Pocahontas

Chapter 19

Chapter 19

POCAHONTAS

I eventualy arrive at Grandmother Willow's pond andclimb upon the stump across from her. She listens as I tell her all that happened. Moonlight shines brightly through her vines mixed with the first traces of sunlight.

"They're going to kill him at sunrise, Grandmother Willow," I say.

The look of surprise on her face is unmistakeable.

"You have to stop them!" she shouts.

"I can't," I reply. My voice sounds just as defeated as my spirit.

"Child, remember your dream,"

"I was wrong Grandmother Willow, I followed the wrong path," I bury my hands in my face and weakly say," I feel so lost,"

Almost immediatly I hear Meeko's claws scratching up the tree and I look up to see him slide down a vne right beside me. He has a small circular object with a golden appearance and he holds it out to me. For some reason it looks vuegly familiar. I take it and flip it over.

The other side has strange letters on it with blue and red designs.

"The compass?" I ask. Then I remember John Smith's words. it helps you find your way when you get lost. I turn it around in my hands and the arrow in the center spins around, slowly at first but faster and faster.

"The spinning arrow!" I shout in sudden realization.

"It's the arrow from your dream!" says Grandmother Willow.

I stand as the colorful leaves swirl all around me. The compass arrow spins faster than anything I've ever seen untill its just a black circle humming inside the compass, and then suddenly it stops and points straight in the direction of my village past all the meadows and trees and streams. I see somethibng glowing in the distance.

"Sunrise," I say.

"It's not to late child," says Grandmother Willow in her rickety old voice, "Let the spirits of the earth guide you. You know your path now. Follow it!"

The leaves swirl through the trees to the direction of my village and before I know it I've jumped from Grandmother Willow's stump and taken off through the woods, following the wind.

"Run!" The spirits shout, "Faster!"

I finaly reach the rockier terrain between my village and the edge of the woods. The sky glows red and orange.

"I don't know what I can do," I say, " still I know I've got to try,"

I dash down the rocky slope, cutting my feet a few times but never slowing.

"Eagle help my feet to fly,"

I finaly reach the highest point of the rocky slope.

"Mountain help my heart be great,"

There is a gap between where two cliffs jut out and I have to stretch my legs farther than I ever have to reach the other side succesfully. I look beside me and my eyes are nearly level with the tops of the trees But I get lower and lower until I'm almost level with the trees.

"Spiritsof the earth and sky," I shout, " Please don't let it be to late,"

I dash through the bushes and trees at the edge of the village until I can barely see a few of my people at the end of a long line.

"How loud are the drums of war?"

I push through the people getting poked with a few arrows on the way up the incline. This is fathers usual place for executing our major criminals. No-one tries to hold me back.

"Is the death of all I love carried in the war?"

I dash right through the last group of people as I see father's club raise in the air. I throw myslef on top of John Smith and shield his body with mine. Father is barely able to pull his club back quick enough to avoid hitting me.

"If you kill him," I say, "You'll have to kill me too,"

He looks surprised at first but then realizes what I'm doing and looks just as angry as before.

"Daughter," He says, "Stand back,"

"I won't!" I yell.

I try catching my breath a while before continuing.

"I love him father,"

A sudden silence fills the air. From my people and from John Smith's whoI didn't even realize were there.

"Look around you," I say," This is where the path of hatred has brought us," I gesture to John Smith, " this is the path I choose father, What will yours be?"

He looks around him at our people with bows loaded, and then at Jon Smith's who have thieir guns drawn. I think he seems to finaly get what I mean. But there's something more than that. He seems to hear something, and then I realize that he is listening to the wind. The multi colored leaves quietly swish past his ear and he casts his club aside.

"My daughter speaks with a wisdom beyond her years. We have all come here with anger in our hearts, but she comes with courage and understanding. From this day forward, if there is to be more killing, it will not start with me,"

"Release him," says father after a long pause.

One of my people from behind him comes and snaps the rope with one quick saw from his knife.

As soon as John Smith is back on his feet we are hugging in the tightest embrace ever, And I'm at risk of tearing up. Stuff like this usualy only happens in Cacata's stories.

I hear some babling from down below and I look into John Smith's eyes. He looks upset. We look down at his people and the largest man, well fattest man, takes up his gun and aims for the person beside me. My father.

John Smith immediatly leaps from my arms as a sound like lightning rips through the air and a hole appears right in the side of his stomach.

Everything seems to happen in super slowmotion. One of John Smith's people call his name from down below as he colapses to the ground clutching at the spot where the man shot him.I'm instantly at his side.

Some of the men from his village come up to help him and so do the people in my village. They carry him into Cacata's wigwam and lay him on the table. He seems to be in some of the worst pain immaginable. He keeps clutching at the wound until some more of his people come with strange looking tools and begin to remove little pieces of metal from where he was shot. Four in all are counted.

All of the elders in the tribes meet in the large wigwam and I want to listen in, but I stay mostly by John Smith's side. Later that night father peels back the flap of Cacata's house and shoos away the curious little children who have occupied JohnSmith all day.

"I need to speak with you," he says.

He would usualy take me somewhere private to speak, but since he's not leading me away I suspect it's for both of us. He looks just about as happy as when I thought I would never see John Smith again.

"What is it?" I ask, clutching to John Smith's hand. He turns his head to the side so he can see father.

"The council and I were speaking," says father,"We figured out how to communicate some with the white men. We have agreed to let them stay, But some of their people and ours are still not on the best terms, so it was agreed that the instagator should be to blame."

He pauses as if it's almost too painful to continue.

"Cacata can not give John Smith the right treatment that the white men give and our people seem to believe it was mostly John Smith's fault,"

I can tell John Smith isn't quite fast enough to interperet what Father is saying so I repeat some of it to him in his native language. We both stare at father who seems to sag in the moonlight.

"Along with a few other men," he finishes, "John Smith is being sent home tommorow,"