The next several years of Kamolea’s life passed under Akamui’s strict surveillance, who watched closely that his son’s behavior conformed to the common rules and customs of the tribe. Now Kamolea attended all sacred ceremonies and took part in activities related to his warrior’s proof, which quickly approached.

The warrior’s proof took place when boys reached the age of thirteen. It was the most important event in a Tipihao man’s life, aiming to change every boy into a man and a valiant warrior. It consisted of capturing another tribe’s soldier and bringing him to the Sacred Tree as a trophy. To accomplish that, the boys were taken to one of the numerous islands in the Turtle Archipelago and were left there only with their weapons and a flask of water. The task was difficult: they had to survive in the heart of the enemy territory, find a man, and return to their native island, transporting the captive in a stolen canoe or raft. Sometimes they came back victorious, but often they never returned.

The preparation for this remarkable test took up most of Kamolea’s time: day after day, he learned fighting skills and developed his bloodthirsty instincts. Under the pressure of the training, he became stronger and more supple. His shoulders broadened, his legs toughened up, and although he was not very tall, he projected the vital strength of a wild animal. The development of his body inevitably led to another major change, which was a source of constant trouble throughout every man’s life. It started suddenly and without warning. One night, he woke up with a hard-on, his groin aching, and naked women and erotic scenes swarming inside his head. Several days after he had his first wet dream, and he understood that the blissful time of his childhood was irrevocably gone.

His best friend, Anuro, experienced similar processes, and his obsession with the opposite sex had reached an alarming height.

One day, he met Kamolea by the Great Hollow Tree, which had been their secret spot for years. Situated on Whelk Hill, the Great Hollow Tree was actually a formation of several Banyan trees that had tangled their thin root-like trunks around each other into an impossible mess, thus forming a unique gigantic bole. It rose, huge and solitary, surrounded by a small glade, as its long branches spread all the way up to the forest, casting a shadow so thick that no other plants could grow under it. At the middle of this phenomenal tree formation, two separated trunks weaved their boughs together, creating a large hollow that started from ground level and reached high above their heads. It was so vast that it could easily shelter a dozen men comfortably stretched out. 

Anuro, Oliana’s son, was slightly taller than Kamolea and a full moon older. The boys were “milk brothers” as they had both drank Oliana’s milk, which made their connection special, much stronger than an ordinary friendship. Anuro was turbulent, mischievous, light-headed, and had an incredible sense of humor. He was noisy and talked all the time, his head always crowded with new projects, which he was never able to accomplish, as he had trouble concentrating on anything for long. His character was the exact opposite of the calm, reserved Kamolea, but the two friends complemented one another perfectly.

This morning Anuro was agitated more than usual.

“You know what?” he began as soon as he saw Kamolea. “I’ve just overheard my sister speaking to her girlfriends. They’re going swimming in Frog Lake.”

“So what?” asked Kamolea.

“Are you slow, or what? They’ll swim in the lake! Naked!”

“But they are almost naked all the time,” Kamolea said.

“Yeah, exactly, almost. And now they will be completely naked.” Anuro’s eyes shone with excitement. “I’ve always wanted to see my sister’s pussy, but at home, I’ve never had a chance. Many times I tried to peep out, but one day my old man caught me and beat the shit out of me. Now I know better, especially when he’s around. So, what are we waiting for? Let’s go!”

“I don’t know, man,” Kamolea said. “I have to meet my father in the afternoon…”

“We’ll be back by then. Come on, Kami, don’t leave me alone!” Anuro took him by the hand and dragged him toward the tiny path that winded uphill.

They rushed westward, where Frog Lake lay amidst the jungle.

“I like my sister very much,” explained Anuro, while they fought their way through the tangled greenery. “I think I’m in love with her. I agree it’s kinda wrong, but she’s actually my half-sister, so it doesn’t count... I dream of marrying her one day.”

“My grandma says it’s wrong to do that,” Kamolea said. “The babies are not healthy that way.”

“I hear you, mate,” agreed Anuro, “but what can I do? She’s so gorgeous! I don’t know how to tell her, though. I heard the older boys saying that if you like some girl, you just take her in the jungle and you tell her you wanna be with her, and that’s it, you’re together.”

“What if she doesn’t want you?” Kamolea asked. Anuro was obviously an expert in this field.

“Well, if she pulls away, you just slap her several times, until she likes you,” explained Anuro. “It’s not complicated, see. But when it’s your sister, it doesn’t work that way. My father will kill me if I touch her. He’s saving her for somebody rich and with influence, I heard him say once. On top of that, Kala is older than me, and she’ll laugh her head off if I confess my love to her…”

“Shh,” Kamolea said, because the trees had thinned out and the path abruptly ended.

The boys threw themselves behind a fallen trunk and cautiously crawled forward. Frog Lake lay about seven yards below. It was a round pond, fed by a small waterfall, formed by the river coming downhill, that jumped gaily over several superimposed boulders at the far side of the lake.

 The clear water, reflecting the unblemished blue sky, the spray, which diffracted the light into thousands of brilliant drops, and the deep green of the surrounding trees, gave a sense of magical enchantment to the scene.

The breeze brought to them the sound of the waterfall, ringing laughter, casual shouts, and splashes. Three girls chased each other through the water, giggling, yelling, and splashing around. They crept in turn up the boulders to the waterfall, then let the swift current pour them over into the lake as they shrieked with joy. The boys lay prone and watched them, hidden behind the thick trunk.

“Who are the other girls?” Kamolea asked.

“Kalani and Illima. They’re sisters, actually. Kalani is about my sister’s age, and Illima is about ours…”

Kamolea stiffed a yawn. “It’s boring to watch them like this, till they’ve had their fun. Wanna get down and join them?” he asked casually.

“Don’t you dare! You’ll ruin everything. They’ll get out soon, you’ll see,” hissed Anuro.

It was not so soon, but eventually they swam to the shore and crawled out of the water.

“Isn’t she gorgeous?” whispered Anuro, his eyes boring into Kala’s naked body.

“Divine,” uttered Kamolea, but he didn’t mean Anuro’s sister. He stared, enchanted, at the youngest girl, Illima, and the magical feelings of bliss, euphoria, and awe overwhelmed his entire being.

The nude girl was nothing special, in fact. She was slim and slender, her body still unshaped, breastless, child-like. Her hair was long, black, and straight, her face small and slightly elongated. Bathed in sunshine, she was glowing, smiling, and radiant. Kamolea couldn’t discern her features, but at that moment, a magical, indescribable feeling touched his heart, and he perceived her as the most splendid creature in the world. Unable to tear his eyes off, he had lost track of time.

Meanwhile, the girls put their straw skirts on and the leis they had weaved and set off for the village amid giggles and joyful cries. As they disappeared into the jungle, Kamolea shook off his stupor and turned around. Anuro was on his knees, fiddling with his member, his eyes shining with satisfaction.

“I couldn’t resist,” he said with a wide grin.

“You jerked off?” Kamolea cried. “You are so disgusting, you stupid—”

“Sorry about that, man,” Anuro cut him off, wiping his palm against the grass. “But did you see her? Divine, as you said.”

“You are a hopeless case, my friend,” said Kamolea, shaking his head. “Let’s go; my father will be waiting for me.”

From that day on, Kamolea could not get Illima out of his mind. When he slept, he dreamt about her. When he was awake, he saw her everywhere. He looked up at the sky and she was in the clouds. He practiced with his father, and her face was printed in the trees and bushes all around. Illima turned into an obsession and he racked his brain to figure out which feat to do to impress her. He had such a hard time focusing on his training that Akamui started to get seriously upset.

“What’s the matter with you?” he yelled at Kamolea. “Why are you so distracted? Your life is at stake here, understood? Let’s start this exercise again and this time pay attention or I’ll smash your face in.”

But nothing helped. Kamolea was losing not only his strength, but also his mind. When he told Anuro about his pangs of love, his friend rolled on the ground, rocking with laughter until tears started running down his eyes.

“You’re such a jerk,” he said to Kamolea, after he finally calmed down. “Illima! Why did you fall in love with her? She’s not even pretty, that eel. Flat as a board…”

“Oh, shut up, dickhead. I don’t give a shit about your opinion. The question is what should I do now? I have trouble sleeping at night and if it continues like this…”

“What should I do… I have trouble sleeping… Too many wet dreams…” Anuro mimicked in a high-pitched voice, rolling his big black eyes. “You’re dumb as a rock, man. Just tell her, then screw her as many times as you like, and then, I guarantee you, you’ll sleep like a baby.”

“Well, I don’t want it to be like that,” Kamolea muttered. “I want it to be a special moment… To make a romantic declaration of love, you know…”

Anuro snorted. “Honestly, I don’t know,” he said. “But listen, I was in the same position as you with my sister. I had the same trouble sleeping, eating, even focusing on something other than her. I couldn’t stand it anymore, so one day I went to Kala and confessed my love to her. She laughed at me and told me to fuck off. I cornered her and grabbed her by the pussy. She clawed at my face, and I slapped her two-three times. She slid down, holding up her hands, shielding her face, whimpering. Then I kneeled and started groping her, and kissing her on the mouth… She bit me first, but then yielded… Eventually, we had sex, and it was the greatest day of my life.”

“Wow! When did it happen?” Kamolea was impressed.

“Around the last full moon—about ten sunsets ago.”

“And why didn’t you tell me anything?”

“Well, it’s kind of secret… She’s so afraid that Father will find out… Don’t tell anyone about it, or we’re as good as dead.”

“Don’t worry. But I find it disgusting to fuck your sister...”

“Why? Isn’t she pretty?”

“She is, indeed, but that’s not the point…”

“What then?”

“I don’t know, man,” sighed Kamolea. “I just feel that it’s terribly wrong. So, your advice is that I should tell Illima that I’m into her, right?”

“I see no way around it,” shrugged Anuro with mischievous glitter in his eyes, watching Kamolea as if he were some weird creature. “Even a five-year-old kid would tell you the same thing.”

 

***

Kamolea slept badly. Hundreds of times, he played in his mind the encounter with Illima: he meets her by chance while she is plucking flowers, and he hands her one himself, then he says to her beautiful, ardent words of love. She gazes at him, enchanted, and listens spellbound with shiny eyes. A sunbeam lightens her face and she looks like a heavenly alien creature. He bends over and kisses her, sweet, honey kiss…

Kamolea woke up with a hard-on, drenched in sweat. It was hot, late in the morning. He got up and staggered, his head spinning, and his thoughts swirling chaotically:

I’ll go for a quick dip in the sea, and hopefully I’ll find her on the beach; if not, I’ll go to her hut and suggest we go for a walk… I can’t continue like this anymore; it’s driving me crazy. What a bloody disease love is. Today will be the day that I confess my love to her and come what may.

It was a gorgeous sunny day, which reflected his mood perfectly. Elated and dreamy, feeling light like a feather, Kamolea set off for the beach. The moment he buried his feet into the scorching sand and his look wandered off into the blue immensity of the sea, his heart fluttered with happiness. A second later, the blood receded from his face and he already regretted his decision. At the far end of the beach, gathered under the shadow of a crooked tree, a bunch of boys stared in his direction.

“Bloody Laggi’s gang,” muttered Kamolea. Unruly and dirty, about the same age as him, they were the most famous troublemakers on the island. A broken rule, raped girl, or boy beaten to a pulp—in all cases, usually a member of Laggi’s gang was involved.

When Kamolea noticed them, his first instinct was to retreat into the jungle, but it was too late—they had already spotted him and to run away was never an option. He was sure that if he chickened out they would find and torture him anyway, as they had done once with one of his acquaintances. The poor boy ended up killing himself and everybody knew it was because of them. What troubled Kamolea most was that they always got away with their mischief thanks to Laggi, who was the youngest son of the chieftain Momo, who had replaced Arataki about a year ago after Arataki had been killed by one of his mistresses out of jealousy.

Kamolea sighed, waved in a friendly way in the gang’s direction, and continued toward the sea with the firm decision to swim away and return to shore as far down as possible. Two of the boys detached from the group and ran toward him. Kamolea recognized Loto, sturdy, fierce-looking thug with a scar from a knife cut on his left cheek. His friend, a tall, broad-shouldered tough with a low forehead and dull stare, was unfamiliar to Kamolea. The rest of the gang slouched lazily behind them.

“Whoa, look who’s here. The curly boy. How are you, Curly?” Loto drawled, still panting from the run.

“Hi, there! Just passing by for a quick dip and going back to the village,” said Kamolea amiably, suspiciously eyeing the long knife that dangled from Loto’s waistband.

“Well, for now, I’m afraid you have to skip the dip,” Loto said casually. “It’s still not that hot, all right?”

“And who will stop me?” Kamolea asked. A dangerous glitter flashed in his eyes.

“Maybe I will,” said Loto and pushed him with one hand in the chest. Kamolea took a step back. He looked around and quickly assessed the situation. Loto’s companion was grinning stupidly, but his fingers fiddled with his knife’s hilt. The other five were closing in. Kamolea sighed and looked Loto in the eyes.

“Touch me one more time and you’re a dead man,” he said through clenched teeth.

            “Well, we’ll see how that goes,” said Loto mockingly. He made another step toward Kamolea and reached to push him again. Quick as lightning, Kamolea grabbed his hand, kicked his ankles, and sent him down onto his back. He jumped over Loto’s outstretched body, pressed his knee down on his chest, and grabbed him by the throat. Then Kamolea’s hair was yanked back and a sharp stony blade was pressed to his throat.

            A gale of laughter exploded as he heard somebody yelling, “Leave him alone, Kamani! I said quit it! Put the knife away.”

The blade withdrew from under Kamolea’s chin and the grip on his hair was released. He got up, surrounded by the gang. Loto jumped to his feet and lunged toward Kamolea, but the others pulled them apart.

            “We saw enough of your bravery, Loto,” drawled a tall, handsome boy, grinning. “It’s lucky you have Kamani watching your back, isn’t it? If not, you’d be dead by now… Strangulated…”

            He grabbed his own throat, stuck his tongue out, and rolled his eyes in a comical grimace. The boys doubled with laughter, and even Kamani smiled. Loto’s eyes narrowed.

            “Watch your mouth, Laggi,” he hissed. Then he snarled at Kamolea, “We aren’t done with you.”

            “Whenever you want,” Kamolea responded.

            “Be careful, Loto,” said one boy. “Don’t forget who his father is.”

            “I don’t care!” shouted Loto.

“Since we’re more evenly matched now,” said Laggi, cutting Loto off, “we could settle our argument from a little while ago. Will you play tug of war with us, Kamolea?”

“Well, I’m kind of in a hurry,” began Kamolea, but Laggi approached him and put his arm around his shoulders.

“Don’t spoil our fun, okay? I’m sure you’re happy to play with us. We need to be evenly matched, so you’ll be on my team against Loto, Kamani, Hemi, and Taneo. Did somebody bring the rope? No, as usual. I have to think about everything. Go fetch the rope, Taneo!”

Taneo, short and stocky, darted back to the crooked tree where they’d been hanging out earlier. While they waited, Kamolea watched Laggi and secretly admired him. It’s hard to tell him no, and I highly doubt he has sleeping problems because of a girl! he thought.

Bold, overbearing, and a natural leader, Laggi was the oldest of the gang. He was tall, strong and muscular, with a handsome, open face and black, shoulder-length, shining hair. He bore a striking resemblance to the former chieftain Arataki, who had spread his seed all over Maniha Komo. Rumor had it that Chieftain Momo, who was short and plump, was not actually Laggi’s biological father and that Laggi’s mother had narrowly missed being killed at the time by her husband for her playful attitude.

He has incredible hair, Kamolea thought, looking with envy at Laggi. In fact, all the boys still had long hair, which meant that none of them had passed their warrior’s proof yet.

I want to see their ugly faces the day they have to shave their heads and prepare for a battle, he brooded. His own thick curls had always been his biggest complex.

Meanwhile, Taneo was back with the long, knotty rope and the game began. Soon Kamolea was shouting and laughing along with the others, his bare feet buried in the hot sand, sweat dripping over his face, his palms burning and sore from the rough rope, and his sinews strained to the breaking point. He felt happy and carefree, and for the first time since he saw Illima, he completely forgot about her.

The competition was tight, and the strength of the two teams was equal. When Hemi, on Loto’s team, finally let the rope go and they all rolled over the sand amid breaking laughter and shouts, it was already about noon. The sun was at its highest point and the scorching heat chased them off the beach and under the shadow of the trees.

Laggi raised his hand and shouted in a bossy voice, “Listen to me, guys!”

All of them pressed tightly around him.

            He paused dramatically for a while, then cried, “Let’s see if the divine parrots have hatched.”

            Loud cheers and whistles met his words.

            “Laggi is the best!” shouted one.

            “Laggi is the greatest!” shrieked another.

            “Three times hurray for Laggi!” And a thunderous “hurray!” rent the air.

The parrots in question, called manuka lani in the tribe’s dialect, were the most beautiful birds on the island. The size of a seagull, with enormous, powerful beaks, they burst with incredible colors, a combination of bright red, yellow, green, and blue. The Tipihaos deified them and considered them a symbol of bravery and selflessness. The tribe’s law protected the parrots, and those who dared to kill a bird were subject to severe punishment, but even that couldn’t prevent the parrots from being killed occasionally.

            The roots of the manuka lanis’ troubles lay in the legend of one of the first Tipihao chieftains, whose war name was Manuli, which meant “The Blue Parrot.” Manuli was skinny and short, qualities that usually would secure no one a chieftain’s position. In compensation, he was sly and clever, with a rich imagination.

At that time, the chieftain was not chosen by elections, but in a direct fight to the death, and Manuli was aware that his chances were zero in a straight clash with one of his mighty opponents. However, he wanted to become a chieftain so badly that he was ready to pay even with his life for it. He brooded over some other solution for a long time and, just before the day of the contest, he proposed that the fight be replaced with something completely different: a competition where the winner would be the one who, within one day from sunrise to sunset, was first to bring back a chick from the parrots’ nest.

Luckily for Manuli, the others did not see the trap. They laughed heartily at his proposition, calling him a coward and a jerk, but because secretly nobody wanted to fight to the death, they agreed to the challenge.

The result was more than surprising: two of the men lost their lives, falling from the crown of the tree, and the third one lost his eye, pierced by the sharp beak of a parrot. Nobody but Manuli took into consideration the ferocity of the birds during their nesting season, so he was the only one who had taken the necessary precautions. He had protected his head with a special wooden cage and so had managed to steal a manuka lani chick from its nest.

After he became the chieftain of the Tipihao tribe, he abolished the fights to the death and introduced elections as the only legitimate way of choosing a new chieftain. He had defied the parrots, unified the chieftain and shaman positions, and accomplished many incredible feats—and thus his cunning became legendary. The only problem was that defying manuka lani brought big trouble for these birds through the years, as young boys considered stealing a chick from the nest a matter of honor and proof of bravery, despite the risk of severe punishment.

Laggi’s suggestion made the boys wild with excitement. Kamolea was carried away; he had never felt so exhilarated. He ran along with the others with a thumping heart, burning ears, and shining eyes.

Squeezing their way through the forest, snapping branches and cutting bushes, the boys rushed as fast as they could and soon stopped by a tall, branchy tree in the middle of the jungle. Panting for air and scratched from head to toe, they gathered around the trunk.

Laggi raised his hand for silence and said, “Listen up, bastards! I will climb the tree to see if the chicks have already hatched. You wait for me here!”

“And you wouldn’t dare to touch them, right?” said Loto menacingly. “All of us need an equal start!”

“Of course I won’t touch them! What do you take me for?!” cried Laggi. “If the chicks are there, I’ll get down and all of us will start from here…” He took his knife out and scored a deep line on the ground. “All right? Now, wait for my return!”

Laggi jumped up into the tree and soon disappeared inside its crown. He wriggled his way through the dense leaves, nimbly pulling his body up and swinging from branch to branch. The twigs scraped his face, and soon his hands were black and sticky from the resinous bark. Toward the top, the branches thinned out, and it was hard to hold on. Clinging to a fork and buffeted by the wind, he looked around and spotted the nest. It was situated at the bough of the nearby tree, a little lower than his actual position, but reachable also from his tree.

Three hatchlings—little fluffy balls of yellowish down—huddled and pressed against each other. Next to them, their mother glided her huge, brownish beak over her body, smoothing her colorful feathers. Soon the male, considerably bigger than her, landed in the nest and folded his large wings. He was carrying some food, and the babies craned their necks and opened their little beaks, letting out sharp squeals.

Satisfied, Laggi began the downward climb.

            Meanwhile, something strange happened to Kamolea, who gazed up along with the others at the thick greenery of the tree’s crown. Like a fog dispersed by the sunny beams, his enthusiasm and high spirit gradually evaporated in the air, replaced by sheer dread that slowly crept into his bones and blocked his senses. A sharp pain stabbed his heart and a feeling of impending calamity drove him numb with terror. Seized by a chilling, animal fear, he hardly mastered his urge to run away. Kamolea had never experienced such dread before. Fatality lingered in the air and he felt a desperate urge to do something to stop the horror that was coming.

            “Run away! Beat it! As fast as you can!” his entire being was screaming. He glanced at the others, who were burning with excitement, shifting impatiently from leg to leg, ready to attack the tree.

            What’s wrong with me? Kamolea thought. Only cowards run away like that. There’s nothing to fear, damn it…

A rustle in the low branches interrupted his thoughts. Laggi slid swiftly on the ground, pointed towards the top of the tree, and touched his lips with one forefinger, signifying that they should keep quiet.

            “Three chicks,” he whispered, goggling his eyes. “The nest is between these two trees, very high, but it’s accessible from both of them. So, are you ready? We’ll all start on my signal, on three, right? So, one, two—”

             “Wait!” Kamolea shouted. A flock of birds flew up from the nearby branches, frightened by his voice. The boys stopped short and looked at him, as though seeing him for the first time.

            “Don’t do that!” Kamolea cried. His voice echoed in the strange silence that reigned around him. “Something terrible will happen, believe me! Somebody is going to die! Let’s get out of here! Right now!”

            Seven pairs of eyes stared at him, perplexed at first, then gradually changing to mocking and scornful expressions.

            Loto took a step toward him.

            “What did you say?” he asked, watching him like a snake fixing its gaze onto its victim.

            “Somebody will die!” repeated Kamolea.

            “Yeah, maybe you—from fear,” said Loto. Everybody laughed.

“Don’t do that, Laggi!” Kamolea said stubbornly, looking straight at their leader.

“Well then, chicken out, pussy!” snapped Kamani. “We don’t need cowards like you!”

            “Yeah, curly boy, you’re just a good-for-nothing wretch,” shouted Taneo. “We’ll be sure to let everyone in the village know how brave you were, just as soon as we get back.”

The others giggled, casting contemptuous glances at Kamolea, and resumed their places at the starting line. Only Laggi remained silent and didn’t budge.

“Who’s going to die?” he asked quietly at last.

“I don’t know,” muttered Kamolea, red in the face. “Don’t let them do it, Laggi. It’s a bad omen to touch these birds…”

“Eh, Laggi, are you coming or are you going to listen to this nonsense all day long? Or maybe I should give the starting signal?” Loto drawled.

The burst of laughter was enough for Laggi to make up his mind. He turned to the others and shouted, “All right, guys, one, two, three, go!”

            The boys rushed to ascend, shouting and pushing each other. Laggi chose the tree he’d just climbed, with Taneo and Hemi rushing at his heels. Loto and the others were crawling up the next trunk. Soon Loto and Kaleo gained the lead, quickly ascending via their distinct routes up the immense tree. When they approached the nest, Laggi was already there.

            Frightened, the parrots had flown from the nest and now circled around the tree, letting out shrill squawks. Laggi hung from a branch slightly above the nest, stretched out his arm, and grabbed one of the chicks. At that moment, the female attacked with a piercing cry. She flew at Laggi with all her weight and stuck her enormous beak into his face. Laggi screamed with pain, dropped the chick into the nest, and raised his hand to defend himself. The female flew back and made a turn, ready to attack again. At the same time, Laggi heard a mighty flapping of wings coming from his left. A wave of hot air ruffled his hair, and he pivoted to face the male parrot swooping at him. Instinctively, Laggi twisted his body in panic, lost his balance, staggered, and then the female hit him again, burying her beak in his temple. Laggi dropped from the tree with a terrible scream. Kamolea, who was the only one left under the tree, jumped back, horrified, when Laggi landed on his back next to him with a loud thud, hitting his head on the thick roots.

Shaking with shock, Kamolea bent down and lifted the body. Laggi’s head hung at an unnatural angle and almost touched his back. His face, distorted in a terrible grimace and covered with blood, was unrecognizable.

            Kamolea started shaking.

            “Laggi’s dead,” he shouted. There was a silence, then Loto’s voice came somewhere from above.

            “What did you say, coward?”

             “Laggi fell; he’s dead,” cried Kamolea in a trembling voice. “Get down now, guys!”

            “No way!” Loto bellowed. “Let’s take revenge for Laggi!”

            Loto climbed further and reached the closest position to the nest. The female was in the nest, protecting her chicks. Balancing unsteadily and squeezing the branch between his thighs to hold on, Loto drew his knife out and brandished it, shooing her away. She flew, squawking angrily, and he grabbed one of the babies with his other hand. The male swooped down on him, and Loto plunged his knife into its breast. The female attacked and hit Loto’s head with its beak. Loto reeled, dropped the chick, and grabbed a branch to keep his balance.

The male parrot thudded on the ground several yards from Laggi’s body, followed by the little chick. Kamolea rushed to them, only to find that they were dead.

Up the tree, Loto saw how Kaleo and Kamani, who had both reached the nest in the meantime, grabbed one baby chick each and climbed down, followed by the envious eyes of the other boys. In the distance echoed the piercing cry of the mother, filled with grief.

            When everybody was back on the ground, they all gathered around Laggi. Loto bent, took the dead parrot, and threw it over Laggi’s dead body.

“You are avenged, Lag,” he said. After a brief silence, he turned to the others. “From now on, I’m the leader. Any objections?”

“You ain’t got no chick. I’ve got one, so I deserve to lead the pack,” said Kamani, watching him spitefully.

“Let’s settle it now, then,” hissed Loto and drew his knife. Kamani did the same with a wicked grin.

“Drop it, Loto!” cried Taneo. “We don’t have time for that! One dead is enough, don’t you think? Look up at these thick black clouds; the wind is picking up, and the storm is coming.”

“What will we do with Laggi?” asked Hemi anxiously.

“We’ll take him to the village,” answered Loto, glancing at Kamani as sheathing his knife. “Let’s go!”

***

When the chieftain Momo saw his son’s dead body, he couldn’t believe his eyes, nor could he believe his ears. He made the boys repeat the story three times, getting angrier and angrier. However, on the third time, somebody recalled Kamolea’s warning that something terrible would happen and somebody would die. When Momo heard that, he went berserk.

            “Where is he?!” bellowed the chieftain, his bulging eyes roving in all directions. “Where is the curly wretch? Bring him to me right away! And lock Loto in a cage! He must answer for killing the manuka lani!”

            While two men dragged Loto to Kepolo’s belt, everybody spilled around to look for Kamolea. Meanwhile, a mighty blast of wind raised dry leaves and dirt from the ground and a blinding flash of lightning cut through the sky. The earth quaked, and within minutes, a wild storm arose.

***

Kamolea ran away shortly after he saw the body of the dead parrot hit the ground. A sense of doom and hopelessness deepened in him, as he immediately knew that he would be blamed for Laggi’s death.

I should have kept my big mouth shut, he thought, as he scrambled through the trees, choosing the most remote paths to avoid the village. Once he reached the shore, he ran as fast as he could, following the curve of the sand. The sky blackened, the wind grew stronger, and the rain started to come down furiously. The sea ran high, and immense waves broke with a roaring noise, reaching almost the middle of the beach.

Kamolea plunged into the sea without hesitation. With mighty strokes, he crawled towards the cliff nestling his cave, cleaving the waves that tossed him up and down. He sank sharply again and again in swirls of foamy abyss until the crest of the next billowing wave raised him up. It took him almost three times longer than usual to reach his small cave.

Exhausted, he could barely cling to the slippery rock, washed away by the raging breakers every time he tried to climb. Finally, a monstrous surge hoisted him to the edge of his rocky shelter. In a blink of an eye, he managed to grab at the fringe and, hauling himself up, rolled over into the warm, cozy space of the cave.

Lying on his back and panting heavily, he listened to the roar of the wind and the thunder of the sea. It was dark and soothing inside, but his heart was still racing. Before his eyes passed in quick succession the events of the day—the play at the beach, the rush in the jungle, the unforgettable feeling of extreme happiness, later replaced by the one of impending doom, the thud of Laggi’s dead body, the shrill squawks of the sacred parrots… And Illima, who he had planned to meet today. He was supposed to tell her about his feelings, instead of all this insanity… His heart sank as he thought about Illima. What about her now? She would hear from the others what a miserable coward he was, and she would never like him or take him seriously.

“Who wants to have a craven fool for a boyfriend?” he muttered in the darkness. Shame and despair overwhelmed him, followed by the urge to throw himself in the sea and end his miserable life. As soon as this thought passed through his mind, a sharp cackle split his brain, making him jump.

You’d better do it now and die with dignity, you fucking loser! a shrill voice screamed out inside his head. How will you return to the village with such heavy guilt? It was the chieftain’s son, not just anybody! Act like a real man and do what it takes to redeem yourself. Go ahead, do it!

Kamolea felt goosebumps crawling down his neck and back. As in a daze, he sat up, shivering. Sometimes he did hear voices, especially when he was tired, but they were all familiar ones, belonging to his father, granny, or friends. This voice now, high-pitched and unpleasant, was completely unknown and scared the wits out of him.

Still trembling, Kamolea began to rise, firmly resolved to end his life, when suddenly the small cave filled up with light, and near to the entrance emerged a woman clad in a long white dress. Her silhouette emanated a soft glow that illuminated the cave. Kamolea, who had never seen a dressed woman, immediately noticed that she bore a striking resemblance to him: long curly hair, prominent forehead, and big black shiny eyes.

 “Mother?” he whispered.

The woman reached towards him.

“How handsome and brave you grew up to be, Kamolea.” Her voice, soft and gentle as a rippling brook, rang in his ears. “And how stupid, as well. Have you really decided to kill yourself? Never dare to listen to the deceitful voice screaming in your head. Be afraid of nothing, my son. Your destiny will be hard, but noble, and your name will be a legend for generations to come. Today is an extraordinary day for you—you foretold the truth, and you tried to save a human life regardless of the consequences or others’ opinions. Today was your spiritual birthday, your prophetic victory, and you have proved that you are ready to fulfill your destiny.”

Kamolea shut and rubbed his eyes. When he reopened them, the woman was still there, smiling at him.

“I understand that it’s hard to believe that you are speaking with your dead mother.” She stepped forward and sat beside him. “I came to you from very far away because I see how desperate you have become. And that, believe me, is just the beginning. Heed my words, my son! Hard days lie ahead, and to survive you need to be stronger than flint and braver than a manuka lani.

“Remember two important things from me. First, you are not a Tipihao. You are a descendant of the Torago tribe. Your grandfather was a great chieftain, and your father was an exceptional hunter and warrior. His name was Keoni, and he was a man of honor and kindness, not a butcher and bloodthirsty killer like the one who you call your father now. I brought you a gift from your father: his favorite bracelet, the symbol of his audacity. Put it on your left wrist and thus, he will always be with you; this bracelet will guide you and protect you the same way that it saved me at the time.

“Second, no matter how hard things seem or how desperate you feel, the thought of killing yourself must never cross your mind. Don’t listen to the deceptive voice in your head because it does not belong to you. It tries to impede God’s plans for you. This God has assigned you an important mission, which you have to bring to an end. Let Him guide you, trust in Him, be brave and fair, and never give up, as you don’t know what the future holds for you.”

With these words, Laia disappeared, and the cave became somber and bleak. Outside was dark, even though it was still late afternoon. The storm continued to rage. Kamolea crawled to the place where his mother had stood. At that moment, a lightning bolt split the sky and Kamolea caught a glimpse of some gleaming object. He took it and turned it in his hands. It was a white bracelet made of shark teeth. He fiddled with it for a while, then slipped it on his left wrist. Calm and bliss suffused his body. At that moment, he forgot all about his troubles and drifted into a deep slumber.

***

In the morning, the wind had died out, and the sun shone in the unblemished sky. When Kamolea reached the village, he noticed with a sinking heart that everybody whose path he crossed eyed him suspiciously.

He entered Akamui’s hut, dreading the encounter. As he stepped in, two men materialized from nowhere and seized him. In a blink of an eye, he lay prone on the floor with his hands bound behind his back. The men dragged him outside and brought him to the Sacred Zone. On his way toward the cage, he passed Loto, who lay beside the altar, beaten to a pulp but still alive, his body a messy jelly of blood and broken bones.

A mighty push took him out of his stupor.

“Up there!” bellowed one of his guards.

Kamolea grabbed the rope ladder and climbed nimbly to the cage that perched on the fork of ancient koa. Once locked in the cage, for the first time he realized how serious his situation was. In their religious beliefs, the Tipihaos considered talking to someone about their own death to be a grim omen, which could bring ill fortune to the person concerned.

If they blame me for Laggi’s death, I’m done, he thought.

The elders came one by one and entered the Hive.

An eternity seemed to pass before the guards brought Kamolea before the Council. The elders sat in a semicircle around the hearth and smoked their pipes. The chieftain Momo was the only one standing. He motioned for Kamolea to approach.

Paralyzed with fear, Kamolea stepped forward and then froze with his head bowed while the elders examined him for a long time like a rare species of an insect.

“Tell us what happened yesterday, Kamolea! Start from the beginning and don’t lie, because we know everything!” barked Momo.

With a broken voice, Kamolea told them everything, repeatedly answering the same questions: “How did you realize that something terrible would happen? That someone would die? Did you know who would die? Why did you not stop them?”

“I don’t know how I knew it; I just felt it,” repeated Kamolea for the tenth time. “And I did try to stop them, but nobody listened. They called me pussy and coward. What could I have done?”

“I think you are the one to blame for Laggi’s death!” Momo said finally, his voice grim and menacing. “Your stupid premonition brought the misfortune upon my son. I vote for the death penalty.”

Akamui jumped to his feet. “This is ridiculous!” he cried. “Nothing proves that my son should be blamed for the death of yours! Kamolea never mentioned Laggi’s name, so he could not bring ill to him. He even warned them to go away! It’s not his fault they didn’t listen!”

Hardly had he spoken these words when an argument broke out. Everybody was talking, and nobody was listening. After a heated debate, the elders eventually decided that Kamolea had nothing to be accused of and let him go.