Pocahontas panted as Ariel led her up the steps of the tower.

'Are you alright?' Ariel asked.

"I can't understand you." Pocahontas said. "I do need a moment to rest, however."

Pocahontas collapsed onto one of the steps, clutching her side. Ariel's eyes widened with understanding.

'Frollo hurt you badly, didn't he?' She put a hand gently over Pocahontas' side.

Though Pocahontas could not read lips, there was no mistaking the form of neither the judge's name nor the concern in Ariel's touch.

"Yes, I am badly hurt. I'm afraid that monster had no issues holding back. He called Esmeralda and Clopin and all of my friends 'savages'. I guess I just don't understand how kind people could be barbarians, while vicious men hold places of power and spend their days blaming everybody beneath them for everything vile that does, or ever could, happen."

Ariel's gaze hardened. Though she knew Pocahontas was discussing Frollo, the image that had sprung from Pocahontas' words was of her father. He had tried to annihilate all of Paris, he had taken her voice and hurled her against a wall—all of these horrible things, and yet he was the one residing in the palace of Atlantica.

'You listen to me.' Ariel mouthed. She squatted in front of Pocahontas and looked her in the eye. 'People like that are not the ones in power. It's just an illusion. They are trapped and blinded by their inability to change and grow and they become bitter and sour because of it. People like you and me, we're flexible like a—like a river. We can move and adapt to our surroundings; we can overcome even the mightiest canyon. People like Frollo and like my father, would be swept up by us if we only realized our own strength.'

Pocahontas nodded politely before standing up and stretching, wincing slightly at her wounds.

"I never thought I'd be in Paris." She told her redheaded companion. Ariel silently grunted as Pocahontas threw an arm around her shoulders and leaned heavily into her.

"My friend, Nakoma, was here before me." Pocahontas continued, wavering slightly as they began to climb once more. "She was captured by some men who we had never seen before. They took her and many of my people across the sea with them. Nakoma told me that some of them were sold to men in a land called England—sold! Can you believe it? As if they were some blankets you would barter for at a rendezvous—but some, herself included, were brought to Paris."

Ariel frowned, also perturbed by the idea of selling people. She had heard of a similar practice committed by the shark-fins of Luscatto, but Ariel wasn't sure if that was real or if the merfolk peddlers had been some scary story her father had told her to get her to behave. She was somewhat touched, however, that Pocahontas had so abruptly and whole-heartedly decided to trust the mute girl with her story.

"Nakoma escaped; how, she did not tell me. The memory seemed to pain her, so I did not press the matter. She hid in the alleyways for days, begging for food. It was on one such occasion that a middle-aged woman took her in and gave her housing. The woman was Jim's mother."

Ariel gasped silently. Other than Jim's misty-eyed confession of his mother's murder (which she had very rudely interrupted), no mention of Mrs. Hawkins had been made. She had quickly learned, from both Jim's reaction and Quasimodo's timid manner, that the woman's life and death were horribly taboo.

"Nakoma rather liked Sarah." Pocahontas continued, unaware of Ariel's reaction. "Sarah sewed up the deep cuts that the slave-drivers had given her and she told her grand stories about living amongst the stars. Nakoma said that she knew that these stories had to have been legends, but the way Sarah told them, she could believe that they were real.

"It was Jim who snuck Nakoma out once she was healed. Nakoma said that he smiled and laughed often and that he would come home with fascinating tales about his work on the canals. He was very happy then. It's hard to imagine him like that, especially after what happened." Here, Pocahontas sighed and Ariel's heart dropped: he had been happy. Not grumpy, not depressed, but happy.

"But anyways, he led her to some of his sailing companions and gave them money to sneak her out of Paris. They brought her as far as England before passing her along to their sailing companions and before long, she was by my side again, telling me and the rest of my tribe about the kind woman who had taken her in and kept her safe from the minions of Paris. So when the horrible men came again and I was captured, I promised myself that I would find this Sarah Hawkins and ask for her aid. I'm afraid I was bought by a rather rude man near the provinces. He seemed to fancy himself as a gift to women and I did what I could to escape him. When I got to Paris, I was hungry and famished. I met Esmeralda near a market. She was dancing for coins and I begged her to let me borrow some. She gave me everything she had. It was she who took me in. Unfortunately, my owner notified everybody he knew of my escape and that's when Frollo found me." Pocahontas winced as she started to push the tower door open; Ariel shook her head frantically and opened the door herself. She led Pocahontas to Quasimodo's town model, hoping the small figurines would distract her from her pain.

"These are beautiful!" Pocahontas cried, seizing the baker's figurine. "Look how beautifully they are crafted—did you make these?"

Ariel shook her head.

"Then it must have been the stockier fellow." Pocahontas said critically. "I can't imagine Jim as having the patience for this kind of thing."

Ariel laughed silently as she fetched some fruit for them to snack on. She felt a lot better now that they were safe in the tower.

Jim growled as the Captain of the Guard moved closer.

After Ariel and Pocahontas had left, everything that could have gone wrong went wrong. Esmeralda had pulled Quasimodo up on stage and Frollo had spotted him; Quasimodo had been crowned the King of Fools, but Frollo's minions had attacked him, spawning on a full-on hate war against the poor bell ringer and though both Esmeralda and Jim had fought their way to the poor man's side, they could not have saved him from the vegetables and fruit that had been thrown at him or from his damaged pride. Jim could see the tears in Quasi's eyes as Esmeralda set him free.

Quasimodo had retreated back into the castle while Esmeralda evaded the guards; Jim had somehow gotten lost in the crowd and managed to pull a thin old man out of a manhole. Wrinkling his nose at the old man's stench, he had run forward to find the Romani and help her, only to be blocked by the formidable Captain Phoebus, who seemed unperturbed by Jim's guttural threats.

He grabbed the boy by his arm and held him close; though Jim was strong for his age, Phoebus was a weathered soldier and could not be matched.

"Sanctuary." He whispered in Jim's ear. Jim froze.

"What?"

"Give her sanctuary." Phoebus muttered through gritted teeth, his eyes glinting. "Find her and take her to Notre Dame. She will be safe there. Go! Now!"

Phoebus threw Jim into the middle of the crowd and if it hadn't have been for the brown hand that grabbed him and pulled him up, he would've been trampled.

"We have to find Poca!" Esmeralda told him, her face pulled tight with worry.

"I know where she is!" Jim responded, hoping that he wasn't playing into a trap. "She's in the cathedral with Ariel—come on!"

The two bobbed and weaved through the crowd. Jim looked back to see Phoebus seated on his horse and waving for his men to follow him—in the complete opposite direction of Notre Dame.

It hadn't been a trap, Jim thought. But why would he help us?

Tears began to form in his eyes as he realized the answer.

Because he's selfless like Mom.