"Matoaka!"

       The dark-haired beauty, all of ten years old, burst into laughter as her father, the great Powhatan, swept her up in a wonderful hug. "Father!" she protested between playful giggles.

       The proud chief smiled gently at his daughter. "And where are you off to so quickly, Little Mischief?"

       "To play." She looked up at him, wide-eyed and innocent. He laughed.

       "You are so like your mother, Pocahontas."

       The little girl smiled her mother's beautiful smile at her father. "Tell me about her, Father."

       Powhatan laughed. "Again?"

       "I like to hear the story."

       "All right." The chief sat down and set his daughter on his knee. "Tell me, my daughter, where shall I begin this story of your mother, the Wind Child?"

       "The river!"

       "Ah, yes. The river…"

       Kiwidinok sat on the riverbank, listening to the giggle of the water that echoed the laugher of the wind whistling through the surrounding hills. Thoughts of Wahunsonacock filled her troubled mind. She sighed. With his father dead, her betrothed was now Powhatan, werowance of twenty-eight villages and leader of her people. It would be best if she ceased to think of him as Wahunsonacock-and if she banished thoughts of the life of freedom she had hoped to lead as his wife.

       Her betrothed truly loved her, she knew that. He was kind and understanding, and he knew she cherished her freedom, freedom to roam the hills that surrounded her beloved river and run her familiar forest paths. But their people would not be so understanding. They would expect the wife of their chief to behave as such.

       "Kiwidinok."

       She turned and smiled at Powhatan. "I was thinking," she said quietly.

       He crouched beside her on the bank. "Always thinking, my love, if you're not off somewhere in the forest." His smile was gentle. "Will you share your thoughts with me?"

       She looked at him and knew it was no use to try and hide her feelings. "Why did your father not declare Opechancanough successor?"

       "So that's what's troubling you."

       "Yes." She met him eye for eye. He may be a man, and her future husband, and werowance, but she would never let him stop treating her as an equal. She would never cease to tell him what she thought.

       "Opechancanough cannot lead our people. He has neither the desire nor the skill to be werowance."

       "And you do."

       "My father thought as much."

       She saw the angry warning in his eyes and heard it in his voice. "It's not you I doubt, Wahunsonacock." She looked away from him and added quietly, "I doubt myself."

       "Kiwidinok, why?" He sat on the bank now and moved closer to her, all gentle concern again.

       "I can't be the wife of Powhatan."

       "With you, Kiwidinok, I will always be Wahunsonacock. You must know that."

       "You are still werowance, no matter what I call you when we are alone. And as wife of the chief, do you think I can be your Wind Child?" She looked at him; they both knew the answer. "No, as the wife of Powhatan, I must be Nonoma." Her given name, Thunder Woman, felt odd even as she spoke it. It had been so long since anyone had called her that.

       He was silent for a long time, and when he finally spoke, his voice sounded like another man's.

       "If you wish it, you need not be the wife of Powhatan."

       Her eyes widened. "No! Oh, no, my love! I would never wish that or ask it of you. I would die first." He had looked away from her as he had spoken; now she raised his chin so that he was again looking into her clear amber eyes. "I will do my duty for our people, Wahunsonacock. I will give up my freedom, if that is the dowry Powhatan demands. I love you."

        He smiled and took her in his arms. "And I you, Kiwidinok."

       She smiled back at him as the light of love lit her face. He leaned closer and kissed her, a soft, lingering kiss that promised the world.

       "I must go now," he said, wistfully fingering the thin braid she always wore twisted into her wild mane of long black hair. He brushed her cheek with a gentle hand and rose. She watched him go, then, after a few more minutes of quietly watching the river flow past, she rose and followed the path back to the village.

       "Kiwidinok! Kiwidinok!"

       Kiwidinok smiled at the two young boys jumping up and down eagerly outside the wigwam. "Ahanu, Anoki, what are you boys up to?"

        Ahanu, the older of her two young brothers, spoke up, trying his best to sound adult. "Come and watch us, sister. We have been practicing our dance for Powhatan's wedding celebration."

        Kiwidinok felt as if her brother had physically struck her. "Powhatan's wedding celebration." Was that how everyone, even her own family, thought of it? Did no one care that she, Kiwidinok, would be the bride of her beloved Wahunsonacock?

        Realization of this reality made her speak harshly. "You children are too young to dance at the feast. You will be in bed when the dancing begins."

        As their faces fell, Kiwidinok realized it was wrong of her to take her worries out on her brothers, just six and eight years old.

        "I'm sorry, boys," she said more gently. "I'm sure your dance is wonderful. But I have to meet with Mother and the women for wedding preparations now. I promise to come and watch it later, though."

        The bright smiles returned and Ahanu nodded. "We will practice some more until then, sister. We want the dancing for your wedding to be the best!"

        She grinned, mentally scolding herself. Of course they remembered that it was her wedding, hers and Wahunsonacock's, not just Powhatan's. They were her brothers, and they loved her. "I thank you, my brothers," she told them, and walked past them into the wigwam.

        "Kiwidinok! Just in time!" Kiwidinok's mother, Awanata, smiled warmly as her daughter entered their home. "Look at this treasure!" She held up a beautiful necklace, strung with beads of clay painted blue. Its centerpiece was a light gray stone, polished smooth.

        Kiwidinok smiled. "Thank you, Mother. It's beautiful. But really, you shouldn't have. The dye for the paint…" She knew how precious blue dye was.

        "It was mine," her mother replied, smiling. "And my mother's, and her mother's before her. Now it is yours." Awanata put the necklace around her daughter's neck. She took in the sight of Kiwidinok wearing the beautiful heirloom and beamed. "Perhaps one day you and Powhatan will have a daughter, and you can pass this necklace on to her on the eve of her wedding."

        Kiwidinok's eyes filled with joyful tears at the thought of one day bearing Wahunsonacock a child. She smiled at her mother. "I hope it will be so."

        Outside, the wind rustled the leaves of the trees as if in agreement.

       "Kiwidinok. Sister, get up!"

        Kiwidinok rolled over on her sleeping cot and slowly opened her eyes. " G'Morning," she mumbled as she looked sleepily into the bright-eyed, eager face of her sister-in-law, Satinka.

        "Good morning, nothing, Wind Child. It's your wedding day! Or had you forgotten?"

        Pretending to be annoyed, Kiwidinok gave one of Satinka's braids a playful tug and then sat up. "All right, I'm awake," she said. She knew her excitement must be written all over her face, but at the moment she was enjoying this game of pretending not to care.

        Satinka laughed. "Ah, sister, you're just as I was the day I wed your brother. Come on, we must break fast and meet Mandisa to bathe before sunrise."

        Satinka and her husband, Kiwidinok's older brother Makya, were two of the four bridal sponsors she and Wahunsonacock had chosen. The other two were Wahunsonacock's brother Opechancanough and his wife Mandisa. Kiwidinok knew that both couples would be excellent role models for herself and her husband-to-be.

        A quarter of an hour later, she, Satinka, and Mandisa slipped gracefully into the still waters of a swimming hole formed by a pocket in the current of the great river. Kiwidinok closed her eyes and smiled contentedly as the cool water washed over her naked body and the wind tickled her face and played gently with her long, dark waves. She felt certain that the Earth Mother was smiling upon her marriage to Wahunsonacock. It made her feel-almost-that she was indeed capable of being the wife of Powhatan.

        Once the sun began to turn the sky a brilliant orange-yellow, Kiwidionk and her two sponsors emerged from their bath and rewrapped themselves in the soft buckskin robes they had worn to the river. Satinka and Mandisa then led the beautiful young bride down the path to the bridal hut, where they would dress her for the wedding and where, late that night, she and Wahunsonacock would retire to spend their first night as husband and wife. Kiwidinok blushed furiously and grinned like a girl just thinking of it. Satinka and Mandisa noticed, but did no more than share a knowing smile.

        Her sponsor-sisters dressed Kiwidinok in her wedding gown of soft doeskin, specially treated to appear white. It was elaborately decorated, the most beautiful garment Kiwidinok would ever own. And she would wear it just this once, for one special day.

        As Satinka and Mandisa dressed themselves, Kiwidinok wandered outside the bridal hut. She closed her eyes, lifted her head back, and smiled as the wind, always her friend, whispered happy, soothing thoughts in her ear. Her fingers found the smooth stone that had settled itself in the hollow of her throat. She had worn the necklace since her mother had given it to her the day before.

        "Are you ready, sister?" Satinka was standing beside her, smiling the knowing smile of a married woman who was the trusted friend and confidant of a blushing bride. Mandisa stood on Kiwidinok's other side, wearing a similar expression. Kiwidinok looked at them both, then smiled and nodded.

        "I've been ready all my life!" she told them, beaming. Without another word, the two older women led their charge down the path that led to the sheltered clearing where the wedding would take place.

       "I choose to take Nonoma, Thunder Woman, known to our village as Kiwidinok, Wind Child, into my home and make her my wife. I freely chose to be known as her husband, and I vow now, before all our village, to honor and cherish her until the sun sets on my life."

        Kiwidinok's heart soared as she listened to Wahunsonacock make the traditional wedding vow before Kekata, the medicine man, and all the villagers who had assembled for the wedding. Kekata nodded sagely and smiled, then turned to her. She was amazed that her voice didn't shake with the nervousness and excitement she was feeling as she spoke the words.

        "I, in turn, choose to go with Wahunsonacock, now known as Powhatan, into his home and to walk the path my husband walks. I freely choose to be known as the wife of Powhatan and I vow before all assembled here to honor and serve him as long as I live." She looked up at Wahunsonacock and they smiled lovingly at each other as Kekata put the wedding pipe into Kiwidinok's hand. She smoked it, then handed it to her new husband, who did the same and offered it to Kekata. He accepted it, representing the village's acceptance of the union. Together, Kiwidinok and Wahunsonacock turned and faced their people.

        "Our commitment is to our Creator," they recited together. "May He always smile on our union!"

        "Let the sponsors come forward!" Kekata called. Makya and Opechancanough stepped forward, Satinka and Mandisa at their sides. One by one, the four sponsors declared their commitment to lovingly offer spiritual and marital guidance to the newlyweds.

        As applause and cheers broke out wildly, Kiwidinok looked up at Wahunsonacock, who smiled and pressed his lips to hers. They were married.

        Kiwidinok could not recall a time when there had been more feasting and merriment in the village. There was fry bread, venison, squash, beans, corn, and potato soup. Freshly picked blueberries, raspberries and heartberries provided dessert. The visiting and dancing went long into the night, with flutes, drums, rattles, and whistles accompanying the village men as they sang ancient love songs and wedding chants.

        At last Wahunsonacock turned to his beautiful new wife and wordlessly opened his arms to her, a loving smile on his face. She knew well what he was saying. She let him sweep her up in his arms and carry her down the secluded path to the bridal hut, oblivious to the amused and knowing smiles that followed her husband's tall, strong back as it retreated into the shadows.

       "Wahunsonacock."

        Powhatan glanced up in surprise at the sound of his wife's voice. Before he could answer, she came and knelt before him, asking permission to speak. It was a custom she had always observed in public over the two years since their marriage, but he had never insisted on it in private. He touched her shoulder and looked at her inquiringly.

        She looked up at him, her eyes shining with joyful tears. "I am with child."

        After a moment's shocked silence, he swept her up in a jubilant embrace.

       Two nights later, there was much feasting and dancing in the village, mainly to honor Opechancanough, who would leave, with Mandisa, the next morning to succeed Mandisa's father as werowance of her native village, the Pamunkey. The celebration honoring Powhatan's brother was made even greater by the announcement that Powhatan himself would soon have an heir.

        In the midst of the music and celebrating, Mandisa grabbed Kiwidinok and pulled her aside.

        "Who knows when we will speak together alone again," the she whispered softly. "I want you to know how much joy your pregnancy brings to my heart."

        Kiwidinok smiled and warmly embraced her friend. "Thank you, Mandisa. I am happy for you as well, that you are returning to your own people. How you must have missed them…"

        Mandisa shook her head with a wise, bittersweet smiled. "No, sister, never. I would not have given up Opechancanough and our love for anything. Nor would I have given up knowing the finest queen the Powhatan nation has ever known."

        Kiwidinok lowered her eyes. "I follow what tradition mandates," she murmured. "That makes me far from great as queens go."

        Mandisa looked at her in surprise. "What do you mean, Wind Child? You are a loving, obedient wife, a dedicated worker, and a model for your people. And now you will give your husband the strong son our whole village has waited for since your marriage."

        Kiwidinok shook her head fiercely and placed her hands protectively over her abdomen. "I have done what I have and been who I have for love of Wahunsonacock, no other reason," she told her friend in a passionate whisper. "Now I pray to Sky Father to grant me a daughter. I pray to Earth Mother to gift her with a stronger will than mine, that she might live her life as she wishes, as I have not been able to do."

        Mandisa looked at her friend with real concern. "I am sad to hear you say so, little sister. But if a daughter is your wish, then I will pray to Sky Father and Earth Mother and ask that they grant her to you."

        Kiwidinok smiled. "Thank you, my friend." She looked fondly at her still-flat belly, which she knew would not be so for much longer. "I know this will be a very special child."

        Mandisa touched her friend's shoulder gently. "How could she be anything but that, with a mother like you?"

       "Powhatan! Come quickly!"

        Wahunsonacock straightened slowly from the canoe he was hollowing out and turned a worried frown toward the two young boys sprinting toward him.

        "Ahanu, Anoki. What is it?" But he knew before they answered.

        "Kiwidinok's time has come," Ahanu told him breathlessly. He didn't need to add that all was not well; it was written on the faces of both boys. "Mother says you must come now!"

        "Come, then," the chief said brusquely, hiding his fear with a stony face as he hurried the boys back toward the village.

       To Wahunsonacock, it seemed like days, although it was really more like a few hours. At last Satinka put her head through the doorway of the birthing hut. "Wahunsonacock," she said gravely. From the look on her face, he knew the news was not good. "You have a daughter," she told him. "But I won't lie to you. You will lose your wife before the day is ended." Tears stood unshed in her eyes. "Come in," she said quietly. He followed her inside, fighting grief of his own.

        "Wahunsonacock." Kiwidinok smiled weakly at him from where she lay on a bed of skins, holding their newborn daughter. The sight of her, drawn and weak, brought new tears stinging her husband's eyes. He fought them back. He would be brave for her; he would not let her see his pain. He went and knelt beside her.

        "She is beautiful, my love," he said quietly as he looked at his daughter. He knew it was what Kiwidinok wanted to hear, but it was also true.

        Her smile brightened slightly. "You are pleased…with a daughter?" The words were forced and labored, breaking his heart. He nodded mutely.

        "Call her…Matoaka," his wife emplored him. "She…is the future…of our people."

        "I will do it," he told her tightly, not trusting himself to speak more.

        "And…give her…this," she added faintly, brushing a hand weakly against the blue stone necklace she still wore. He nodded again.

        "I will…never leave you," she told him, reading in his face what he refused to speak.

        "I know, Kiwidinok."

        "Tell our daughter…when the wind blows…I am with her."

        Wahunsonacock closed his eyes and fought back the tears, knowing it didn't matter if he answered her or not-she was gone.

       "And so, Pocahontas, every time the wind blows through the trees, we know your mother's spirit is with us, watching over us." Powhatan finished the familiar story, looking at his young daughter with eyes full of gentle love.

        She tossed her head and shook out her long black hair-a miniature version of her mother. "I will make her proud," she declared in her most official-sounding ten-year-old voice.

        Powhatan smiled, a little thoughtfully, seeing the nobility and wisdom that were hidden under his daughter's proud innocence. "I know you will, Pocahontas," he said before letting her run off to play. "I know you will."