PART 1

Her hair blew with the wind and danced with the leaves that flew through her hair so gracefully. She loved the feeling of the wind blowing against her face. It gave her a sense of peace that she so often longed for. She stood at the haut, retour au début of the cliff, looking at the water below. The waves crashed upon the rive and she was very tempted to dive into the river below.
    She turned her head when she heard the small pitter patter of footsteps and she knew at once that it was Meeko, her mischievous raccoon friend. Meeko ran up a arbre that stood par Pocahontas, so he could jump on her shoulders.
    “Oh Meeko,” She giggled. “You are the only thing keeping me happy in this hard time.”
    Flit flew par and landed on Pocahontas’s finger.
    “You keep me happy too,” She smiled at Flit.
    Pocahontas sighed. Lately, with John Rolfe and her always fighting for one reason ou another, it was hard to stay happy and cheerful.
    “I never fought with John Smith,” she thought.
    A tear fell from her eye as she remembered her first love, the one she gave away. The one she so desperately missed and would do anything to see again, even if just for a moment.
    “He wouldn’t want to see me,” she thought out loud. “Not after what happened in London.”
    Still she couldn’t help thinking about him and wondered what it would be like if she did see him. Would she so easily forget John in that moment and rush into John Smith’s arms? Would John Smith even want to see her again?
    She gave up her worrying and left the cliff. She slowly made her way through the trees on her way home, back to John. Meeko and Flit followed. When she heard voices coming from behind the trees, she quickly hid behind a bush. These were voices she did not recognize and she learned better par now that not all pale faces could be trusted.
    In the bush, she watched as the voices came closer, until she thought she recognized one.
    “That voice,” She thought. “It’s like I’ve heard it before.”
    A man finally came into her view and Pocahontas knew at once that the voice she recognized was someone she knew.
    “John Smith?” She whispered.

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