Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The cave was just where the villagers said, across a small clearing and nestled at the base of a mossy cliff. Moana adjusted her pack before sliding down a slight slope at the edge of the treeline. She pushed aside hanging vines from the cave’s entrance. The tunnel twisted down into the dark. Moana took out her flint and torch, striking sparks until the oil-soaked bamboo fibers caught light.

The villagers on the nearby island had been adamant she shouldn’t come. The cave held magnificent, indeed magical, treasures. But it was guarded by a great monster. It had been years since anyone had tried their luck, and lifetimes since anyone came back alive.

Her left shoulder ached, an old wound, but Moana ignored it and stepped lightly into the cavern, detritus softening the sound of her footfalls. With her free hand she drew the whalebone machete at her waist. She was determined to bring back a trophy, but she’d take precautions while doing so. Maui wasn’t the only one who could bring gifts to her people. And treasure from a cursed cave might finally get him to admit it.

The tunnel continued down. The moist and moss gave way to dry air and pockmarked rock. It grew cooler, like the chill before dawn, just enough to make her shiver. The light of her torch touched the corners and crannies of the cave, scaring semi-translucent insects as she passed. They scuttled away in flashes of legs, their long antennae waving at her from cracks in the wall.

Moana stopped at an impasse. The floor was littered with great slabs of rock, bigger than she was tall and wider than her boat. She looked up. Through the dancing shadows she could see the jagged roof from which the stones had fallen.

She huffed and transferred the machete from her right hand to the left, awkwardly grasping both it and the torch. Slowly, and with much cursing, she climbed the rough stones. At one point, she lay the knife and torch on a shelf, only to have the torch nearly roll off and back down the debris. She caught it just as it became airborne and took a second to be grateful it hadn’t been the blade.

She came to the peak. There was just enough room between the rubble and the ceiling to pick her way through. Thought the ceiling itself was little more than rubble that had yet to fall.

“Just… stay put until I’ve left, ok?” The rocks didn’t respond but Moana gave them a nervous thumbs up anyway.

Soon she’d passed through the maze of stone. As she stepped around the last slab of rock she found herself at the entrance of an enormous cavern, big enough to fit her entire village and then some. Plateaus and platforms and twisting paths stood above pits and gaping holes. All throughout were pedestals, shrines, and alcoves, each dedicated to a treasure. Some of them glowed or flashed and flickered. Colors bounced off polished ivory and precious metals, bathing the entire cavern in dancing lights.

“Wow... “ Moana laughed. “Eat your heart out, Maui!”

She blew out her torch and hopped and slid down the broken rocks and into the cavern proper.

“Okay. Only one...” she whispered to herself. This was the rule of the cavern. The villagers had told her you could only take one item back with you, otherwise you’d never leave. But which one?

She inspected alcoves as she passed. There was an orb with swirling colors, like paint on the water’s surface. A knife as long as her leg, the hilt encrusted with jewels. Levitating above a pit, a ribbon with shells stitched into delicate rows. With each twist and twirl of the fabric the shells clinked together weaving a tinkling song. On a stand below black sand rose and fell, making shapes. As Moana passed, the sand twisted into the form of a girl, only to fall again into a formless mass.

Some of the items were beautiful, like the crystal whale with its blue glow deep within. Some she passed quickly, a feeling of unease rolling off them in waves. Some seemed almost alive, almost aware. All were clearly more than mere trinkets.

Moana let out a breath. Standing on one of the larger platforms, she looked around at the treasures surrounding her. How could she choose? She didn’t even know what any of them DID.

She tapped her chin with the hilt of her knife, thinking. To her left was a small pedestal. On it sat three smooth stones. They glowed with an orange light. She approached and poked one with the tip of her blade. Immediately the stones flashed. Fire leapt from the rocks to her machete, the flames racing up it’s length. She dropped it with a yelp. It hit the ground with a clack as the fire engulfed it. The leather wrap quickly burned to ash, the bone blade splitting in the heat.

“Okay. Not those.” Moana backed away from the smoking mess. Further up a stairway was an alcove holding a small plant. She tossed a pebble at its roots. Leaves and vines sprouted around the rock twisting and growing until it had been hidden from sight.

“Well that’s not so bad.” But the vines continued to grow, spilling out of the alcove and onto the stairs. Moana stepped out of reach of the grasping greenery. “Okay that’s… I’ll try something else.”

She continued on. The next treasure was a small carved idol that screamed when disturbed. The next a basket of fruit that stayed full no matter how many pieces you took (but Moana was afraid to eat any.) After that was a basket that jumped and rocked with whatever was inside. (She didn't open it.) A pockmarked skull with a sweet-smelling liquid pouring from its mouth, the rock where it fell sizzled. A coconut that exploded when prodded, then reformed.

After hours of searching Moana was tired and hungry and just about ready to throw those fire rocks on everything in the cave. Perhaps she should shift from finding the “best” treasure and just pick the least worse.

“ ‘You can only take one.’ Pff! Who’d want more than one?”

She came to a tapestry hanging on a smooth wall. It’s patterns were exquisitely intricate, it’s threads thin and delicate with streaks of emerald. Along the edge where depictions of daily life in an interlocking chain. A swaddled infant sleeping, A child playing in a field, A small figure working the field, parents with their children, elders by a fire, all the way around and back to the infant. In the center were three figures, a large one, a medium one, and finally a child.

“Soooo… What do you do? Turn people to stone?” Moana cocked a hip. “Trap them in your pictures? Just… get really dirty and refuse to be cleaned?” The tapestry didn't answer. Moana picked up a pebble and tossed it at the fabric. Nothing terrible happened so she took a step closer and poked it with the butt of her torch. Again, nothing.

Slowly, she reached out and brushed the tips of her fingers against it. When the cloth remained still she let out a breath of relief.

“Alright! We have a winner!”

She grabbed the edges of the tapestry and gave a flick, unhooking it from its fastenings. It folded in her arms, as soft as a child’s hair, it’s emerald threads glinting in the cavern’s soft glow. It was warm and… constricting?

“Argh!” The fabric was wrapping itself around her arms. She flung it the ground. “ARGH!’ She yelled again, gave it a kick. “Fine!” With quick movements she shoved the tapestry into her pack. “I’m done! I’m done with this stupid cavern and you’re going to stay in there and not behave!” She closed her pack with a hard tug on it’s drawstring.

“And stay in there!”

Moana swept up her torch, marched to the broken rubble of the exit, and left with a humph and a rude hand gesture.

No longer caring about being silent, she stomped and grumbled the rest of the way back. The sky outside was just beginning to turn the purples of evening, the sun having fallen below the trees while she was inside. She adjusted her pack and began her way across the clearing as birds sang their twilight songs. With luck she might make it back to the neighboring island, and its village, before midnight.

“Fancy meeting you here.”

Moana stopped mid-step, one foot still in the air.

“You’re Maui’s little friend, aren’t you?”

The voice was big and behind her. She turned.

Clutching the cliff face above the cave like a giant spider, Tamatoa grinned down at her, his shell and teeth catching the last rays of sunlight through the trees. He stepped from the rocky wall and into the clearing with a delicacy belying his size.

Moana backed away at his approach, but knew she couldn’t outrun the enormous crustacean.

“You’re the monster that guards the cave.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say guard.” He twirled a claw dismissively. “Implies I’m trying to keep you lot out. No! I’ve set an alarm, tells me when little mortals go poking around in there. And those lucky ones that make it out get the privilege of donating their booty to me!”

And suddenly he’d swept down to look Moana in the eyes, rotten breath blowing over her face as he spoke. “So hand it over.”

Hours in a cave full of frustrations, weeks at sea, and all for nothing?

“No.”

“Wasn’t a request, Babe.” And with that he reared back, bringing a boat sized claw up to smash the hapless human. Moana flung herself to the side, inches from from the resounding blow. Grass and turf flew into the air, landing on her as she scrambled to her feet. He swept his claw after her, sending her tumbling along the ground.

“Let’s make this quick, scruffy. Got places to be.”

He came in for another blow and Moana dodged again, this time running under the crab’s carapace. But Tamatoa shifted his back foot, catching her in the side. She hit the ground shoulder first, (her left shoulder! Why her did it have to be her left?) joints popping with the impact. By the time she’d regained her feet Tamatoa’s claw was already descending.

In desperation she cried out, “IT’S DELICATE!”

The claw stopped, just touching her hair.

“Delicate?”

“Yes! Yes. If you crush me you’ll break it, too.”

Quickly He swept her up and she found herself suspended in the air in an unfortunately familiar manner.

“How delicate?”

“Oh! Super delicate. Like, I’m afraid it might even be broken now.” Moana slid her pack around and peeked inside, feigning worry. The tapestry sat in a twisted bundle, just as before. “Oh, thank goodness! Just a little ruffled!” She smiled.

“What is it?” Tamatoa tried to get a look at the contents but Moana hugged the pack to her chest.

“I-- I can barely even describe it! It’s just so... so magnificent!”

“Is it shiny?”

“I wouldn’t say ‘shiny’ so much as ‘mind-bogglingly dazzling!’”

Tamatoa growled and made to pluck her pack from her but Moana shielded it from his grasp, his bulky claws unable to get a hold of the pack without potentially damaging its contents.

“You keep this up and I’ll start pulling off limbs, yeah? So give it.”

Moana frowned. “You’ll just eat me after I give it to you.”

Tamatoa reared back with a gasp. “I would never!”

Moana didn’t dignify that with a response.

“Ok, I would. But I won’t! Promise.”

The crab’s smile was entirely too wide for Moana’s comfort. “You’re a terrible liar.”

“No I’m not!” He paused, realizing his implicit admission. “All right, I am.” He cleared his throat and, with an expression of utmost gravity, lay his free claw over his left breast. “I, Tamatoa the beautiful,” he winked, “swear on my treasure that I will let you leave unharmed in exchange for that raggy little bag and its contents.” He smiled. “There, how’s that?”

She had little choice. With a sigh she said, “All right. But put me down first!”

He placed her back on her feet, confident he could catch her if she tried to flee. He watched intently as she lay the pack on the ground and stepped away, backing up further as he turned all of his focus onto her bag.

The enormous crustacean took either side of the pack in the tips of his claws and pulled. With a rip it spilt its contents onto the grass below. With an excited giggle Tamatoa rifled through the items. Her torch and flint, wrapped dried fish, a small knife, twine, other odds and ends, and of course the tapestry.

Moana had continued to slink away as he searched and was nearly to the edge of the clearing when Tamatoa’s smile turned sour.

“A carpet?” He held up the tapestry. “You went into a cave of wonders and left with a flippin’ carpet?!” He shook the offending tapestry at her. Tamatoa snarled and began towards her again, each step digging into the soft earth.

Moana ran, vaulting over brush and up the fern speckled slope at the clearing’s edge. At the top she chanced a glance back. But the crab wasn’t following. Instead, he was focused again on the tapestry. Specifically, he was focused on getting it off.

“What is this?” he shook his claw but the cloth had wrapped itself around the tips of his pincers. He tried prying it loose and scraping it against the ground but it held fast. Indeed, far from coming off, the patterns seemed to melt from the fabric and onto his claw, running like emerald rivers down his arm.

“No! No! What is it doing?”

Moana watched from behind a palm as Tamatoa’s efforts grew more frantic. He clawed at his arm, trying to stop the spread of magic but the looping patterns continued unabated past his shoulder and across his chest. The glowing lines slipped below the treasure on his carapace, down each leg, his other arm, his neck, face, and to the tips of each antennae, until every inch of his body was entwined.

And with that it stopped.

Tamatoa stood cringing in the center of the clearing. He opened an eye, tension slowly falling away. “Well this…” He studied the slight glow of the threads crisscrossing his body. “This isn’t so--”

The threads constricted like a net pulled tight and with a flash Tamatoa disappeared, his treasure raining to the floor in a cacophonic cascade.

Moana peaked out from behind her cover. Gold and pearls and polished shells lay scattered across the grove. Slowly, the silence faded into bird song once more.

Moana stepped back into the clearing, careful to avoid glinting shards of shell and glass.

“Hello?”

Gone.

What kind of magic was that? Had he been sent somewhere else? Turned into air? Was he… dead?

Moana jumped as a conche shell toppled down a pile of treasure. She held still, watching where it had fallen from. Another shift, more coins and baubles slid and fell.

The young woman leant down and, keeping her eyes on the moving pile, grasped a piece of ivory the length of her arm. Holding it like a club, she climbed carefully up the mound of glittering treasure. At the top she stopped, watching as something moved under a wide flat shell.

With a quick flick of her bone club Moana flipped the shell away. Two eyes blinked against the fading light. Squinting up at her was Tamatoa. Admittedly smaller, no larger than Pua even, but undoubtedly the bedazzled crab that had spent the last five minutes trying to kill her.

For a moment, neither moved. Then Tamatoa flicked an antenna. Moana responded with a yell and a swing of her club. Tamatoa responded to her response with his own yell and a frantic dash down the side on the treasure mound, but he quickly lost his footing on the shifting shells. He landed, hard, at the base. Moana followed with little more grace but with great conviction, her weapon hitting with enough force to shatter a clamshell just to his left. He fled to the right, desperately trying to scramble over shells and bones now bigger than himself.

“Not so tough now, are you?” Moana had an easier time, her legs long enough to vault over obstacles the crab had to skirt.

A wrong turn and he was hemmed in by a mammoth tooth and a golden platter. He tried to climb over but by then Moana had caught up and used her ivory cudgel to knock him down. He searched for an escape route but there was nowhere Moana couldn’t reach first. Tamatoa shrunk back against his treasure, staring with wide eyes at the girl towering above.

“It’s not so fun being chased around by a giant, is it?” She gestured with her club in sharp, angry jabs. He gasped with every swing and tried to retreat further, but with his back against unyielding gold he could do nothing more than turn up the ground with his wheeling feet.

“H-help--”

“How does it feel?”

“HELP! MAUIIII!”

“Ma--” Moana paused. “Maui? Why would he help you?”

The crab, lips wobbling, sniffled, “you know Maui?”

“Uh, yeah. Why would you? I mean--”

Tamatoa perked up. “Well he’s my friend! And if you, if you eat me, he’ll knock your head off!” He emphasized his point with a thrust of his claw, then seemed to remember himself and drew back in. “He would. He can do that.”

Moana stared. This was… an odd play. Tamatoa grew uncomfortable under her gaze and began to fidget. He looked around and spotting a small opal picked it up.

“This is, um… this is very nice.” He glanced at the other treasures scattered around as he turned the stone in his claws. “Is this all yours?”

Moana’s jaw dropped.

“Is… is that a yes?”

Moana slid into a crouch to eye him better. He flinched but stayed put. She pointed to herself and asked, “do you know who I am?”

The crustacean's gaze flicked back and forth from her face to their surroundings, as if searching for clues. “You’re… ah… Well, clearly you’re a, ummm,” he draw out the syllable as he studied her face.

Moana nodded slowly, brow raised. “Ummm?”

“Ummm--” He nodded along with her.

“Mmmmoooo…” She waved her hand in a circular motion.

“Mmmmoooo....” He mimicked the gesture.

“Moaaaa…”

“Moaaa… MOA! You’re a moa!” He grinned and shuffled his feet in excitement, only to frown a moment later. “You’re awfully featherless for a bird.”

“Moana! My name’s Moana.”

Tamatoa gasped. “Like the Ocean?”

“Yes. Moana like the ocean.”

“Oh! Maui’s told me about you! He says you’re nuts!” Tamatoa quickly backtracked at Moana’s unamused look. “That is, not bad nuts! More like, ‘oh! She’s like a nut, so… delicious?’ ” He smiled nervously.

“So you don’t remember me?”

“I remember you chasing me! Here. In this place that I have no-- where are we?”

Moana wilted. “Oh boy.”

Chapter Text

Moana searched the cliffside to no avail. The cave entrance had disappeared, the rock face showing no signs of where it had once been. Moana slammed a fist against the stone. Her magic item was lost and there was no way to replace it.

She turned to look at the piles of gleaming shells and ivory that once decorated Tamatoa’s back. The crab in question had relaxed once it became clear Moana wasn’t going to pulverize him. He now flitted between pearls and pottery shards babbling about their quality and wondering about their origins. Either he was a much better liar than she thought or he truly remembered nothing of being an adult.

“Oh ho ho ho! Look at this one! Blue agate with a double helix indigo plume!” He held a polished rock close to his face, twisting his eyestalks to study both sides at once. While she’d been busy He’d picked out a large spiral shell and now wore it on his back. When he was done looking the stone over he tucked it into his shell where she could hear it rattle with his movements.

Moana sighed. Perhaps she could take one of these trinkets. They weren’t magical, but they were impressive nonetheless. A memento of her battle with a giant crab monster? That might do.

She picked her way through the scattered treasure. Lots of polished shells and unreasonably large pearls. Great colored wheels and a bleached boat. The items were pretty but she wanted something a little more.

As she passed Tamatoa he looked up long enough to ask, “Where did all of this come from?”

She hesitated. “There was a, um, a monster.”

“A monster?”

“Yeah.” She continued her search around a mound of golden discs. Tamatoa was quiet for a moment.

“Do you think it’d notice if I took a few things?”

“You know? I don’t think he’d mind.” She heard a little gasp of delight at that. Moana shook her head and dug out a piece of spiraled ivory as long as she was tall. It looked like an impractical spear.

“Oh! That’s a whale tusk!” Tamatoa chirped. He’d followed her and now stood nearly on her feet to get a better look at her find. She stepped back but he followed undeterred. “They’re super rare. I saw one once in Chief Paikea’s fale before he banned me and Maui from Lehoe! He said it showed up after a huuuuge storm and it swam around the island for a month and then he stabbed it and that’s how he got the horn.”

“Whales don’t have horns.”

“That’s why they’re so rare!” He grinned up at her.

Moana wasn’t sure how to argue that so she didn’t. Whatever the thing was it was unusual and, hopefully, suitably impressive.

“Ok, well, I gotta go. Sooo…” It was well past sunset now, the stars fading into view as the sky became darker and darker. She turned to leave, using the tusk as a walking stick to climb the clearing’s sloping edge.

“Oh, Ok.” Tamatoa didn’t watch her go, too busy gathering baubles.

Her boat was as she’d left it, pulled ashore just above the tideline of a small inlet. It’d be another five or six hours back to the neighboring island. She was bruised and exhausted but she didn’t trust this isle enough to sleep here. Plus, the neighboring villagers would lend her a bed and give her a hot breakfast in the morning.

She climbed onto her boat to tie the tusk to the deck then hopped back down to push her canoe into the waters. As she pushed she heard a call from the treeline.

“Wait!”

She turned to see Tamatoa hurrying down the beach clutching a conch overflowing with jewels and beads. Every few steps he had to stop to pick up fallen trinkets and shove them back into the impromptu bowl.

Moana leant against her boat and crossed her arms. “Can I help you?”

“Uh, yes.” He held out the conch. Moana took it in surprise. The crab scrambled up the side of the outrigger then held out his claws to take it back. “Ok, thanks.”

“Uh, no.” Moana held up a finger. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“What? You said the monster wouldn’t mind if I took some things.”

“I meant why are you on my canoe?”

“Well I don’t have a canoe.”

Moana raised an eyebrow.

“A-and you’re friends with Maui, right?” Tamatoa smiled, “and I’m friends with Maui. So by the transitive property we’re friends with each other!” His smile dropped, “also I have no idea where we are or how I got here.”

Moana pursed her lips. He might be smaller, and admittedly cuter, but this was the same crab who had grown into a murderous egomaniac.

Perhaps she could force his hand, so to speak.

“All right, you can come,” his grin returned but it quickly fell again as she placed the conch shell on the beach. “But this stays here.”

Tamatoa hopped off the boat to hug the treasure. “Why?”

“Sorry. Those are the rules.” And with that she began pushing the canoe again. She could hear Tamatoa’s distressed mumbling behind her. The boat reached the water’s edge and she prepared for one last push but, again, the hermit crab called out.

“Wait! I’m coming!”

“What? No!”

But he was already up the side of the canoe and into the hold. “Ok, ready.” And with that he disappeared below deck.

Moana jumped on board to glare inside. Tamatoa was huddled in a corner on her sleeping mat. He smiled from under his shell.

“No! Out!” Moana grabbed him and tried to pull him from the cubby but the crab grasped the sleeping mat and as she pulled everything in the storage cubby came with him.

“Let. Go. Of. My. Stuff.” she shook him with each syllable in a futile attempt to dislodge his numerous legs.

“You. Said. I. Could. Come!”

“I didn’t think you would!”

“Well, you shouldn’t make promises you don’t intend to keep!” Tamatoa lost his grip on the mat but quickly twisted around to cling upside-down to Moana herself. She tried to pry him loose but he’d wrapped his legs around her middle and merely squeezed harder as she pulled until she had to stop to catch her breath.

As he hung from her front he took the reprieve to fiddle with the edge of her skirt. “I like the weaving you’ve got here. Nice detail work.”

Moana groaned and slid to the deck, sitting with her back against the mast.

“Why do you even want to come?”

“Well, we’re friends, aren’t we? Friends travel together!”

“Is this how you typically make friends?” She asked, gesturing to his iron grip on her waist.

“Pretty much,” he twisted his eyestalks around to look up at her worn expression. “I’ve found that when you make a new friend you have to hold onto them tight!” He squeezed her for emphasis, “or else they run away at the first opportunity.”

“That’s not how friendship works.”

“I’m pretty sure it is.”

Moana gave a frustrated sob, thumping her head against the mast behind her. “Fine.”
She stood, moving awkwardly with the extra weight on her stomach, and unwound the mainsheet.

“Let’s go.”

The Ocean surged up and under Moana’s canoe, carrying it out of the inlet and into the open sea. She flicked the rope, unfurling the sail.

“Woooow!” Tamatoa dropped from her waist with a clunk and scuttled to the boat’s edge. “Can you do that again?”

“Yes.”

Tamatoa waited expectantly but Moana only adjusted the paddle-rudder.

“... Where are we going?” The crab ran to the bow to look out at the dark horizon.

“An island.”

“Is it far?”

“Far enough.”

Tamatoa searched her face. Moana stared ahead, expressionless. He turned back to the water, touching the currents lightly with antennae. He hmmed and repeated the movements on the port side.

“Is it...” He stood back and flicked his antennae in the breeze, “about a day’s travel that way?” He pointed Northeast, just left of the boat’s prow.

“Yeah…” Moana forget her irritation for a minute, impressed. Tamatoa grinned, showing off his buckteeth. Moana cleared her throat, “But we’re catching an ocean current to the north. It’ll cut our travel time in half.”

“Great! Oh--” the crustacean scurried back towards Moana, though he stayed outside her reach. “I’m Tamatoa, by the way. It means warrior.” He preened, standing straighter to gain a couple inches.

“Did you pick that out yourself?”

“No!” He deflated. “Maui did. Because I’m fearless.” He demonstrated by throwing his claws wide and scuttling side to side. It might have been more impressive if he hadn’t been begging for his life half an hour ago.

“That’s very nice.”

“Yes! In fact, this one time, I was digging for clams and a dog, a humongous dog, size of a grown human at least, it came right at me! And I didn’t see it at first but then it started barking and I turned around and there it was, bigger than a house! And at first I was, “AH! I’m done for!” but then I got angry because I hadn’t eaten all day and when I haven’t eaten I get cranky. Like when I’ve been sleeping after a molt and I didn’t store extra food because sometimes I forget because I’m just so itchy and--”

Moana sighed and adjusted the rudder.

~~~

The edges of the eastern sky had begun to lighten. Though the current had sped them along the wind had been against them. Moana was grateful, at least, that Tamatoa had stopped talking a couple hours ago. Though she now had a thorough understanding of sand burrows and their construction. The crab had settled on the prow where he played with passing bits of seaweed as he hummed to himself. She was pretty sure he was eating stuff he found on the plants but she didn’t ask.

As the stars began to fade she spotted a cluster of clouds on the horizon. She secured the mainsheet and climbed the mast for a better view. Below the cloudswell, perhaps an hour away, lay an island with low mountains. Tikala island.

With a relieved laugh she slid to the deck, grabbed the mainsheet, and tacked sharply to the right. Tamatoa give a startled chirp as she zigzagged across the water, catching the wind with each turn and gaining speed.

“You know what I’m going to do when we make land?” Moana called over the spray.

“What?” Tamatoa asked, inching backwards to the main deck.

“I’m going to sleep!”

“I love sleep!”

~~~

Soon they were entering the bay on the island’s southern side. Moana stretched out her shoulder. The left was cramping again. But she was buoyed by the sight of Tikala. Unlike Motunui, the village’s inlet was rimmed with rocky shelves. Colorful seaweed and mussels clung to the dark rock. A school of smelt flashed in the morning light then disappeared under an outcropping only to reappear further down. Tamatoa tried to catch the various fish dashing past the boat but only managed clumps of algae. He grumbled but ate it anyway.

The rocky steppes made landing difficult so the locals had constructed bamboo ramps from the water to the dry plateau above. A few fishermen were already awake and preparing their traps. A young man spotted Moana first and pointed her out to the others. As she approached the ramps he jumped into the shallows, followed by a smaller boy, to help her pull the boat ashore.

“You’re back!” The man, she thought his name may have been Ualesi, said.

“Yup! Told you I’d be fine.”

They heaved her canoe onto the grass. The other two fishermen, both grey haired and sunworn, joined the group to carry her canoe to the boathouse further up. The oldest spoke, “I’ve heard promises like that plenty of times. Rarely kept.”

“You need more trustworthy friends!” Tamatoa grinned down at the man from the deck.

“What in the--?!” The man jumped back. The others cried out as the boat tipped to one side. Moana shifted her grip from the front to take over where the older man had stood.

“That’s Tamatoa!” She spoke quickly. The villagers were eyeing him warily and she didn’t want either party to act rashly. “He’s harmless. Honest.”

“Am not.”

“You better be if you don’t want to go for a swim.”

“I do not want to go for a swim.” He backed away from her side of the boat.

“Did you…” Ualesi spoke from his position at the back right, “did you get it from the cavern?”

“IT?!” Tamatoa raised his claws and snapped them in warning.

“Him! You-- uh…” The young man stammered, leaning as far away from the angry crab as he could without letting go of the boat.

“Sort of,” Moana said. “It’s complicated.”

“Yes.” Tamatoa stopped threatening Ualesi as the group placed the canoe in the boathouse. “I am still unclear on the details.”

Moana sighed and rubbed her eyes. The older man clapped a hand on her shoulder. “I’m thinking the story can wait. Why don’t you head on up the hill. Chief Honi will be happy to have you again.”

Moana smiled and thanked him. The young boy ran ahead to let the chief know about her arrival She gathered some of her belongings from her canoe before following, Tamatoa at her heels. The path up was thin and well worn, winding between moss covered rocks and overhanging ferns. It opened on a grassy landing overlooking the cove below. The chief’s home stood just back from the edge, it’s torches acting as a beacon for incoming boats in the evenings. Now it stood dark in the halflight.

The boy stood at the edge of the chief’s fale, speaking through the hanging pola mats. A woman pushed aside the mats and stepped out of the house. She had white streaked hair and prominent smile-lines along the corners of her lips. She blinked sleep from her eyes but greated Moana warmly.

“You’re here! Welcome back. Are you well?” The woman grasped Moana by the shoulders, studied her face, checked her arms and hands. “Oh you poor dear, you’re covered with bruises.”

“I’m fine, Launa.”

“Fine? Look at you! You look like you fell down a mountain. Repeatedly.”

Moana laughed. “Something like that. But I’ll be ok. I just need some rest. If you’ll have me.”

“You know I will. Come.” She lead Moana with a hand on her shoulder past the chief’s fale and the cookhouse and into the malae. The manicured yard was rimmed with three more living houses for the chief’s extended family plus a smaller guest house further back. Launa ushered Moana into the small fale then left to get fresh grasses for bedding.

Moana sighed, folding to the floormats to sprawl on her back. “So tired.”

“Mm, you mentioned.” Tamatoa settled by her head, adjusting his shell higher on his back. “How long are we staying here?”

“Ugh. ‘Bout a day?”

“... I’m hungry.”

“Ok.” Moana covered her eyes with an arm.

Launa reappeared holding a bundle of grass and a sleeping mat. “I’ve brought you a spare mat, I won’t have you sleeping on that dirty papa until it’s been properly-- oh!” She stopped at the sight of the oversized crab so close to Moana’s head.

“Shoo! Shoo! Get out!” The woman tried to use the grases to sweep Tamatoa out of the fale. He pulled himself into his shell with a yelp, the grass serving only to rock him on his back with each swing.

“No! No, he’s friendly.” Moana pushed the grass aside. She sat up. “He’s with me.”

Tamatoa gave a series of quick kicks and rolled to his feet. He hurried behind Moana but peeked out to stare down the older woman. “Is everyone on this island rude?”

Moana dragged her hands across her face and addressed Launa. “It’s a long story.”

“An after dinner story, I think.” Launa returned the crab’s stare, but didn’t ask any questions.

~~~

Moana woke to the sounds of laughter and the smells of roasting pork. She stretched. Afternoon sun fell through gaps in the blinds ringing the guest house. She was still tired, but if she didn’t rise now she’d be wide awake come night. So, with reluctance, she rolled up her borrowed sleeping mat and the grass bedding beneath. She placed the bundle in a storage basket on the far side of the fale and looked around.

She was alone.

“Tamatoa?”

Moana chewed her lip. What if he’d turned back while she’d slept? No, the roof wouldn't have survived that. She wouldn’t have survived that.

He wouldn’t have run off. Not after making such a stink about coming with her. He’d probably gone to raid the food stores.

She stepped out of the fale letting the blinds fall back in place behind her. Half a dozen people worked and socialized in the malae yard or in one of the surrounding homes, pola blinds pulled back to let in sun and air. Two young men about her own age tended to the cooking fires for tonight's dinner. Bound Taro leaves protected the cooking meats and vegetables from the hot coals and kept their contents from drying out. An elderly couple sat outside one of the fales, beating mulberry bark with mallets to make tapa cloth. They did their best to keep the attention of Launa’s three young children who were clearly meant to be helping.

Moana approached the youngest and crouched down to inspect the girl’s haphazard work. “Wow!” She said. “You guys are really good! I bet you could get through this whole pile before dinner's even close to ready.” The three children beamed at the praise and redoubled their efforts. The oldest bragged he’d do twice as much as the other two combined. This was met with vehement denial.

One of the adults, a woman with delicate tattoos ringing her collar, whispered, “Thank you.”

Moana smiled and kneeled down next to her. “No problem. I use that all the time back home. Um, do you know where Launa is?”

The old man spoke up, “down on Pauahi’s homestead. His wife’s got into another spat with Leinani. Old hags can’t go a day--”

“Oh, don’t you start!” The woman slapped at her companion’s shoulder. “But he’s right. She’s at Pauahi’s.”

The old woman directed Moana to go through the banyan grove to the north. Moana thanked her and stood. “Oh! You haven’t seen a big hermit crab around, have you?”

“How big?” The man asked.

Moana held out her hands shoulder width apart. “About this big. A bit longer if you count the legs.”

“That is big.”

“I’m sorry dear.” The woman shook her head.

“It’s ok. Thank you.”

Moana followed the pathway from last night halfway down, at which point it split. The northern path wound its way down a steep, rocky incline and into a grove of towering Banyan trees. The Banyan’s trunks were like waterfalls of reaching roots. The ground was soft with mulched leaves and the light dim beneath the thick canopy.

On the edge of the grove was Pauahi’s homestead. It had six buildings around its malea yard, plus the smaller storage and cooking sheds. In the center of the malea stood Launa. With her were two red faced women gesturing sharply at each other. Moana overheard them as she approached.

“Every year! Your little brats do this every year!”

“You didn’t even have any yams last year.”

“And how would you know that if they weren’t stealing them?” One of the women demanded. She wore gray and blue tapa. It was clear from the lines on her face she frowned a lot.

The other woman had heavy tattoos down both arms, which were currently crossed. Two young boys hind behind her skirts. “Why would we want your mealy yams anyway?”

“How would you know they were mealy if--”

“Ok, ok,” Launa lifted her hands. “Mililani, unless you saw Leinani’s children take your yams then I’m afraid there’s nothing to be done.”

“They did! I know they did. They dig them up every year,” The woman in gray, Mililani, jabbed her finger at a small garden beside one of the fales. Spade-shaped leaves lay torn in the upturned dirt. One half-eaten yam was all that was left of the crop.

The two women continued to argue. Moana crouched by the ruined garden. She picked up the yam.

“Do Leinani’s kids eat raw yams?”

“What?” Both women stopped bickering at Moana’s interruption.

“Do they eat yams raw?”

“Of course not,” Leinani sneered. Her children giggled and made faces of comical disgust.

“Well, whoever dug up the garden had a snack,” Moana held up the vegetable. “And they had exceptionally sharp teeth.”

Mililani, Leinani, and Launa all leaned in to get a look. The tooth marks on the yam were decidedly not human.

“That’s a pig,” Leinani said.

Moana grinned, thinking the problem solved.

“I told you to keep your pig tied up!” Leinani stamped her foot. “It causes all sorts of problems. Gets into everything. Should have slaughtered it years ago.”

“Don’t you dare start! Lulu is a good pig and I--”

Moana’s shoulders dropped in defeat. Launa put a hand on her back and steered her away. “It was a good try.”

Leinani’s sons, their good names cleared, left their mother’s side. They skipped over to Moana, “You’re the girl who went to the cursed island, aren’t you?” Asked the oldest. He appeared to be about eight.

“Did you go into the cave?” The younger asked. He looked to be six.

“Did you get a treasure?”

“Did you fight the monster?”

“Did you kill it?”

“Bahaha, Bamana, enough,” Launa said. “She’ll tell us at the feast.”

“Feast?” Moana asked.

“Yeah!” The older boy, Bahaha, said. “The you-didn’t-die feast!”

“It’s a welcome back feast,” Launa corrected.

“Oh, you don’t have to. I mean, you shouldn't--”

“Honey, the entire village wants to know what happened. It’s either a feast or you’re going to each home individually.”

Moana laughed, “Ok, but let me help you prepare.”

The younger boy, Bamana tugged at moana’s skirt. “But was there a monster?”

“Uh, well… actually!” Moana turned to Launa, “Have you seen Tamatoa? The crab from last night? I can’t find him.”

Launa shook her head. “Last I saw it was with you. Should I be worried?”

“No!” Hopefully. “But I’d feel better knowing where he is.”

“Hmmm,” Launa tapped her chin. “Bahaha, Bamana. I’ve got a little job for you two. Moana has a pet ayuyu crab. He’s about this big with a pearly shell. Do you think you can find him?”

“Yes!”

“Definitely!”

And with that the two boys ran into the banyan grove. Moana watched them leave with a nervous smile.

“Come on,” Launa said, “You can help me sweep out the meeting hall.

~~~

Tamatoa woke to a stick in the face.

He huffed and batted it away but it returned to poke him in the lip. He snapped it in two with a claw. The stick retreated and he heard giggling outside his burrow.

“I found him! Over here!”

The leaves he had pulled over the entrance to his burrow had been torn away and replaced with several human faces jostling each other to look in. Tamatoa shrank back into the mosses lining his little cave.

“Get him out! Get him out!”

The stick came back, slipping between him and the rocky walls of his burrow. The human tried to use it to lever him out but Tamatoa snipped it again, once, twice.

“Shove off!”

At his voice the humans disappeared from view. He could hear them whispering to each other.

One of the humans appeared. “You can talk.”

“Yes. Now go away.”

“Tell him to come out.”

“Come out.”

“No.”

The little apes got more sticks to pry him into the light. Tamatoa did his best to snap each one, but they only got more to replace the ones he broke. Sticks poked him in the eyes, the soft spots at his joints, they caught in his shell, all while he was dragged closer and closer to the surface.

In his struggles some of the stone lining his burrow came loose. He grabbed one and lobbed it at the little demons. It struck a young boy in the nose and he fell back with a cry. The other children stopped their digging long enough for Tamatoa to scoot back. He turned his shell to them and buried his face in the sandy soil. Their sticks would get no purchase now.

~~~

Moana was helping Launa beat out the floor mats when Bahaha ran, yelling, into the meeting fale.

“He hit Bamana! He hit him with a rock!”

“Who did?” Launa asked. “Where’s your brother?”

“The crab! We found him under the chief’s guest fale and he hit Bamana with a rock. He’s bleeding.”

Moana dropped her beater and ran through the banyan’s and up the pathway to the chief’s homestead. Several children were gathered around Bamana. The elderly lady who’d given Moana directions was dabbing at the boy’s bleeding nose with a wet cloth.

“What happened? Is he ok?”

“He’ll be fine.” The old lady said. Bamana sniffled.

“It was the crab!” One of the children told her.

“He’s in there,” Launa’s daughter pointed Moana to a hole in the foundation of the guest fale. Moana knelt to look in. She could just see the glint of polished shell under upturned moss and dirt.

“Tamatoa!”

One eye then another snapped around to look at her. And then her arms were filled with crying crab.

“They were poking me and stabbing me and they were trying to force me out and they wouldn’t go away and--” Tamatoa scrambled into her lap, his many legs clutching at her arms and clothes. His babbling quickly turned incomprehensible.

Moana’s anger dissipated, replaced with an empty confusion. She was prepared to yell at the crustacean, not comfort him.

The children watched with wide eyes as Moana turned back to them, holding the sniffling crab. Even Bamana had wiped his eyes to get a look at the strange creature.

She adjusted her hold on him, though there was no comfortable way to arrange his legs.

“Uh, this is Tamatoa.”

~~~

After some confusion and reassurances both parties apologized to each other, though Tamatoa clearly didn’t mean it. But after one of the children offered him some baked coconut the tension broke. The children were fascinated by the talking crab and the crab was ecstatic to have an attentive audience, though he threatened to pinch anyone who tried to touch his shell. The children spent the next couple hours before dinner asking Tamatoa questions and bringing him snacks and beads.

As evening approached the people migrated to the meeting fale in the center of the community. They lit torches and each family brought enough food for themselves and then some. They laid out wooden bowls full of stews and puddings along with baked goods wrapped in charred leaves on rows of broad, green banana leaves.

The elders took their share first, then the chief and his advisors. Moana was invited to take her meal alongside them, being a visiting chief’s heir herself. All attempts to explain the proper serving order to Tamatoa failed, but Chief Honi seemed amused by the strange creature, so the crab was served with Moana. She was able to convince him to use a bowl, at least.

The meeting hall was too small to accommodate the entire village so they made a circle around the malea courtyard. Moana sat next to Launa and one of the chief’s advisors. Tamatoa sat between the two women. Launa seemed uncomfortable with his presence but endeavored to ignore him and his inelegant eating methods.

As people became full they switched from eating to stories and songs. The children, having sat still as long as they were capable, ran around the circle and chased each other between the posts of the meeting fale. A young girl and her brother tried to coax Tamatoa into joining them but he shied away from their stamping feet. Instead he climbed into Moana’s lap, spilling her drink.

The sky was dark when someone called out, “Tell us about the cave!”

The call was picked up by others.

“Yes! Tell us!”

“What was it like?”

Moana gave a half smile as everyone's attention turned to her. She drummed her fingers on Tamatoa’s shell.

Chief Honi stood and raised his hands for quiet. He addressed Moana but spoke for all to hear, “I think we’re ready for a story. Would you be so kind?”

Moana laughed as she stood as well. “All right, all right. Well, I took your warnings to heart. When I landed I made sure to bring my machete.”

Moana told them about the cave and all off it’s dubious treasures, how each carried some curse or danger. She told them how she lost her knife and how she eventually settled on the seemingly innocuous tapestry. But when it came to the ‘monster’ she paused.

Tamatoa still didn’t know of his role in her story. He watched her now with the same rapt attention as the villagers. Indeed, he hadn’t even noticed one of the children that sat around him was using his shell to prop her elbows up, head in hands. If Moana told them how Tamatoa had tried to pulverize her would they turn on him? What if it jogged his memory and broke the spell? Or worst of all, what if started crying again?

“So I… I turned around and what did I see?” Moana swept her hands through the air. “A giant lobster!”

“A lobster?”

“How big was it?”

“Bigger than a fale. Bigger than the meeting house! It had claws the size of boats and when it thumped its tail the trees shook. And on its back were all sorts of glistening treasures.”

Moana told the rest of the story much as it had happened, swapping out Tamatoa for the unnamed lobster monster. She told them how it had demanded her bounty, her attempts to escape, and finally how the tapestry had swallowed it in a flash of light.

“I went to investigate but the lobster had completely disappeared. In its place was Tamatoa!” She gestured to the crab in question.

“But where did the lobster go?” Asked one of the children.

“I’m… not… sure?”

Tamatoa gasped, “D’you think me and it switched places?”

“Maybe.”

“So it’s on Huahua beach?”

“I guess.”

“With Maui!?”

“Uhhhh, guess so,” Moana shrugged. There were scattered whispers among the villagers. Moana had told them about some of her adventures with Maui. This was the first they’d heard about a crab sidekick. “But, I’m sure it’s fine. He loves fighting monsters!”

“He does, yes.” Tamatoa tapped his chin in thought.

There was a pause and then children were asking for stories about Maui. Moana laughed and brushed the requests aside. An elder, noticing her fatigue, began the story of how Maui stole fire from Mahuika. Tamatoa listened with a frown. As the story continued he began arguing that it had never happened. The elder did his best to ignore him.

~~~

As the night wound down Moana found herself nodding off. Launa announced it was bedtime for her children and asked Moana to help her gather them up. They made their way back up the hillside to the chief’s complex, Moana, Launa, and Launa’s two boys and her daughter. Moana carried the young girl who lay her head against Moana’s shoulder, snoring softly. The boys ran ahead, racing each other to the top of the hill.

Launa carried bowls full of leftovers. She eyed Moana as they walked through the Banyan trees.

“I’m thinking you left some things out in your story.”

Moana’s gaze snapped to Launa’s. She sighed. “I may have changed a couple things.”

The older woman raised a brow.

“It was… It wasn’t a lobster. It was Tamatoa.”

Launa’s other eyebrow joined the first.

“He was older and bigger. Much bigger.” Moana adjusted the toddler she carried. “The tapestry made him younger and took his memories. He doesn’t remember any of it.”

Launa frowned and looked ahead to the dark path. “You don’t know how that magic works. For all you know it could wear off tonight. And then what?”

“I know. I’m not sure what to do with him.”

“You’ll be leaving tomorrow.” It wasn’t a request.

Moana nodded. The trees rustled gently in the breeze.

“You’re kind hearted. But you can’t keep him. I suggest you find an island, something uninhabited. He’ll be fine on his own.”

“Yeah. Yes, you’re right.”

~~~

Moana woke early to soft humming. She turned over to see Tamatoa fiddling with something, his back to her.

“What are you doing?”

“Nothing!” A flurry of movement then he turned to face her.

“What do you have?”

He spread his empty claws, eyes wide and innocent.

Moana squinted at him, lips pursed, but let it go. She rolled up her borrowed sleeping mat and gathered the grass bedding. “We’re leaving today. Before noon.”

“Great! Where are we going?”

“Back to my village.”

“You have a village?”

“Yes,” Moana stepped out of the fale, carrying the grass. Tamatoa followed.

“Is it underwater?”

“What? No.” She dumped the used bedding in the compost just at the edge of the living complex. She turned to go back.

“Oh,” Tamatoa frowned, but his disappointment didn’t last long. “Which way is it?”

“Northeast. It’ll take a couple weeks.” She reentered the fale and began gathering up her spare clothes, comb, and the jewelry she removed at night. She no longer had her pack but Launa had given her a basket to hold her things.

Tamatoa hummed. “No, no, that won’t do.”

“What won’t?”

“Oh, I was just hoping we’d be going west. Would make getting the treasure easier.”

“Sorry, you lost me.” Moana shook her head, tying her items into a bundle and placing it into the basket.

“Well that’s why you went to that cave, right? I’m thinking you wanted something fancy to impress the humans.” He sidled up to her, head cocked. “But all you got was that whale tusk. So sad.”

“You said it was ‘super rare.’ ”

“Pff!” Tamatoa dismissed that with a wave of his claw. “It’s boring. You know what’s cool? A jade bat skull that tells your fortune.”

Moana raised her brows, so Tamatoa continued.

“Me and Maui had been planning to check it out but we just never got around to it. But since you’re in the market for unusual trinkets I thought we could stop by. I asked around last night, figured out where these islands are in relation to the Teraina Archipelago, and It’s only about a week to the west.”

“I, wait. What exactly is this bat head?”

“It’s a magical piece of stone carved into the shape of a bat skull. And it talks.”

“Is it cursed?”

“Probably.” Tamatoa shrugged.

“Getting to it’s dangerous?”

“Oh, definitely.”

Moana tapped her knee. Tamatoa watched her intently.

“How do we get there?”

“Ah, that’s far too complicated. I’ll have to guide you.”

“I think I can handle it.”

“No, no. I’m afraid I’ll have to show you. Personally. In person.”

“You just don’t want to tell me.”

“Oh, Moana,” the crab pouted, “we’re friends. We tell eachother everything. I’ll see you by the boats!” And with that he slipped outside.

Moana pursed her lips. He was up to something. But she had gone on this quest for a magic item and this was her best lead. If she went back now… She was so tired of seeing that look on Maui’s face. That look he’d started giving since their last adventure.

She swept up her things and made for the boats.

Chapter Text

Moana packed her canoe then ate breakfast with the chief and his family. Afterwards, Launa gave Moana a bundle of food and supplies as well as her cleaned sleeping mat. Moana thanked her and the chief for their hospitality. As a show of gratitude she also presented them with the whale tusk she’d taken from Tamatoa’s hoard.

“Thank you. I will have it hung from the eastern rafters,” Chief Aluhi said as he admired the corkscrew ivory. “Though, um, what is it?”

“It’s a whale tusk.” Moana said.

“I didn’t think whales had tusks.”

“That’s what makes them so rare?” Moana shrugged with a smile. “So, I’ll be seeing you at the inter-island festival, right?”

“We wouldn’t miss it.” Launa said.

“Two months. I’m holding you to it!” Moana grinned.

Soon enough she was on the water waving goodbye to the villagers of Tikala island. She called on the ocean and they rode out of the cove on a swell of water, much to Tamatoa’s delight.

The first three days were uneventful, though Tamatoa was surprised by the presence of an island he swore wasn’t there the last time he’d been in the area. Despite this, he accurately predicted the location of two others and an ocean current they rode for half a day.

Every now and then he’d dip an antenna into the water and announce whether they were on course. He didn’t use the clouds much, if at all, and ignored the stars entirely. Which Moana found especially frustrating as he insisted they do their sailing at night. When she asked him why he didn't use them he simply told her they were too far away. He also refused to tell her where they were ultimately going.

On the fourth day there was a storm.

Moana noticed the dark clouds on the horizon that morning but there wasn’t anywhere to make landfall. Tamatoa directed her towards the nearest island but the storm overtook them long before they could find it.

Moana had to fight with the sail to keep it from blowing uselessly to the side, pulling the mainsheet with all her might to stay on course. When the waves weren’t breaching the hull the wind made sure to accost her eyes with saltwater. Water blew into her nose and mouth. Her hands were raw, the skin of her palms red and weeping.

A great wave bore down on the craft. Moana pulled the rope tight and brought the boat in line. She held on, feet braced against the edge of the hull as the boat climbed the steep swell. It broke the crest and slammed down, racing into the next valley, foam and spray tearing at her hair and clothes.

Tamatoa was huddled in the canoe’s hold. He squeaked each time the boat bucked against the waves. At one point he pleaded with Moana to make it stop. She had to inform him controlling the wind was Maui’s thing, not hers. He didn’t look like he entirely believed her as he slunk further into the soaked cubby.

Moana couldn’t feel her fingers by the time she spotted land. She crested a wave and in the distance saw the black silhouette of mountains against the lightning lit sky. She steered an oblique course for the island, unable to make a straight line less the waves capsize her from the side.

Coming to shore was especially dangerous. As the waves approached land they broke, curving over and slamming into the waters below. Moana pulled her sail closed and used the oar to keep the boat from getting caught in the white, foaming chaos.

At last the wave she road broke on the sand, the canoe hitting the beach with a crunch. Moana jumped to the ground and pulled desperately at the boat. Another wave crashed down on her. She sputtered and fought to keep the current from dragging the boat back to sea.

She cursed and pulled, the waves alternately pushing her further up and dragging her back until she reached the beach edge. She hauled the canoe onto grass. The trees above her bent and bowed, their leaves cracking whip-like in the wind. She unwound a length of rope and tied her canoe to their trunks and tied down the sail.

She slumped against the hull as the trees groaned above her.

Tamatoa tumbled from the deck into the grass below.

“I’m just gonna…” He stumbled into the underbrush. Moana could hear him gagging.

She stood to dig out her sleeping mat. It was soaked. She lay it under her canoe and grabbed one of many fallen banana leaves. It wasn’t much, but it would keep her drier than nothing. She huddled under her canoe, under the banana leaf, and tried to think warm thoughts.

~~~

Moana was dragged awake, quite literally. Someone had hold of her leg and ripped her out from under the canoe. She kicked at them, breaking their grip, but was met with the tip of a spear at her throat. Five men stood above her, their faces dark against the brightening sky.

“Get up.” The man threatening her moved his spear just enough to let her stand without impaling herself on his weapon.

Moana raised her hands. “What do you want?”

“Shut up.” He rammed her in the small of her back with the butt of his spear. “You thought we wouldn’t notice? This is our island and we’re not having any more filth dirtying our shores. Now walk.”

Moana stumbled forward, the man shoving her further into the forest. He called over his shoulder, “you two strip the canoe and look for any more intruders. We’ll take her to Kalani.”

Moana surreptitiously searched the underbrush as the three warriors marched her through the wet forest but couldn’t find any signs of Tamatoa. Either he’d run off or he was keeping quiet. Or he was sleeping through her kidnapping. Any attempts to ask what she’d done or where they were going were met with a sharp jab of the spear. After the third such rebuke she fell silent.

The men were older than her and the shortest still stood head and shoulders taller than she. They wore cloaks of grass woven with fresh green leaves. If they were to crouch down they’d all but disappear in the underbrush. Each held a spear tipped with an onyx blade and decorated with black and brown striped feathers. And though there was no obvious path through the forest the men walked with confidence through the trees and brush.

They climbed higher as they made their way inland, up rocky inclines rimmed with ferns. Moana slipped on a patch of wet moss but her captor grabbed her arm as she fell. He yanked her over the ridge and she stumbled in the mud, clutching her shoulder.

“Move.”

She glared at him but did as he said. Her shoulder already ached from sailing through the storm. Now it spasmed with every step, pain running in sharp bursts from her left collar bone down to the inside of her elbow. She held her arm to her chest. She knew it would pass, it always did, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

The group came to a hill cleared of trees and ringed with earthen ramparts. The topmost steppe sported a great wall made of stripped trees lashed together. Wooden spikes jutted out from the base. There were gardens in the valley to one side of the hill but she didn’t see any homes among the fields and groves. Her captors lead her up a steep path to a large gate. Warriors looked down at them from outposts on either side of the entrance and a large, wooden pahu gong hung from carved posts.

The buildings inside were crowded together. The villagers she passed watched her with wary eyes. Children hid behind their mothers and peeked out from behind building posts. In the three years since she’d begun sailing, begun meeting other tribes, this was the first time she’d been greeted with such suspicion and fear.

She was brought to a large fale in the middle of the village. Its pola blinds were pulled closed. One of the warriors pulled a mat aside and Moana was shoved through. Inside, incense burned thick enough to make her eyes water and nose itch. An ancient woman sat at the far end, skin folding like cloth and hair wispy like clouds. She was attended by two women preparing herbs in wooden bowls. The old woman waved them aside as Moana was pushed forward.

“What’s this? A little spy?” The woman’s voice was like dry bark crackling behind sparse teeth.

The three warriors forced Moana to join them as they knelt in deference. The leader spoke, “Kalani, we found her hiding on the northern beach.”

“I was sleeping!” Moana interjected.

The old woman, Kalani, ignored her. “Are there others?”

“Leho and Pekelo are searching now.”

Kalani selected a piece of kava root from a small pile by her side. She chewed one end as she watched Moana through the smoke. She didn’t speak and Moana grew impatient.

“Will someone tell me what I did wrong? I didn’t even know--”

“Shut up!” The warrior grabbed her by the hair and jerked her head back until she was nearly on the floor, then shoved her forward again. Moana caught herself, whipped her hair out of her face and turned to snarl at the man.

“Feisty little girl,” Kalani laughed, “stupid little girl.” She spat the kava juice into a wooden bowl. “Why are you here?”

“You might have noticed there was a storm last night,” Moana sneered.

Her captor raised a fist but Moana raised her own, ready to give as she got. The old woman waved the man down. “Enough, Rangi.”

He lowered his fist, but with reluctance.

Moana continued, “I just needed a place to wait it out. I didn’t even know this island was inhabited.

“You’re people have been harrowing ours for generations. You still think us idiots.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about!” Moana threw her hands wide. She was sore, insulted, and hadn’t had any breakfast. “I am Moana of Motunui. I am on a journey to the south and I am just passing through. If you want me to leave I will.” Gladly.

“Hah!” The old woman’s laugh was wide putting her yellowed teeth on full display. “And tell the Fahuians about our defenses? No,” she gestured the men to rise. They pulled Moana to her feet with them. “I think not. Tie her to the post. Maybe she’ll have something worth saying in a few days.”

Rangi grabbed Moana’s arm and forced her out of the fale. Moana struggled against her captor’s grip, fierce enough that a second warrior was forced to join help the first. They marched her to the center of the village where an enormous carved pole stood in the middle of the malea. They stood her with her back to the wood. They tied a length of rope to one wrist, wrapped it around the thick pole and tied the other end to her other wrist, her arms pulled out tight.

“Why are you doing this?” Moana asked as the man checked her bindings. “I don’t even know who the Fahui-whatevers are!”

The man grabbed her by the jaw and forced her to look at the watching villagers. They glared at her, huddled in groups and whispering to each other.

“The Fahuians are the reason they’re scared.”

He stood back and ordered his two warriors to stand guard.

~~~

The sun was setting. Moana had slid the rope low enough to let her sit but her arms were still held at a painful angle. The ache in her left shoulder burned. There was no way to relieve the pull on it, no matter how she sat or stood or which way she leant. Her fingers had gone numb hours ago. She hoped the rest of her arms would follow suit.

She could smell freshly cooked pork and fish as the villagers took their dinner. Some particularly cruel individuals brought their supper to the malea and made a point to eat in front of her. Her guards had laughed when she asked for water earlier in the day. She didn’t bother to ask for food now but she knew they heard her stomach growl.

Rangi returned as twilight fell. He asked her if she was ready to talk, asked what the Fahuians were planning. But there was nothing she could say. He ordered a change of guard and left her in the flickering firelight.

She must have fallen asleep because when she looked up again it was fully dark. Someone was yelling. She glanced around to see people stepping out of their homes half-dressed and wide-eyed. Her guards gripped their spears tightly as they tried to hear what the commotion was.

“You stay here,” one said, “I’ll find out what’s happening.” He jogged towards the gates, disappearing between crowded buildings.

Moana looked to her remaining guard. He glanced down at her. “Is this your doing?”

Moana shook her head.

Suddenly the thunderous gong of the pahu drum boomed through the village. If her hands were free she’d have clapped them over her ears. As it was, she could feel each beat of the gong through her feet and the shaking of the pole behind her.

The village was awake. Men took up spears and serrated cludgels. Some of the women, as well, armed themselves and ran to the ramparts. The elderly rushed crying children away from the main gate, yelling about a safehold. Moana’s guard danced in place, torn between watching her and joining his brothers in arms. His warrior instincts won out and, with one last kick to her side, he ran for the frontlines.

Moana struggled against her bindings, the rope cutting into her wrists, rubbing the skin off in peels. She kicked and screamed her cry breaking in her dry throat. She slumped against the unforgiving wood grimey hair falling her eyes. Warriors yelled in the distance.

Should she hope these Fahuians would free her? Would they be any friendlier or would they cut her down before she could speak? Would her current captors return and cut off her head? Let her die of thirst?

She’d faced monsters. She’d calmed an angry god. She’d bested magics and befriended the sea. Would she meet her end now by human hands?

This was embarrassing.

“Psst. Hey.”

Moana lifted her head. The malea was dark, lit only by the occasional flickering torch.

“Hey!”

Something prodded her in the side. She jumped and twisted as best she could. Pressed close to the pole to her left was Tamatoa. When he saw her face he gave a sigh of relief and whispered, “Oh, good. It is you. Wasn’t sure.”

He scrambled up the carved pole to reach her bindings. He grasped the ropes in his right claw and used the left to start tearing at the thick fibers.

“You--” Moana coughed. “You followed me.”

“Yeah. Had to find a different way in. No cover near the fence. There’s a tunnel hidden in the hillside. But there were guards so I had to put mud on my beautiful shell to slip by!” He paused to gesture at himself in despair. Mud and bits of grass covered his shell, hiding its pearly gleam.

“Toa, you get me out of here and I’ll polish it myself!”

“I appreciate the offer but don’t touch my shell.”

Moana laughed and Tamatoa grinned.

“Do you know what’s going on?” The rope was getting looser and Moana used the slight slack to adjust her arms.

“What? The yelling and running about? They think they’re under attack.”

Moana blinked. “They think?”

“Oh! Yeah! I lit some baskets on fire and floated them into the bay. They think they’re enemy boats! Didn’t you notice?”

“I’ve been tied to this post. All. Day.”

“Yeah, but still,” Tamatoa shrugged.

A few more snips and the ropes fell away. Moana bit back a cry as her arms fell free. They burned and tingled as blood rushed into her abused limbs. She staggered to her feet.

“C’mon, this way,” Tamatoa scuttled from shadow to shadow. Moana did her best to follow, taking cover by building beams and abandoned storage huts. Most of the villagers had disappeared into safe houses or were manning the walls but a few still ran along the roads carrying supplies and messages.

Moana ducked into a fale to avoid two men on their way to the gate. Inside, baskets lay in disarray. A bag of rice spilled across the floor. She tiptoed through the dark home and out the other side. Tamatoa waited for her across the way, gesturing her forward. She dashed across the pathway and into the shadows of the next fale. The two of them creeped around the building until they could see the wall just beyond.

Tamatoa stopped and held up a claw. He pointed to a structure of wood and earth. Two men armed with serrated cudgels guarded a dark doorway. The floor beyond sloped sharply into the dark.

“That’s how I came in,” Tamatoa whispered.

There were baskets and bundles of bamboo leaning against the wall. Tamatoa could use those to sneak his way to the passage but Moana would be spotted easily.

She bit her lip, thinking. She glanced around and caught sight of the torn ropes still tied to her wrists.

“I have an idea.”

She untied the ropes. A quick search of the fale’s foundation and she found a loose fist-sized rock. She tore off a strip of cloth from her skirt and tied the two lengths of rope to either end to make a crude slingshot.

Between the beams of the neighboring fale she could see a dozen loose bamboo rods leaning against a dilapidated storage shed. They’d make a distracting racket if they were to fall.

She placed the stone into the strip of cloth, twirled the slingshot above her head and let loose. The rock flew through the fale, between the wooden posts and hit the shed with a dull thud.

“Nice,” Tamatoa deadpanned.

Moana grit her teeth and turned to find another stone but the shed gave a tired groan and listed to the side. The rotten lashings holding one beam to another snapped and the whole structure fell with a crash, the bamboo clattering along with it.

“What was that?” The guards strained to see what had caused the commotion but the shed was hidden from their view. Moana and tamatoa watched them from the shadows of their fale.

“Hold on.”

One of the men left to investigate, his club at the ready. The other remained behind. Moana bit her lip and shook her fists in frustration until her shoulder spasmed and she had to bite harder to hold back a yell.

“My turn,” Tamatoa drew himself up. “Get ready to run.”

He stepped out from their cover before Moana could stop him. As he approached the remaining guard he lit up, his pink and blue markings creating incandescent trails with his movements.

“OooOoooOOooh! Look at meee! I’m an angry spirit! Woo! Rawr!”

The guard stepped back, eyes wide. But instead of running he took aim and struck at the crab with his cudgel. Tamatoa yelped and dodged to the right, his markings flashing in surprise. The man followed, bringing his weapon around for another swing.

Moana darted in and lept onto the man’s back. He gave a yell but she wrapped her slingshot around his throat and threw herself back, twisting as they fell. They landed, the man lying half on her. She flipped them around and jumped to her feet, delivering a sharp kick to his gut. The man gasped, clutching his stomach.

The second guard reappeared down the way. He charged with a roar. Moana snatched up Tamatoa and dove into the tunnel. She held the crab aloft, using him to light the darkness. His legs waggled uselessly in the air as he chirruped in frustration.

They burst out of the tunnel and into moonlit forest. Moana barreled through the underbrush, down the hillside. The trees gave way to yam fields and rows of taro. Beyond she could see the ocean.

“Oh, boy, they followed us,” Tamatoa announced. “And they brought friends.”

Moana glanced behind to see a dozen warriors streaming out of the treeline, Rangi in the lead. She redoubled her efforts. But as the rocky shore came into sight she couldn’t spot any boats amongst the boulders.

“We’ll have to swim!”

“I can’t swim!”

Moana wasn’t sure if she felt like crying or ripping her hair out. But before she could decide her way was blocked. Warriors jumped out from behind the pock-marked boulders and still others leapt from the ground, grass cloaks falling back as they stood. An enormous man grabbed her and spun her around, jabbing a spear to her throat.

Two times in one day. Ugh.

These men wore seaweed headdresses. Their spears were tipped with jade and decorated with red and gold feathers. Her pursuers skidded to a halt at the sight of the newcomers.

Moana whispered to Tamatoa, still in her arms, “I thought you set off their alarms.”

“I admit, didn’t anticipate this.”

The man holding Moana spoke, “One more step and I cut her from ear to ear!”

Rangi raised his own spear, teeth bared. “I’m tired of your tricks, Fahuian scum! We know she’s one of your spies!”

“Don’t play games with me, little man! You raided our stores and we will have revenge!”

Moana groaned. Could this get any more ridiculous?

As if hearing her thoughts Tamatoa wriggled from her grip. He stood between the two groups, antennae flashing an angry red.

“You dare?!” He did his best to rumble as he spoke. “Do you know who you have the gall to threaten with your paltry human weapons?!” He stared first at Rangi, then the Fahuian who held Moana.

He flung his claws wide, “She is Hine-Moana! Goddess of the sea!”

All were silent. The warriors’ gazes flicked between the glowing crustacean and the young woman held at spear-point.

Moana cleared her throat, “That’s-- that’s right!” She pushed the spear away and shrugged off the grip of her newest captor. “I am Hine-Moana. Who else would have a… a talking crab?”

Tamatoa grinned wide.

“And I am… vexed! Very vexed by the conduct of both your tribes!” She paced along the shore. “My waters are meant to bring humanity together, not carry war and bloodshed!”

“This is preposterous!” Rangi spat. “You’re a lying little Fahuian!”

“She is a god!” Tamatoa snapped his claws rapidly, scowling up at the warrior. “And she can prove it!”

Oh, why wouldn’t he shut up?

“Y-yes. I can!”

Moana turned to the ocean, the Fahuians parting to let her through. She stopped by the water’s edge and took a deep breath. She spoke, so quiet she could barely hear herself.

“Please. I’m sorry. But please, help me.”

The waters bubbled. The ocean heard her. But to claim she was goddess of the sea?

“I’m so sorry. Please.”

The waters drew back, wet rocks glistening in the moonlight.

“Lying little--”

A wave reared up from the placid shore, three stories tall. It crashed down on either side of Moana, drenching the gathered warriors.

She breathed a sigh, “Thank you.”

As the waters retreated Moana turned to stare down the soaking men. She alone stood dry. Tamatoa crawled out of the seafoam, covered in seaweed and gagging on saltwater.

Moana crossed her arms. “Now, about your little feud.”

~~~

The island she had the misfortune of sheltering on was called Aluhia. The island of Fahui was half a day’s journey to the east. When Maui stole Te Fiti’s heart the oceans had become too treacherous for extended voyages but Aluhia and Fahui were just close enough that ships could sail between on a good day. But it happened that sometime, some generations ago, the two tribes went to war. The reason for this depended on who Moana asked, but the years since had been filled with raids and blood on both sides. And now that the seas had calmed with Te Fiti’s return the war had gotten worse.

The Fahuians had indeed planned a raid for that night. But Tamatoa’s distraction had ruined their plans. As the invaders had creeped along the beach the warning gong had sounded, forcing them to take cover. They had intended to return to their ships until Moana had run into their midsts.

Now both tribes argued the horrors dealt to them by the other, seeking to sway Moana to their side. The Aluhians, guilty of the harsh treatment they’d shown her before, did their best to make up for it with gifts of rich food and fresh clothes. The Fahuians, not wishing to be outdone, presented her with their finest taiaha spear. The chief’s son, leader of their party, presented it to her himself.

But Moana was tired and angry and wanted only to leave as soon as possible. So she demanded, as the goddess of the sea, that they swear to a peace treaty then and there.

“Or I will sink your boats and drown your fields. Do you remember how I took away your fish three years ago?” She banked on them not knowing the true cause and her gamble paid off. They did remember how the fish had thinned and then miraculously returned. “That was a warning. And if you anger me again I will make certain all your traps remain empty and all your fishing lines break. You will starve and you will know you deserve it!”

And so the Aluhian’s chief swore a pact of peace. The Fahuian leader swore on behalf of his father, the chief. Their words were bitter, but when Moana glared the sea broiled behind her and the two men dropped their eyes in fear.

Moana’s boat was brought around and her supplies returned and replenished. As she and Tamatoa boarded the canoe the old wisewoman, Kalani, approached. She leant against a gnarled cane and grinned up at Moana beneath heavy lids.

“A goddess, eh?” The old woman chuckled and shook her head.

Moana came in close to whisper. “You tied me to a post and left me in the sun. I brokered peace for your people.”

“You are no god,” the woman returned with quiet words, “But you are more than I thought,” Kalani stepped back and spoke loudly, “Farewell, Hine-Moana. May we meet again.”

Moana stood straight and nodded sharply. She unwound the mainsheet and snapped open the sail as the sun peaked over the eastern horizon. The ocean surged beneath her canoe and drew it into the open waters on a roiling swell.

When Aluhia Island had disappeared completely from view moana closed her sail. She slid to the deck, feeling the new sun on her shoulders and the rocking of the waves below. She held her head in her hands, eyes closed and teeth clenched.

It hurt.

Her throat hurt. Her wrists hurt. Her left shoulder burned and raged with the smallest movement.

But it was more than that, more than her bruises. They had made her helpless. They had taken her freedom to walk, her freedom to leave. She hadn’t even been able to hold herself when she felt so hopeless. She’d had to keep her arms wide for whatever cruelty they’d dealt her. Open and pinned and hurting.

She hadn’t cried. Not audibly. But she did now, tears running between her fingers and hair hiding her face.

“Moana?”

She turned away, choking back the burning in her throat.

“... Are you ok?”

“No!”

She wiped her face then wiped it again. She didn’t face Tamatoa but looked at him from the corner of her eyes through the curtains of her hair.

“I’m-- I’ll be fine.”

The crab picked at a loose splinter on the deck, antennae low over his back. He glanced between her and the wood, unable to think of anything to say.

She sniffled, trying to blink away her tears, trying to think about something else.

She watched Tamatoa pull up bits of the deck and break the splinters into smaller pieces. The annoying little crustacean had rescued her. He’d walked into danger and freed her. He’d stuck by her when they were caught and he’d fooled their captors into letting them go.

Actually…

“You--” Moana pushed her hair back, “you told them I was Hine-Moana.”

“Yes!” Tamatoa perked up, relieved that she’d stopped crying.

“You know I’m not really the goddess of the sea, right?”

Ths was met with a blank stare.

“I’m not Hine-Moana. I’m just Moana.”

“Yeesss, ‘Moana’ like The Ocean!”

“Like the ocean. Not literally the ocean.”

Tamatoa pursed his lips, “I don’t understand. You said you’re friends with Maui.”

“I am.”

“So you’re a god.”

“No. I’m friends with Mau and I’m a human. I am a human named Moana.”

“But you make the water do stuff!” Tamatoa gestured wildly. “You make it fly up and push the canoe around!”

Moana laughed. “I don’t control the ocean. I’m friends with it.”

As she spoke the water rose in a column by her side. It bobbed up and down in greeting.

Moana smiled at it warmly, “I helped it years ago and now it helps me.”

Tamatoa stared at the bubbling water, at Moana, at the water again.

He walked to the storage cubby and clattered in.

“What are you doing?” Moana asked.

“I’m going to bed.”

Moana laughed. She turned to the ocean. It had cocked its ‘head’ to watch the crab. Now it straightened.

“Thank you.”

The water held her gaze then melted back into the waves. Moana sighed, deep and tired. She fished the anchor stone from storage, dropped it off the side of the boat and pulled up the rope’s slack, tying it in place.

Moana lay down on the deck. She closed her eyes and felt the ocean rise and fall beneath her.

Chapter Text

The next few days were uneventful, though she often caught Tamatoa side-eying her as they sailed. It seemed he was having trouble adjusting to the revelation that she wasn’t a goddess. Humans weren’t meant to fight monsters and command the seas, they sat around and waited for gods to fix their problems.

Moana was getting the feeling he hadn’t known many humans.

On the eighth day, under a half moon, they found themselves in shallow waters. Stone spires crawled from the sea, jagged basalt claws reaching for the sky. Moana had to steer the canoe with care lest a current suck them through a narrow pass and dash them against the stone. In the distance Moana could see the peaks of an island, but the swirling water grew more and more treacherous the further into the stone forest they sailed.

Tamatoa wasn’t much help. He remembered that there was a safe passage through the crags but the specifics had slipped his mind.

“I think we’re meant to find a pillar with a red stone on top. Then we take two lefts… or maybe we go round counterclockwise two times?” He trailed off, tapping his teeth with the tip of a claw. “I wish Maui were here…”

“Well, he’s not. Just keep looking for the pillar,” Moana banked right as a wave sent the boat on course for a sharp ridge.

“Yeah… Oh!” He perked up. “There! I see it!” He pointed.

Through a pass Moana could see a twisted outcropping crowned with ropey seaweed. The moonlight sapped color from their surroundings, but even still she was certain the wet pantlife wasn’t red.

“That’s green.”

“Is it? I don’t know. Looks red to me.”

Moana mouthed a silent ‘what?’ The crab cocked his head, watching as the seaweed peak disappeared from view. He glanced around, humming to himself, until his gaze caught on another pillar.

“Over there!”

“That’s algae. Still green.”

They passed much of the night this way, Moana steering them from danger and Tamatoa pointing out various plantlife. The sky began to lighten, changing from deep purple into pale blues until the sun slid from below the horizon. The sunlight poured between dark rock, long shadows fighting against brilliant gleam.

Moana yawned wide, her jaw clicking when she snapped it shut. Her eyes were dry from lack of sleep. She rubbed at them, flashes of green and red blooming behind her eyelids.

“Over there!”

Moana groaned, “Is it a plant? If it’s a plant, it’s green.”

“No, it’s light!”

“Yeah, that’s what happens in the morning.”

“No, I mean the red rock we were looking for!” She felt the crab crawling over her lap, his pointy feet pricking through her skirt. She opened her eyes now to see him pointing excitedly to the east, “The rock isn’t red, the light in it is!”

And he was right. A pillar, only a little taller than the others, stood a few hundred yards away. It would have looked just like the rest, dark, pockmarked, and jagged, but for the very tip. As the sun crept into the sky its light caught in streaks of quartz twisting through the basalt. The sunlight, red in the morning, glowed through the glassy stone turning it a brilliant crimson. A red stone among the black.

Moana gasped, her fatigue falling away. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah…” Tamatoa agreed with a dopey smile. “It is red, right?”

Moana laughed, “Yes! Yes it is.”

She tugged sharply on the mainsheet, catching the wind. They zipped between the stone pillars and through the swells and dips of swirling tides until they came to the base of the shining pillar. Tamatoa scuttled to the bow. He turned as they circled the rock, admiring its glow.

It was lovely, there was no doubt of that, but Tamatoa had said it marked safe passage through the treacherous waters. Moana searched their surroundings. It looked just the same as everywhere else, sharp rocks and frothing sea.

She glanced back at the brilliant stone. Its refracted light flowed in shafts through the thin mist of the morning, the color piercing the spray like a spear.

Or like a road.

Oh! Moana followed the path of the largest beam with her eyes. It shot through a pass to her left, straight and confident.

“I think we need to follow the light,” Moana said.

“Huh?” Tamatoa blinked, looking away from the stone reluctantly. He followed her gaze. “Oh, yeah. That sounds about right!”

Moana tugged on her oar, turning the canoe away from the red pillar. The pass the light danced through was plenty wide and the water flowed with them, speeding them between the sheer stones. But when they came through to the new clearing Moana had to bank to the right to avoid a jagged cliffside. The lightbeam landed on the cliff some hundred feet up.

“Is that it?” Moana asked. “Is the Jade Bat up there?”

“No,” Tamatoa said, pouting in thought. “It’s on the island beyond all this nonsense.”

“Well, do you remember what we’re supposed to do next? We’re not supposed to climb that, right?”

“Uhh,” The crab glanced at her, tapping his teeth again. He studied the rockface, the patch of red creeping down its surface, the webs of quartz marring the basalt.

Tamatoa gasped. “It’s, it’s, we, that--” He stammered in his excitement.

“Ok, breath,” Moana laughed.

Tamatoa took a deep breath then let it all out as he said, “We-have-to-wait-for-the-light-to--” he took another breath, “reach the quartz!”

“Oh!” Moana gasped. “You’re right, you clever crab!”

Tamatoa beamed nearly as brightly as the sunray.

They didn’t have to wait long for the lightbeam to reach the crystal veins. When it did the light bent, bouncing through the quartz patterns and out again. The new lightbeam shown through another pass. Moana turned the boat again and followed.

They sailed from pool to pool, through rocky passes and around sharp stone ready to tear the bottom from her canoe. With each new clearing was another crystal threaded pillar and a new ray of light, though the ray grew fainter as they went. Soon it would be too faint to see. But just as it became nearly invisible in the brightening day they broke through the stone maze.

They were in a cove, the island climbing into the sky above them, rich and green. The cove itself was built up with stone walls, ivy creeping down the black blocks. Docks stretched into the bright water, their wood soft with age. Moana steered them to the base of one where it met the stone shore. She tied her canoe to a broken cleat, checking to make sure the wood would hold.

Tamatoa hopped from the bow to the stone and Moana followed. The cove ended in a wide stairway, the cliffstone carved into deep steps. Either side of the stairs was more stone, ivy, and vines. Birds flitted from cracks in the brickwork, their grass nests stuffed into the crevasses. Insects droned in trees hanging over the sides of the cliffs, far out of reach.

Moana began up the stairway, the stone rough and pocked beneath her feet. She gazed around with wide eyes. Someone had carved these stairs, a hundred of them at least. The time that must have taken! And the brick walls, they were enormous!

She was drawn out of her wonder with the sound of Tamatoa clattering below. She turned to find him on the third step upside down, his legs waggling in the air. He huffed and half slipped out of his spiral shell to catch hold of the pockmarked stone. He pulled himself back upright then tried for the stairs again, hooking one leg then another over the edge and hauling himself up. When he flopped onto the new ledge he noticed Moana staring.

She put her hands on her hips. “Would you like some help?”

He pouted. “I’m going to say ‘no’ but I hope you realize that is entirely pride talking.”

She snorted and skipped down to collect the frustrated crustacean. She scooped him up and held his shell against her chest. He was heavier than he looked, his legs gripping her arm and claws hanging loose. Moana threw back her shoulders and started up the craggy stairs.

“All right, let’s get this treasure!”

Chapter Text

The stairs opened on an overgrown pavilion, its cobblestones split by roots and weeds. Banyan trees spilled into the square, moored on the rooftops of the surrounding buildings. The buildings, too, were made of stone, heavy and dark. Walls had crumbled in places, bricks the size of her chest pushed out by the trees’ insistent roots. Opposite the stairs to the docks were two basalt pillars carved with grinning faces. Beyond, Moana could see the cobblestones continue, weaving between ruined structures.

Were all the buildings here made of stone? That seemed so… cold.

Tamatoa’s antennae twitched and flicked in the air, tasting the thick damp of wet earth and recent rain. Moana hitched him higher.

“So,” she asked, “where is this magic bat skull?”

“Maui said it’s in a temple. I’m guessing in the middle of things. You put important stuff in the middle, that way everyone can see it.”

He shimmied out of her grip to land with a clack on the ground. Moana followed him as he sidled up to one of the pillars, squinting at a toothy carving.

“Need to be careful, though. The place is supposed to be guarded,” he said. “Magic guardians! Can’t let just anyone wander in, yeah?”

“What kind of magic guardians?” Moana asked as they passed into the street. He hadn’t mentioned anything about defenses.

“The dangerous kind, I imagine,” he replied, skirting a gnarled root. “Best keep your eyes open!”

Helpful.

Lizards skittered under rock slabs and insects jumped into the air as they walked. The sudden movements were unsettling in the broken city and Moana found herself startling more than she’d like to admit. But nothing overtly threatening jumped out of the dark, jagged holes in the looming buildings. The worst she saw were ugly statues perched on ledges, their fangs and claws dulled by wind and rain.

The two adventurers wandered through courtyards and up and down crumbling stairways, the sounds of birds and insects filtering through the thick canopy. Water dripped and pooled in stone-lined ponds, little frogs ducking beneath the cool water whenever Moana approached.

Tamatoa had begun to mumble to himself and, as they entered yet another crumbling square, he paused.

“Something wrong?” Moana asked.

“Eh…” he tapped the tip of a claw against his teeth, turning in a hesitant circle. “It’s just… the place seems a bit, um, shabby. Doesn’t it?”

Moana took in the sight of fallen basalt bricks. A moss covered cooking pot lay cracked in the leaning doorway of one building. What might once have been a floormat was now more earth than weave. Several shattered statues lay scattered about the yard.

“That’s one word for it,” she said.

“It’s just, Maui never said anything about… this. He said it’d be guarded. There’s supposed to be magic people or some such, you know?” He scuttled up to a broken statue. He scraped off a bit off moss to reveal flecks of paint still coloring the deeper crevesses. “I don’t know. Just a little disappointing, I guess.”

Moana wasn’t sure about that. She didn’t want to fight anyone for this treasure, and certainly not whomever had built these structures. If the magic guards Tamatoa described had moved on, it was fine by her.

“Come on,” she said, tugging his claw before starting forward again. “I’m sure the magic bat will more than make up for it.”

Tamatoa lingered for a moment, in thought, but managed to perk up. “Yeah,” he agreed, skittering after her. “Who cares about some dumb, stone city? They didn’t even use nice stone. Could’a had a bit of marble trim at least! No taste.”

They came to another courtyard, this one biggest by far, and the most damaged. Deep furrows had been gouged into the cobblestones, the intricate brickwork unearthed as if by a plow. The buildings ringing the plaza looked as if they’d been punched by a giant. Unlike the holes decorating the rest of the city— where stones slid into piles, pushed loose by roots— the stones here lay in a scattered spray. One particularly large slab stuck at an odd angle in a tiered roof, lodged like an enormous splinter.

“Oh!” Tamatoa clacked his claws in excitement. “There! That has to be it!”

The little crab pointed across the plaza. Like the other structures, this one was broken stone and twisting roots, but its tiered walls dwarfed the rest of the city, rising past the treeline and out of sight. Wide steps lead to an arching doorway lined with green moss and jade stone.

“Ehe he he he! We found it!” Tamatoa scuttled into the plaza, climbing over and around the wreckage.

Moana followed at a slower pace, studying their surroundings. Not all of the stones were simple bricks. More statues, most of them as tall as her canoe’s sail, lay with snarling faces and broken limbs clutching wicked weapons. One, at the temple entrance, would have been nearly as tall as a house. Its wide hand curled around a cudgel as thick as she was tall. Its head lay several paces away, sheared from its neck however many years ago. It looked shocked.

Moana caught up with Tamatoa as he was struggling up the temple stairs.

“These statues,” she said, sweeping an arm to encompass the plaza, “do you think these could have been those guards you were talking about?”

The little crab paused, halfway up a step, and swiveled an eye to look behind. “Hm, maybe.”

“What do you think happened? They’re all destroyed.”

“No idea,” he grunted, hauling himself up. “Maybe they got sick.”

“The statues got sick?” Moana raised a brow, arms crossed.

“Well I don’t know, it’s that or something excessively violent came through and tore ‘em to pieces.”

Glancing at the gouged earth, Moana suspected it was the latter. She chewed her lip, eyeing the shadowy holes and cracks around the square.

“You don’t think whatever it was might still be here, do you?”

“What, are you afraid?” He asked, drawing out the last syllable with a grin.

“No!” Moana huffed. She whirled, turning her back on the plaza and stamping up the temple steps.

“Good!” He chirped, following. “Because I’m terrified.”

Inside, the temple was dim. The ceiling soared above, an inverted pyramid disappearing into the dark, twisting scenes carved into the stone. The only source of light was what filtered through the entrance and a window high on the opposite wall. The window let in more light than the doorway, it must have sat near the canopy, but not much more.

In the center of the dusty room sat an altar carved with yet more figures dancing about its base. Away from the weather, the paintwork on the altar was better preserved than the statues outside. Flecks of rusty red and yellow ocher leant a bit of color to the otherwise dull stone.

The temple was breathtaking. The stillness. The size.

The emptiness.

“Where is it?!” Tamatoa wailed. He skittered to the altar, climbing up its stone face. “It should be right here!”

The little crab banged his pincers against the stone, pried at cracks, hoping the treasure might appear with a bit of coercion.

Moana’s shoulders slumped. It couldn’t be gone, could it? Tamatoa had been so confident. They’d spent more than a week to get here. It’d be another three to get back home. And that was on top of the two and a half months she’d been sailing already. And for what?

No. It had to be here. Had to.

Moana joined Tamatoa at the altar where he was worrying at one of the stones set in the dias.

“Help me get this up,” he grunted, “I think the skull is under here.”

The stone, unlike the basalt making up the platform, was clear quartz. Quartz, just like in the pillars they’d followed through the ocean maze.

Moana gasped. She looked around the room again, more closely. There! Hidden in the shadows were more quartz bricks, distributed seemingly at random about the temple. The meager beam of light from the one window sat just below one of the bricks.

“Look,” Moana pointed. “It’s just like the sun maze to get to the island! I bet when the sun lands on that stone it shows the way to the treasure!”

“Oh!” Tamatoa’s antennae perked up. “So we just have to wait for it to get up there!”

“Well,” Moana grimaced. “I think it’s a little after noon right now, and I’m pretty sure the window there is facing south. So the light’s going to go like this,” she traced a path, arching below the quartz but never touching. “We’d have to wait a few months until the sun’s in the right position to hit it on its own.

Tamatoa shrugged. “Okay.”

Moana rolled her eyes. “Ooor, we could help it along.”

“Eh, lassoing the sun’s Maui’s thing, not mine.” The crab settled down, apparently content to wait out the seasons.

“No one’s lassoing anything! We just need something reflective.”

“Something shiny?” Tamatoa cocked his head, antenna bouncing with the movement.

“Exactly!” Moana pointed at him with a grin. “Come on! Maybe there’s a bit of loose quartz somewhere.”

They searched the temple, then the temple’s courtyard, with no success. Moana found some shards of jade, fallen loose from the temple’s entrance, but the stone was too dull to reflect more than a sparkle. The sun began to creep down the wall, following the arch Moana had predicted earlier. Soon enough it would set and they’d have to wait until tomorrow.

“Ugh.” Moana flopped to the temple floor, head in her hands. Tamatoa joined her.

“Maybe if I lit a torch?” She mused. “Do you think torchlight would work?”

“Maybe,” Tamatoa mumbled. He didn’t sound like he thought it would work.

Moana sighed and Tamatoa shifted.

“Um,” he began, scraping idly at the dust collected between floor tiles. “I might have something that’d work. But you’ve gotta promise not to get mad.”

“You do?” Moana asked, then frowned. “Wait, why would I be mad?”

“Well,” Tamatoa drew out the word, not looking at her. “You remember when we first met and you said I could come with you if I left the treasure behind?”

“Yeah?”

“And I said okay?”

“Yeah…?”

“I lied.” The hermit crab shook his shell. It gave a jolly rattle.

“You...” Moana shook her head and laughed. “Of course you did!” How could she have ever thought otherwise?

Tamatoa relaxed as Moana continued to laugh, joining her giggles. “I have so much stuff in here! It’s very uncomfortable!” He gave another shake and his shell jangled again.

“Okay, okay,” Moana took a deep breath, tamping down her mirth. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

Tamatoa pulled out a dozen shells, pearls, and precious stones before producing a diamond the size of a baby’s fist. By now the sun was getting low, so Moana hurried into position as Tamatoa stuffed his collection back into his shell. She held the diamond aloft, catching the last rays of the sun as she turned it this way and that. Tamatoa stood by her feet giving babbling advice about refraction and facets until she turned it just right and a clean beam of light fell on the quartz block.

The quartz lit up, bright in the gray wall. It refracted the light back into the room at an angle, its own beam hitting another block of quartz in the wall to their left. The light bounced from one brick to another until the whole room was lit with crisscrossing rays, the last of which disappeared into the altar itself.

“Hah!” Tamatoa chirped. “We got it!”

And then the floor dropped away.

Chapter Text

She was screaming, falling, sliding down a tunnel into utter darkness. Something scratched at her face, her clothes. Roots? She flung her arms out, scrabbling for purchase, her fingernails chipping and scraping against the stone rushing by. Caught! Her fist closed around a root. It bent and creaked, but held.

She let out a breath, became aware of Tamatoa clutching her leg, his screams quieting to panicked gasps. Her shoulder burned, deep inside. She’d caught the branch with her left hand.

“Moana?”

“Yeah?”

“Are we dead?”

Her shoulder spasmed, pain traveling up her arm.

“Ugh. No.” She brought her right arm up, grabbing the root and relieving the stress on her left side.

“Oh, good,” Tamatoa sighed. He began to glow, dimly at first, but grew brighter when nothing jumped out of the dark. “Ooh, that was a close one.”

Moana glanced down. Just a bit beyond her feet the tunnel opened into a yawning darkness.

“No kidding.”

The tunnel was riddled with banyan roots, some as thick as her leg. She found one big enough to use as a step, letting her stand instead of dangle by the edge. The room beyond was cavernous, stretching far past Tamatoa’s glow. She thought it a cave, at first, but the walls were made of the same basalt bricks as the temple. Tangled roots twisted from the ceiling. Behind her, the slick tunnel disappeared into darkness.

“What is this place?” She wondered. At the edge of Tamatoa’s light, she could just make out the shine of another quartz brick.

“I’m gonna say Death Trap. Classic Death Trap.”

“I’m not so sure…” Moana squinted into the pit. She couldn’t see the bottom but the walls were stepped. Like an inverted pyramid. Like.. and then she noticed the carvings, just like in the temple above, except these were upside down.

“It’s the temple!” She exclaimed. “But mirrored. That’s the ceiling, down there.” She pointed into the pit. “And the floor’s above us. Which means there should be another altar out there!” She pointed through the roots and dark.

“How thoroughly inconvenient,” Tamatoa noted, then his antennae straightened, flashing rapidly. “Hey! Where’s the diamond?!”

Moana blinked. What? Oh. She glance at her empty hands.

“I think I dropped it.”

“You dropped it?! That was a 497 carat loupe clean diamond and YOU DROPPED IT?!”

“Well sorry! Next time I’m falling to my death I’ll be more careful!”

“Oh, like I’ll be lending you anything ever again,” he spat.

Moana shook her head. “Look, the jade skull should be down here. We just need to get to the altar.” She reached up and found a thick root and tugged. It felt sturdy enough, so she swung herself up, hooking her ankles around it and reaching out for another. “A magic skull’s gotta be better than some shiney rock, right?”

“Shiney rock, ” Tamatoa choked. He climbed up the wall after her but paused frequently to whimper. “She calls it a shiny rock! ”

Progress across the chasm was slow. Moana made certain to test each root before committing her weight. Dirt sifted into her hair from the floor above and she prayed the stones would hold. Eventually, the altar came into view, just where she’d predicted. But as they approached, her stomach sank.

“It’s not here.”

“What?!” Tamatoa clambered closer to inspect it in detail. The altar was like the one above, but where the quartz had been was instead an empty mount.

Moana climbed into the loop of a thick root and reached out to draw her fingers across the alter’s surface. She felt something rough where the stone should be smooth. In the soft light of Tamatoa’s illumination she could just make out two shapes scratched into the stone: a claw and a fishhook.

Oh.

The little crab, hanging upside down from a root, prodded the altar's side. “Maybe there’s another trick? More light puzzles?”

Moana shook her head. “It’s gone.”

“We don’t know that! It’s probably just hidden. Or maybe it fell.” He gazed into the darkness below.

“It didn’t fall,” Moana ground out. “You said it was guarded. Those statues outside were the guardians. Someone else fought them, came in here, and took the skull. End of story.”

Someone with a big, magical fishhook.

Tamatoa’s antennae drooped, swaying gently above the pit. “Well, um… well, we’ll just have to find a different treasure! There’s a bridge that only appears under a full moon that leads to an island of ghosts! They’re supposed to have a cup that collects fresh water from empty air!”

Moana just shook her head.

“Or what about the Tree Of Ketu?” He suggested. “There’s a jewel buried in its roots that points the way wherever you need to go! Or, or the Ever Rivers in Mahana! It’s said they lead to a basin filled with gold!”

Tamatoa listed off places and treasures, his words growing faster, filled with forced cheer as Moana’s mood turned darker.

How could she have been so stupid. Tamatoa’s information was thousands of years out of date. Any treasures he knew of were long gone, snatched up by Maui and his future self. This had all been for nothing. Months at sea, deadly magic traps, a murderous (and now panicking) crab, and for what? She was as empty-handed as when she left.

“--or there’s the golden boat made by the Waliki people to the north. It sank, of course, but I can rig up a diving helmet and--”

“No!” Moana interrupted Tamatoa’s diatribe, the crab stuttering into silence. “This is pointless.”

“It’s not!”

“Yes it is!” she slapped her perch, jarring her shoulder. She hissed as it twinged. “Even if someone hadn’t got here first, what then? You saw those statues. They were huge! There’s no way we could have fought them.”

“Well... then we wouldn’t have! We’d have found a back way in. Through the window!” Tamatoa grinned, but it faded as Moana shook her head once again.

She didn’t look up when she spoke. Her eyes were moist. “Do you want to know why I was looking for treasure?”

“I figured so you could show it off.”

“No.” She picked at a piece of flaking bark. “About a year ago, Maui and I were exploring.”

“When? I was with Maui all last year,” he squinted an eye, confused.

“Just trust me, I was.”

He didn’t look convinced but let her continue.

The Sumuans had been shocked by the arrival of visitors. Like Motunui, they’d been isolated for a thousand years. Moana and Maui had gotten used to this, finding tribes so long lost that they had little hope they’d ever be found. Usually the adventurers’ arrival was met with celebration (sometimes hostility), but this time they were met with desperation.

A great serpent had been terrorizing the village for generations. Every seven years the beast would slither from the mountains to swallow up a helpless villager. The tribe had learned not to fight it. That only lead to more bloodshed.

“Why didn’t they leave?” Tamatoa asked.

“They, uh, they couldn’t,” she said. Tamatoa didn’t know about Te Fiti’s heart and the thousand years of angry oceans. Perhaps she could gloss over it. “The seas were too treacherous. Anyway, Maui and I told them we’d help.”

The serpent lived at the very peak of the island’s tallest mountain. It took them most of the day to climb it (though it felt longer, Maui bragging that he could’ve flown to the top in no time). They passed through wispy clouds to stand on the rocky ridge, the air thin, but couldn’t find any monsters. The ridge slithered into the distance and, after they’d walked its length, they decided to sit and wait. They had a picnic as they watched the sun creep towards the horizon.

Finally, Maui grew impatient.

“Monster!” He bellowed. “Get your big scaly butt out here! You’ve got an appointment with my foot and I ain’t got all day!”

But besides the birds in the forest below, and the wind tugging at their hair, all was quiet.

“Well,” Moana said, picking at a bit of stubby grass. Not much grew this far up. “It is a snake. Maybe it’s hiding in some crevice.”

“Good point,” Maui said, throwing her a lopsided grin. “Let’s shake things up!” And with that he raised his hook, the ivory glinting in the setting sun, before bringing it down with a resounding crack.

“Hey!” Moana cried as she bounced from a sitting position to an intelligent sprawl. “Watch it!”

“Sorry.” He wasn’t. “Hold on!”

This time she was ready as the mountain shook.

“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” The demigod yelled, raising his hook for a third strike buut the mountain shook before the blow could land. And kept shaking. The dark stone quaked, cracked, ROSE.

The monster.

They were on it’s back.

The serpent’s head, half a mile to the east, rose from where it slept, grass and dirt slipping from its craggy scales. The mountain ridge rose like a wave, thundering towards where the two adventurers stood. The monster undulated and, as the ripple reached them, Moana found herself airborne. Maui swung his hook, transforming into a hawk. He twisted in the air, calling Moana’s name, talons out and wings closed as he dove.

But he was too late.

She hit the mountainside with a deep crack, a blinding pain in her left shoulder. The world was twirling, rocks and grass and trees and sky and then it stopped and all she saw was her hand, laying limp in the gravel.

“Moana? Moana?!”

Where was she?

“Moana?”

Her head was lifted, Maui’s face filling her sight, his brow knitted and eyes wide.

“Moana, can you hear me?”

She could.

He looked away at something. Something loud.

“Hold on. Please. Just hold on.”

He disappeared. She watched the sky. Purple.

Cold.

“Then what?” Tamatoa was leaning forward, mouth slightly ajar.

“I get a little fuzzy after that,” Moana admitted. “Maui killed the monster and brought me back to the village. I guess I was out of it for about a day. I had hit my head.” She tapped her temple. “But it wasn’t that bad, really. It’s not like I cracked my skull open or anything. My shoulder was worse. I couldn’t man the sails for weeks.”

She’d felt so useless.

“But it’s better now! I’m fine. I can sail, and climb, and fight,” She mimed throwing a punch but had to bite back a grimace as her shoulder gave another twinge. That didn’t count, she’d pulled it when they had fallen down the shaft.

“But it doesn’t matter,” She said, slumping. “It doesn’t matter to him. And he says nothing’s changed! He says he doesn’t think less of me… but he does. I can see it, when he looks at me. Like I’m one step from falling off the edge. I hate it.”

Ugh, her nose was getting all stuffy. She breathed through her mouth, knowing any attempts to use her nose would be loud and gross.

“I just wanted something to show him I was-- was strong! That he didn’t need to walk on eggshells around me! I’ve faced down a lava monster, for gods’ sake!” She shouted.

“Really?” Tamatoa asked.

“What? Oh. Yes.” She wiped her nose with the back of her hand, then wiped her hand on the alter. “That’s a whole ‘nother thing.”

“So,” Tamatoa said, “you wanted a treasure to prove you’re tough?”

She nodded.

“But, you are tough!” He threw his claws in the air, the neon glow leaving trails in her vision. “You sailed through a superstorm! And survived a Death Trap! And stopped a war and fought a lobster monster and a lava monster, apparently.”

Moana sniffled, nodding.

“Not to mention you’ve made friends with the most styling carb in the southern hemisphere!” That drew a chuckle. “What else d'you need to prove?”

“Heh, I guess you’re right.” Oh, she was crying, there was no hiding it now. “Thank you.”

The little crab seemed caught off guard by that. “Oh, sure. I’m just… telling it how it is.” His gaze wandered into the darkness as he scratched behind an antenna. “So um, we should, uh, probably find a way out, yeah?”

Moana laughed, a watery thing. “Yeah, probably.”

Chapter Text

The climb back up had been long and by the time they exited the Temple the sun was well past set. They slept in one of the abandoned buildings near the docks before setting out first thing in the morning.

“So,” Tamatoa said, “where to next?” He dug up the leaves mouldering at the edge of the docks, making a breakfast out of the worms and insects he found there.

“Well, I need to get back to my tribe.” Moana reeled her canoe in by the slippery line.

“Your tribe?” He looked up from the mulch, a worm dangling from his mouth.

“Yeah. The Inter-island Festival is a month away. They’ll need me to help prepare.”

“But,” he slurped up the worm, talking around the squirming mouthful, “we didn’t find any treasure! You can’t go back yet!”

“Well, someone recently gave me some good advice about not needing any treasure.” She steadied the boat with one foot as she untied its mooring.

“I didn’t say that!” Tamatoa rushed to her side, eyes wide. “I said you were tough! You don’t need treasure to prove you’re tough, but that doesn’t mean you don’t need treasure!”

Moana laughed. The little crab looked like he was about to have a panic attack.

“Well, maybe I’ll try again after the festival.”

Tamatoa glanced between her and the boat then scrambled aboard. He positioned himself at the prow as she cast off.

“But, it’s a festival, right?” he asked. She nodded as she dipped her oar into the water. They’d need to clear the island’s rocky maze before unfurling the sail. “You can’t show up to a festival empty handed! What’ll the chief think? He’ll think you’re rude!”

“I think Dad’ll be fine.”

“Dad? Oh, right.” she’d told him of her lineage during the feast on Tikala, while trying to explain proper serving order. He’d been rather distracted by the spread. “Well, he, um, he’ll be real disappointed if you don’t bring him a souvenir, don’t you think? I’d be. My kid, running off on adventures, returning without so much as a polished bead. Very disappointed. Hurt, even.”

“How about this,” Moana said, steering between basalt columns. “You can help me pick out something shiny on the next island we find. That sound good?”

“The next island? No! Nooo. That won’t do. Um, how about…” he tapped his teeth, thinking. “Kirohuli Reef! It’s only about a week south. Gorgeous pearls, big as your head!” He pointed to his skull, paused, then pointed towards Moana’s. “That is, your head. Big as your big, furry.”

Moana ran a hand over her hair. “The festival’s in a month. It’ll take at least two weeks to get home, assuming the weather holds. We don’t have time for detours.”

“But--”

“Sorry. My boat, my schedule.”

Tamatoa’s antennae drooped.

“Is this about the diamond?” Moana asked. She didn’t understand his obsession with shiny things, but she couldn’t deny it was important to him. She sighed. “I really am sorry. I could--”

“No, no,” he interrupted. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

He didn’t look fine.

Leaving the island was much easier than entering, and soon they were out on the open sea. Moana tugged on the mainsheet. The canoe’s sail opened with a thick fwap, filling in the wind.

“So,” Tamatoa said, “your island. Where is it, exactly?”

“Well,” Moana sat back, rope in one hand, oar in the other. “I grew up on Motunui. It’s mostly north from here. But the festival is being held on a new island, Karewa.”

Maui had pulled it up about a year after the seas had calmed. It was located a few days north of an extensive island chain, and about half a day from a fast east-west current. Its position made it an excellent meeting spot for several tribes.

“We’ll retrace our path to the atoll north of here, then head east. There should be a current running north from there. After that we’ll island hop. It should take seventeen, maybe eighteen days.”

“That’s quite a while.” Tamatoa was peering into the distance. There was still a bit of haze on the water, but it was clearing as the sun rose higher.

“Well, unless you know a shortcut, we’ll just have to bear it.”

Tamatoa grinned.

“Do you know a shortcut?”

His grin grew wider.

~~~

Tamatoa directed them eastward. He said there was a current, a strong one, that would feed into the one Moana wanted further north.

“Not a lot of islands between here and there, though,” he’d said flipping a lazy claw.

And he wasn’t exaggerating. In the four days since they’d left the basalt city, Moana hadn’t spied anything bigger than a sandbar. They relied more heavily on fishing to stretch their stores. Tamatoa’s methods were especially effective. He’d tie one of his baubles ( “not a nice one, I’m no rock head” ) to some twine and let it drag behind the canoe, pulling and tugging to make it twinkle in the sunlight. The fish were drawn to it unerringly. He’d tried to show her how to do it, but with middling success, so Moana put the crab in charge of fishing. He seemed to enjoy it, anyway.

There was also the issue of bedtimes.

Moana had finally put her foot down and insisted they sail during the day, despite Tamatoa’s objections.

“It’s so hot, though!” He’d whined.

“It’s summer, that’s what happens.”

“Ugh.”

He’d taken to napping when the sun was highest, hiding in the canoe’s storage cubby. This was fine by Moana, as it guaranteed her a bit of quiet for at least a few hours every day. Less fun were his midnight strolls across the deck which, even when he was being ‘quiet,’ usually involved at least one neon dance number.

Twinklin’ little stars above,

Shining happy on the sea,

Tell me, are you proud of,

Your shimmering eternity!

Sparklin’ little--

“Tamatoa!” Moana thumped the deck with a fist and the crab jumped, cut off mid rhyme. “It is hours before sunrise. Go. To. Sleep!”

“I dunno why you humans insist on doin’ everything during the day. It’s all so much cooler at night!” He waved a glowing claw through the dewy air. “Literally and figuratively.”

“Just stop singing,” she said, pulling a tapa sheet over her head. “Please.”

“Y’got no style,” he griped, but finished his song as a whisper.

Moana tried to ignore the clacking of his joints as he danced on the prow.

After five days with no land in sight, Moana was beginning to worry. The waters here seemed to change every day and she had difficulty keeping track of the currents. Every evening, when she’d finally felt like she’d gotten her bearings, she’d check the stars and realize she’d been off.

“Happens to the best of us, Babe,” Tamatoa had said when she’d expressed her frustrations. “Well, not all of us.” he’d added, dipping an antenna into the surf.

She didn’t bring it up again.

Even with Tamatoa’s uncanny fishing abilities, they couldn’t stay at sea forever. If nothing else, they’d need to refill their water casks. Moana began setting up the sail to gather dew at night, but that only got her a few sips worth of fresh water. So she was quite relieved when, on the eve of the sixth day, she spotted land.

But when she trimmed the sail to jibe Tamatoa threw up his claws.

“No, no! We can’t go there!”

“Why not?” She asked, holding the mainsheet against the wind’s tug.

“It’s, um, it’s cursed!”

She raised a brow at the crab’s stuttering. “Oh, really?”

“Yes!” He insisted. “There’s a-- a boar with seven tusks! Each one longer than the last. It eats anyone who so much as steps foot on its island.”

“We’ll just have to keep our eyes peeled, then, won’t we?”

“NO!” He squealed. “It-- it-- it’s made of fire! And It sets the whole island ablaze. We’ll roast for sure!” When Moana still didn’t look convinced, he continued. “And it’s poisonous? And did I mention there’s ten, I mean, TWENTY of them?”

“...” She pulled the sheet and the boat swung port.

“No!” He grabbed at her skirts, tugging hard enough she thought they might tear. “You can’t! Please don’t! Please.”

Moana let the sail slacken to really look at the little hermit crab. He was scared. He was clearly lying, but he was scared.

“All right,” she sighed. Tamatoa’s grip slackened in relief. “But we do need to land soon. We’ve only got a couple days worth of water left.”

“Oh that’s easy!” Tamatoa said, running for his fishing line. “Turtle blood! It’s all you need!”

“Real water, Toa!” Moana tied down the sail and threw the anchorstone overboard. “We’ll sleep here. Tomorrow you find us an island that isn’t cursed.”

“All right, all right,” he said, rewinding the twine. “Turtle blood’s perfectly good, though.”

~~~

“Wake up, wake up!”

Moana groaned, pushing Tamatoa away, but he climbed over her arm to resume pulling her hair.

“Moana, wake up!” He hissed, breath tickling her ear.

“Ple-he-heeease,” she whined. “Just one night. Let me sleep through one night...”

A sharp pinch on her nose and she bolted up.

“Pokokōhua!” She swore rubbing her nose. Was that blood? Was she bleeding? “What is wrong with you?!”

“Shhh!” He held a claw to his lips, eyes darting this way and that. She hadn’t realized at first, but they were in a deep fog. Only the slightest bit of moonlight ghosted through the heavy mist.

“What?” She whispered.

“Kēhua matapo,” Tamatoa whispered the name so quietly Moana had to lean in to hear. “They’re all around us.”

Kēhua matapo? Blind ghosts?

“Are you sure?”

“Can’t you hear them?”

Moana listened. She heard the lapping of water against the hull, the creak of wood beneath her knees, her own breathing in her ears.

And a sigh.

Almost too quiet, too subtle. If she hadn’t been listening she’d have never noticed. But there it was, the lightest sigh, like sand sifting through fingers.

Like the last breath of the dieing.

“They float along the sea, searching for sailors,” Tamatoa explained, peering into the shifting mists. Shadows moved just beyond their sight. “When they find some, they steal their eyes, and leave them to die in the dark.”

“What do we do?” she asked.

Tamatoa’s antennae quivered. He’d nearly disappeared into his shell, his claws drawn in close. “We have to get out of the fog. Or find land. They can’t go on land.”

Moana nodded, though she wasn’t sure he could see it. She crept to the stern and felt around for the anchor line. It wasn’t there.

“I pulled it up already,” Tamatoa said.

There was no wind, so she went for her oar. But as soon as she dipped it in the still waters a ghastly shriek split the night.

“Go! Go! GO!” Tamatoa shouted.

Moana dug her oar into the sea, pushing off with all her might. The mist around her swirled like a white tide. She felt fingers reaching out, ragged nails skittering along her spine.

“Which way is the island?” She called to the crab. He was cowering by the mast, his shell clinking as he shivered.

“What island?”

“The cursed one!” Stiff fingers tangled in her hair and she ducked, batting away something cold and brittle.

“I don’t know!”

“Go sniff it out or something!”

Tamatoa whimpered, but crawled to the bow. He flinched as the air above him gasped, but he stretched an antenna out to tap the waves. “Uh, um, try starboard!”

Something hissed, nearing fast. Moana brought her oar up and swung, hitting a withered body out of the air with a smack. The creature slammed to the deck and bounced off. When it hit the water, instead of submerging, it dispersed, a cloud of smoke billowing along the surface.

“Moana!”

She looked up. Tamatoa was scrambling on the deck, clutching the foreshroud in one claw. A gnarled hand grasped one of his legs, dragging him from the hull. The Kēhua’s face was sunken and pale, like bone bleached by the sun. It’s lips, dry and cracked, sat tight over rotting teeth. Its eyelids hung loose over gaping holes.

“Moana! Help!” He flickered in fear, neon colors stark against the misty monotone.

With a snap, the line broke, and the leathery ghost snatched Tamatoa into the air. Moana didn’t think, throwing her oar to the deck and jumping into the mist after the little crab. She could see his neon glow disappearing into the fog and reached out, fingers brushing smooth shell, slipping off. But a pincer closed around her wrist as she fell. Hitting the water, they plunged below the waves.

Tamatoa was a colorful beacon in the dark waters, clinging to her hand as she righted herself. She gathered him up, holding him to her chest with one hand as she kicked to the surface. They breached with a sputtering gasp, but weathered hands raked at her face, reaching for her eyes. She ducked back under, salt stinging the scratches along her cheeks.

The canoe was behind her.

She swam just below the surface and came up under the outrigging. Moving to put the main hull at her back, she blinked the water from her vision, peering through the thatching between the booms. Shadows flitted above, gasping and crying.

“Tamatoa,” she whispered. He clung to her blouse, coughing. “Which way’s the island?”

“I don’t--” He spat out a mouthful of water. “Don’t know.”

“Can’t you sense it or something?” She asked, tugging on an antenna. It’s pulsing lights sped up and he batted her hand away.

“It’s too far.”

“What do--” A gnarled hand darted between the rigging and Moana had to duck below the surf to avoid its grasp. She waited, one hand holding Tamatoa, the other braced against her canoe’s slick hull. They both gasped as they surfaced. “What do you mean, ‘too far?’ We’re just offshore!”

“No we’re not!” The crab wailed.

They had to duck again, one of the Kēhua scraping its nails down the side of the hull. Moana swam beneath the canoe to its portside. The rigging there didn’t provide as much cover, but she hoped it would confuse the Kēhua for a time.

“Why?” she hissed between clenched teeth. “What happened?!”

“I pulled up the anchor!”

She had to dive below the waves again, Tamatoa’s yell drawing the attention of the spirits. They surfaced below the outrigger once more.

She drew the crab close to her face and he flinched back from her snarl. “Why?!”

“Because I heard you! With Launa,” His markings flared, bright against the night sea. “In the banyan grove.”

Oh. Oh no.

“What did you hear, exactly?”

The boat shook as one of the ghosts tore at the mast.

“Enough,” he said, antennae swept back and eyes narrowed. But then he drooped and his markings dimmed. “I heard her tell you to ditch me on some island. I heard you say you would.”

Oh.

When she didn’t respond, he continued, mournfully. “I figured if I could lead you to treasure you’d have to keep me around. But now you don’t want any. Which is just insane! And you’re going back to your island and I don’t even know where that is and we keep finding islands where there shouldn’t be any islands and half the currents are going the wrong way and the other half smell weird and you keep making fire out of sticks and WHY ARE THE STARS SO FAR AWAY!”

An unearthly screech, a knobby fist in her hair. A Kēhua yanked her up but she was stopped by the outrigger’s support beams. She grabbed the specter’s wrist and threw herself at the water. As she passed below the surface the creature’s hand dissolved and Moana could hear it’s frustrated scream filtering through the sea.

This wasn’t the first night he’d pulled up the anchor, was it? That’s why she couldn’t get her bearings, why every night the stars were in the wrong place, why every morning the currents had changed. The little crab had been sabotaging her since they’d left the basalt city!

She’d stumbled into a fine mess, hadn’t she? She’d expected danger, expected adventure. She hadn’t planned on a magical crustacean wedging himself into her life, jabbering in her ear and filling her hold with shiny bits of flotsam. Hadn’t planned to babysit the monster that had tried to murder her. Twice.

Tamatoa clung to her top, eyes screwed shut against the water, antennae drifting in the current. His glow caught in the bubbles peppering the canoe’s hull above them. One light in a great, dark void.

He looked small.

She’d been wary of him at first, unsure how complete his memory loss was or how long the tapestry’s magic would last. But he didn’t know that. He didn’t know why she’d been so cold when they’d ‘first’ met. As far as he was concerned, he’d appeared on a strange island with a strange woman who’d immediately tried to kill him. Just a child, alone and lost in a world changed by time.

Because that’s what he was. A child. An extremely aggravating, kleptic, bioluminescent child. But a child nonetheless.

They surfaced with a gasp.

“Moana--”

“Shh,” she held a finger to his lips. The crab went cross-eyed following the digit. “We’ll talk about it later.” Right now, she had to deal with the Kēhua.

The wraiths couldn’t go on land and they couldn’t go under water either. Well, she had plenty of water.

“ Can you hold on? ” Moana asked, tapping the side of the canoe.

Tamatoa nodded, switching his grip from her top to the canoe’s hull. Satisfied, she dove, swimming to the stern. She began to push.

This was going to be exhausting. Moana held her breath and swam, pushing against the canoe’s bulk. She surfaced only long enough to gulp a lungful of air before submerging again. It would be slow going but, with luck, they’d break out of this cursed mist before she grew too fatigued. Otherwise…

Another breath and sharp nails slashed at her brow. She dove again, lungs only half full and forehead stinging.

Something tapped her hand and she startled before registering Tamatoa clinging to the underside of the hull. He was absolutely cloaked with bubbles. The crab waved her forward, his glowing claw sparkling behind the trapped air. When she got close, he transferred a bouquet of bubbles to her, covering her nose and mouth and tickling below her jaw.

Moana blinked, confused. Tamatoa grinned at her and, with an exaggerated puckering of his lips, sucked up one of his own globules.

There was no way…

But Moana gave it a try, breathing in tentatively. It had a taste of salt, but the air was fresh. Tamatoa’s smile widened and he busied himself gathering more bubbles. As she pushed the canoe, the crab reached to the water’s surface, frothing it to a foam and quickly dragging it down in clumps. He caged the air pockets between his belly, legs, and the canoe’s hull, where the bubbles then joined and grew. When Moana’s supply ran low he waved her closer again and replenished it.

The going was long. Her legs grew tired and her arms sore. Tamatoa’s bubbles, though survivable, weren’t as refreshing as a full breath above water, and she found herself needing to rest to let her breathing even out. But they were making progress. Moana could feel the waters changing. She had to fight to stay on course as a warm current tugged her portside for a time. She shivered as they passed over a swell of cold and sighed through her nose when it faded.

She asked The Ocean for help, an unspoken prayer below the waves, but she felt no push or pull. She decided to believe The Ocean had faith in her ability to make it under her own power. She hoped that was the case.

Gods. She hoped she wasn’t going in circles.

How much farther?

Moana felt a tapping on her hand and looked up. Tamatoa was watching her with concern. She realized she’d stopped kicking, floating gently below the waves. He refreshed her air and she pushed again.

Her head felt light, her limbs so heavy.

Keep going.

~~~

She couldn’t breath!

Moana came awake, her mouth full of water. Kicking, dragging against the choking sea, she pulled herself to the surface. She gasped, clawed at the waves, more water pouring into her throat.

Where was she?

Something hit her head. She grabbed for it. Anything, anything to hold on to! Head above the water, choking, gasping. Air!

She clung to an oar. Her oar.

“Moana!”

She glanced around. The canoe floated several yards away, Tamatoa waving from the deck. His movements left streaks of blue in the night, nearly brighter than the moon.

The moon!

The sky was clear above her. The waxing crescent seemed to wink from the night’s velvet sky. A glance behind and she saw the billowing blankness of clouds roiling on the sea, blotting out the horizon. A deeper black against the dark.

They’d made it out.

Moana dragged herself through the water, one arm slung over the oar as she kicked unevenly. When she reached the boat she took a moment to rest before crawling aboard. After so many hours in the water, being on deck felt strange. Her limbs were heavy and the night air on her skin sent chills up her spine.

“You fell asleep,” Tamatoa said.

Fell asleep? More like passed out. Moana flopped to the deck, arms wide.

He continued, “I couldn’t reach you, so I threw the oar at your head.”

“Thanks.” Moana’s voice was rough. She coughed, tasting the seawater on her breath.

Tamatoa leant into her vision, blocking the stars. “Are you ok?”

“Yeah,” she said, slowly. “Could you drop the anchor? I need a little…” she waved a hand. It flopped on a limp wrist.

“Yes! Yes, I can! Hold on.”

He disappeared from view. Moana could hear him clattering in the hold, then the splash of the stone falling overboard. He returned to hover over her.

“Anything else?” He asked, wringing his claws, one against the other. “D’you want some fish wrap? I can make fish wrap.”

“No.” She pushed herself up, shimmying back to lean against the mast. “I’m just… I just need rest.”

“Ok.”

He fidgeted by her feet, glancing around the deck. There were scratch marks in the wood where the Kēhua had taken out their frustrations. The mast tilted to the side, having lost the support of the foreshroud.

She took pity on him and broke the silence. “Where did you learn that bubble trick?”

“Oh, that? Maui threw my favorite pearl into the surf after I took the jade out of the hilt of his favorite knife. I gave him the jade back but he was being a jerk and wouldn’t get my pearl so I had to do it on my own.”

“Oh,” Moana nodded. “It’s useful.”

“Yeah.”

They lapsed into silence again. Moana rested her head against the mast, closing her eyes. Everything was going to ache in the morning. She could hear Tamatoa shuffling on the deck.

“I’m sorry!” Tamatoa blurted. When she opened her eyes he shrank back. “I’m-- I’m sorry I pulled up the anchor. I didn’t know-- I mean, how could I? A cloud of angry ghosts, just wandering about? But even still, sorry. I don’t-- I didn’t…” He trailed off. His markings were nearly out now, just the faintest glow against the deck.

Moana sighed. “It’s okay.”

“But I almost got us killed!” he cried. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know.”

“I just-- I know I’m not fluffy or snuggly like a dog or something. And I’m not big. I can’t man the rudder or the mainsheet.” He shifted his weight, a nervous movement, and wouldn’t look her in the eyes. “But-- but I can fish. And I’m good at reading the currents.”

“I know.”

“And-- and I can be quieter! When I wake up at night I’ll be quiet. I don’t have to sing. I can do some weaving or something instead.”

“Tamatoa,” she reached out a hand, “come here.”

He sidled closer but stayed outside her touch. “I can be useful. Really.”

Moana leaned forward and scooped up the crab. He went still as she placed him or her lap. “I’m not going to abandon you on an island.”

“Really?” He asked in a quiet voice, then, with narrowed eyes, “what about a sandbar?”

“I’m not going to leave you anywhere,” she chuckled. Moana rested a hand on his shell, the other scratching lightly at the knobby spines along his neck. The crab flinched and nearly pulled into his shell, but relaxed when Moana’s touch stayed light.

Moana sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“You are? Why?”

“Because,” How could she put this? “I was scared.”

“Of what?”

“You.”

“Me?!” He turned to face her more fully, his sharp feet pricking her skin through her skirts. “Why?”

“I’ve had… bad luck with crustaceans.”

“You mean the giant lobster?”

“Yeah, him.” Moana ran a hand through her hair. “He was-- that is, I’d met him before. So that was the second time he’d tried to kill me. And then you appeared and you… sort of look like him?”

Tamatoa gasped in outrage. “ I do not look like a lobster.”

“I know, know!” Moana assured him, though she had to fight back laughter at the crab’s utter affront. “You’ve just got, um, similar coloring.”

Tamatoa still looked offended, but he settled down. “So you were afraid I’d try to kill you, too?”

“Or that you’d switch back,” she said, “with the lobster, I mean. I still don’t know how the tapestry’s magic works. I didn’t know if it might wear off.”

“Oh. I guess that would be bad.” He glanced around the deck. “Especially out here. You said he was big as a fale, yeah? He’d sink the whole boat. Goosh!”

Moana laughed as Tamatoa mimed water splashing into the air.

“But I don’t think that’s going to happen,” she said, again scratching the back of his head.

“Well, that’s good,” he mumbled, relaxing into the touch. “It’s been a month. Maui’s probably killed the lobster an’ moved on. I’d have’ta hang ‘round that beach till he wondered back.”

Moana gazed out over the ocean. The Kēhua’s mist was rolling away, growing smaller against the slowly brightening horizon.

“How long have you known each other?” She asked.

“Me an’ Maui?” He’d closed his eyes by now, cheek resting on a claw. “ ‘Bout three hundred years.”

“Three hundred?” Moana sputtered. But Tamatoa was so small! “How old are you?”

“Eight hundred an ninety seven. Since I started countin’ anyway.”

Huh. Obviously his kind were long-lived, but she hadn’t thought about how long it took for him to become an adult. How old had he been when they’d met in Lalotai? How long did it take to get that big?

“How old are you?” He asked, words muffled by his claw.

“Nineteen,” she responded.

“Nineteen hundred? Or thousand?”

“Just nineteen.”

He finally looked up, one eye cocked. “Nineteen even? That’s all?”

She shrugged. “Humans don’t live as long as magic crabs and demi-gods.”

“You’re a baby!” He poked her in the stomach. “Here I thought you were some big to-do, but you’re just a baby!”

“I’m not a baby!” she laughed, fending off his prodding claws. “I’m a full grown adult. And I am a big deal, thank you very much.”

She managed to catch his claws in her hand and, unable to pull free, he decided to use her as a pillow. He got quiet, then asked, “How long do humans live, then?”

“About eighty years. My grandma was ninety three when she… when she passed away.”

“Ninety three?” He looked up at her, antennae stiff. “But that’s so short.”

“It feels that way, sometimes.” She thought on her grandmother, a woman of life and vitality. She’d stood big in Moana’s childhood, a force of nature even her father approached with respect. And then, suddenly, she’d been gone. There were times, even three years later, Moana expected to hear her voice, expected to feel the rough callouses of Tala’s hand on her shoulder, expected to turn and find her by her side. The hollow feeling she felt, upon seeing the empty air where Grandma should have been, it left her gray and her throat tight.

“But,” Moana continued, blinking away the heat behind her eyes, “death isn’t the end. Our wairua lives on after our bodies die.”

“Like the Kēhua?”

“No,” Moana shook her head. In the distance, the spirit fog was nearly gone from sight. “The kēhua are lost. They didn’t have anyone to perform their funeral rites. Or maybe they died badly and can’t let go of this world. But if your family takes care of you when you go, then you move on to Rarohenga, where all your loved ones are waiting for you. That’s where my grandma is.”

Tamatoa was quiet for a minute, watching the stars fade.

“What about crabs?” He asked. “ ‘Cause I don’t know any rituals. When one of my family members died I always just ate them.”

Well, the moment was ruined.

“It might work different for crabs.”

“Oh, okay. Good.”