Chapter 3 - Fun And Games
Pocahontas let her arrow fly and it hit a rotten gourd with a thud and a splat as the fruit exploded into smithereens. The village children cheered at her good aim. They were gathered watching the older ones play with bows and arrows. An array of different-shaped rotten gourds, squashes and pumpkins, were lined up on a fallen log as targets. Nakoma and Kocoum played a while, taking turns firing arrows, but then left together to talk of other things, leaving Pocahontas behind with the younger ones. She knew the two were now in courtship and she even expected Kocoum to ask for Nakoma's hand soon, now that the two had gotten to know each other better. Pocahontas had learned to follow her own heart. Though Kocoum had pursued her hand last year and she had refused, he had perhaps learned to go against both parents' expectations and to choose his own love now. He was more like a brother to her. Nakoma saw him for the brave and handsome warrior he was. Pocahontas was now left alone out of the group, though of course she saw it for the better.
There was a crunch of leaves behind her and she dropped her strung bow. She turned carefully with the bow and arrow in hand to see her friend Thomas visiting again from the camp. He held up a hand in greeting, trusting her with the bow and arrow turned down at the ground.
"Can I play?" he asked. Pocahontas nodded. She handed him the bow and arrow, keeping the quiver of arrows on her shoulder. She watched him string the arrow and pull back with his hand. The arrow's feather was as red and tufted as his hair. The string pulled as taut and tense as his arm. Pocahontas noticed that the berry-hued braided bracelet she had gifted him was till tied around his left wrist. Her fingers brushed over it as she put her arms around him and adjusted his pose and posture slightly straighter.
"We had bows and arrows in the old days in England, but I never used one before," he explained. "It was a long time ago, in the days of Robin Hood."
"Who?" Pocahontas asked.
He repeated the name. "He robbed gold from the rich and gave to the poor. And he won his lady, Maid Marian." He told the story while aiming the bow and arrow along the line of gourds atop the log, choosing one.
"Rich or poor?" Pocahontas asked in confusion. She was used to story-telling but had never heard this one before. "We don't have that here. Everyone in the village is equal. And we don't have any gold here either, just corn."
"So I've heard from John," he smirked. "I've listened to him tell me a lot about you."
Both pairs of brown eyes met, before he glanced back along his aim. He let go of the arrow. There was a thud as the arrow stuck on one side of the bulbous heart-shaped pumpkin he had selected. "There! Top that." He handed the bow to the maiden.
She pulled a blue-feathered arrow from her quiver and strung it, pulling back with all the fingers and thumb of her hand. She let go of the arrow but it flew over the pumpkin.
She sighed heavily. "You've won," she admitted in defeat.
Thomas wrapped his arms around Pocahontas, drawing another brown-feathered arrow from her quiver and stringing it for her, then holding both her hands in his as they pulled the arrow back together and he adjusted her pose and aim. His chest pressed against her back, his face looking over her shoulder, her long raven hair hanging to one side. The copper color of her arms met the pale wintery tone of his as they held the strung bow. He felt ready to fly like the arrow. "John told me to keep both eyes open." Pocahontas opened both eyes at his words. He let go of her hand, then she released the arrow. It flew in a straight line and stuck in the other half of the heart-shaped pumpkin.
She turned around in his encircled arms and looked at him. "You've still won, since you got it on the first try."
"I'm not finished." He stepped away, pulling the last white-feathered arrow from the quiver on her shoulder and raising the bow to string it. "I'll let it fly like Cupid's arrow."
"Who?" Pocahontas asked teasingly again.
"A god with wings, who flys around invisible and shoots arrows at mortals that cause them to fall in love with whoever they see." He carefully aimed the arrow at the arrow-studded heart-shaped pumpkin.
"Yes, one can fall in love with someone just having seen them," Pocahontas admitted, remembering the first time she had seen him in the woods and the second time at the ship's leaving.
He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. "Love's arrows always hits its mark." Pocahontas couldn't help but stare into his dark brown eyes, and he gazed into her caramel-colored ones almost longingly. A gust of breeze played in her long strands of ink-black hair and tousled his fiery red hair around his face as the arrow slipped from his hand. There was a thud and a gushing sound as the heart-shaped pumpkin blast into pieces and mush from the third arrow finding its mark.
Thomas thought his aim particularly good today, thinking superstitious thoughts. Perhaps he'd find luck in love.
"Do I win a kiss?" he asked the Indian maiden teasingly with an innocent voice. Pocahontas shrieked with laughter and ran a short distance away from him. The younger children watching them started to laugh and giggle.
The chief's voice called his daughter's name and both the boy and girl came to a halt.
"Come to the fire," Pocahontas said to her friend, the past moment and his question quickly forgotten. "It's time for dinner."
"Good. I'm exhausted." Thomas had gotten used to being in the outdoors and fresh air, even the heat, sometimes sticky with sweat with the hair clinging to his face, and it was a good feeling. He couldn't explain to her about living mostly indoors back in England, in the house, sometimes a tavern but mostly in the schoolroom as far as his memory served. He was happier and freer here than he'd ever been before, he thought to himself as he followed the rare and beautiful maiden in the wilderness.