She had never had a hard time reconciling her attraction to both of them.
Everyone considered them opposites. And in some ways, they were. Kocoum was stern and proud and silent, and Pocahontas was wild and windswept and impulsive.
Both strong, though, and sometimes Nakoma thought that was what she liked about each. There were other things — Kocoum's hands, the curve of Pocahontas' shoulders, the determination behind his eyes, the mischievous flash of her teeth when she smiled. But when Nakoma thought about it, the nights the moon was gone and even the wind was quiet, the strength was what she liked the most.
Different kinds of strength, of course. Kocoum was an oak, stretching high and tall, growing in might year by year and sending roots deeper than anyone could ever know. He weathered the storms with the unflagging endurance of something that always had, emerging unshaken and even fiercer than before.
Pocahontas, on the other hand, was like the reeds shooting up on the riverbed. They simply bent beneath rain, straightening when it had all run off their backs. No matter how many handfuls of them one pulled up, they came right back. Each breeze sent them fluttering, but the dance was so joyful. They needed to be rustled, Nakoma thought. Without the movement, they were only part of themselves.
Mentioning Kocoum to Pocahontas never worried Nakoma. She'd guessed for years that he thought the chief's daughter beautiful and wonderful, if only because people have an unfortunate tendency of loving those with whom they could never be happy. Pocahontas had never noticed, but even if she had, Nakoma knew her friend wouldn't be able to choose him. The reed could never fall in love with the oak, when all the space of the sky was between them. So she talked about him fondly, knowing that Pocahontas would only smile and never guess that Nakoma thought the same things about her too, but much more so. Sometimes Nakoma wondered — Pocahontas had never paid attention to the men of the village. Perhaps she preferred women, and the thought made Nakoma's heart sigh hopefully. Someday she would ask her, when she felt brave enough for the answer.
And the day came, by chance, as far too many things do — that day at the cliff — Pocahontas had been doing yet another ill-advised thing, indulging her whims past the point of common sense — and then she was falling, falling, and Nakoma thought, I know I worry every time, but this is really it, this'll be what finally kills her —
But Pocahontas went into the water as smoothly as she always did, popping up, a reed appearing from the bottom, and then abruptly Nakoma was underneath the canoe, soaking wet, and they were both laughing so hard she thought she'd choke. After all the splashing stopped, they just grinned at each other. Rivulets of water trickled down from Pocahontas's hair, and Nakoma's breath caught all of a sudden. Her eyes moved over the face she knew better than any other, the fullness of lips she'd never touched with her own, cheekbones that had given away more smiles than anyone could count, and so freely. Dreamer's eyes. Deeper than eternity. She never knew what went on behind those eyes, but right then they reflected her, and she swallowed.
Pocahontas, she wanted to say out of nowhere. Pocahontas, I've been in love with you for as long as I can remember.
Pocahontas, sometimes I dream that we're kissing, and I wake up wishing I could sleep forever.
Pocahontas. Just her name, and nothing more. It would be enough.
"Help me turn this thing over," Pocahontas said, gaze moving to the wood surrounding them.
The moment was gone. They flipped the canoe, and Nakoma breathed deeply a few times, as if she were clearing water from her lungs, when really she emptied them of the words she'd meant to say. The day was not today — or perhaps it had been, and she'd missed it.
Of course there would be many more days. They headed back, paddles sifting swiftly through the currents, and she knew behind her Pocahontas was thinking about dreams and what they meant and whether her father knew enough to help her.
But Nakoma thought of her own dreams, and wished not for wisdom or knowledge. Instead she hoped desperately for another day with another moment and another chance, and the bravery to go with it.
I wrote this a very long time ago, and I haven't retained a love for much of anything involved with this movie or Disney as a corporation, except that I do still really love their friendship. This is one of the first things I wrote that involved wlw before I realized I was bi, so when I refound this I realized I still have a soft spot in my heart for it. I hope someone else can enjoy it too!