Author's Note: This story is the direct sequel to a Moana fic I wrote called Whare Potae. If you haven't read that story yet, this one may not make a lot of sense, so I strongly encourage you to please go and look up that story before you read this one.
I am writing this chapter from the road to New York City, which is rather bumpy, thus making it difficult to type. I'd like to do a little work, though, so I'll give it a try.
Oh, and I have a rather presumptuous request for you all, please; several of you have left me comments or sent me messages indicating that you've been inspired to draw Moana fanart after reading my story. I can't begin to tell you how deeply that touches me. If you have drawn a piece of fanart based around this story, I would be so honored if you would message me and show me your work. I would love to display it or link it on my website for the world to see (with proper credit and a link to your page, of course) if you'd be willing to share. I have one that I'm saving up to show you in the next chapter, but I can't post it from the road. Stay tuned!
I took a look at my inbox before I headed out today, and I can see that I have several messages from you that I haven't answered yet. I'm so sorry that it's taken me so long. If you've been waiting for a reply, thank you so much for your patience, and I look forward to being in touch with you very soon, probably on Monday, when I'm back from New York.
Thank you so much, and I hope you enjoy the story.
Te Kakau
Orion's Belt
By Mercy Slaughter
Prologue
Three weeks after her twenty-first birthday, Moana sailed her favorite canoe back to Motunui, and moored it on the beach just as the sun was beginning to rise again on the horizon. She was bedraggled, exhausted, hungry, and disappointed, and she dragged herself up the beach and crawled into her bed without stopping to speak to anyone.
She'd spent the last several days traveling in a circuit around the local islands, but to no avail. It was the second trip of the kind that she'd taken in the past several weeks, but no matter where she looked or what new tactics she tried, she couldn't find Maui or even figure out where he'd gone. He hadn't been on the island where he'd left his mark years before, and he hadn't been laying low in any of the nearby villages. Moana had eventually been forced to accept that, when he'd decided that a little romantic disappointment was a good enough reason never to come back to Motunui, he must have found or made a boat of his own, somewhere, and had probably set sail for foreign lands.
At this point, she didn't even know where to begin looking.
If I'd left right away, she reminded herself angrily, if I'd gone after him as soon as he'd left, maybe I could have headed him off. Now, I'll probably never find him...unless he decides to come home.
After almost a month, she didn't have much faith in the idea that he was going to just get over his annoyance and come back, the way she'd thought he would at first. She'd misjudged him, and now it was probably too late.
Moana sighed, then shivered, gritted her teeth, and rolled over on her mat. It was strangely cold and unusually quiet in the house, and her parents hadn't been waiting for her when she got home, as she'd been sure they would. No matter how she begged them to remember that she was an adult, now, and fully capable of handling herself on a sea voyage, they were nevertheless always sitting up and watching for her when she came home, relieved that she hadn't been drowned, or eaten by a sea monster, or both.
This time, though, there wasn't a sign of them. Now that she thought about it, Moana had a bad feeling about that.
They don't really get much time to spend together these days, she thought, realizing guiltily that, whenever she went off adventuring or in search of gods and monsters, her parents had to run the village in her stead. Maybe they're having a date night. That'd be nice.
Still, it was awfully late, she reminded herself, and even if they'd been out walking in the woods or sitting down by the beach together, they'd probably have been home by now.
Swinging her legs over the side of the bed, Moana got to her feet and was surprised at how dizzy she felt the moment she stood up. The world swam, and she had to grab on to the side of the bed to steady herself for a few seconds before her head cleared.
"Mom? Dad?" She walked through the house, calling out to her parents, but no one answered. She hesitated in the doorway, t hen stepped outside and around to the back of the house, where the earth-oven stood adn where the match were laid down for mealtimes.
It was pitch-black outside, and Moana's eyes had to adjust to the darkness before she found her father, lying on his back across two of the mats, his eyes wide-open and staring straight up. His breathing was coming in abrupt gasps and starts, jerking his chest up and down as the breaths struggled in and out, and his one hand resting on the bedcover was shaking.
"Dad?!" Moana hurried to him, kneeling down beside him and reaching for his hand, which didn't respond as she touched it. "Dad, are you okay? What's wrong?"
Turning his head to look at her, former Chief Tui of Motunui opened his mouth slowly to speak, and haltingly tried to croak out her name.
"Mo..."
Moana frantically pressed her hand to his head, and his forehead felt like it was on fire.
"I'll get you some water," she told him, doing her best to stay calm. "Just, um, stay right there, okay? I'll be right back."
Scrambling to her feet, she headed for the well, but was stopped halfway there by the sight of her mother and the Tohunga running full-tilt across the village square.
"Mom!" Moana hurried to join her. "Mom, it's Dad. He's-!"
"Oh, Moana, thank heavens you're back," gasped Sina, grabbing her daughter and giving her a quick, fierce hug. "Yes, I know. Your father's been sick since yesterday, but it only just took a turn for the worse...but it's all right. I've brought Maata, now, and she'll know what to do. Go and help her with anything she needs, Moana. I'll get the water. Go, quickly!"
Maata, the Tohunga, gave Moana a tight-lipped little smile of greeting, and then both of them started for Moana's house while Mom stopped to draw water from the well.
Moana and Maata had only taken a few steps, however, before there was an anguished man's scream from somewhere across the village, and then Rangi came racing out of his house with his mother Whetu trailing behind him.
"Chief," he barked, noticing Moana and heading straight for her. "Moana...Anahera's dead." His face was drawn and his eyes looked raw, but he was obviously doing everything in his power to act as though he hadn't just been crying.
The Tohunga sighed, lowered her eyes, and shook her head.
"Poor Anahera," whispered Mom, wrapping a gentle arm around Whetu, who was silent and looked slightly shocked.
"She was in terrible pain," whispered Whetu helplessly. "It's been days since she took ill...at the end, she couldn't eat, couldn't speak, until death was a mercy. At least, now, she has some peace to look forward to."
Whetu gave Moana a pleading look, begging for some kind of confirmation, and Moana nodded.
"Rarohenga is a beautiful place," Moana assured her. "I'm sure she'll be happier there than she was on earth."
Whetu sniffled, and then managed a rueful little laugh.
"It wouldn't be hard," she sighed. "Our Anahera wasn't much of a ray of sunshine on earth, now was she? She could only get happier, I suppose."
"May she be at peace," whispered Moana doing her best to be a good, considerate Chief, even if the face of her own rising panic. She gave Whetu an encouragingly little pat on the shoulder, flashed her a fleeting smile of sympathy, and then grabbed Tohunga Maata by the wrist, pulling her bodily towards her own house where her father lay clinging to life.
Her heart was beating desperately in her chest, and her own lungs were suddenly aching and burning, probably from the exertion of the long voyage, but Moana didn't have time to pay attention to that, or to care.
Motunui was cold and dark, but no longer silent. All over the villages, people were beginning to cry out from inside their homes.
A merciless shiver ran down Moana's spine and shook her to the bone as she and the Tohunga burst through the door of her father's bedroom, where he now lay entirely still, only the faint rise and fall of his chest indicating life.
Author's End Note: I did promise you some angst, didn't I? I'm afraid this one starts out in rather a dark place, but I promise that we'll have some levity, too; it won't be all consistent gloom and doom, don't worry.
I am still on the way to New York, and it's snowing. I may be on the road a while longer...