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Harakeke to flax. Flax to string. String to rope. It was their way in Ga-Wahi, their new home.
Turaga Nokama planted her trident in the sands of Naho Bay and watched her Matoran at work.
Amaya and Vhisola sat at the shoreline, the clear waters of Ga-Wahi lapping at them as they labored. They would strip each Harakeke plant of its branches, then clutch the stalk in their mouth at one end and between their knees at the other to hold it taut. Then, they would run the sharp edge of a Cowrie shell down the length of the plant, slicing off fine, almost translucent fibers until there was nothing left.
Every so often, Hahli’s Kaukau would peek above the surface of the water, and the grinning Ga-Matoran would emerge with an armful of Harakeke and Cowrie plucked from the underwater gardens to replenish her sisters’ supplies. It was their way in Ga-Wahi. It had been their way for generations.
That was a lie, of course. A lie that Nokama desperately hoped she could make them believe.
“Good work, Amaya,” Nokama said as she approached, nodding appreciatively at the pile of coiled fibers at her feet. “And good, Vhisola. But don’t be afraid to sharpen your shell or switch to a new one. A sharp blade cuts finer flax.”
Nokama picked up a Cowrie shell and dragged its cutting edge along the abrasive sand to demonstrate.
She spoke like a wizened elder, imparting ancient wisdom. It hadn’t been so long ago that she was young and naive.
Never mind that she had never cut flax herself. Never mind that when she had needed rope back home on Metru Nui, she had gone to the Ga-Metru market to buy it. Never mind that she had only ever seen this method in an anthropology text-tablet about the isolated Matoran tribes of the Southern Islands.
Never mind that everything about their life on Mata Nui was a lie.
Even the water was the wrong color here.
Vhisola looked at the ground between her legs, an embarrassed little smile on her Kanohi Komau. It was a grin Nokama had seen countless times, whenever Vhisola got nervous.
“Thank you, Turaga,” she said. “I’ll get the hang of it.”
“I’m certain you will,” Nokama said.
Amaya and Vhisola sat there, staring up at their Turaga, Harakeke stalks half-shucked in their hands. They wouldn’t dream of beginning the work again while their Turaga was still standing there, with the potential to impart wisdom, but Nokama remained silent.
Each silent second was more uncomfortable than the last, but Nokama found she couldn’t clear the cotton out of her mouth to speak, no matter how many times she swallowed.
“Vhisola,” she finally said. “How would you like to dine with me? In my hut? Tonight?”
Nokama silently cursed herself. She should be exuding confidence right now. Instead, she was begging Vhisola to eat with her. She was still testing the waters of her new authority. It would be a while before she felt comfortable in her position as a Turaga.
She hadn’t even been comfortable as a Toa.
But Vhisola didn’t mind. Her brow raised in the way that Nokama knew so well. She knew that meant a “yes” was coming, but she couldn’t let Vhisola see that she knew because she couldn’t explain how she knew, and—
Ugh.
“It… Would be my honor, Turaga,” Vhisola said, perplexed, yet grateful for the attention. “Though I’m not sure why you’d want to dine with me.”
Nokama nodded. Too stiff, too formal. “Good,” she said. “I’ll see you then.”
Nokama opened her mouth to speak again, but closed it just as soon. She spun on her heels and started on her way back to Ga-Koro. There was much to prepare.
She’d have time to ponder her next move. Many of the signs Nokama remembered were still there, but she couldn’t be certain. The dinner would reveal everything.
Turaga Nokama felt her mind drift back to Metru Nui. To that day, so long ago and so far away, when she had been given a greater destiny. She had entered her student Vhisola’s apartment, seeking a Great Disk, but had found something else instead.
An obsession. With Nokama.
There had been so many things to do after that startling revelation. A city that had needed to be saved countless times. In many ways, it felt like she hadn’t stopped running since that moment.
But through it all, that image of Vhisola’s walls, covered with carvings of Nokama herself, so many that Nokama couldn’t even tell what color the apartment was supposed to be painted…
That image hung in Nokama’s mind like a scent lingering in the air. She shivered even now to recall it, despite the warmth of the sun and sand.
Before, in their old home of Metru Nui, it had been easy to laugh off Vhisola’s quirks. She was unusual, sure. Unreliable, sometimes. But that was just Vhisola.
Today, in this strange new world where every day was a fight to learn how to survive, they had no such luxury. Vhisola had spent months now bouncing between jobs, never quite taking to any of them.
That had consequences for them all. And though Nokama couldn’t tell her sisters that she had a suspicion as to what was going on with Vhisola, she had a responsibility as Turaga to address it.
That was why Nokama had walked down to Naho Bay to invite Vhisola to have dinner with her. To help one of the Matoran in her care and to protect Ga-Koro. Those were the only reasons.
Right?
Nokama scampered.
She hadn’t scampered anywhere since her elevation to Turaga.
She still had bula berries to slice, and the pot of water wraiths wasn’t boiling yet.
At least the Madu was ready. She’d had it brought in from Le-Metru a few days ago. Only the Le-Matoran knew how to prepare it safely, so she’d had to trade a month’s worth of flax for it.
The pleasing burble of boiling water brought deliverance from some of her worries. Nokama scampered to the clay pot and stirred the little water wraith shells around with her ladle.
Nokama remembered all the teacher-student lunches they’d shared down by the Ga-Metru docks. Vhisola had ordered water wraiths every time, no matter how much the others teased her for refusing to branch out.
The reminder of Metru Nui might reveal how much of the old times remained buried in Vhisola’s psyche. Might expose whether those feelings she’d had towards Nokama still endured.
Yes, that was why she was taking such care to prepare Vhisola’s favorite meal. The only reason.
The Volo chimes on her door clunked together, low and dull, and Nokama’s heartlight plunged in her chest. She turned to the door of her hut to see Vhisola’s Komau peering through the little gap nervously.
“Vhisola! Come on in,” Nokama said. “Don’t mind me, I’m just finishing up.”
Vhisola stepped inside the hut without a word, hands clasped tight in front of her. Nokama moved from the pot to the bula berries, flicking each one off the vine and into the bowl with quick, sharp swipes of her pruning hook.
“How was your day?” Nokama asked, not looking up from her work. “Did my advice help?”
“I think so, Turaga,” Vhisola said, still standing in the middle of Nokama’s floor, shifting from foot to foot. “Amaya said my flax was much finer afterwards. Thank you.”
“Please, sit,” Nokama said. She gestured with the hook for Vhisola to sit, realizing too late how threatening that was. Vhisola sank to the ground and folded her legs beneath her, never taking her eyes off Nokama.
When she sat, Nokama noticed again, with a surge of guilt, how small and how frail she was compared to how she’d been in Metru Nui. Makuta’s work, just like the lost memories. To their everlasting shame, Nokama and her brothers hadn’t been there to stop it.
Nokama picked up the bowl of berries and carefully lined the rim with Madu fruit. She sat opposite Vhisola and set the bowl down between them.
“I thought we could start with some fruit before the main course,” Nokama said. “Have you ever had Madu before?”
“I haven’t,” said Vhisola, examining the spread with hungry eyes.
“Careful with it. The Le-Matoran describe it as ‘less explosive’ after they prepare it… Though I suspect that may just be clever marketing.”
Vhisola laughed and balanced a Madu gingerly in the palm of her hand. It crumpled and withered in her hand, its coloration going gray.
“Mmm…” Vhisola said.
Nokama grabbed a Madu of her own and drained it. An instant later, the rush of sensation hit. A flutter in her heartlight. Fireworks bursting behind her eyes.
“Mmm, indeed,” agreed Nokama.
They enjoyed a still moment, with only the rustling of the breeze and the boiling of the water in the pot to keep them company, before Nokama spoke again.
“I’m glad it was a good day,” Nokama said. “Do you think you might... Stay with Amaya for a while?”
Vhisola’s mask wrinkled up in consideration. “I don’t know,” she said. “It’s calming… but awfully repetitive.”
“No one likes everything about their job,” said Nokama. “Do you think I enjoy everything about being a Turaga?”
“You seem to enjoy giving lectures,” Vhisola said, her eyes darting to some point on the far wall.
Oof. Too pushy. Try again.
“I know my sisters don’t like how I bounce between jobs,” Vhisola said, bula berries clutched unconsumed in her hand. “I’m sorry, Turaga.”
Nokama thought before she spoke this time.
“Your sisters need to mind their own business,” Nokama said. “And as for you, let’s try something different… Don’t think about what Ga-Koro needs for a moment. Just tell me, if it were up to you, what would you do for work? What is it that you’re passionate about, Vhisola?”
Vhisola sat there, staring off into space, rubbing a berry between her fingers. “Hmm… I think… So, we’re one little island, right, in the middle of an endless sea?”
Nokama nodded, though her stomach churned at the line of inquiry.
“But are we really alone?” Vhisola asked, leaning in towards Nokama, her eyes twinkling with intrigue. “Couldn’t there be other islands with Matoran out there somewhere? Or if not Matoran, other forms of life? Creatures so strange and different that we can’t even imagine them? I want to go looking. Hop on a ship and sail off towards the sunset.”
Nokama let out a quiet sigh and looked down at the ground between her legs. Of course. She wants the one job she can’t have.
“Sounds to me like you just want out of Ga-Wahi.” Nokama ventured.
Vhisola squeezed her eyes shut. “You may be right,” she said.
Nokama didn’t respond, looking deep into Vhisola’s eyes and trying to understand.
The moment was shattered when she recalled why she had invited Vhsiola here in the first place.
“Dinner!” Nokama exclaimed and leapt to her feet, dashing over to the pot. She took it off the fire and sighed with relief when she looked inside. The water wraith shells had softened enough to be more pliable, but the meat wasn’t that badly overdone.
Vhisola’s eyes lit up with delight when Nokama ladled a few shells onto her plate.
“You can pull the shell apart to get to the meat,” she explained. “Just be careful, there’s venom in the shell, but it only escapes if you—”
“Pierce the shell,” whispered Vhisola, her eyes never leaving the plate, “I know…”
“Are you alright?” Nokama asked.
“It’s strange,” Vhisola said, coming back to herself. “Water wraiths are my favorite, but… I’ve never been bold enough to tell anyone about that… And you made them without knowing.”
Nokama swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure. Idiot. She told you about water wraiths before Mata Nui.
Idiot!
Vhisola ran her hand along the marbled, striated shell on her plate, steam still rising from it. When she spoke, her voice was so soft that it was almost lost beneath the whistling of the breeze through the windows. “I swear, Turaga, it’s like you know me so well sometimes. Better than I know myself.”
Vhisola went quiet, leaving Nokama to stew in her panic. Nokama clenched her fist at her side, silently pleading with Vhisola to let it drop.
At last, she did, prying open the water wraith shell, and Nokama felt the tension leave her shoulders.
“Madu fruit,” Vhisola said, with a handful of water wraith meat. “Water wraiths. Sometimes I think a ‘delicacy’ is just something that’ll kill you if you eat it wrong.”
Nokama laughed and dug into her own water wraith. “Maybe the danger adds something to the flavor.”
The meat crumbled to ash in Vhisola’s hand, and her eyes brightened. “I don’t know if it’s the danger,” she said. “But you’re doing something right!”
A soft smile touched Nokama’s mask. “I hope you enjoy, Vhisola.”
“Turaga,” Vhisola said, uncrossing her legs and re-crossing them the other way. “Why did you ask me to eat with you tonight? I can’t remember the last time you invited one of our sisters into your hut for dinner.”
Here it is. Nokama leaned forward and let out a shaking breath. Words whirled around her head, moving so fast that she couldn’t form sentences. It had been her greatest weakness as a teacher – she had too many words and not enough meaning.
Enough dancing around it. It was time to be direct.
“Vhisola… Do you sometimes have feelings that your sisters don’t? Deep feelings? Feelings you don’t want to share with others?”
Vhisola hugged her chest tight and scooted back a bit.
“It’s ok,” Nokama continued. “If you’d like to share, I won’t tell anyone about this. But if not, we can pretend I didn’t say anything. Alright?”
Vhisola waited in silence, tracing the edge of her plate with her fingertips, her eyes distant. “I have these dreams, sometimes,” she said.
“Dreams?”
Another long pause. Vhisola shifted uncomfortably once again.
“I’m floating on my back,” said Vhisola. “I’m in this narrow stream. I can see land on both sides. But the water. It’s the strangest thing… The water is silver.”
Nokama’s jaw clenched. “Go on.”
“I know I’m not on Mata Nui. It must be some other island. There are no trees, no plants, just metal everywhere. And the huts! They’re metal too, and they’re enormous! As tall as mountains!
“There’s someone there, floating beside me. She’s blue, like a Ga-Matoran, but she’s so tall. Strong, confident, but graceful. Her presence alone is calming. Kind of like yours, Turaga.”
Nokama balled her hands into fists so they wouldn’t shake. “What does she say?” she asked.
“Sometimes she just looks at me and smiles,” Vhisola said. “And then I wake up. But sometimes, she speaks. She says… ‘I’ve got you. It’s ok.’ Things like that.”
Nokama shifted her weight to her hands and pushed herself a bit closer to Vhisola. The voice in Nokama’s head was screaming at her not to move, but it sounded distant, muffled, underwater.
“How does it make you feel?” Nokama said.
A nervous giggle escaped Vhisola’s mouth. Her eyes were fixed on Nokama’s hands. “Like I could sail to the end of the sea to find the island of metal and silver water and tall huts. Until I find her. Like I don’t belong here on Mata Nui, I belong there, with her. Like I need it in my bones to float next to her, to be close to her.
“Some days I don’t get anything done because I just lie back down and try to fall back asleep. I try to go back to the dream… That must all sound very foolish to you.”
Nokama craned her neck, leaning closer to Vhisola. The last time her heartlight had flashed this fast, it had been a side effect of the Rahi Nui’s venom. Vhisola’s eyes widened in alarm, but she didn’t move away.
“Not foolish at all,” Nokama said softly. “Dreams can be… Powerful. Turaga Vakama could tell you all about that.”
“It always feels so real,” Vhisola murmured. Her voice sounded almost sleepy. “I’ve never been an imaginative person, you know? It feels like I couldn’t have dreamed up a place or a person like that. It’s like I’m seeing something real, something that exists somewhere. Do you think it could be true? Do you think she might be out there, somewhere, waiting for me?”
“Maybe,” Nokama said. “Or maybe she’s a lot closer than you think.”
Terror filled Nokama the moment the words left her mouth. Idiot! Why did you say that? You’re risking everything! But her body was like a Ussal that had snapped its tether and was rampaging out of her mind’s control. She had moved closer to Vhisola without even realizing it. Now her knees were pressed up against Vhisola’s, her Kanohi nearly touching her former student’s.
“W-what do you mean, Turaga?” Vhisola asked. She left her mouth slightly open after she finished speaking.
“Sometimes dreams are there to show us what we’re looking for inside ourselves, not outside. Tall? Confident? Graceful? Maybe the traits you see in this… Stranger are things that you wish you were.”
Vhisola nodded slowly, a vulnerable, almost spellbound look in her eyes. “Maybe,” Vhisola said. “But she doesn’t have my voice.
“She has yours, Turaga.”
Nokama reached out with a trembling hand and pressed two fingertips to the side of Vhisola’s head, just past the edge of her Kanohi. The metal of her true face was pleasingly cool. Vhisola let out a short gasp, but didn’t draw back, not yet. Nokama still had no idea what on Mata Nui’s green island she was doing, but her fingers found the sharp crease of Vhisola’s cheek and glided down, down, down…
“Turaga!” Vhisola squeaked. She recoiled as if shocked, falling on her back and then rolling and staggering back onto her feet in a flurry of uncoordinated, frenzied movement.
They stared at each other, both panting for breath, Nokama still kneeling on the ground beside their long-abandoned plates.
“Turaga, may I be excused for the evening?” Vhisola managed between gasps for breath. “I’m sorry, the food was delicious, it’s just… Been a long day. I’m feeling very tired.”
“Vhisola,” Nokama pleaded, her words coming fast and desperate once again. “No, no, don’t be sorry, the fault is… All mine. I don’t know what–”
“Turaga, may I be excused for the evening?” Vhisola asked more firmly, already backing towards the door.
Nokama let out an exasperated sigh. Well done, oh wise Turaga. You blew it.
“Yes, you may be excused,” Nokama said.
“Thank you, good night,” Vhisola blurted. She slammed the door open and disappeared into the cool evening, leaving the Volo chimes clanging wildly behind her.
Nokama collapsed facedown on her bedroll and endured a sleepless night, the dinner she had made going cold on the floor beside her.
Turaga Matau insisted that Le-Wahi was the spitting image of Le-Metru, but that sounded suspiciously like a coping mechanism to the other Turaga.
If you squinted at it, some details lined up. Swinging on vines somewhat resembled travel by chute, in that both methods of transportation were slightly elevated and faster than walking.
Matau’s domain was one of the more pleasant Wahi, though. Nokama got to enjoy the sunlight dappling through the jungle canopy and the chittering of insectoid Rahi while she waited for Matau to finish.
He was mediating between two indignant Le-Matoran, apparently named Afa and Boreas, and looked like he’d rather be anywhere else. He rested his head limply on his hand, eyes dull and vacant.
It was no easy task to parse the two Matorans’ thick Chute– no, Treespeak. But as far as Nokama could tell, Afa had found a wounded Gukko in the deep jungle, and Boreas had nursed it back to health. Now, each one claimed that he was the rightful owner.
At last, Matau hit his breaking point. He leapt to his feet and scooped up his Kau Kau Staff. Nokama knew that gleam in her brother’s eye. He was about to do something stupid, clever, or both.
“Quiet,” he said. “Your Turaga will quick-solve! Bring me the Gukko, and I will half-slice it. One half-Gukko per Le-brother. Sound fair?”
Afa grinned. “Plenty-fair, Turaga. Much-thanks.”
But Boreas fell to his knees and clasped his hands. “Please, Turaga,” he pleaded. “Afa can have sweet-bird. Just don’t bad-hurt it, please!”
Matau grinned and leveled his staff at Boreas. “You much-rather see the Gukko safe than have it yourself,” he said. “Boreas shall be the Gukko-rider!”
Nokama joined the gathered Matoran in applause, grinning. She’d have never guessed the brash, occasionally careless Matau she had met at the Great Temple so long ago would have grown into such a beloved leader.
He’d even found a way to make his mischievous streak work for him, not against him.
Matau dismissed the Le-Matoran when he spotted Nokama. They filed out, Afa looking rather chastened.
“Sister,” he shouted, running over to Nokama to give her a quick hug. “What far-brings you to Le-Wahi? Do you need more Madu Fruit?”
“Umm… No,” Nokama said, dropping her gaze. “I was hoping you could give me some advice.”
“Advice?” Matau asked. “Me? Don’t you usually go to the fire-spitter for that?”
“These days, Vakama doesn’t have much patience for anything he doesn’t see in his ‘sacred fire,’” Nokama said with a roll of her eyes. “But even if not, I’d still come to you about this. I think you’re… Uniquely qualified to help me.”
Matau sat down on a nearby log covered with moss and crawling Rahi, and gestured for Nokama to join him. She hesitated, but finally gave in and sat down, wincing at the squishing sensations beneath her.
“I’m all ears, water-sister,” he said, mischief still twinkling in his eyes.
“Alright…” Nokama sighed. “Whoo… Alright. Where to begin? Uh… You remember those… Unusual feelings you had for me in the early days?”
Shame twisted Matau’s noble Kanohi Mahiki for a moment. “Oh,” he said. “Yeah, I guess we never really deep-talked about that, did we?”
“I guess not,” Nokama said. “Those feelings… When did they go away? Did they fade over time, or were they just gone one day?”
Matau thought about it for a bit, tapping the butt of his staff on the ground. “Hm. Over time. We had hero-business to do. Matoran to save, Makuta to flat-stomp. I didn’t over-think about it. Before long, you were my water-sister. I only wanted you ever-safe, I didn’t want to be your…”
“More-than-friend?” Nokama suggested, grinning playfully at her brother.
“Nokama the translator,” Matau said, returning the smile. “More-than-friend. But you’re long-late in asking me this. Why now?”
Nokama sighed, drumming her fingers on her knees. “I ate dinner with Vhisola last night.”
“Wow,” Matau said, drawing out the word in exaggerated awe.
“Yeah. Wow,” said Nokama. “Go ahead, lecture me about how reckless I was, about how I could have ruined everything. I lectured myself all night long.”
“I’m not the fire-spitter,” Matau said. “I deep-trust you, sister. I know you had strong-reasons. How did it go?”
“I got my answers,” Nokama said. “Her feelings for me are buried deep. But, I acted like a freak and scared her off.”
“And why was it so important to get this answer that you were willing to awful-frighten one of your Matoran?”
“Because she’s been distracted,” Nokama said. “It’s disrupting the work. I had to step in. I’d have done the same thing if it were Kotu or Hahli struggling.”
Matau stared at Nokama, a knowing half-grin on his Kanohi, and Nokama groaned. Matau wasn’t the most perceptive being, but when he did pick up on something, he was like a Muaka with a bone. She wasn’t going to wriggle her way out of this one.
“When you first-told me about Vhisola’s crazy-room, back in Toa-days, you said it scared you,” Matau said.
“It did.”
“And?”
Nokama drew her knees up to her chest and hugged them.
“And it excited me,” she admitted in a tiny voice.
Matau watched her silently, so the words kept spilling out of Nokama’s mouth. “To be wanted that way was… New. Forbidden. Intoxicating. I knew that I could have told her to do… All sorts of things to me. I was her teacher and a Toa. She would have done them. She would have held me. Touched me. But I knew that would have been wrong.”
“And when I said those things to you?” Matau probed. “When I tried to big-impress you? Did that excite you?”
“Of course. Do you think I’d have rejected you so harshly if I didn’t care?”
Matau grinned in triumph and pointed at Nokama’s chest. “I knew it!”
“Matau!”
“Sorry,” he giggled. “Ever-sorry, sister.”
“We had a city to save,” Nokama went on. “There wasn’t time to process those feelings, and then…”
“Hordika,” Matau breathed.
Nokama drew in a deep, shuddering breath. “Those urges… Didn’t help. At all. I just had to shut that part of my mind down. Starve it. I thought I’d killed it. Until last night.”
“Do you want it gone?” Matau asked.
“Yes… No.”
“You could tell Vhisola how you deep-feel and be big-happy. Don’t you deserve to be big-happy?”
“Not like that.”
“Why not?”
“Because what if it makes her remember?” Nokama whispered.
Matau’s stream of questions ran dry. He set his jaw, looking pensively into the distance.
“She’s lost,” Nokama continued. “But she could make a fresh start. All six of them could. You said Orkahm’s doing well in your Gukko Force, right?”
Matau nodded. “Still careful-slow as ever. But a sky-rider needs to be careful-slow.”
“Vakama says it’s the same story with Nuhrii in his Guard. Nuju was laconic as always, but I gathered that Ehrye’s settled down enough for a job in the Sanctum. It’s what he always wanted.”
“And Tehutti is big-strong miner now,” Matau added. “But Ahkmou is… Ahkmou.”
“Even he could turn it around,” Nokama said.
“Maybe the one Spirit-blessing in this is that they get another chance. All that bitter-resentment for us isn’t back-holding them anymore.”
“But it’s not them,” Nokama lamented, swiping at the air in frustration. “Vhisola, she’s not supposed to be like this. She was jealous, sure, but she was brilliant, Matau! Not confused. Don’t they deserve to learn from their mistakes, not have them swept away?”
“You’re Amaja-telling to the Turaga,” Matau said. “I voted with you that we should true-tell the Matoran their past, remember?”
“And I’m still grateful,” said Nokama. “I don’t know, Matau… Maybe it is kinder not to tell them. But it just…”
“Wrong-feels?”
“Wrong-feels,” Nokama said. “How long can we keep it up? And what happens if our old friend…”
She trailed off, but the look on Matau’s face told her he understood. Vakama had been characteristically light on the details, but he had insisted that they wouldn’t have to worry about Makuta right away.
All the while, he built up the Ta-Koro Guard. The other Turaga had silently done the same among their own Matoran.
Matau put a hand on Nokama’s shoulder. “All the more reason to love-enjoy the calm-time we have. With the people we want to love-enjoy it with.”
Nokama sighed. “When did you become the sensible one, brother?”
“I’ve ever-been the sensible one.”
“Even when you were flying into trees?”
Matau nodded sagely. “Especially when I was flying into trees.”
Nokama almost knocked four times.
She almost turned and fled more times. The conflicting urges canceled out, and she stood uselessly at the door to Vhisola’s hut, turning her tablet over and over again in her hands.
Too late, she resolved to knock. As she raised her hand, the door swung open. She was greeted with a look of fear so potent in Vhisola’s eyes that it took Nokama’s breath away.
“Turaga Nokama,” she said. There was something tired and ragged in her voice. “What can I do for you?”
“I can’t ask you to accept my apology,” Nokama said, eyes darting everywhere but Vhisola’s Kanohi. “But hear it, please. I have two things for you.”
Nokama offered her tablet. Vhisola regarded it like some ugly, chittering Rahi.
“My recipe for boiled water wraiths,” Nokama said. “So you can cook them yourself. I’m sure you’d rather not… Eat with me again.”
Vhisola’s expression didn’t change. But she reached out and jerked the tablet out of Nokama’s grasp with one quick, sharp movement.
“Thank you, Turaga,” she said.
“There’s one more thing,” Nokama said. “I have a new job for you to try.”
Vhisola looked down at the ground, castigated. “It’s fine, Turaga, really,” she said. “I’ll just go back to Amaya. Cutting flax is as good as any job. Thanks for trying.”
“I’d like you to give it one more shot,” Nokama said. “Report to Okoth this morning. Do you know her?”
“She’s the trader,” Vhisola said after a moment.
“That’s right,” Nokama said. “She travels around, bartering in all the other Koro. She explores every bio of this island. I know it’s not the same as sailing off into the sunset–”
“But it might be close to it,” Vhisola said.
“It could be.”
“Thank you, Turaga,” Vhisola said, holding her head a little higher. “I’ll go see Okoth now.”
“That’s good,” Nokama said. “Good luck… That’s all.”
Nokama turned to go.
“Turaga?”
Nokama turned back to see Vhisola wringing her hands.
“Uh…” she stammered. “You could stop by my hut sometime. I could make boiled water wraiths for you.”
The sound of those words was as beautiful as spring rain falling on sand.
“I’d like that. Actually... I-I’d really love that. Just… Let me know when, ok?”
“Good,” Vhisola said, her cheeks luminescent. “G-good! I’ll need some time to practice. Thank you, Teacher.”
It sounded so natural, so familiar that Nokama didn’t even notice at first. But when she did, it struck like a club to the face.
“What did you say?” she asked.
Vhisola furrowed her brow in confusion. “I said ‘thank you, Turaga,’” she said.
“Of course,” Nokama said, heartlight pounding again. “You’re welcome.”
Nokama made the walk back to Naho Bay, a smile still touching her cheeks. She’d given Vhisola a chance to choose her path. She wouldn’t have to bear the weight of her Turaga’s expectation.
But Nokama knew what she hoped her old student would do.
Either way, though, Nokama felt unburdened for the first time in a while as she stared out at the morning sun, beyond cresting waves. There was a lightness to her that she hadn’t felt since she watched Metru Nui vanish beneath the horizon.
Perhaps their strange island with its many secrets and water that was the wrong color could be a home. They’d taken little, fragmented pieces of home with them.
And they would find brand new pieces here too.