‘Boy.’

  I felt warmth. I opened my eyes to the light of Ra but staring down instead was the old man. I was in his shadow once again. ‘Boy. What tribe?’ The white hair was pulled back tight on the top knot, same as it had always was, only his face appeared younger.

  ‘Um, I can’t remember. Where are we?’

  The old man raised his brow.‘Look around, you don’t recognise this forest?’

  I sat up and observed the greenery. Everything was wet. I’d slept through it but I could smell and see the rain. It remained in pools of exposed banyan roots, dripping off the fronds of thick fern, and soaked into the ground below. I got up on my feet and winced, expecting pain. No pain. I waited longer for it but it never arrived. Where was I? Decayed and limbless kahikatea lay over each other like bodies hidden among the ponga and forest scrub, while the ancient alive observed in silence, mourning the proceedings. It was only when a Moa thumped by screeching a warning I recognised the forest.

  ‘Is this Autara? Am I back on Kafiki?’

  ‘Where else?’ The old man gave me a frown. ‘What’s wrong with you?’

  I stepped towards a fern, dragging my fingers along its fronds collecting rain drops. ‘I was starving to death when two women fell from the sky. Back on my beach. Then Tawhiri got mad at me and started throwing fish.’

  ‘On a beach with two gods then it rained fish? Are you sure you weren’t having a good time and that Tawhiri was gifting you a feast?’

  ‘No.’ I felt weary already. ‘It was my island and they were the children of gods and demanding a sacrifice, my blood.’

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  ‘Which ones?’

  ‘Which ones what?

  ‘Gods.’

  ‘I never found out.’

  ‘Because you weren’t listening.’

  ‘No. They attacked me.’

  ‘I see. And then you woke up here.’

  ‘No. I woke up somewhere else first. At a feast.’

  ‘Of course. A basket of crays and a bowl of puga was it? And if you say you can’t remember where you’re from? Maybe you’re not from anywhere anymore, maybe you’re stuck in your mind boy.’

  I shook my head for a moment hoping for a memory to fall loose. ’Nothing.’

  The old man cleared his nose. ‘Nothing is about right. Follow me then. I know my way out of here.’

  I got into step a few paces behind, a familiar pace. The old man was taller and walked without a limp. ‘No scars and he’s not yet got his god-stick in hand. Another dream but this time a memory.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I’m not lost. I’m just remembering. I remember today. Me waking up in Autara forest with you standing over me. You blocked out the sun like maui himself and raised me up from the dirt. I couldn’t remember my name and I can’t now so I followed you, hoping you would come up with something. I remember the spear strapped to your back and the scarred green lines of tattoo describing incredible feats. I remember asking about the colour and being amazed by the answers. I should ask again.’

  ‘Ask what boy?’

  ‘Why do your tattoos glow green old man?’

  He stopped and turned. ‘Why? Because I was a hero once and the gods wrote those deeds into my skin as a record. The scars capture victories and losses, ancestries, and are a vessel to retain mana, the source of all spiritual energy. But as for the colour, well I don’t really know. That was their decision not mine. If it were mine I would have chosen red, for the blood of my enemies.’

  ‘I remember you saying that. I remember you now, Faturaki.’

  ‘And do you recall your name?’

  ‘I do. I am Howaru your adopted son.’

  ‘Good. Because it is time to wake up and get ready for my arrival. Kafiki needs you back. We have a job to do!’

  Howaru bolted up and muttered, “enough of these bloody dreams already.” Crawling from his knees to unsteady legs he walked to the most eastern point of the island and scanned the horizon until he spotted it. A black freckle on the face of Takaroa. The waka was southeast of his position, heading away from Kafiki Island towards his.