Pocahontas by Joseph Bruchac

ancestors of all of us.
    NEPINOUGH
TIME OF FIRST CORN HARVEST
LATE JUNE 1607
    N OW THAT I HAVE seen the Coatmen, I have decided what I think of them. Rawhunt has decided that the Coatmen are fools. They seem to know how to do nothing, nothing right. Opechancanough, my father's youngest brother, says they are like ticks. Nothing but ticks. We must pluck the Tassantassuk from our flesh and crush them before they drink too much of our blood. My father, though, still suspects that the Coatmen may be of some use to him. I asked him when and how that might be. As always, he was patient in his answer to me.
    "
Nechaun,
" he said, "my child, it is like this. When you grasp a snake, you have to make sure you hold it firmly and in the right place. Otherwise it will twist around and bite you."
    What do I think of the Coatmen? I think that though they are Outsiders, they are still human beings like ourselves, even if they are ignorant and foolish.
    Perhaps I feel this sympathy because of who I am. I sometimes feel set apart from everyone, just as those foolish Coatmen must feel. They are so far from whatever land where their first mother and father lived. Because I am the favorite daughter of our Great Chief, I am allowed to sit close to him and listen in on his councils and see some of the great things he does. I also see how many fear him because of the great power he has held for so long. Because of that fear of my fathers power, people treat me differently from other children. Even the friends I play with are more careful with me than with one another. Perhaps that is why I do so much teasing of others. It is a way of reminding people that I am a child, even if I am Powhatan's daughter.
    I know that my father's power is not mine. When my father dies, that power will go to my uncle Opitchapam, his younger brother, who limps from an injury suffered as a child. Even if I were my father's son, I would not inherit his power. Among our people, power must always go first to the brothers before it goes to the sons.
    Because my father is not a young man, the day when he takes the road to the house of the sunrise may come all too soon. True, many of our people live to see a hundred returnings of the leaves or even more. When a man or woman of our people has survived past the middle years, past the time of childbearing or warring to protect the people, they may be blessed with many more seasons. But, like many of our people, I am sometimes able
to see things that are to come, and that ability to see what has not yet happened can be a little frightening. When I see myself as a grown woman, I do not see my fathers face near me. I see myself walking with the Coatmen, but then that vision grows blurred, as if in a fog. Perhaps it is because we can never see ourselves clearly—either now or in the seasons to come.
    I have thought of that vision often since seeing the Coatmen and their camp. Four days ago, my father finally agreed to allow me to make the journey. But he did not allow me to dress in my finery. When I started to turn away from him, in a hurry to get to my paint, he laughed and called me back to him.
    "
Neamosens
, my daughter, there is no need to make yourself fine to look at when no one is going to see you," he said.
    I could go and view their camp, he explained, but I could not approach it. He had just sent word to the Tassantassuk that they would no longer be under attack. He, Powhatan, had commanded it. Yet my father still did not trust those Coatmen. He had seen how ready they were to shoot their thunder weapons—even at those who tried to approach as friends.
    "Your brother Naukaquawis and Rawhunt will go with you."
    So Rawhunt and Naukaquawis and I, along with a party of younger men to guard us, crossed the river from my fathers great town of Werowocomoco. We took the trail that led to the Tassantassuk camp. Although my legs are shorter than those of a grown man's, I kept up well. In fact, Naukaquawis had to keep