I had said I would be there, and I was.

The hills and forests that I had known all my life were now filled with ghosts of memories. The chirping of the birds became John's and my animated conversations, my voice often overlapping with his. Otters splashing became the splash of my canoe paddle hitting the water on that day when I first saw the strange clouds. And the flick of deer hooves racing through the forest became something I had not thought of in so long—Kocoum chasing Nakoma and I through the forest, when we were all still young and uncaring of what role we would have to play. If only he had stayed that way…he might still be here. I shook my head, and all the phantoms disappeared. Thoughts like that would get me nowhere.

Soon a wet, salty breeze hit my face, and I knew we had reached the shore. Behind me were my people, men and women, baskets filled to overflowing with corn, beans, squash, and dried meats. Ahead lay the huge ship, the Susan Constant, as big as fifty canoes. I still could hardly imagine a place where things of this scale were produced, despite seeing pictures of London in books. Looking at it made me feel so small, so disconnected from the earth. But then my eyes fell downwards, and I saw John lying on a stretcher, surrounded by a group of haggard-looking men. Most of them looked hungry, and I was glad for the gift I had brought them. When they saw me approaching, the settlers assumed respectful poses, some bowing, all of them removing their hats. I wondered if John had told them that my father was a chief. Hadn't I explained to him that this did not make me eligible for leading the tribe?

Then it dawned on me: They were honoring me for saving their captain's life.

A soft, deep voice came up behind me. It was Thomas, the boy who—who had killed Kocoum. He glanced up at me quickly, then lowered his eyes as if he were ashamed to look at me. "He'll die if he stays here," he whispered. His words seemed to try to convince me, as if he knew how difficult it would be for me to let him go. He was a stranger, as young as I was, and he had killed someone I obviously cared a lot about. Yet he was comforting me. The thought was almost incomprehensible. In a gesture I never thought I'd make, I placed my hand on his shoulder. His mouth hung open as he quickly raised his head, shocked at the unspoken words my gesture had conveyed: I forgive you. I smiled, and he gave me a tentative smile back. Perhaps if I had known him longer, I wondered, we might have become friends…But that was not what I had come here for.

I knelt down beside John. A light spread across his face, making it glow golden in the early morning light. He looked so happy, relieved, content that I had to smile at seeing him. I handed him a small bag filled with a salve I had made from Grandmother Willow's bark, which she had gladly given me, hinting at its special healing abilities. At the bottom of the bag was an ivory pendant in the shape of an eagle—I knew he would be happily surprised when he found it.

"Here, it's from Grandmother Willow's bark. It's for the pain."

"What pain? I've had worse pain than this!" He winced. "Can't think of anything right now, but…" I would really miss his lighthearted nature.

My father soon joined me, tucking his sacred mantle around John's shoulders. It reminded me of how he once tucked me in at night, and I knew that he had come to love this man.

"You are always welcome among our people." Then lower, more gently: "Thank you, my brother." I had taught John enough of my language that he caught the gist of what he was saying, and he gazed at my father with a deep gratefulness, more than I had ever seen in anyone. Maybe they might have been friends, too.

"Pocahontas, I have something for you." I was astonished. In between the time he had found out he was leaving and now, how could he have possibly found a gift for me? He reached into his pocket and pulled out-

"My mother's necklace!" It sparkled, looking newer than it had when I had first worn it. Every single stone was in its proper place, the smooth piece of mother-of-pearl hanging perfectly in the center. "John—how did you?" I didn't finish, so great was my disbelief. I could only raise my eyebrows in wonder.

"I saw it break when we were in the glade, and picked up the pieces as fast as I could. I was going to try to give them to you before…before you missed it, but I never got the chance. And when I was sick, I forgot about it. So when my men came to get me ready for the ship, I asked them to help me put it back together." He smiled sheepishly. "I can't believe I memorized where all the pieces went…"

I placed the necklace gently on my collarbones. I had so missed its coolness, being able to rub the stones when I was deep in thought. My face probably glowed, too. We smiled at one another, but soon both of our countenances fell as it dawned on us that we were truly about to part, possibly forever. His hand gently caressed my face.

"Come with me?" His chest was heaving with the desperate hope that I'd say yes. Somehow, I had known he would ask me this. And I had thought about it, thought about it deeply. But no matter how hard I tried, no matter how much I prayed, I could not come up with an answer.

My father smiled knowingly down at me. "You must choose your own path."

I glanced back at the two groups of people behind me. On one side stood my people, the Powhatan tribe, those who I had known and, whether or not they had felt the same about me, loved. On the other side were the settlers, many of whom were staying here, at the fort they had built. They looked uncertain, probably still somewhat frightened based upon deeply ingrained notions. But they seemed to look to me for direction.

They had always said I had my mother's spirit, and now that I knew she walked with me and allowed me to understand the voices of the spirits, I could believe it. But it was beginning to dawn on me that she had prepared me for more than that—I was the sole thing that held the tenuous bond of peace between these two people. I had thought that John Smith was my sole path, and my destination, but he was only one of the steps towards what the Great Spirit had truly intended me for: a mediator between two worlds. I had thought that my prayers were not being answered, but it was merely because I already knew. Slowly, sadly, I turned back to face John and hugged him tightly, and he embraced me in return. The only man I had ever loved, and the only one I ever would. He had brought me here, but I knew that going with him would be throwing away all I had come to learn. Tears welled up in my eyes, and he read my response without my saying a word. But he was resolute.

"Then, I'll stay with you." Calmly but firmly, he met my gaze. What was he thinking?

"No! You have to go back!" Didn't he realize that the only way there was even a hope of our being together again was for him to leave?

"But I can't leave you." He looked so earnest, as if he believed it was physically impossible for him to go away from me. But I remembered the words he had spoken to me when I had wondered what I would do without him.

"You never will." My voice began to crack, and the rest came out in a whisper. "I'll always be with you. Forever."

He accepted my words as an echo of his own, and as if we shared the same mind, our bodies moved toward each other. Our mouths met tenderly, as if we were saying with our lips all the kind words that would never be spoken. He was holding my arms with a touch so light, I could barely feel them there, as if he was afraid I would shatter, and when we separated, I felt his sigh on my cheek. Thomas placed a hand on my shoulder and said shakily, "It's time to go, John." We grasped each other's hand until we could reach no further, until his fingers slipped through mine. As they lifted him into the rowboat, his head was still lifted and his eyes were still trained on me until he reached the ship. The calls of the sailors as they lifted the sails were strangely musical, in an accent that John had told me was called Gaelic. The white canvas billowed against the pink sky beautifully. My mind worked quickly as my father placed his hand on my shoulder. There might still be time.

And I was running, flying, brilliant leaves circling around me, my heartbeat sounding through my chest. There—it was still in view as I reached the edge of the cliff. Mother, be with him. Send him back to me. A strong breeze blew towards the ship, sending my hair flying forward. And a message was borne to me on the winds of my thoughts—an image of John making the sign for good-bye. I smiled and returned it slowly, knowing he could see me silhouetted against the sky. And I smiled, for I had heard another whisper tickle my ear:

He will be back.

A/N: If you have not seen the original storyboard for the finale, I highly recommend it-go look it up on YouTube! I used that version for this scene because, if it's even possible, it's more moving than the movie version. No, that was not a pun.