The Colors of the Wind

[Pocahontas]

This is my first attempt at a pre-movie story for Pocahontas. Apologies ahead of time for misspellings. Enjoy.

Part I

From the day she was born, Pocahontas’s heart belonged to the woods surrounding the village of her people, the Powhatans. She would stare up at the night sky through smoke hole of her parents’ hut, giggling and cooing at the shear beauty of the dancing stars. When she grew enough to walk, her mother was constantly chasing her around the village, keeping her from the forest undergrowth and the dangers it withheld. The child however, never feared the forest, feeling a kinship had grown between them, a never ending love and respect.

She was only seven years old when her village was attacked by a neighboring tribe, the Masowomics. They arrived by the river and swarmed onto the landscape like giant locust. Pocahontas was awoken by a rough hand on her shoulder. Her father was grabbing his war club and hurrying out of the hut. As the hide draping over the door was pushed aside, Pocahontas heard the shouts and cries of her people among the breaking of wood and pottery.

“Come my daughter, there is no time,” she heard her mother say as she was pulled to her feet. Her voice was strong and stern, but there was a quiver of fear hidden underneath. “Come child.”

The young child understood little of what was really happening, only followed her mother as she was lead out of the village. Kekata, the village shaman, was ushering all the women and children into the forest, whispering to them to be on the alert and as silent as possible. Despite the terror going on around them, Pocahontas couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming joy. She would finally enter the forbidden land of the forest, a place she had only dreamed of. She smiled brightly as she stepped among the undergrowth, the leaves tickling her bare legs.

She looked up when Kekata cried out in their native tongue. The old man’s face was darkened with fear and hate. Pocahontas turned around and her heart jolted at the sight before her. Her mother was lying motionless on the ground, one hand outstretched to the hiding villagers and long hair streaming over her face. The child dashed from the bushes to her mother’s side, oblivious of all the danger around her. Her mother was staring up at the night sky, the same way Pocahontas had done many times, but her eyes were dead and cold. There was a long arrow shaft pointing out of her back, the feathers the red and black of the Masowomics. Pocahontas clung to her mother’s arm, crying out to her in vain, weeping cold tears, but the woman did not respond.

The next thing she knew there was a cold burst of air and a man scooped her up in his arms. She heard the shrill cry of her father, a lament of love and despair, and her sorrow deepened. The indian chief cradled his daughter in one massive arm, leading her back to the safety of the woods while still calling out orders to his men.

“Kekata, take them to the safe house,” her father ordered as he set the girl back on the ground, now surrounded by what remained of her people. “Keep my daughter safe from harm.”

Pocahontas looked up at her father with tearful eyes, wanting to see the reassurance in the man’s eyes, to know that her mother would be alright. The chief glanced at his daughter only once, a cold glance of disappointment and authority before hurrying off to help his men in the battle.

“Come, little one,” whispered Kekata, taking Pocahontas gently by the hand and leading her away. “There is little we can do here anymore.”

Continuation to come soon . . .

[Pocahontas]

Part II

Pocahontas followed the rest of the villagers as they disappeared further into the forest. She tried her hardest to keep the tears back, wanting to appear strong before the younger children and Kekata. The wind began to pick up and blew around them, adding to the discomfort of the night. The young child wished there had been time to bring a hide for warmth, hoping there was plenty at this safe house her father had mentioned.

There was a break in the trees on the right and a large hill rose out of the undergrowth. Pocahontas froze as the wind swirled around her, a faint voice flowing among it. The child shut her eyes, fearful but relieved at the same time. The voice seemed to drift from that hill, a cry beckoning to her though she could not understand the words.

Giving into temptation, she turned her head towards the hill and had to cover her mouth to stop from crying out. A woman stood there, bathed in white light and a flowing gown that seemed to be made of rain drops. She was very slender as she danced around amongst the trees, face expressionless and features vague.

But the child knew who that goddess was. "Mother," she whispered, not ready to alert the rest of the tribe to her discovery. The woman turned to face her and raise one lithe arm, her fingers beckoning to her.

Heart pounding like a war drum, Pocahontas crept off the trail and into the undergrowth. As small as she was, it was easy for her to hide and move along quickly. Again the feeling of being encompassed by nature made her smile, but she didn't dare stop in case she got lost. Reaching the end of the brush, Pocahontas gathered a breath and hurried up the hill, wanting to be held in her mother's arms once again. Her bare feet thudded along on the grassy path, a connection that felt the most natural in the world.

Reaching the crest of the hill, Pocahontas looked around for her mother. She spotted the white light further down the crest, still continuing to dance. Running on again, the child started to examine the landscape around her. Trees were leering at her from every angle, bordered by immense amounts of undergrowth. Soon the hill rose up behind her, blocking off the forest path she had come by.

The wind began to blow again and Pocahontas was reminded of the chilly night. A streak of light appeared on her right, then on her left and further away. She looked up into the night sky as a sinking feeling filled the pit of her stomach. The glowing moon was shining bright above, her rays of brilliance jetting down to the forest floor.

The girl now understood. She had been chasing moon beams, the excitement and need for her mother causing her to over analysis and project her own feelings onto acts of nature. She wrapped her arms around herself for comfort, knowing that she had made a dreadful mistake.

She started in surprise as a cry came from the path in front of her. She hesitated before continuing on; there was nothing else to be done. If nothing else she could travel down the slope till she met the river and follow that back to her village. Getting closer, she spotted a small movement near the river’s edge. She approached cautiously, grabbing a long stick from the trail to defend herself. Had the Masowomics come down this far or were they still in the village farther upstream?

The long stick firm in her hands, Pocahontas pushed aside the bushes and raised her weapon. There was a moment of tension before she realized what she was looking at. A small raccoon had gotten tangled in hunter’s snare, his legs struggling in vain to escape. The creature’s small eyes found the girl’s and Pocahontas smiled. Setting her stick aside (but still within reach), she knelt down beside the tangled animal. The raccoon panicked for a moment as Pocahontas reached out to grab the rope from his feet. The girl froze, worried that the animal might bite her, and tried to appear as friendly as she could. As the animal assessed her intentions, sniffing her hand from his trapped position, Pocahontas knew that a bond had formed.

“Don’t worry dear one,” she said gently, inching closer so she was right next to the animal. “I am a friend. My name is Pocahontas and I will take care of you.”

The raccoon yammered in his silly voice and the girl laughed. Pulling the creature into her lap, she worked to untangle the snare. The raccoon passionately licked her hand as she worked, causing Pocahontas to giggle at the strange sensation. Once the animal was free, he crawled further into her lap and nestled there, his long tail caressing her bare legs as it moved about.

“You are my only friend now,” she told the raccoon, gently stroking his furry side as he looked up at her. “All my family is gone and I don’t know where they are. Some of them will not return at all.”

The raccoon seemed to understand her heartache, if not her words, and nuzzled against her stomach. The girl smiled and pushed the hair out of her face. “I must give you a name,” she declared proudly. “It must be the right one. Names are very important to my people. They are a part of who you are.” She paused for a moment, gnawing on her bottom lip as she thought about the problem. Her face brightened as a name came to mind and she looked down at the raccoon. “I know just the one: Meeko. That’s perfect! Yes,” she added with a strong nod of her head, “Meeko is the name for you.”

She watched for the animal’s opinion and it responded by crawling up her body to wrap around her shoulders, peeking out at her amid her ebony hair. Pocahontas laughed and got to her feet, struggling slightly from the change of weight. Grabbing her stick, the two companions continued down to the river’s edge.

With Meeko around her shoulders, Pocahontas felt braver as she stepped out into the full moonlight. The ivory orb was shinning directly above her, making her a good target to unfriendly eyes. She looked up the river, trying to spot her village, but it was impossible. The river bended close to her and the opposite bank was covered in trees that blocked her view. She felt that the journey was a long one and it would have to wait until the morning.

As she stood on the river bank thinking of what to do, she felt the first drops of rain on her skin. Looking back up, she saw that the moon had been covered with dark clouds, making the light almost disappear. Meeko cried out on her shoulders as the rain pelted them. Pocahontas looked out from under the rain soaked hair and spotted a large willow tree a few feet up the river. Shivering under the cold rain, Pocahontas covered her head with her hands as she made her way towards the giant mass perched at the end of the river.

One more section to go, possibly two depending on length. Hope this is making sense.

[Pocahontas]

Part III

Meeko leapt from the tired girl’s shoulders and scurried under the overhanging branches of the willow, shaking the water from his fur. Pocahontas climbed through after him, breathing a sigh of relief as she leaned against the wide tree trunk. Tucking her long hair behind her ears, she looked around. The patter of the rain was light against the canopy of willow leaves, broke occasionally by a drop of water that found its way to the ground below. A small pool of water, the end of the river, covered most of the land around the willow. The thick roots from the ancient tree crawled over the land and down into the water like a spider web of life.

Pocahontas followed Meeko around the tree to the edge of the water. The raccoon leapt onto an old tree stump sitting in the middle of the pool. The current willow tree had separated from its ancestor, claiming more of the bank next to the water, creating a sitting area that seemed made for her. Pocahontas looked down at the water at her feet and dipped her toes in, flinching at the icy temperature.

Joining Meeko on the wooden platform, the Powhatan princess sat cross legged and wringed the excess water out of her hair. She smiled at Meeko began licking his fur until it was straight again. It felt good knowing that she had someone to talk to. The wind blew around them, causing the branches to swing and dance. The sounds of forest animals called around her and Pocahontas shivered.

The cruel reality of the world came crashing down on her and she bowed her head, shielding her face behind a curtain of ebony hair. She sobbed until she felt her heart would shatter from the pain, her tiny body quivering as she hunkered there. She could feel Meeko’s paw on her leg, a small whine from the animal questioning her sorrow. Wiping her eyes with her arm, Pocahontas lifted her head and drew the raccoon in her lap, his wiry fur coarse on her bare arms.

“Oh, Meeko, what am I going to do?” she mumbled. “My family is gone, possibly forever. My village may be destroyed by morning and I’m all alone. I miss my mother so much. I wish she was here with me. I wish none of this had happened.”

She heard Meeko squeak and pull out of her grasp, but ignored it. She sniffled as tears welled up once more and closed her eyes. She could almost feel her mother beside her, running her fingers through her daughter’s hair and whispering small words of comfort and love. The girl smiled as her hair was pushed away from her face, something her mother did before kissing her goodnight. A gentle voice fell upon the breeze and Pocahontas opened her eyes as she felt something rough brush against her cheek.

At first she thought the wind had blown the long locks of the tree against her skin, but the branches were still touching her as the wind vanished. She pushed the leafy tentacles away and looked around. Meeko was shivering behind her, eyes wide in fear. Turning her head back towards the tree, Pocahontas saw a shiver of moonlight hit the trunk, showing her the detail of the wood. She squinted, trying to see closer, sure that her eyes were playing tricks on her. The branches parted and the moonlight struck again and Pocahontas could see it clearly. Embedded in the trunk of the tree was the face of an old woman, similar to that of many of the elders in her village, the eyes gentle and filled with love. Remarkable carving, she thought.

“Welcome, my child,” said a voice and Pocahontas tensed. She couldn’t have seen what she saw. The tree did not talk. Her people had spoken of enchanted creatures in their stories, but to actually come face to face with the stories, on a dark and stormy night no less, was more than the young child could take.

She slowly got to her feet, keeping eye contact with the strange creature, realizing for the first time that the wood beneath her was breathing ever so slightly. She had let her imagination run away with her once tonight; it wasn’t going to happen again. The elderly face watched her, its intense gaze chilling her blood. Meeko was huddled around her feet, causing her to stumble backwards. She reached for something to grab onto but nothing was within reach. She opened her mouth to scream, feeling the air rushing around her as she fell . . . . and suddenly it stopped.

Breathing heavily, Pocahontas opened her eyes. She could feel herself be risen to her feet with gentle pushes on her back like tiny paws kneading against her skin. She collapsed back on the tree stump, her ebony hair falling over her shoulders. Meeko hurried to her side and rubbed against her arm. Finally getting the courage to raise her head, Pocahontas saw the old woman was watching her.

“What are you?” she blurted out.

“Perhaps a ‘thank you’ might be more appropriate,” laughed the voice, worn by time yet still wise and captivating. The leaves above her crackled along with her, making the forest come alive. “I am Grandmother Willow, a tree spirit that has flourished here since before your people were born. I have brought wisdom to those who seek it, shelter to those in need, and friendship to those who are lonely.”

Pocahontas looked around for signs of another living being, someone who could be playing this joke on her. Meeko scampered back to the main land, sniffing around the tree for signs of food.

“So tell me child,” continued the old spirit, her gaze so motherly that Pocahontas couldn’t help but soften. “Tears have been shed from your eyes this night. I heard a dreadful racket earlier from upstream. What has been upsetting the forest tonight?”

The smile passed from the girl’s face and she cradled her legs against her body. “The Masowomics attacked our village tonight,” she explained softly. “My people fled and I was separated from them. My father was still leading the attack and my mother was killed. It was only by chance that I found Meeko and came here.”

Grandmother Willow looked down at the raccoon darting about at her roots and smiled. “Why were you separated from your people?” she asked.

Pocahontas opened her mouth to answer, remember what had happened and suddenly felt very foolish. She gasped in surprise as one of the long tresses brushed against her hand. “I thought I saw my mother in the woods and I followed her. It turned out only to be moonlight, but I was so sure it was her. I heard her voice calling to me, I was sure of it.”

The tree chuckled and Pocahontas looked up. “Perhaps you did hear her. When the dead pass on, not all of them leaves this earth. We remain, in small part, to help the living, guiding them in the direction which they are destined to go.” Grandmother Willow paused for a moment and a look of compassion crossed over her grey-green face. “Your mother came to me many times asking for guidance. Before you were born she asked me to choose a name for you . . . Pocahontas.”

The young girl thought about these words for a long time. Her mother had experienced the same thing that she had. She knew that this tree existed and it had even guided her. Pocahontas smiled and felt a large wealth of grief leave her.

“You mother will never fully leave you, my dear,” said Grandmother Willow. “She will always be here to guide you, as will I. This earth, this ground you walk upon, is a part of you and so you are a part of it. Cherish it and you will discover your purpose in life.”

Meeko leapt into Pocahontas’s arms, chirping away as the first rays of the sun erupted on the horizon. “Return to your village now,” counseled the tree spirit and the travelers returned to the main bank. “Continue up the river and you will be home in no time. But always return if ever you need me.”

Pocahontas nodded in agreement and made her way out of the tree’s mighty branches. The sunlight dazzled her for a moment as her eyes adjusted to the sudden change. Meeko dashed ahead of her, drinking heavily from the fresh stream. Following Grandmother Willows directions, Pocahontas continued upstream and soon spotted the grey plumes of cooking fires from the Powhatan village.

There you go, done and completed. Sorry about the length; I’m used to novel-sized character pieces. I wanted to set up the relationships that Pocahontas has in the movie and explain some things about her character. I was going to do something for Flit but couldn’t figure it out; maybe as an addition later. This last section was completed when I was half asleep so it’s not my shining moment. Hopefully it all makes sense and is plausible within the context set by the film. Hope you enjoyed it. Comment if you wish.

[transton]

Very nice! Please do go on!

[Nani Pelekai]

Wow, this is beautifuly written. I'm inspired! D: <3 Please continue!

[Pocahontas]

It's been some time since I looked at this thread and I want to add to the plot. I hope you enjoy the updates.

It was some time after that before Pocahontas visited Grandmother Willow again. Once her people had returned to the village, there was the work of rebuilding and taking care of the dead and wounded. Pocahontas was heart broken when her mother was taken away, her body wrapped in deerskin and burned. Tears blocked her vision as the smoke plumed against the sky, knowing her mother was now with the other spirits. She could feel her father reach out to comfort her, but she turned away and walked to the edge of the village.

The steady moving river floated by, oblivious to the young girl’s sufferings. Kneeling down on a small shelf of land that jetted out into the water, Pocahontas stared up at the night sky. The stars twinkled, brighter than she remembered. Her mother was up there now, no longer here to hold her in the long nights or teach her the practices of their people. I’m all alone now, she lamented. True her father was still alive, but his duties as chief were so numerous that she rarely spent time with him. And there were always wars to fight, wars that he may not return from.

The wind began to blow, chilling the temperature and the Indian’s tears. She turned at the sound of soft pattering and low chattering sounds. Little Meeko approached timidly, his eyes watching in concern for his friend’s sadness. Pocahontas tried to smile, wanted to assure him she was well, but her muscles refused all emotions but sorrow. With a sob, she took the raccoon into her arms and wept, droplets of silver tears splashing against his dark coat.

~*~*~*~*~*~

As the new planting season approached, life in the Powhatan tribe was back to normal. While the death of her mother still haunted her, Pocahontas tried to make the best she could out of the situation. She began to play with the other children in the tribe and became fast friends with a girl name Nacoma. The two girls would spend hours with the medicine man, Ketata, learning about healing, or causing mischief among the other villages. While Pocahontas was the more adventurous of the two, Nacoma was the one that kept her in line, defending her when her antics got out of hand.

But no matter the human friends she made, Pocahontas still had a special place in her heart for the forest. She sneaked off whenever she could to visit Grandmother Willow, now the only confident she had. Her father was against these trips at first, worried that his only daughter would get lost or hurt in the forest, or worse captured by a rival tribe, but Pocahontas was her mother all over again, not to be deterred by a silly thing like rules. With Meeko at her side, the Indian princess enjoyed spending time with the old tree spirit, who regaled her with stories of the land and her people.