- by doodlegirl -

Chapter Six: According to Plan

“Daughter!” Powhatan called to Pocahontas when she reentered the village. “Where have you been?” Pocahontas felt a stab of pain, knowing that she couldn’t tell her father John was back and alive.

“I went to Jamestown. John is dead.” She said sadly. On the outside, she was sad, but inside, she was dancing for joy. John was alive, well, maybe a little – OK, a lot – injured, but he was alive, and that was all that mattered.

“Oh Pocahontas.” Powhatan said and Pocahontas just stared at the ground.

“Get some rest, daughter.” Powhatan said gently and Pocahontas went back to her hut. She hated lying to her father, but she knew she had to, for John. She only hoped she could find a way to go and see him every night.

...oOo...

“John?” Someone whispered into the dark. “John, are you here?”

“Over here, Pocahontas.” John whispered back. He exited the cave.

“I brought you some herbs and things to help you.” Pocahontas whispered. “I hope they help.”

“I sure hope they do.” John said. “I accidentally got the cut on my knee infected.” He said. Pocahontas shook her head.

“What did you do?” She asked.

“I tripped.” John said.

“Nice going.”

“That’s what I said.”

“Come on, you’d better get that as clean as you possibly can.”

...oOo...

Things went well for about two weeks. Pocahontas always seemed to find a way to see John.

John, meanwhile, knew that his injuries were getting worse. He could barely move his leg. He didn’t let on to Pocahontas. She would just worry. Instead, he always assured her he was fine and that the cut was getting better, which was the complete opposite. And he started to feel bad, like he was coming down with something.

“John?” Pocahontas whispered. John tried to move, but he wasn’t able to. He shivered, even though the night was muggy.

“John?” Pocahontas asked again. “Answer me!” John didn’t answer. Panic overtook Pocahontas.

“John?” She asked, stepping into the cave. In the pale moonlight, Pocahontas could barely make out John’s figure at the far end of the cave. “John?” John didn’t move. Pocahontas walked over to him.

“John.” She said. She shook his shoulder. John groaned. Pocahontas felt of his forehead. He pulled away from her cool touch. His blonde hair clung to his forehead from the heat. He had a high fever.

Infection! Pocahontas thought. “John, John, wake up.” She said, shaking him harder. John didn’t respond, try as he might. For some reason, he couldn’t move his mouth to speak.

Pocahontas began to pace. She had promised she wouldn’t tell anyone where he was! But that was before his cut got infected! What was she going to do? She had to tell someone. She knew she had promised, but if she didn’t, he could die. And his life was more important at the moment.

“John,” Pocahontas said, kneeling down next to him. “I’m going to get help.”

With that, she took off running.

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