When she and John are stitched and bandaged, they all sit around the table, candles lit so they can look one another in the eye.

'We have to go after her.' This is Thomas.

'What good will that do?' her husband 'She's gone. And I won't have my wife and son risking their lives for a single girl.'

'You let me risk my life to save my people.'

'This is different. That was a nation. This is a child.'

'I love her!'

'You're eighteen, Thomas, you can't be in love.'

'It is possible, husband, to fall in love when you are young.'

'Like you did, you mean?' he spits this at her, then glances over to John, who is sitting in silence, hands on the table.

'No, I don't meant that at all!'

Then John speaks, looks at Rolfe.

'Sir. I ask you. Please. I need to find my daughter, but I cannot do it alone. I need the support of the king. You and your wife – you can get that for me. Please.'

Rolfe looks at the broken man.

'No. You have no idea where she is.'

'I know where she is.'

'All the same. She is one girl. No.'

John Smith shows nothing. No anger, no sadness. He simply stands and, clutching his side, nods. Then turns to leave the room.

'Where are you going?' Thomas calls, and Pocahontas goes to run after him. Her husband's hand stops her. He looks into her eyes.

And for a moment she sees him. Sees the Englishman who gave up his country, his duty, his ambition, all for her. Who made his life as a farmer, of all things, just to see her happy. She sees him bringing her flour, teaching her to make bread, defending her from the white men who called her names. Sees him fight them, have them arrested, all for her. Sees him laughing with her, kissing her cheek, teaching her to read the bible and stroking her hair as she does so. Sees him look upon their son with pure, heart tearing love. Sees him hold her, in the bed where she has just given birth, and look at her son and say that he is heaven. He is everything.

Sees him teach her son to read, to write. Arrange for tutors. Sees him hold her hand in pride, as they watch him walk to the town for Latin lessons.

Sees him on their wedding day. Looking at her with devotion. With love.

And she rips herself away.

And she follows the broken, bleeding man out of the house.

Her son joins them.

She does not take either of their hands. She is strong enough to support herself.