Wind cried and waves crashed at his feet and Howaru recognised the sounds of his island once more. He tried to open his eyes but they were sealed shut like a pipi. Pain welcomed him everywhere, but the worst of it was saved for a swollen, broken face. Lesser sensations whispered below the roar of his head wounds: a full bladder, gnawing hunger, dry mouth, dull ache across his sides, and finally an erect tira, passageway for his returning spirit. He scraped his eyes clear and sniffed at sticky fingers. The scent of blood lingered.

  Sitting up on his elbows was enough of an effort for him to break into sweat. Feverish and shaky, Howaru wondered if he was just ill or truly dying. Testing his nose he confirmed the break while his jaw bulged, numb to the touch. A memory of angry gods startled Howaru, and he searched around uncertain of being alone.

  He recognised the outcropping of rock among the breakers as his favoured crabbing spot. Behind him were dunes and the way south, while east and west lay an empty beach. It was high tide. A strong easterly tugged at the tops of the swells while the air was thick with the promise of rain. Relieved to be alone he lay back to rest some more, listening to the waves.

  ‘Get up.’

  Howaru asked the ocean, “What happened Takaroa?”

  ‘Get up!’

  "Why? Why should I get up?! Have you found an empty waka for me to sail away in yet?”

  ‘Get up!’

  "If not, I should just lay here to let my spirit escape for good!”

  ‘Get up, Howaru!’ The waves carried on demanding, ‘rise up you fool. A storm approaches. Tawhiri my brother intends to wipe you from this island!’

  Howaru called out to the sea, "Please Takaroa! Give me a sign that my time on this rock has ended! I’ve had enough! I had enough five seasons past!”

  Waves swirled dangerously beyond the reef as the storm announced itself in rolling thunder from the east. “Welcome Tawhiri!” Howaru smiled, skin cracked on dried lips, drawing blood. “So glad you could join me here on my little rock!”

  He searched the skies above for the wounds of Loha and Aruhuta, but all he could see was the arrival of Tawhiri in threatening cloud. Struggling up on his feet by way of hands and knees he lurched forward several steps until steady. Back on his feet Howaru laughed, shouting up towards the incoming clouds, "You hear me o great god of storms?!”

  Tawhiri, a god forever angered in separation from his earth mother and sky father, replied from the east in a ferocious gust, needling heavy rain into him. “Is this it then?” Howaru shouted above the screaming winds. “First, the gods starved me for a month, then they shot two down from another sky to end me. And now Tawhiri wants a go? I’m right here storm god, do your worse!”

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  Tawhiri’s reply was wordless but the effect immediate as the storm increased, battering wave and beach and Howaru, who leaned in low to the eastern gale, just to remain on his feet.

  “Now Tawhiri shows up to deal the final blow?” His temper had risen, lifted up by the storm, and he carried on his own bluster. “What is it I have done to offend? All my life I’ve proclaimed you gods at every chance! When I defeated an enemy I thanked the god of war instead of my own strength! When I hunted moa I thanked the forest gods and not my aim! When I fished a whale I thanked Takaroa and not my carved spear! When I harvested kumara I thanked the protector of crops and not the slaves who buried tubers! Have I missed a god out? Is it the fertility gods I’ve ignored, for not thanking them I was born a captive! Because if so I will never be sorry for that!”

  The black cloud above him gave a thundering reply.

  “Blow me away then?” He turned south and began walking towards the dunes, waving himself in the wind. “Here look! I’m ready to pay for my offences in spirit! Haul it away so that my body remains to become a feast for the crabs who live upon this beach!”

  CRACK! Lightning struck a coconut palm in the stand above the dunes only thirty paces away, splitting it like kindling. Howaru shrugged, Tawhiri has a bad aim with his lightning. Either that or he means not to kill. Deciding not to provoke the weather god any further he concentrated on moving towards the lagoon where he could find the west path towards the palm grove he’d built a home among. Howaru climbed the sands and began to limp his way through the stretch of jungle towards the lagoon. Lighting struck another palm sending branches and pieces of trunk flying his way. He dodged the first but was swept off his feet by a second and third. Howaru shook himself free of the branches, rising to his feet as another lightning bolt struck the debris he’d just left behind. Each step was exhausting. Running felt foreign as if his legs had forgotten what they were built to do. He wondered if the fight with Aruhuta and Loha had left him dead and his spirit had truly escaped for a time.

  Howaru rounded the lagoon bay when something struck him hard on the shoulder. Bang! And again on his head. Searching around him he noticed two fish flapping on the sand. He picked up the nearest one. “A good sized snapper?!” And as he lifted his attention skyward to ask the question a large feke rained down upon him in answer, embracing his face with its many arms. Blinded, Howaru grabbed at a couple of tentacles, peeling the creature off his skin. Each sucker left a painful round mark and he tossed it far into the lagoon as more fish rained down upon him.

  Howaru lurched forward on legs wanting to fold in. Fish flew from all sides. He covered his head with hands, trying to avoid the downpour. Again, his spirit was unsure of its place in the world as if his wairua had spent too long adrift, a waka without a home to hoe towards. When he made it to the safety of the treeline his head felt like an oversized moai. The sensation continued; a severing of body and spirit as destructive as lightning to palm. Tawhiri blew more fish his way smashing a tiring body with hundreds of blows equal to those of Aruhuta. Howaru dropped to his knees cowering beneath Tawhiri’s fury, wondering if this was revenge for his defiance to the gods over the years. His sight began to fade certain now Tawhiri was fishing for his spirit. “Please Tawhiri! I am on the hook but I won’t fight you. Take my life so I can escape this cursed island once and for all!”

  His world spun, his balance left him, and he crashed to the ground in a heap while the fish continued to pile over.