A/N I don't own Disney or Pocahontas.

Book of the Update: Dragon Slippers trilogy by Jessica Day George

P.S. Whoops, this one took a while, sorry, been working on other stuff. Just wondering, does anyone know any tricks for breaking a bad habit? Like biting my lips/cheek? Please help me lol

Chapter 29

As soon as the door opens, I'm engulfed in a tidal wave of yelling and crying and hugging and boxing of my ears and petting of my head and all of a sudden it stops, as if she's realized how improper she's acting. Her voice is still a bit watery, but also angry, when she invites me inside very calmly. A call up the stairs and I'm surrounded once more with people yelling and crying and touching and hugging me.

Finally, Aunt Caroline decides that the boys and Maggie have had enough time to hug me and cry and pulls them off and sits us all nicely down in the parlor we use for guests and offers tea, as if I were simply a visiting friend, not someone who lived, I mean lives, here. Strange.

After the tea is brought back, we all just sort of sit in silence, sipping. Jacques and Uncle Jonathan are probably too shocked to speak. Or maybe afraid of Aunt Caroline. Probably the latter. Anyways, I don't want to speak, knowing that once I do, the onslaught of questions and tears will come back and I'm not too sure what to say. Aunt Caroline, now who knows what's going on in her head?

"It's good to see you again," is the first thing that comes stiffly out of her mouth. I nod, not sure if this is some sort of trick. Nodding is obviously the safest course of action. "We were under the impression that you were dead." No reply this time. Once again unsure, I simply look at my lap, fiddling with the handle on my teacup. There is an awkward silence before Uncle Jonathan breaks in.

"Well, where the hell were you?" no, breaks in isn't the right expression. I think that explodes would work better there. Yes. Uncle Jonathan explodes.

"I um…America?" yes, we did finally give it a name, thank you very much.

"AMERICA?!" this time, it's Jacques who explodes and I cringe. My brother has never yelled at me before. I nod, silent. "What on earth were you doing there?" he says it as one might say cow patty. Like it's something that came out of an animal's rear end. And it angers me, because believe it or not, America's grown on me. It's free and wild and beautiful. It's the embodiment of freedom and exploration.

I calm myself, taking deep breaths. Best not to get into any more trouble on my first day home. "Exploring," I manage to get out through gritted teeth. "I was exploring. And I liked it."

Aunt Caroline falls back into her seat, out of shock or anger I don't know, but Uncle Jonathan just looks at me, a sad sort of smile on his face.

"I always knew you had your father's blood in you," he mutters quietly, slowly sinking down to the couch.

Jacques looks a bit crestfallen. "You…liked it? Didn't you miss us at all?"

"Of course I missed you, Jacques; you're my family." Ooh, that reminds me. Andre. Should I tell them…? Nah, best let him deal with it himself when the time comes.

Aunt Caroline recovers and stands up, asking stiffly, "Now that you're back, Arielle, what do you intend to do?"

Unsure how to answer, my response comes out jumbled and broken. "I um….I was thinking…not really…back maybe…but you know, I just…..Um…"

"She's not staying," my Uncle says in a flat voice.

"How do you that, you silly old man? She never said!" Jacques seems on the verge of crying, and I feel ashamed that I had ever thought about leaving. He may be older, but he was delicate and sensitive, like a porcelain doll. He was the parties and the poetry, and I was the weapons and the wandering. Polar opposites, we were. Are.

"Of course she's staying, Jonathan," my Aunt says in a sharp voice that even I not dare disobey.

They look to me and I stand, a bit flustered. "I um…..I just need to….I'll be back." I promise as I lay the teacup down and walking out of the parlor and through the door, my grey slippers making soft tapping noises as they hit the tile.

I need to think. I need to speak to Andre. I need to find John Smith. I need to figure out what I'm going to do. But most of all, I need Thomas; he could help with everything that I need and more. The dock. He might be at the dock…?

Fine, fine, the dock. I call a cab and get driven there, tugging on my much-too-short hair subconsciously as I sit in the seat. Grandmother Willow pinned what little hair I had left up on my head to make it look as if it were longer, knowing that my Aunt would have a fit if she saw me with my shorn curls.

When the cab reached the docks, I got out and immediately began looking for anyone familiar. Specifically Thomas Jones. Someone bumps into me and I turn, an apology on my lips, but when I look up, it cuts off and I just go in for a hug instead.

"Whoa, good to see you, too," he jokes as I nearly knock the breath out of him.

"Oh, Thomas, what are we going to do?" I mumble into his chest but he doesn't have an answer for me.

A/N Whoops, that sucked. Anywho, do y'all want this to continue to be "realistic" or to take a completely different turn (And I mean like, COMPLETELY different. Like sci-fi ish, I guess.) I have ideas for both, and they both seem like they would turn out fine. But I need your opinions please :)