THUD.

  A man’s face hit the Hard, Dry Earth with sickening force. The sound isn't soft; it’s the sound of bone meeting packed coral dust.

  When he was yanked up, the moonlight revealed the damage.

  Half his face was a Swollen, Purple Blur, the skin split open and leaking Dark, Tacky Blood that looked black under the torches.

  "What do you think you're doing?"

  The voice was Growl. Thick, Calloused arms like the trunks of ancient ironwood trees—grabbed the man by his hair.

  With one violent motion, he was slammed against a palm tree.

  CRACK.

  The man tried to squirm, his muscles twitching like a dying fish, but Maluma’s grip was a Steel Trap.

  He was pinned by the neck. His head hit the rough bark with a Heavy Thud that made his vision swim.

  The man looked into the Chief’s eyes—the Dying Embers—and found no mercy. He coughed, spraying a Bitter Mist of Red onto Maluma’s chest. "You will die," he spat, the words coming out like Venom.

  SLAP.

  Maluma’s hand cracked across the man’s bruised cheek. The sound was like a Whip-Snap in the quiet grove.

  "I will defy you!" the man screams, his voice breaking.

  Maluma didn't yell back. He didn't even look angry. He just leaned in, his teeth bared in a Gritting Smile—the look of a Hyena about to crush a bone.

  He squeezed.

  He gripped the man’s neck, the Rough Skin of his palms grinding against the man's throat.

  The man’s eyes—the White Sclera—began to map with tiny red lines. They turned a Deep, Bloody Crimson as the air was cut off.

  His hands clawed at Maluma’s arms, but it’s like scratching at stone.

  The three men were Erased from the night.

  The First: A shadow Stuttered behind him. A blade made of a tough, jagged leaf—tied to shark Bone—slid across his neck.

  There was no scream, only a —Scritch-hiss— sound. He fell like a heavy bag into the dry weeds.

  The Second: A shadow swung at the man’s side profile. THUD. The jaw was knocked out of place with "Surgical" force.

  The Third: He moved fast, his heart "Vibrating" with fear, but a Bulbous Ula (Fijian Club) hit his kneecap. SNAP. The bone met the hard, dry dirt. As he yelled.

  The visible attacker swung again. THWACK. His head twisted at a Broken angle.

  A cold object touched Maluma’s throat. A Te-I-Ba—a long, bone-hard tail-spine of a giant Stingray, wrapped in Tacky shark skin pressing into his skin.

  "Let him go now."

  Maluma breathed hard, his lungs fighting the "Heavy" air.

  "I won't ask again."

  Maluma let go.

  The man dropped into the dirt.

  Maluma raised his hands.

  "Why are you causing Chaos?,.. hm? What do you want from me?" His jaw got tight.

  A tiny muscle in his cheek Twitched over and over. His eyes didn't blink; they stay "Glued" to the shadow behind him.

  "Don't pretend as if you were innocent, Maluma. You send an attack against us first. We are just defending ourselves against your evil."

  The woman’s mouth pulled back into a Smile. Her teeth caught the bright torchlight. Her nose moved as she breathed in a "Hungry" rhythm.

  Maluma swallowed—the movement of his throat was hard against the weapon's edge.

  "You speak of defense as if you did nothing wrong. You murdered Bako. What do you call that?"

  His forehead wrinkled, making "Deep" shadows over his eyes. He looked to the side, trying to find a "Mistake" in how she was standing.

  "I call that nessccity of taking action. We were here for the Fijian brothers, but you had to get in the way to spare them."

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  "Wait,..," Maluma swallowed again, against the blade. "You started all this filthy mess, just because you hate seeing the Fijians guys faces?"

  Her face became totally "Still"—like a statue made of hate, her breath smelling like Bitter Salt.

  "I wish we both could've agreed on that.“

  The woman’s hand didn't shake. The Ironwood Bone dagger stays glued to Maluma’s throat.

  ?"Now Step on it."

  Maluma's face was a mask of pure anger. His body resisted for a split second, but the blade dug deeper. He moved.

  The sound of his feet made a Scritch-hiss that echoed in the quiet grove.

  Wedged halfway between the ground and the sky. Below, the village floor was a Solid Mass of white-bleached coral crust.

  Tenia was a small, Jerky figure pacing Left-Right, her shadow stretching long and thin.

  The Other Woman sat perfectly Still against a huge Te-Boua— a Slab of Coral Limestone, her body an Opaque shape of indifference.

  The woman’s head blocked a Silver Spotlight, casting a shadow that swallowed Tenia’s feet. A faint Scritch-hiss as the woman’s hair brushed the rough limestone.

  Her words were swallowed by the silence.

  The woman stared ahead in indifference. As she spoke, she tilted her skull slightly, the back of her head grinding against a Serrated carving in the stone—a Historical Anchor of three deep, horizontal grooves.

  "You're overreacting."

  Tenia’s hands were on her lower lip. She shifted her focus to her in a questioned stare. "Am I? I'm overreacting? Why do you say that, huh?"

  The woman's eyes traced the other's constant movements. She rolled her head to the left, her ear passing over a Geometric Glitch—a circular Eye etched into the Solid Mass of the coral.

  "Because you were literally asking me if he would come out fine a thousand times."

  Tenia stopped in denial. "I never did that."

  The night was suddenly Eaten by a light so bright it burned.

  The memory hit like a physical weight, forcing her back into the pitch-black of the inland grove.

  Tenia’s hands were stained a dark, chlorophyll-green.

  She was kneeling in the dirt, her fingers digging into the base of the Pandanus shrubs. She had to twist the stems until they snapped—a sharp Scritch-hiss that vibrated through her fingernails.

  The leaves were serrated; they bit into her palms, leaving tiny, burning paper-cuts that the salt-air feasted on.

  She looked up at Lani, her vision blurring from the sweat-salt in her eyes. Her voice felt vellum-thin, barely a ghost’s breath:

  "Lani... do you think Maluma is going to be alright handling them alone?"

  The white light flickered, and suddenly the heat was replaced by a Numbing-Cold.

  Tenia was waist-deep in the river’s mouth. The water here didn't move; it sat in a Stagnant-Stink of rotting mangroves and silt.

  Her job was the "Heavy Wash"—beating the thick, salt-crusted sailcloths against the flat river-stones to soften them.

  Through the splash of the grey water, she let her fear out:

  "They’ve been gone too long. Someone would tell us, wouldn't they?"

  The village was a Smoky-Orange blur. Tenia was hunched over a communal fire-pit, stirring a pot of boiling coconut husks used for dye.

  The air was a Thick-Bitterness, the kind of smoke that clings to the back of the throat and makes the eyes weep.

  She was supposed to be watching the flame, but she kept staring at the treeline.

  The heat from the pit was singing the hair on her forearms, but she felt Clammy. A drop of cold sweat ran down her neck, clashing with the fire’s glow.

  She reached out, her hand locking onto Lani’s arm. Lani’s skin was slick with salt and oil, and Tenia felt the Muscle-Jerk of Lani’s irritation under her grip. She leaned into the heat and whispered:

  "Is Maluma actually safe?"

  ?The Blinding-White snapped shut.

  ?The night returned with a Heavy-Thump of heat, forcing the Bittersweet-Smoke of the memory out of Tenia’s chest.

  Tenia still held a hand to her mouth in silence, the taste of fear like Old Smoke. "I didn't know you were that observative."

  She broke from her position, her palms tightening until the skin felt Serrated and dry. "Oooh, I'm just so worried. What is going on with me?"

  The woman's indifferent expression broke, a small look of pity appearing in her eyes. "Look, you just need to rest for a bit and trust everything will work out. Maluma is an intelligent man. He knows what he's doing."

  Tenia walked around. "You seem to know awfully well, and calm."

  Woman: "It doesn't need practice."

  Tenia: "Maybe if I trust his capabilities more, I wouldn't be so paranoid."

  Woman: "That's right."

  Tenia: "If I just believed he could do it and not doubt him all the time."

  The woman froze, her mind performing a Internal Scan to see what she meant. "...Yeahhh."

  Tenia stood and hit a fist on her palm with a Solid smack: "Trustworthy, like the Bond-Of-The-Council men three Coral-Spans ago."

  The woman shook her head, the movement Muted and slow. "You're missing the point entirely."

  Tenia halted, the Sss-shhh-low of the wind the only sound left. "You haven't heard any news recently, did you?"

  The woman rubbed the back of her head, her hand disappearing into her Matted hair. She gestured with a palm. "Well... I heard one thing. I didn't think it would be that important to tell anyone, but I got told a few people were making plans to leave."

  Tenia gave her a slight browed look. "Leave?... Who told you?"

  The setting was a hive of organized motion. Wide-hulled outriggers sat nestled in the shade of the trees, their high prow-posts carved with the symbols of the ancestors.

  Men moved like bronze statues caught in a lightning storm between the vessels, their skin glistening with a mixture of sweat and coconut oil.

  A man worked in a disciplined silence, lifting a heavy woven basket filled with dried pandanus and water gourds into the center of the crafts.

  Along the sides, others gripped the sheet lines—the thick ropes used to control the sails. They leaned back, bracing their feet against the sand to pull the lines taut, ensuring the masts were secure before the push into the surf.

  A man standing just off the boarding plank raised his hand, signaling to the rowers and the line-holders.

  "Alright. That's everyone. Set sail!" he shouted, his voice cutting through the sound of the crashing waves.

  "Don't take off!"

  Teniko’s voice cracked like a whip from the treeline. She was sprinting, her feet kicking up plumes of white coral dust as she closed the distance to the man near the hull.

  She arrived breathless, her chest heaving, nearly colliding with him. "We can't leave yet."

  A Tall man turned, arching a brow in a slow, calculated look of skepticism.

  "My kids aren't with me. They're on their way."

  The man placed his hands on his hips, his expression softening into one of cold, practical logic. "Well, they better make it. We are already behind schedule. The tide waits for no one. I need you to work with me here."

  Teniko didn't argue. She turned her head, looking back toward the inland path. Her face was a mask of concerning weight, her eyes searching the empty trail for any sign of her children.