The light of the campfire lit her face so magnificently. He wondered again how he had never realized she was a woman. She had always been so quiet, so perhaps he just hadn't really noticed her. As he approached, she seemed not to see him. All alone, she sat staring into the fire, looking through it, beyond it. He sat next to her and struggled to make himself speak. "How are you?" he managed to choke out. She looked up at him, startled.

"Fine." she answered quietly. But it was just a word. It had no real meaning or significance. Her eyes stared into his untrusting and he felt hurt, but tried to understand. She felt cornered. Why should she trust him? He knew her secret. He could hurt her more than any of the other men could. But he wouldn't. He would never hurt her. She was his angel. But she didn't know that. He looked around. No other men were near their little campfire so he was sure no one would hear them.

"I have to wonder. What are you doing here?" The look on her face told him that she had expected this question. She sighed.

"It was my one chance. I had to escape. Please don't judge me." She bit her lip and looked down at the toes of her boots.

"I won't. What were you trying to escape?"

"The law." She winced at hearing her own voice admit this to him, but did not withdraw further. He hoped that was a sign of trust.

"The law?" he echoed, disbelieving. She nodded. "But, why?" She bit her lip again, harder it seemed to him. For a moment he thought she might cry.

"I'm a criminal. A wanted criminal. Bound to be hanged if anyone ever found me. Or at least imprisoned for the rest of my pathetic life."

"What did you do?" he couldn't help but ask. She looked so innocent. Surely she couldn't have done anything bad enough to merit a hanging.

"I killed a man." Her voice was so soft he thought the wind may have deceived his ears.

"What?"

"Poisoned him. But he deserved it. He was my mother's second husband. And he deserved to die for the way he treated her. But she was too weak to leave him. Too weak to do anything. I didn't think they would figure it out, but somehow they did. Now here I am. In America. My only chance at freedom. And already I've been found out. She gave a soft sob and tucked her face between her knees. Thomas was horrified. What had he done? How could he have caused her such pain? She was his angel. Gently, hesitantly, he placed his arm around her shoulders and pulled her against him.

"There, there." he soothed. "I'm not going to tell a soul." She looked up at him then, tears glistening in her eyes. Those beautiful blue eyes made deep and dark with emotion and tears.

"Really? Do you promise?" she whimpered. She seemed so helpless. So completely dependent on him. The thought aroused him. She was under his control. His protection. He smiled down at her, sweetly. His little angel.

"Of course."

She couldn't sleep that night. Her secret was safe, but her identity was challenged. She had always been such an independent person. Never under anyone else's control. Never with that feeling of helplessness that she felt with Thomas, as if he had more power over her than she did. And she had never needed anyone. Her desire to look into those dark eyes again came close to need. They kept her awake, not allowing her any peace. He was a savage. Perhaps it was the detachment from Britain that she needed. She still did not feel free from her sentence here in America. But she had felt free beneath him. She had felt as if the petty sentence of a British lawmaker paled in comparison to the threat and danger in those beautiful eyes.

Or maybe it was more than that.

She couldn't sleep. The first birds began to chirp far before light arrived, but she knew there was no hope now. Rising from her blankets, she donned her thick jacket and left her little tent. Her feet took her past the tree-trunk wall. She told herself it was just restlessness and anxiety about having her secret discovered that kept her moving further from the camp. What if she died out here? It wouldn't matter. She had no one in the world. Her mother had been the only person in the world for her. When she had died, Rebecca had accepted that death would be worth the reward of killing that horrible man. And yet when death presented itself afterwards something kept her going, on the run, evading death. And for what? What was there for her in this world? Nothing gave her the will to survive like that pair of dark eyes.

Light grew around her and strength grew in her kindling her restlessness. Her troubled footsteps soon became a frenzied run. Tears streamed down her face. Nothing mattered in the world. She could die. She could leave this place and stop feeling so suffocated. Frustrated, she ripped her jacket away and left it in her wake. The feeling was liberating but it wasn't enough. As she ran, the threw her arms toward the sky yelling "God take me now!" and wishing never to have to calm down and accept the life she had again. For it was no life. Her emotions climbed and as they reached the peak of their struggle within her and something seemed to break, she slammed into something.

Falling over on top of him she felt something akin to relief and her emotions climaxed causing her to cry out more with the pain of her emotional struggle than with that of her collision. She looked down into his black eyes. But they were not her beautiful obsidian eyes. They were cold and held death. She practically flew away from him but he was too quick. Before she knew what had happened, she was on her knees and he was behind her holding her wrists in one hand and her hair in the other. He gave a cry and Rebecca could hear similar cries echoing around them and coming closer. Fast. Realization dawned and she immediately felt very foolish. How could she have been so stupid? She could be killed. But then, wasn't that what she wanted? To be killed? To be taken away? No. Now she felt something holding her back. Here on earth. Something of her was still left here. It was her only tie. But what? Not her mother. Not Thomas. Then who?

They leapt into the clearing where she was held speaking unfamiliar words and baring weapons ready. Their muscles and aggressive poses intimidated her and her tears continued to fall. This was not good. She could see two in front of her and one behind speaking with the man who held her violently still. Then he came to stand in front of her. The one with the obsidian eyes. Hers. Their eyes met and she could see the horror on his face.

There she was. The girl from yesterday. Her hair was hidden beneath a funny hat and she dressed the same way as the men, so he had not recognized her immediately, assuming that women in their tribe must dress differently from men as was usual. But there was no doubt. He could see her face clearly. This was the same girl. His first thought was that he couldn't allow any harm to come to her. But he shouldn't feel any need to protect her. She was not his soon-to-be wife Pocahontas. She was not his sister or even a distant relative. She was not a member of his tribe or that of an ally. She was his enemy. And she should die.

But she couldn't. their eyes locked and he saw something like hope reflected in those pools of blue. He was not so heartless. She was a woman. Not a warrior. The men were speaking, he realized, of bringing her to their village, to become their slave. He suddenly felt very possessive and protective of the beautiful woman at his feet. No matter that she was his enemy. No matter that he was engaged. No matter that he would never see her again. He had to save her.

"No." he said sharply in a tone that didn't advise arguing. The other men fell silent and stared over at him in confusion. The girl at his feet looked around fearfully, obviously wondering why they had stopped talking and what he had said.

"What do you mean?" one man dared.

"She clearly means us no harm. She has no weapon. We don't need to provoke our new enemies. At least not until the warriors arrive. We will have a better chance at defeating them if we wait. For now, she lives. Release her." Though he was no chief, Kocoum was highly respected and the men reluctantly agreed. Kocoum felt an inaudible sigh of relief pass his lips and inwardly cursed himself for getting emotionally involved with the enemy. It just didn't make any sense. "Also, I don't think we should mention this in the village. Many do not see reason and want blood. They will wish that we had not released her. It would only divide our nation in a time when we should be united more than ever. I say we should keep this secret. Don't say anything of it to anyone." It was an unusual suggestion but his words showed reason and the men nodded.

Kocoum stood his ground until the three others were far away. The girl didn't move either. Of course, she had no way of knowing what was going on and probably thought he would attack her if she tried to escape. He sighed. What now? He looked long into her deep blue eyes, full of curiosity and interest and such a profound liveliness. He wanted to stare into them all day. But he had a woman in the village and to her he must return. Pocahontas. He needed to speak with her. He bit his lip, sighing deeply, refreshingly and reluctantly left the clearing.

He was gone. Again. He was gone and she was alone. But she had been their prisoner. Was it a trap? Was it a mistake? Had they forgotten to take her with them? She stood hesitantly and looked around. There was no trace of the men. Not even footprints. She noticed her heartbeat. It was fast and seemed to pull at her. Standing there seemed almost painful. Obviously she couldn't follow the Indian men into the forest. Her only alternative seemed to be returning the way she came. Somehow, unconsciously and stopping only to retrieve her jacket, Rebecca managed to arrive back at camp before she was even missed.

The weariness from the emotional strain and the lack of sleep the previous night began to wear down on her and she wished she could just go fall asleep in her tent. But alas, there was work to be done. It was going to be a long, long day.

Damn. How could this have happened? How could he have let himself become so weak for anyone? Let alone a woman who belonged to his enemies. Idly he wondered if she was married to one of them. But somehow he didn't believe that to be the case. Somehow he knew she had never known a man's touch. He had seen it in her eyes. That curiosity. The curiosity of a virgin. A married woman's eyes would have been suspicious, but hers hadn't. They'd been merely curious. He sighed. Why did it matter? She belonged with the strange white people and he belonged with Pocahontas. And yet, how could he ever love Pocahontas now? The idea of marriage with her seemed so dull now. There was no spark there. No bright fire like the brilliant blue fire of the white woman's eyes. The truth was, he longed for her. And life could never be the same now that he had found her. Rising from his furs, he knew what must be done. He must go to Pocahontas. There was much to say.

The men had decided to take a break from work to eat their noonday meal and Thomas eagerly searched for Rebecca. There she was. Alone as usual. Sitting on a log near the edge of the camp, facing away from everyone else. He practically skipped to her side. Sitting beside her he looked up into her beautiful face. Those sad blue eyes held new sparks of life. It was refreshing to see her out of her perpetual depression. He wanted to hold her close. To tell her that everything was ok. That she didn't have to be so brave. That she didn't have to try so hard. Nothing was going to happen to her. He wouldn't let it. But instead he sat quietly beside her, enjoying her presence.

After some time he did speak. "Think we'll ever stop digging for gold?" She looked over at him and shrugged. He hesitated awkwardly. "Think we'll ever find any?" he laughed a little. She smiled. But again there was no reply. He sighed. Following her gaze he looked over the tall wall at the giant trees that surrounded them. "It sure is beautiful isn't it?" She looked over at him.

"What is?" His eyes met hers and a knot formed in his stomach. God she was beautiful. He wanted to say "you are" but hesitated.

"This land. It's so unlike anything I've ever known. It's so wild and dangerous. But it's also beautiful." She turned away, back towards the trees nodding thoughtfully.

"I think its wildness and dangerousness are part of what makes it so beautiful." She sighed wistfully. His heart throbbed. He longed to hold her in his arms, to feel her plump red lips against his own, to feel her soft white skin against his. He longed to take her by the hand and lead her to his tent, or to the stream. But he hesitated. She stood. Smiling at him one more time she left and walked slowly to her own tent. For an instant he wanted to follow her. And he almost did. But he hesitated. And the impulse was gone.