. Once the gun in his hand had sounded, he was snapped back into his senses. Looking down upon the lifeless body in the water, he gulped. "Is he...?"

Pocahontas turned to face Thomas. "You killed him," she confirmed, her face in anguish.

"I didn't mean..." Thomas was having a hard time finding his words. "I was only trying to-"

"Keep away from him!" Pocahontas lunged, but Steven and John held her back.

"Pocahontas, it won't do any good!" Steven reasoned.

"He killed him!" Pocahontas cried out again.

"Thomas!" John yelled. "Get out of here! Now!"

Not hesitating on John's words, Thomas took to the hills. At that moment, warriors from the tribe were heard crying out in the distance, closing in fast on the area. Sora knew they'd be confrontational, so he quickly started to run the opposite way. Though her consciousness had retreated for now, Willow seemed to sense Sora approaching, as the branches parted for him. He jumped in between them, landing on the trunk, then broke into a run after Thomas.

Steven took a mental note of Sora's safety, then rushed to John. "They're almost here, John. You have to trust me," he warned. "Don't ask. Just go with my lead." Without another warning, he grabbed John's wrists and forced them behind his back, leading him forward. "I got him!" he called up ahead, forcing John ahead. The warriors obeyed him and instead made their way to the pond. Together, they lifted Kocoum's body from the water and carried it back towards their camp.

Steven, ahead of the pack, whispered to John. "I'm really sorry, John. I didn't want any of this to happen."

"It's all right," John muttered back. He hunched over a bit, giving Steven the appearance of a true captor. He also walked with reisistance to sustain the illusion. "I've gotten out of worse scrapes than this. Can't remember any, but..." He paused for a moment, then asked. "Will I be alright?"

Steven kept walking, staring ahead in silence for a few moments. How could he answer that question for John? Fate had thrown one bout of bad luck after another at him, Sora, Pocahontas, and John. A tangled web of deceit had been woven and a war was approaching. With the impending threat arriving so soon, he had no ideas left of what could be done.

"I don't know, John," Steven answered. "I just don't know anymore."

As the warriors and Steven left, Pocahontas did not. She retreated into the branches of Willow's tree, climbing up to the stump. She sat on her knees and bowed her head. Quietly, tears fell from her eyes. Everything she had tried to accomplish had crumbled because of her relationship with John.

In her eyes, hope had been lost.


A/N: Hey, everybody! Only about three months since my last chapter was posted. For how long my past few chapters have taken, that's a new record...makes me remember a time where I had no life and could write all the time...odd as this sounds, I sort of miss those times.
In any case, thank you for continuing to read this story despite my rather long periods of absence. Even if the real KH3 is on its way in the next few years, I still plan to finish this story, so stick with it!