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Nakoma, of the Powhatan tribe, was not a woman who suffered from self-loathing, nor was she a generally unhappy person. She felt a deep love for her homeland and her tribe, because she valued the feeling of being part of something that was greater than herself. She enjoyed seeing tangible results of her efforts; she took pride in the knowledge that without her, the village would have a little less food, her family would have a little less clothing, and the children would laugh a little less. Although in no hurry to become a mother herself, Nakoma did relish playing with the children of the tribe. She knew that her life had meaning and value; that she had a place in the world; that she existed for a reason. In fact, she occasionally went canoeing by herself, just to experience nature and consider her role in it. She was a person who felt deeply, but also loved to laugh and have fun.
Nakoma took no major issue with her appearance, either. She had no delusions of extreme beauty, but she was never displeased when she saw her reflection in the water.
However, despite all this satisfaction with herself and with her life, Nakoma always felt that something about her best friend, Pocahontas, simply went beyond anything that she herself was or could aspire to be.
Pocahontas was taller than Nakoma, her raven hair was longer and glossier, and she preferred to let it flow freely, whereas Nakoma tended to bind her hair up. Pocahontas's face was more narrow, her eyes more liquid, her lips more well-defined. She was unquestionably beautiful, and more than that, Pocahontas had a connection with nature that Nakoma simply could not match. She dove off cliffs with the utmost confidence that the water would catch and cradle her; she fearlessly climbed trees to heights that Nakoma found dizzying; she even seemed to have the ability to befriend animals. A certain raccoon, for example, which Pocahontas had christened “Meeko”, followed her nearly wherever she went. It was as if the spirits of the earth somehow gravitated toward her.
Nakoma did not blame them. She would not even say that she was jealous of Pocahontas's natural beauty and talents, nor would she ever say that Pocahontas made her feel inadequate. Nakoma had never felt anything but admiration and affection for the other woman, ever since they'd been young girls.
Never, that was, until now.
Womanhood, which Nakoma had seen alter and even ruin more than one friendship within the tribe for one reason or another, had not come between her and Pocahontas. They still walked, talked, and explored together; sometimes they even played together as if they were still children. There was a deep trust between them; it had been Nakoma who had comforted Pocahontas when her mother had died, and Pocahontas who had been the first to know when Nakoma had finally decided to take the risk and canoe alone over the great waterfall in the Quiukahonic River. It was Nakoma who reined Pocahontas in when she got too wild, and Pocahontas who gave Nakoma a push when she was being too careful. They had shared secrets and the trials of growing up, and Nakoma really believed that their spirits had a connection that nothing could break.
Lately, however, something in her feelings for Pocahontas had begun to change, and Nakoma had not been able to stop it. She found herself wanting to hold her friend's gaze for longer than usual. When Pocahontas, laughing, brushed strands of her long hair out of her face, Nakoma sometimes felt her fingers twitch involuntarily, as if she wished she were the one pushing Pocahontas's locks behind her ear. Nakoma watched Pocahontas with a fascination and a reverence that she'd never felt for any other person before, and she had begun to wonder whether what she felt in Pocahontas's presence was something more than faithful friendship.
Sometimes, she looked at men of the tribe and tried to feel something similar to what she felt for Pocahontas. She was nearly old enough to be married now; certainly old enough to start thinking about it, but there was as of yet no man that interested her. She remembered whispering to Pocahontas how handsome she thought Kocoum was—which was perfectly true, mind you; she did think Kocoum was handsome, but in a purely aesthetic sense. Pocahontas was beautiful in a way that made Nakoma want to touch her; to be close to her. Their current closeness, the closeness of lifelong friendship, was something for which Nakoma was extremely grateful, but in unguarded moments, she wished for something more.
She still had not quite defined, even to herself, exactly what she wanted “more” to be...but she'd decided that she wanted to talk to Pocahontas about it.
There was a chance that it could be the worst decision she'd ever made. She was terrified that she might lose Pocahontas over it, but she couldn't take the confusion anymore. Every time she had a problem, she went to Pocahontas. Why should this problem be any different?
Nakoma and Pocahontas had arranged to meet by the river beyond the cornfield, in one of the spots to which they'd often gone to play as children and to which they still went when they had secrets to confide in each other. She didn't know what Pocahontas would have in mind, exactly, and she didn't know how or when she would broach the subject of her confused feelings, but Nakoma had never had to be anything but herself around her best friend, and so, she decided simply to wing it.
She'd been waiting for about five minutes, sitting and listening to the wind rustling the cornstalks, when Pocahontas showed up in that silent way she had, her bare feet scarcely making any noise as they brushed over the ground. She had an effortless grace that always made Nakoma's heart pound.
As she approached her friend, Pocahontas's eyes glittered with something—excitement? Perhaps she did have a plan for today.
“I want to show you something,” she said in a hushed voice, leaning close to Nakoma's ear even though there was no one around. “Will you come with me?”
“Of course,” Nakoma said, before she could stop herself.
Pocahontas grinned and reached down, grabbed Nakoma's hand, and hauled her to her feet so fast that Nakoma nearly overbalanced and toppled over. “Come on,” she said, and set off running.
“Where are we going?” Nakoma asked, running as hard as she could to keep up with Pocahontas.
“You'll see!”
Nakoma shrugged inwardly and continued to follow her friend. There was no stopping Pocahontas when she set her mind to something.
They ran along the river until they reached Pocahontas's canoe, which she'd left downstream. Pocahontas let go of Nakoma's hand and went to push the canoe back into the water. “Well?” she said, once she was in the canoe. “Get in!”
Nakoma gave her friend a skeptical look, but she stepped into the river and then into the small boat. “Alright,” she said. “I'm in.”
“Good. And now that you've taken the waterfall on by yourself, I'm sure you'll have no problem going over it with me,” said Pocahontas, and she began to paddle.
“Wait—we're going over the waterfall? Why?”
“I told you; you'll see when we get there!” Pocahontas replied, a tone of teasing in her voice. “Just enjoy the ride for now.” She pushed her hair back with one hand before continuing to paddle expertly, guiding the canoe down the river.
Nakoma decided to obey and enjoy this time in easy companionship with Pocahontas. They were long past the stage of friendship where they felt the need to be talking all the time; they were more than capable of being together in silence.
Of course, the silence wasn't complete. There was the rush of the river, the plunge of Pocahontas's paddle, the sounds of the birds and splashes of the fish, and the sound of Pocahontas humming under her breath. Nakoma relaxed and listened to it all, remembering the times she'd come out here to meditate on her place in nature, and felt a little braver about talking to her friend.
She could feel the excitement building in the lines of Pocahontas's body as they approached the waterfall, and Nakoma held on as they plunged over it. It really was fun; she wished it hadn't taken her so long to go over it.
The river grew relatively calm again beyond the waterfall, but instead of heading toward the left, where the water flowed smoothly toward the sea, Pocahontas pushed the canoe to the right, where there were fast currents and rocks in a much thinner branch of the river.
“What are you doing?” Nakoma asked.
“I told you; there's something I want to show you.”
“But-”
“You really mean to tell me you've never been down this way? Where's your sense of adventure?” Pocahontas teased, paddling enthusiastically around the rocks.
Nakoma sighed. “Fine,” she said.
Pocahontas laughed. “It'll be worth it. I promise. Don't you trust me?”
Nakoma couldn 't help a half-smile. “Of course I trust you,” she said, more seriously than she'd intended.
Pocahontas's shoulders seemed to tense up a bit when she said that, but she didn't stop paddling.
They sailed under a massive willow tree, and Pocahontas brought the canoe to a stop against the roots. Taking Nakoma's hand again, she clambered up onto a stump that rose above the other roots and knelt down, gesturing for Nakoma to kneel beside her. Nakoma did, still mystified but not about to ask any more questions.
“Grandmother Willow?” Pocahontas said. “I brought my friend to meet you.”
Nakoma glanced around, wondering who she was talking to...and then, before her eyes, a woman's face emerged from the willow tree and smiled at her.
“This is my best friend, Nakoma,” Pocahontas said. “The one I told you about.”
“It's a pleasure to meet you, my dear,” the face in the tree said, as Nakoma opened and closed her mouth. She blinked several times, but the face in the tree didn't go away.
“Pocahontas?” she managed, stunned, instinctively reaching for her friend's hand.
“What you see is real, Nakoma,” the tree said calmly. “I am also a friend of Pocahontas.”
“I-I see,” Nakoma stammered.
“Don't be afraid,” Pocahontas whispered in Nakoma's ear, sending a chill down her spine.
“I'm not afraid,” Nakoma said. “I'm just...wow.”
Pocahontas laughed. “I know. I promise, you haven't lost your mind. You should talk to her; she's very kind and gives great advice.”
“It's good to hear you speak as kindly to her about me as you do to me about her, my Pocahontas,” said Grandmother Willow with a gentle smile.
Was it Nakoma's imagination, or did Pocahontas blush slightly at that? She had no time to dwell on the question, as Grandmother Willow turned her attention to Nakoma again.
“Tell me, Nakoma,” the tree said, “have you and Pocahontas been up to the mountains since the snow melted?”
Nakoma cleared her throat. “Well,” she said, still a bit taken aback. “Not yet.”
And so began her first conversation with something she'd never in a million years have thought would be able to talk back.
“So, what did you think?” Pocahontas asked as they sailed under the now-starry sky. They weren't heading back toward the village, exactly; they weren't heading anywhere in particular, they were simply sailing around, enjoying the sounds of the night and each other's company.
“She's wonderful,” Nakoma replied, watching the breeze stir Pocahontas's hair and wishing she could see her friend's face. “Why didn't you ever mention her to me before?”
Pocahontas's grip visibly tightened on the paddle. “Well,” she said, sounding flustered for perhaps the first time since Nakoma had known her. “I suppose it's because I feel like something's been different between us lately.”
Nakoma froze. “What do you mean?” she asked.
Slowly, Pocahontas lowered the paddle. Carefully, so as not to upset the canoe, she turned to face Nakoma. “I'm not sure,” she said. “Don't you feel it too?”
Nakoma stared into her friend's eyes. She could hardly believe this was happening. “I-I don't know,” she said, but then realized that that was an absolute lie. “Pocahontas,” she said, reaching for the other woman's hand. “You're my best friend.”
“And you're mine. Always.”
Nakoma swallowed. Now or never. “But there's more,” she said. She clasped Pocahontas's hands in both of hers. Holding Pocahontas's liquid gaze, she leaned carefully closer, again mindful of the balance of the canoe. Pocahontas followed her lead as if something was pulling her, and then, after a long moment, their lips touched.
It was a slow, careful kiss, full of feeling and uncertainty. It only lasted about ten seconds, but it made Nakoma's heart speed up and her blood fizz. She'd never felt anything like it before.
Pocahontas's soft lips left hers, and for a moment they just looked at each other. The moonlight illuminated Pocahontas's beautiful face and hair, and Nakoma smiled.
“Now I have a question,” she whispered. Finally, she reached out and tucked a flyaway lock of her best friend's hair behind her ear.
“What's that?” Pocahontas asked, her slender fingers curling around Nakoma's hand.
Nakoma gently squeezed those fingers. “What exactly did you say to Grandmother Willow about me?”