The Adventures of Pocahontas and John Rolfe: Book I

by Spidersting

Book I picks up where the sequel left off. Pocahontas and John Rolfe are on the ship back to Virginia hoping to spend the rest of their lives together in peace. Instead they stumble upon a series of adventures and misadventures. Together, they discover that the road to happily-ever-after is paved with many more obstacles than they ever imagined. Characters and universe owned by Dis

11. Just Around the River Bend

The Adventures of Pocahontas and John Rolfe: Book I

Chapter 11: Just Around the River Bend

Pocahontas and Louise nearly jumped out of their skins when the thunder struck. They looked at each other with wide eyes. "Oh no, the ship!" they bellowed in unison.

"Pocahontas, be safe! The girls need me. Monsieur Rolfe put me as second-in-command until you recovered!" Louise told her, turning on a heel and heading right back up top. When she arrived on deck, rain was beginning to fall on the deck and picking up speed. The crewwomen were in a panic as the sea rose and fell higher with each wave.

"Where's Captain Rolfe? Help!"

"The captain is hurt, I saw!"

"He can't command!"

"God in heaven, what do we do?!"

"The only man on the ship is incapacitated!"

"We're doomed!"

Startled screams erupted as a massive wave shoved the ship upward with a jerk. Louise peered up at Nicole as she clung to the wheel with a look of terror on her face. "Hold on, Nicole! I'm coming!" Louise cried. Using the railings and banisters to maintain her balance, she stumbled her way up the stairs and to the helm to take command. With two fingers in her mouth, she let loose a shrill whistle that could be heard over the winds. "Geneviève, Denise, tie yourselves to the yards and furl the topsails," she shouted up to the riggers high on the mast. "You'll have to weather the storm from there!"

"Aye, aye!" the sisters replied in unison.

Louise struggled to maintain control of the wheel as the waves began to toss the hapless vessel about. She shouted commands to Marie-Claude and Catherine to climb up the lower shrouds and begin furling the main sails. "We have to get the sails up, ladies. The mast might break or the ship might overturn. Only then are we doomed! Don't lose hope! We can do this!" She turned to Lorraine and Isabelle, both of whom were clinging for dear life to the railings on lower deck. "Girls, go down below to the pump and start working it like your life depends on it! The ship will take up water! You'll feel safer down there anyhow! Go! Simone, you man the tiller!" she decreed.

The girls held on to the rope ladders and skidded down the deck as the first waves crashed over the railing. They were nearly washed down the stairs, but Lorraine spread her legs just in time to stomp against the banisters on each side of the stairway, stopping her, Simone's, and Isabelle's descent. When the ship righted itself, they took the chance to hop up on their feet and run down the stairs one after the other. They passed Pocahontas on the way who, after searching fruitlessly for her animal friends, had decided to return to John Rolfe and Madeleine. The storm frightened her but she feared more for the Englishman's safety in light of his serious head injury.

Pocahontas's greatest challenge would be getting back to John Rolfe's cabin but she was determined to crawl on hands and knees if she had to. Leaving her useless crutches behind, she clung to the banisters as she clumsily hopped up to the lower deck. The raging winds whipped her hair painfully against the skin of her face and the pouring rain soaked her through and through. It was like trying to resist the pull of a river current. She fought against it with all her might, the weight of her sopping clothes pulling her down.

Pocahontas wedged herself into a secure spot behind the banister to upper deck as another massive wave bowled into the starboard side. She was temporarily submerged and felt the ear-popping pressure of the raging seas on her body. The Powhatan woman coughed and sputtered once the water had retreated, heaving to fill her lungs with air. "Princess, what are you doing up here?!" Louise cried, seeing her at the bottom of the staircase.

"I'm going to relieve Madeleine so that she can help you furl the sails!" Pocahontas called up to her at the top of her lungs. Another wave crashed into the stern of the ship, rising like a tidal wave over the rear, and showered down on them. Louise and Pocahontas braced themselves respectively against the helm and banister. The former fell back once the water had passed, momentarily blinded by the saltwater. The wheel spun wildly but Pocahontas crawled on hands and knees to the upper deck and grabbed a hold of it to steady the ship. "Are you alright?" she called over to Louise.

Louise's medium brown hair was soaked through and through such that it was black as night. The girl snapped her neck back to toss her hair out of her face and scrambled back to the wheel, taking it from Pocahontas. "Thank you!" she cried over the storm's roar.

Pocahontas nodded and turned toward the door to John Rolfe's quarters, still on hands and knees for stability. But just before she could reach for the knob, someone appeared in her path. Both of them were momentarily airborne as the ship rapidly descended more than forty feet from the crest of a wave. Every girl on board screamed at the top of her lungs, Pocahontas included. Nicole clung to the railing on her right, blocking the door to the captain's quarters as she reclaimed her footing. Pocahontas found herself flat on her face when the descent had stopped. "Stay away from him, you witch!" Nicole bellowed in French over the whipping storm winds. "He doesn't love you anymore!"

"What?!" Pocahontas cried, not understanding. Nicole grabbed the Powhatan woman by the hair and dragged her to the railing overlooking the violent seas. "Ow, stop! What are you doing?" Pocahontas protested, struggling to escape her rival's grasp.

The blonde kicked her and yanked her up, trying to push her over the side. When she realized the blonde's intention, Pocahontas screamed at the top of her lungs. "Your spell on him is too strong," Nicole charged, despite knowing Pocahontas did not speak a word of French. "It appears the only way I can free John from your heathen grip is to get rid of you!" she exclaimed as she slapped, kicked, and scratched at the Powhatan princess.

…

The heaving and rocking of the ship was agony to John Rolfe. Madeleine pressed herself down over his pelvis and held on to the frame of the bunk to keep him from tumbling off. "Hold on, monsieur! The storm will pass!" she said, her voice drowned out by thunder.

A rush of saltwater swiftly flooded in from under the cabin door, soaking the girl's feet and shoes. The mental state that John Rolfe was in could only be described as complete terrifying chaos. He could hardly tell his senses apart, let alone the panicked voices he was hearing outside from one another. The only moment of clarity came to him when one familiar voice rose above all others, desperately crying out for help.

The Englishman sat bolt upright, eyes snapping open. Adrenaline anesthetized the ache in his head when he heard Pocahontas scream in terror. The action startled Madeleine as she glanced up at him with her eyes wide like saucers. "M-monsieur?" she stammered.

Nothing could be more important than the safety of the one for whom he had come on this voyage to begin with. Madeleine withdrew as he pushed past, hopping onto his feet. He held onto the wooden frame of the bed and cried out, "Pocahontas? Pocahontas!"

"Monsieur Rolfe, no! You must lie down! You have a very bad head injury!" Madeleine proclaimed. The young girl made no attempt to stop him in a physical sense, though.

They were washed to the back of the cabin as a massive wave broke through the door, hitting the wall hard. The ship rocked forth again, thus draining the cabin. John Rolfe sputtered and scrambled against the slippery floor, trying to get to the door. Glancing back, he saw Madeleine had been knocked unconscious. He grabbed her and dragged her back to the bunk as the ship righted itself again, using a length of rope in a nearby barrel to tie her securely to the bed. With a hope and a prayer, it would keep her from drowning as the ship made another twenty- to thirty-foot drop from the crest of a massive wave.

John Rolfe fell flat on his face, heaving in pain as he crawled toward the now-open door. He could see the sailorettes rushing about outside, struggling with all their might to keep the ship afloat. "Stop it! No! John, help! John Rolfe!" Pocahontas shrieked in terror. The Englishman could hear her frightened voice clear as daylight. Clawing his way to the threshold, Rolfe identified the one known as Nicole Lorrise St. Germaine as she used the weight of her whole body to slam Pocahontas over the banister. The Powhatan princess disappeared over the starboard side of the ship as rain fell in torrents upon them.

"No!" John Rolfe cried as his vision began to change colors rapidly. Against the pain and disorientation, he had to get to her somehow. No matter what, he had to get to her.

…

Percy barked tirelessly at a very ill Meeko, urging him to keep trying to pick at the lock on their cage as it dangled treacherously from the brig ceiling. The animals had found themselves in the same confined area when they had awoken from a nap after passing out from eating too many cookies. Flit had somehow been captured as well in a jar with air holes poked on top. There was a small amount of honey on the bottom to feed him. The jar, in turn, had been placed in a dangling cage adjacent to the one the mammals were in. The hummingbird chirped angrily at Meeko. The raccoon was their only hope to escape but the storm had made him frightfully ill as it rocked everything about.

Percy, frustrated with Meeko's slothful movements, started to look for other solutions. He began to ram himself into the side of the cage, only making the thing rock more. The raccoon finally lost his stomach contents. Still, Percy did not stop making the cage swing about, even smacking into the ceiling at one point. Every ten seconds or so, it would collide with Flit's cage. Eventually, it caused the jar the bird was inside of to overturn. The tiny hummingbird was extremely displeased to have honey dripping on his feathered head. Turning his attention from Meeko, he started to squawk at Percy instead.

With one hard collision, Flit's cage broke loose from the hook adhering it to the ceiling. It fell to the sodden floor, shattering the jar he was in. Disoriented from the impact, the tiny bird shook his head clear and flew up to the other cage. He used his pin-like beak to pick the lock that his raccoon friend had been working so tirelessly on before the storm.

Click!

Against all odds, Percy had inadvertently saved the day. He hopped down onto a stack of rum barrels, using them as a staircase to reach the floor. The raccoon, on the other hand, tumbled haplessly out of the cage as it swung and fell on top of Percy the very moment that the pug dog touched the ground. They tumbled through the rising saltwater and hit the wall, nearly drowned by a wave that hit them immediately afterward. They sputtered as the wave receded, clearing their lungs and noses from the stinging salt water.

Flit found the door to the brig locked. He was the only one able to fit through the small bars on the door's high window. Though he planned to pick the lock again, he soon found it unnecessary when a massive wave from the upper floors bowled through the door and busted its hinges that were already in disrepair to begin with. The door was not destroyed completely, but there was just big enough an opening for the small mammals to squeeze through. Percy had to drag Meeko through said opening by his tail due to the sorry state the raccoon was in. Meeko vocalized his displeasure but did not move to stop him.

A huge crash of thunder and the flickering light from up top made Percy yip in terror, trying desperately to keep his footing in the rushing water on the hallway floor. Suddenly, a very familiar voice screamed bloody murder and Meeko snapped to attention. Flit was off immediately. Meeko and Percy met eyes with each other and then scrabbled through the shallow rushing water after their flying friend. They had to find Pocahontas.

…

The Powhatan princess was clinging for dear life to the starboard side of the ship by the time she heard John Rolfe's voice calling back to her. Nearly blinded from sea salt, storm winds, and beating rain, she could not even see her attacker nor hope to fight back against the brutal assault. "John! Help!" she cried, gurgling as rainwater filled her mouth.

When Nicole fisted her hair, Pocahontas felt like her scalp was being ripped from her skull as the belligerent girl yanked and pulled as hard as she could. Nicole also scratched at the young woman's hands, trying with all her might to pry them from the railing of the ship. "Savage! Heathen! Witch! Barbarian! Whore!" the blonde cursed in French.

Flit tried to find her, but he could not manage the winds. He was blown past John Rolfe at the threshold to the broken-in captain's quarters. "Flit?! Pocahontas!" Rolfe bellowed.

Nicole shrieked as two sets of teeth tore into her tender calves. She peered down to see both Meeko and Percy attacking her. "I thought I got rid of you possessed vermin!"

John Rolfe almost made a break for Pocahontas but the ship dipped right, sending all of them off balance. Pocahontas, Nicole, Meeko, and Percy were thrown off the starboard side. Having seen it all, Rolfe tore off the battered door to his cabin and tied a rope to the knob. He wrapped the end around his own waist, knowing he had to go after them.

Just before John Rolfe could follow, he saw what appeared to be a vicious face made of the wind itself. He froze as he watched the glaring eyes examine the ship and move on, turning north. Pocahontas screamed from the water just before another wave swept over her. Rolfe jumped in after the girls. It was too late, as the fast-moving ship was rapidly leaving them behind. In the salt water, the Englishman mounted the floating wooden door and began to paddle toward them as fast as he could. In his concussed state, he was not fast enough. The rope ran out of slack, tearing the loose pulley it was attached to clean off of the ship. "Oh no!" Rolfe fretted, realizing his tether had been severed.

They were lost now for sure. The massive waves thrashed them terribly. Pocahontas spotted John Rolfe and swam after him, fighting against the violence of the storm. Nicole clung for dear life to a rum barrel as she drifted away from the others. She screamed and coughed as the ocean tried to drown her. Pocahontas nearly made it to the floating door as a barely-conscious Rolfe toppled off at the breaking crest of a wave. She screamed in alarm when he failed to reappear with the wooden door as it broke the surface. She dove down to find him immediately, forcing her eyes open in the stinging salt water. It was nearly impossible to see regardless because the water was murky, turbulent, and filled with billions of blinding bubbles. At first, she was startled when his hair haphazardly brushed against her elbow. She spun around and grabbed hold of his shoulders, relieved beyond words to have found him. Pocahontas groped his body, finding that he was tied to the floating door by a rope around his waist. She pulled him to the surface. Both of them coughed and heaved as the large waves surged over them one after the other.

Clinging to each other on opposite sides of the door, the couple feared they would perish. Bits of ship debris floated by them, mainly crates and rum barrels, tossed about by the waves. They had lost sight of their animal friends, they had lost sight of Nicole, and they had lost sight of the ship. But, by divine grace, they had not lost sight of each other.

…

Her dark eyes still stinging, Pocahontas awoke on a tan sand beach at dusk. When she realized she was conscious, she sat bolt upright and immediately hissed at the pain in her ankle, recalling only then that she was still injured. Covered with cuts, scratches, and bruises, she hardly took notice of the rest of her physical state as her eyes frantically searched the surroundings for John Rolfe. A spike of fear shot through her heart when she spotted a body lying prone on top of a familiar broken door ten feet away.

She tried to crawl over to him on hands and knees, finding the pain in her muscles and bones to be immense from the storm's beating. She pushed herself hard and collapsed beside John Rolfe, putting two fingers to his wrist to check his pulse. "John?"

His clothes were torn and his hair was damp and disheveled, yet Pocahontas thought she saw his eyelids flutter. She checked his breathing, finding it to be very shallow but present. She felt relieved at first, but then worried when he refused to rouse. "John? John!" she croaked, gently shaking him. Eventually, she gave up trying to wake him. Nothing seemed to work. Her body went slack as she whispered, "Don't die on me, John." She tried to think back on the events that had led to their present condition. The storm itself stuck out first and foremost in her mind. Then she recalled John Rolfe's head injury. She prayed to the Great Spirit that the mighty storm waves had not rendered him comatose. If he was comatose in the wilderness, he was as good as dead.

Nicole, Pocahontas thought. She recalled the sight of the girl's beautiful but demented face during the attack. Though she had felt tension between them in days prior, she never could have anticipated the depth of Nicole's hatred. Pocahontas lay in the sand, trying to recall what she might have done to rouse the blonde's wrath. But the more she brooded on the matter, the more exhausted she became. The events of earlier had totally zapped her energy. Her eyelids grew heavy as she passed out beside John Rolfe in the sand.

…

OCTOBER 3, 1613

The next time Pocahontas opened her eyes, the sun had switched sides in the sky to the eastern horizon. Dawn had arrived and the surge of high tide lapped at her small feet. It was the tickling of the saltwater that had awakened her and she tried painfully to sit up. She moved her bone-dry tongue around in her even drier salt-filled mouth, completely parched. When she heard a groan, she glanced to her right. She saw John Rolfe rubbing his forehead with one hand, an extremely pained look on the profile of his face. "Oh, agony upon agonies," she thought she heard him miserably moan to himself.

"John?" her voice cracked. His hand collapsed to the sand as he seemed to drift off again. She scooted closer and untied the rope around his waist, pulling it out from under him. "John, we need to go. The tide is rising," she said, receiving no response. She shook him.

His body spasmed a little. "Jus' one more minu', Mum," he slurred nonsensically.

Pocahontas pried one of his green eyes open. He tried to squint. "Peekaboo," she greeted.

"Pocahontas?" he muttered, pulling back from her as he pushed himself onto his elbows. He rubbed his face with his right hand and winced in pain. "Oh, it hurts. Need water."

Pocahontas sighed in distress as she glanced around them. "There is no fresh water here. We need to look for a river," she told him. "Can you get up on your feet, John?"

"What do you wan' my feet for?" John Rolfe returned in puzzlement.

"No, John," Pocahontas replied. "I don't want your feet. I want you to stand up on your feet if you can manage it," she clarified, getting more worried about the state of his brain.

"Stand up… on your… feet," he repeated slowly as if to translate a foreign phrase.

Pocahontas frowned and shook her head. She rolled over onto her hands and knees and felt a sharp pain on her thigh. Glancing down, she noticed her machete was still tied firmly to her belt. She brought her hand to her collarbone and discovered her necklace was still intact as well. It was a huge relief. Then she reached into her pocket to discover John Rolfe's coin purse still present. Apart from her clothes, those three items were all she had. They did not have even one scrap of food. Pocahontas crawled in front of Rolfe with a feeling of determination, hooking her elbows beneath his underarms. "Come on, we need to go this way. Away from the salt water. Too much water is bad," she explained simplistically, trying to drag him away from the surge. "Must find food."

John Rolfe yelped, causing her to stop. He was too heavy anyway. With two good legs, she might have been able to do it but it was hopeless with her bad ankle. Pocahontas crawled to his side and tried to help him up onto hands and knees. "No, it hurts!"

"John, you need to try. I know it hurts but we can't stay here. We'll drown," she gently pointed out, pulling him harder. He hissed in pain but, eventually, he made it to the point where he was sitting on his knees, facing the forest. John Rolfe held his head in his hands with a tortured expression and Pocahontas felt her anxiety rise, chewing on her lip.

"Where's the ship?" John Rolfe inquired, wincing. Holding his hand like a visor, he glanced back and scanned the horizon. The seas were calm and the skies clear. The only remnants of the storm were the bits of debris in the sand and the fallen trees in the coastal forest. There was an empty crate embedded in the sand that they both took fleeting notice of as well as splintered fragments of a rum barrel here and there. "What happened?"

Pocahontas frowned. "There was a storm, remember?" she said, beckoning him up the beach. The surf had reached his knees. "I have no idea where the ship is. It may or may not still be afloat." She felt her bottom lip quiver. "I do not know where Meeko, Percy, and Flit are either. Or the girls. We have no way to know what's become of them!"

John Rolfe slowly pulled himself into a crouching position. He attempted but failed to rise to his feet, the minute stumble paining him. "Ack! M-maybe we'll fin' them or maybe they're still on the ship. They might get to Jame'town first. Oh no, Jamestown… Virginia. We need to get to Virginia! Where in the world are we?" he exclaimed.

"Somewhere between there and Florida, I think. I'm not sure where we are exactly, but we're definitely not home yet," Pocahontas said, noting the palm trees up the beach. There were fewer of them here and many trees of the temperate variety. "Come, hurry," she beckoned. "The water is still rising. You have to fight against the pain, John."

John Rolfe hissed again. "I can't walk."

"Then crawl. Hurry, follow me," Pocahontas decreed. She clambered up the beach on hands and knees like a baby, careful of her ankle. The Powhatan woman glanced back to see if John Rolfe was following. He was, slowly, but his whole body trembled from the effort. "You can do it, John. Forget about dignity for now. We need to stay alive."

It took several minutes for them to make it up to the line where the beach transitioned into forest. Pocahontas had to wait for John Rolfe to catch up. He kept trying to stand every now and again, failing repeatedly. Once he reached the first palm tree he tried one more time, leaning on the tree for support. Despite being doubled over like an elderly person, he managed to remain on his feet for more than a few seconds. The sun rose higher as he glanced around, able to make out his surroundings more clearly. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand and then gingerly brought it to the back of his head where the lump was. It was stinging from the saltwater, the combination of different sources of pain making him nauseous. He sank to his knees again, allowing himself to slump into the dirty sand. A moment later, he felt Pocahontas tap his shoulder. He glanced up to see her holding a very large familiar-looking nut. "Oh, thank our Lord in heaven!"

Pocahontas smiled. "Consider it our reward for making it this far up the beach."

John Rolfe pushed himself up again and reached for the nut, trying to pull the fibrous strands loose. But he had weakened from physical trauma and lack of food and water. His strength was near zero. Pocahontas only smiled wider as she flipped out the machete on her belt. "You din't lose it?" he slurred, a tidbit of confusion returning to his head.

"No. It's good I kept it with me," she replied, setting the nut down in the sand away from them. She began to hack the sides of the outer shell off and paused to glance over at John Rolfe. "What do you have in your pockets?" she inquired, pointing with the blade.

John Rolfe raised a brow and reached a hand into the deep left pocket of his plain green trousers. He pulled out a long white tube with golden caps. "Well, I've got this… thing here," he murmured, turning the item this way and that in an effort to assess what it was.

"That's the king's order, John. Put that back in your pocket. We'll need that," Pocahontas told him. "But first, do you have anything else in that pocket?" she further interrogated.

John Rolfe put the king's order in his right hand and reached in the pocket again, pulling out a small case. He popped it open, revealing the gold necklace Pocahontas had worn to the Hunt Ball. He cocked a brow at it. "Ooh, lovely! I'm sure I've seen this before."

"Is there anything else?" Pocahontas inquired, tempted to slap her forehead.

John Rolfe put both items on the ground and reached deeper in his left pocket. He pulled out a plain white handkerchief. "I've never seen this before in my life."

Pocahontas wanted to giggle but their situation was far too dire. "Check the right pocket."

The diplomat put the items back in his left pocket and reached into his right. He pulled out a drinking skin. "Disfortune… misfort-… Unfortunately, it's empty."

"Okay, I guess this is all we have to work with for now then," Pocahontas concluded.

John Rolfe snorted. "I've got no razor, brush, or tie. A bad hair day has thus begun."

Pocahontas rolled her eyes. He had a severe five o'clock shadow and his head hair was partly matted but she really could not care less about their physical appearances right then. "Your hair is the least of our worries right now, John." She started tearing off strands of the coconut, which was far easier once the outer shell had been removed. It was not long before she had made it to the inner shell. She used the tip of her machete to poke three holes in the soft spots on the top. "Here, I think you need this more than me," she said, handing him the coconut. John Rolfe accepted the item but stared at it blankly as he held it in his hands. "You're supposed to drink it," Pocahontas reminded him.

Realization dawned on John Rolfe's features. "Oh, right," he replied with a small simper. He tipped the item back and drank about half the milk from it. "Ah, my throat is better now. But it din't do anything for my head," he grumbled, handing the nut back to her.

Pocahontas drank the rest and chopped the nut open with her machete. She shaved off bits of white meat and offered some to John Rolfe. "Eat, John. We need to replenish our strength as much as possible to find a river. That's our next initiative. Stay alive."

John Rolfe curled his lip. "I don' want to," he groaned, glaring distastefully at the food despite not having eaten in twenty-four hours. "My head makes my stomach hurt."

Pocahontas brought a piece to his lips. "Please, you must try. Take small bites."

John Rolfe frowned and took the piece, chewing on it. "I wish there was more to drink."

"Yes, that's why we need to find a river," Pocahontas reminded him.

John Rolfe sighed in agitation and rubbed his forehead. "But you can't walk and I can't think. How are we… Who are… I'm sorry, what were we talking about?" he grumbled.

Pocahontas glanced around the forest. There were many trees of different kinds. She spotted an oak with inch-thick branches low to the ground. "I'll have to forge some crutches," she replied, swinging out her machete again. "As for you, John, I think you could use a nice walking stick. It'll help you stay on your feet for longer periods."

Pocahontas carefully crawled and crab-walked over to the tree, standing up on one foot when she reached the trunk. She used the branches for support as she looked through them, trying to find the perfect ones to make crutches out of. She came upon one with branches that separated at the end, making the perfect V-shape for her underarm. After severing it from the tree and cutting it down to size, she tested it out. It worked perfectly. She just needed to find another one like it. It took another few minutes of searching, but she found one a bit higher up. The Powhatan woman had to boost herself up on a lower branch to reach and sever it with her machete. After that, she used the weight of her body to yank it down because it was heavily entangled with other branches around it.

Meanwhile, John Rolfe was sitting against a tree and holding his head in his hands. "How are we going to find food in this condition? I can't hunt with this headache and you…"

"Look at the bright side, John," Pocahontas interrupted. "We're no longer running from pirates. We can relax and take our time now. Everything will be alright, just have faith."

Glancing at her through squinted eyes, John Rolfe nodded. The sunlight was already bothering him, only worsening his wretched condition. He could only pray that it would not get too hot later on, at least not before they found water. "Faith, yes…" he said. Rolfe seemed to enter a meditative state but Pocahontas interrupted it when she placed a long limb in his lap. He peered down at it and then glanced up at her. She was already using her new crutches, though her face contorted in a grimace. "Are you alright?"

"I need to pad the crooks. It feels like they're just pinching my underarms," Pocahontas replied. "I'm just testing them right now. They seem strong enough."

John Rolfe raised a brow. "What are we to pad them with?"

"Leaves at the moment," Pocahontas indicated, pillaging a maple sapling to stuff the leaves in the crooks a bunch at a time. Her underarms pinned them in place. "Once we find grass, I'll make twine and wind it around the wood. That will be a better solution."

John Rolfe rose painfully with the support of his new walking stick, bringing one hand to his head once he was standing. "Oh, Pocahontas. The pain is immense. The throbbing in the back of my skull makes me feel like my head is exploding," the diplomat grumbled.

"It's okay, John," Pocahontas replied. "Just walk as far as you can and we'll take breaks."

John Rolfe glanced up and down the beach with squinting eyes. "Which way do we go?"

"North, remember? I know you don't have your compass with you but there are other ways to tell. Look, the sun rises in the east and sets in the west," Pocahontas pointed out, gesturing to the eastern horizon. John Rolfe glanced at it. "Just go left of the rising sun."

"Left of the rising sun," John Rolfe repeated. "Alright."

At first, John Rolfe had to take breaks every few minutes when his head hurt too badly. But the pain seemed to come and go in severity. He hiked with Pocahontas when it was at its most tolerable level. Having only drunk half the contents of one coconut and eaten a tiny bit of food, both of them were exhausted by the time they had traveled a mile or two. They collapsed by a ripe berry bush. The pickings were meager given how many birds graced the area. The tweets, chirps, and birdsong would have been music to Rolfe's ears had his head not ached so terribly. The grassy forest had less flat terrain than the coastal land in Florida, though the rises and falls of the ground were not very steep at all. The Powhatan princess managed them even with her crutches. They entirely lost sight of the ocean as they traveled farther inland in pursuit of a clean body of fresh water.

Pocahontas ate all the berries she could find. She got up with her crutches again, stuffing more leaves under her arms as she readied herself to continue the journey. John Rolfe did not budge, electing to collapse on the ground instead as he cradled his head in his hands. "This is torture. Please, oh Lord above, make it stop!" he prayed aloud. "Or kill me."

"Come on, John. Just a little farther. We can break again soon but we have got to keep going," Pocahontas insisted, nudging him with her crutch. "Bit by bit. Just think of how good that cool fresh water is going to feel sliding down your throat," she said enticingly.

John Rolfe closed his eyes in minute bliss at the thought. He huffed and, with a big groan, managed to rise and drag his wretched self even farther into the forest upon Pocahontas's encouragement. "If I had to travel through hell itself, there's only one person I would want to do it with," he remarked, flashing Pocahontas a smirk through the pain. His distress had gotten to the point that he feared he might faint sooner or later but he resisted with all his might, even as Pocahontas pushed him far beyond his normal limits. "Were I with anyone else, I would have given up long ago," he murmured in a low voice.

Pocahontas stopped and gazed at him dotingly. John Rolfe came to a standstill beside her, smiling back. They leaned in for a kiss, feeling each other's parched lips. When they pulled apart, she said, "We can do this, John. I know we can do this. Water can't be far off. Just look at how lush the forest is around us!" she pointed out encouragingly.

John Rolfe glanced around, praying that Pocahontas was right. Not that he doubted her. Rather, he figured they needed all the help they could get. "Right, let's keep going."

…

Meeko and Percy had washed up in an empty barrel some one-and-a-half miles south of John Rolfe and Pocahontas. As they wandered through the forest in search of water, they had come upon a small meadow full of wildflowers. There, they had been reunited with Flit. The tiny bird had been blown by the ferocious storm winds half an hour's walk into the forest. The moment Meeko caught sight of Flit, they darted towards each other and burst into mourning over their lost human friends. Percy, on the other hand, had his suspicions that they were not as far apart as his companions imagined. He maintained an ever-analytical demeanor, sniffing around the forest floor with all the mental focus of a human sleuth. The pug dog took the lead as a parched raccoon and forlorn hummingbird, who rode along on Meeko's back, followed dejectedly in Percy's wake.

They had not gone but a few miles before Percy picked up some scents on a broken stick that he had found on the forest floor. There were other signs of human passing, small broken branches and partial bootprints in the sandy soil between patches of grass and daisies. The moment Percy's nose confirmed to whom the scents belonged, he started yapping wildly and took off running through the woodland at breakneck speed. Meeko and Flit perked up immediately, glanced at each other, and sped after him in excitement. They kept on the trail for well over a mile and a half, running out of breath, until Percy nearly lost his voice from both dehydration and loud boisterous barking.

Flit was the first to catch up to the much slower humans. He emerged from a thicket chirping excitedly and began to encircle Pocahontas's head fast as a flying bullet. "Flit!" she cried out, causing John Rolfe at her side to nearly tumble over in startlement. Rolfe steadied himself but doubled over and held his head. The action caught Flit's attention. He buzzed over to Rolfe to see what was wrong. The man's eyes were squeezed shut as if the daylight itself was a torment to him. The hummingbird peered at Pocahontas in worry as Meeko and Percy burst through the brush. "Easy, boys! John has a brain injury," she quickly warned, holding up her hands to stop the excited animals in their tracks.

Meeko and Percy cooed and whimpered respectively, peering at each other. They scurried over to sniff John Rolfe and examine his head as best they could from the ground. The Englishman cracked an eye open. "Meeko? Percy? You're alive? I can't believe… Ooh!" he cried, falling to his knees. "I must be hallucinating," he grumbled to himself.

"No, John. I see them too," Pocahontas confirmed. "Come on, let's take another break. Can you try to eat some more of the sweet nut? If not, I'm going to give it to the boys."

Meeko and Percy immediately perked up, drooling. "I'll try," John Rolfe grunted.

Pocahontas gave John Rolfe a piece and he began to nibble on it. She fed Meeko and Percy too. Flit was not interested, as he had just filled up on nectar from wildflowers in the meadow. After a few minutes of rest, Pocahontas rose and beckoned them all onward. "Come. We must find water soon, preferably before nightfall," she professed.

By midday, John Rolfe truly felt he could not travel another foot. It was much too hot and he suffered from a combination of extreme nausea, dizziness, and head pain. Concerned and frustrated, Pocahontas turned to the hummingbird. "Flit, can you fly ahead and try to find a source of water? We're desperate!" she pleaded, wiping the sweat from her brow.

"Yes," John Rolfe rasped, collapsing against the trunk of a shady oak tree. "If you can give me some hope we're going in the right direction, I just might be able to push myself farther… after a rest." His face was red from the heat, worrying Pocahontas immensely. She sat near Rolfe and used a broad palm frond to fan him. "Thank you, love."

Pocahontas smiled. "Flit will find something, he always does," she said reassuringly.

They had not rested longer than twenty minutes by the time Flit returned, chirping excitedly. "You found something?!" John Rolfe exclaimed. The hummingbird nodded as he landed on Rolfe's knee. "God bless you, you small but extraordinary bird!"

"Is it farther than a mile, Flit?" Pocahontas inquired, trying to get an idea of just how far they would have to go. Flit nodded, unfortunately. Pocahontas frowned. "Five miles?" Flit shook his head. "Oh, good! I think we can manage that. We'll just take it slow, John."

John Rolfe took a deep breath and nodded, trying painfully to rise again with the help his walking stick and the tree trunk behind him. "I can practically taste that water already."

"Yes, I'm going to gorge myself and wash all this salt off!" Pocahontas declared.

…

It took them a good two hours to travel the distance, breaking as frequently as they had to. Flit had led them northwestward through steeper terrain and around thickets and the occasional trench. Sometimes they had to crawl on hands and knees to get where they were trying to go. But they managed it, taking time to rest after each difficult obstacle.

At last, Pocahontas's ears picked up the distant sound of rushing water. "John…? John! Do you hear that?!" she exclaimed, panting in excitement, as she glanced back at him.

John Rolfe's eyes popped open. His back straightened up and he brought a hand to his ear. "I do, I hear it! It's water! Pocahontas, the river must be just over that yonder ridge," he croaked, pointing a finger as he coughed a bit from the extreme dryness in his throat.

"How do we get over it? I can't climb with a bad ankle," Pocahontas remarked. Flit beckoned them westward. "Is it more than a half mile to get around the ridge, Flit?" she inquired, receiving a nod. "Oh no! I'm so thirsty and my good leg is exhausted."

John Rolfe patted her shoulder and folded up his sleeves one at a time, readying himself. "Not to worry, love. I'll climb over the ridge and fill the skin for you. The distance will seem much less daunting once you've had something to drink," he generously offered.

"Are you sure you feel up to the task, John?" Pocahontas inquired, even more worried about his physical state than her own. She dreaded the thought of him falling.

John Rolfe peered up, sizing up the ridge that was their only barrier to refreshment. "I'm sure I can manage it. You might say the sound of running water has invigorated me."

"Alright, but be careful," Pocahontas warned. "The last thing you need is more injuries!"

Meeko had already climbed the ridge and disappeared over the other side. Percy whimpered, more jealous of the raccoon's agility than ever. John Rolfe approached the near-vertical terrain, hefting himself painfully up using the projecting roots of a large oak tree. "Oh my word, this is quite more difficult than I had expected," he heaved, gritting his teeth at the rising pressure in his head that his increased heart rate had inadvertently triggered. Still, he did not give up even when he felt like he was going to get sick. He found a rock to stand on with the tip of his boot and continued the ascent. Pocahontas sat on a high rock below him with her arms stretched out, as if she was trying to spot him. She knew she would get squashed under his weight if he did happen to fall but, still, she could not help her rising anxiety as she watched him climb the vertical ridge.

"Careful, John! Check to make sure that root is sturdy before you put all your weight onto it," Pocahontas warned, pointing to the tuber just above him as he reached for it.

John Rolfe glanced back and gave her a strained smile. "I've got it. Thanks, love!" Eventually, he made it to the top, panting like a dog as he collapsed on the uneven ground. "I made it," he called in a broken voice. He pushed himself up onto hands and knees and crawled through some shrubbery before the beautiful sparkling river came into view. It appeared to be one branch of an extensive delta system leading out to the sea. The blue water was truly a sight to behold as the sun danced off the surface, but there was a large fallen log in the way. Meeko had no problem hopping over it. The Englishman could already see the raccoon swimming around in the water on the other side. Rolfe realized he would have to walk a few meters west of it, just around a ninety-degree bend in the river that was obscured with cattails and other aquatic plants up ahead.

"Hurry, John! I'm dying of thirst!" Pocahontas called over the rushing water.

John Rolfe twisted at the waist and called back to her, "Certainly! Be right back!"

With his head down, the Englishman trudged through muddy terrain until he made it to the line of cattails. He pulled the cattails apart, stepping through. The river's edge was perfect. It looked nice and sturdy and free of mud. Rushing water and skipping stones were within reach. He lowered himself to his knees, cupping his hands to splash cool water all over his face, head, and hair. It was like he had strapped a big block of ice to his head to cool down his swollen and overheated brain. The feeling was pure bliss.

Things were looking up until John Rolfe rose to his feet and reached into his pocket to fish out the empty skin. As it just so happened, his wandering eyes peered up just in time to meet another very human pair staring back at him. A nude olive-skinned woman stood in the midst of the tributary, her eyes widening in shock and terror. She was no more than fifteen feet from him. How had he only just noticed her? She let loose a bloodcurdling scream as she tried desperately to cover her exposed body with her hands and arms.

The alarmed Englishman cried out loud enough to rival the woman's shriek. He stumbled back and dropped the skin he had been holding onto the river bank. In all his twenty-eight years of life, he had never seen a woman so completely bare and in such bright piercing daylight—not even Sarah, as they had mostly enjoyed their time together by candlelight. Staring in horror, John Rolfe tripped over a rock and landed hard on his posterior as the woman continued to scream. He rolled over and scrabbled in the opposite direction as fast as his battered body could possibly go. He dashed through the cattails and stumbled clumsily back toward the part of the ridge where he had left Pocahontas behind.

In the rush to escape, John Rolfe tripped over a protruding root and cried out as he fell. He hit the ground, smashing his face on a log and skinning his knee on a rock. He scarcely even felt the blood drip from his face as he swung down from the ridge on a forest vine. Pocahontas was resting on a log when he hit the ground in front of her, giving her a bad start. "John?! You're bleeding!" she exclaimed, shocked at his appearance.

"Pocahontas, we need to get out of here right now!" John Rolfe announced, hefting her into his arms. He bolted off in the direction they had come. The speed of his run could only be described as a fast limp. Percy yelped and Flit squeaked as they rushed to follow. It was not so much the woman that Rolfe was afraid of as the likelihood that she was not alone. Where there were women, there were villages and villages always had warriors. It was the latter that the Englishman feared. He knew he was in no condition to fight.

"But what about the water?" Pocahontas cried, desperate. "And we left my crutches!"

John Rolfe was flustered as he tried to explain. "But there was a… You should have seen… Oh no! Pocahontas, we can't go back there! We'll have to find water farther downstream or… or… or something. Don't ask! We'll figure it out!" he insisted, willing her to understand. He faltered, fighting to stay on his feet, for what felt like minutes.

When they heard a fast rustling in the forest, John Rolfe's heart threatened to pop out of his chest. He heaved in fear but willed himself to keep going. They had not even made it a fraction of a mile before the Englishman had to skid to a halt. An obstacle more dreaded than all possible others came directly into their path. John Rolfe, Pocahontas, Percy, and Flit stared up in wide-eyed terror as a large dark-skinned warrior appeared out of the tree line, blocking their escape. He was clad only in animal skins below the waist, accentuating the thick muscles that lined his whole body from head to toe. Worse yet, he carried with him a long razor-sharp spear. He had a red mask tattooed over his eyes and hair tied back in a bun with two dyed eagle feathers. Rolfe stumbled back, nearly falling on his already-bruised rear end again. "Oh no… No, no, no, no…" he whimpered.

Percy yipped and hid behind John Rolfe as the world fell silent, save for the soft sounds of nature. Rolfe and Pocahontas stared at the brave with dread, trembling in front of the very imposing figure. But the fierce look on the man's face melted once he actually saw them. He sized them up, his face morphing into a mix of confusion, curiosity, and awe. Meeko caught up, freezing solid the moment he laid eyes upon the unfamiliar native.

The man glanced from John Rolfe to Pocahontas to Meeko and to Rolfe again, taking in their appearance from top to bottom. The Englishman noticed the warrior was carrying the empty skin he had dropped on the riverbank. The brave transferred the skin to his left hand with the spear and met eyes with Pocahontas. Pointing at Rolfe with his right hand, he brought it back to gesture over the entirety of his own visage. "Cono me hulek adila?"

John Rolfe and Pocahontas exchanged confused looks. "Wh-what did he say?" Rolfe stammered worriedly, glancing in the direction of the heavily-muscled man.

"I-I don't know," Pocahontas replied. "Whatever that language was, it wasn't Powhatan."

John Rolfe frowned, not taking his eyes off the man. "What? Really?"

"I think he might've been asking about your complexion," Pocahontas speculated, giving a light shrug. "I mean, it kind of sounded like a question with the way he said it."

After another moment of observation, the warrior curiously stepped forward to get a better look at them. John Rolfe shrunk back, he and his woman friend staring at the massive spear in the man's grip. The warrior cocked a brow, following their line of sight to his own frightful weapon. "A sune? Keta, keta!" he exclaimed, dropping the spear. He held his hands up in a display of nonaggression. Both the Powhatan princess and the Englishman breathed a huge sigh of relief when they observed this action.

"Oh, thank the heavens," John Rolfe murmured. "He's not going to kill us." He glanced at Pocahontas. "Try talking to him in Powhatan," he suggested, still keeping a distance.

Pocahontas asked the brave who he was in her native tongue. He crinkled his brows and shook his head, not understanding. Finally, the local seemed to come to a decision. He turned and waved his hand, beckoning the two of them to follow him. The warrior pointed in the direction of the ridge and beckoned them once again. Pocahontas and John Rolfe raised brows and peered at each other questioningly. Seeing their hesitation, the man mimed putting something in his mouth and chewing. Again, he beckoned them toward the ridge. Pocahontas's eyes widened. "John, he's offering us food," she told him. Percy perked up and yipped, but Rolfe looked more suspicious than anything.

"How can you be sure?" he inquired skeptically. "I-I mean, it could be a trick. What if they're cannibals? Cannibals do exist, you know! We don't know these people."

Pocahontas shook her head. "Something tells me we can trust this man. Please, John, follow him. I'm going to faint if I don't get a drink in the next five minutes."

"A-al-alright, I s-suppose I can," John Rolfe stammered nervously. He glanced down, having felt the blood dripping down his face and onto his filthy shirt. He struggled to put all of Pocahontas's weight in his right arm so he could reach into his pocket and pull out the handkerchief. Pocahontas took it from him and held it to his face. "Thank you, love," he said as he tried to limp after the warrior. He hissed in pain and stopped, doubling over with Pocahontas in his grip. "Ah, my knee! Oh, I feel the pain now. It's come back with a vengeance after that foolish chase. Yes, I am a moron for doing that," he blurted.

The warrior noticed John Rolfe was having difficulty. He approached and handed the empty skin back to the Englishman. Then he held his arms out, offering to exchange it for the woman. Rolfe looked hesitant but, with Pocahontas's encouragement, he gave in and handed her over. Then he took back the bloody handkerchief. Pocahontas wrapped her arms around the stranger's neck as he turned to hike back to the ridge. He stopped and peered back at Rolfe, nodding to his fallen spear. Rolfe stuffed the skin in his pocket and picked up the spear as the warrior had requested, using it as a walking stick. If words were ineffective with their new acquaintance, body language would have to suffice.

John Rolfe fought the pain as the warrior led them back to the ridge. The man pulled aside some obscuring foliage to reveal a narrow staircase of embedded stones that led diagonally up the terrain. "Ah, that would've made things easier," Rolfe noted. The warrior waved him to go first. He gulped nervously but obeyed. The local man stayed not far behind with Pocahontas as Rolfe slowly climbed up the path. Once they got to the top, the warrior found an easier path to walk down to the riverbank. They came to the exact spot where Rolfe had seen the unclothed woman. Now, there was no lady to be seen.

The brave placed Pocahontas on a rock by the rushing water. She took advantage of the situation, wading into the river by crab-walking through the shallow water to protect her injured ankle. Breathing a sigh of ecstasy as the cool water enveloped her aching body, she sunk her head in for a drink. She could not remember the last time she had felt so incredibly refreshed. The warrior faced the dizzy white man, startling him. John Rolfe unsteadily stepped back and squeezed his eyes shut, defensively averting his face. His eyes snapped open when he felt the brave take him by the bicep and relieve him of the spear, tossing the weapon aside. He led the Englishman to the water's edge.

John Rolfe was made to kneel by the riverbank. He suppressed a groan when the bending pained his knee. The warrior knelt by him and used his free hand to cup water from the river, bringing it to Rolfe's face to wash the blood and dirt away. Pocahontas smiled when she saw what they were doing. "Come in and wash the salt off, John. It feels amazing."

"In a momen'," John Rolfe replied nasally, snorting out some of the water. The warrior allowed him to rise again and he quickly began examining the Englishman's hand, comparing it to his own in fascination. He flipped it over several times to see both sides with a look of intense curiosity, almost wonderment, on his face. "Um… ahem," Rolfe spoke, trying to pull away so he could join Pocahontas in the river. He pointed to the water where Pocahontas was and the warrior nodded and gestured for him to go. Slowly and gingerly, the Englishman waded into the water and heaved a rapturous sigh once he reached Pocahontas. He allowed himself to sink until he was completely submerged, letting the cool water wash away the salt that stung the cut on his scalp.

He drank heavily during the plunge and rose to the surface. The diplomat brushed his wet hair out of his face so he could meet eyes with Pocahontas. She smiled at him. "We made it!" she triumphantly declared. "We're still alive. Do you feel better now?"

"Oh yes, much better. Before it felt like my brain was on fire. My head still hurts but it's more tolerable now and the nausea is gone," John Rolfe expressed. Cupping his hands, he brought more water to his lips and gulped it down. "Best-tasting water I've ever drunk," he sighed, taking the skin from his pocket. He filled it and hooked it onto his belt.

Pocahontas leaned in with an amorous look on her face and kissed John Rolfe on the lips, leaving no lingering doubts as to the nature of their relationship in their spectator's mind. The man watched in interest, leaning his back against the trunk of an expansive white ash tree. Pocahontas glanced at him as John Rolfe dove again. When the diplomat resurfaced, she put a hand on his shoulder to get his attention and pointed to the warrior. "Let's try not to keep our new friend waiting too long," she suggested. "I think he intends to bring us somewhere so he can give us food. I don't know about you but I'm starved!"

"Right," John Rolfe replied. "One moment." He drank more water and washed the salt out of his hair and clothes. "Alright, I think I'm just about ready," he declared, carrying her out of the water. He placed her down on the same boulder she had been on before. Then Rolfe began to wring out his sopping clothes as the warrior approached them again with an inquisitive expression. He suddenly lifted the startled diplomat's chin so he could get a good look at his face. The brave narrowed his eyes and widened them in amazement at the Englishman's emerald-colored pupils, having never seen such a thing before.

Pocahontas laughed. "I think this is the first time he's ever seen a foreigner, John."

John Rolfe snorted, flashing her a look. "At least up close," he added, feeling the warrior turn his face back so their eyes were again forced to meet. The brave used his fingertips to touch the stubble on John Rolfe's jaw as if it was the strangest texture he had ever felt.

After a few awkward moments, the warrior finally stepped back and pointed to his own chest. "Siwili," he spoke in a clear voice. "Siwili," he said again, indicating himself.

"Siwili?" John Rolfe repeated. The warrior nodded and pointed to the diplomat's chest, cocking a brow. Rolfe peered down at his chest in confusion. "Oh! My name," he blurted when it finally dawned on him. He put his own hand on his chest and said, "John."

The warrior's face crinkled at first as if the name was quite odd to him. "Dddjjjaaahhhn?" he attempted as if the j-sound was completely alien to his tongue. "Djahn. Hnn."

"Close enough," John Rolfe declared. He pointed down to Pocahontas, who was seated on the boulder unsuccessfully trying to brush her hair out with her fingers. "Pocahontas."

The warrior gestured toward the Powhatan princess. "Pocahontas," he repeated perfectly the first time as if the longer name was a complete no-brainer to him. "Pocahontas."

"That's right," John Rolfe replied. He pointed down to the small dog lapping water from the river's edge near Pocahontas's feet. "Percy," he said, gaining the pug's attention.

The warrior scratched his face and repeated "Percy" as he peered down at the tiny canine.

John Rolfe pointed to the raccoon, who was licking himself dry by Pocahontas. "Meeko."

"Meeko," the warrior said.

John Rolfe held his pointer finger up horizontally so the hummingbird could fly over and perch on it. He pointed to the tiny bird with his free hand. "Flit," he indicated.

"Fff-lit. Flit."

Flit chirped amiably at Siwili. John Rolfe winced and brought his hands to his head, causing the bird to buzz over to Pocahontas and glance back at Rolfe in concern. "John, are you alright?" Pocahontas inquired worriedly, reaching out for him to come over.

The warrior took hold of John Rolfe's bicep to steady him as the Englishman groaned. "I've had better days," he admitted. Siwili kicked the spear up into his free hand and gave it to Rolfe to help him keep his balance. "Thanks," Rolfe murmured, accepting it.

Siwili walked over and hefted Pocahontas up from the rock carefully. He beckoned John Rolfe and the animals to follow. They had to cross a section of the tributary with a path made out of boulders. The warrior hopped from one to another gracefully and effortlessly with Pocahontas in his arms. Rolfe, on the other hand, leaned heavily on the spear to move from one stone to the next. Despite how slowly he moved, the warrior always stopped to wait for him every few paces. They hiked through a small clearing, up an incline, and through some bushes. Finally, they had to cross another section of tributary, this time through the shallow water. There were no boulders to hop across on. After another quarter mile or so, they pushed through a tree line and arrived on the bank of a very wide and slow-moving section of the river. There was a long sleek canoe with two paddles lying on the bank but that was not the first thing that Rolfe noticed.

Standing over the canoe, to Siwili's right, was a familiar set of eyes. They turned and widened at the sight of John Rolfe. It was the same woman he had seen at the tributary, now fully clad in a sleeveless buckskin dress that hung past her mid-calves. When she caught sight of him, her surprise quickly turned into anger as she narrowed her eyes at the petrified Englishman. He stepped back and swallowed a lump in his throat.