“Did my daughter Arahuta drop by this island recently?”

  Howaru stood in disbelief at what he was seeing. This woman, undoubtedly a god, was twice the height of a normal person. She strided towards him; hair dark and slick and skin golden, marked in blue lines with ancestry and deeds of Atua. Howaru felt fear clench his stomach, the same set upon him by Arahuta. When she was less than ten feet away, as if sensing his weariness, she stopped. “Are you Howaru?” The voice sounded strange, as if she were speaking underwater.

  He swallowed then replied, “yes.”

  “And did my daughter Arahuta fall from the sky here yesterday?” Her voice became clearer. “Did she fight you?”

  “She told me my name had been summoned,” said Howaru. “A blood sacrifice required.”

  “Was she alone?”

  “No. There was a cousin, Loha.”

  “I see. It is becoming clear now what they are up to.”

  The Atua turned towards the ocean. Worrying she would leave without a further explanation he asked, “Why was I summoned?”

  She stood in moonlight cast by the shoulder of Takaroa. “Why?”

  “What have I done to anger the gods so much that my blood is required?”

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  “What makes you think you’ve angered anyone?” She turned to him and he felt a pull towards her. A foot - his right - stepped ahead without permission. “Who are you o great god?”

  Next stepped the left followed quickly by the right again. His awkward footfall and struggling face didn’t go unnoticed by the god. Was this what it was like to be in the presence of a god? To be drawn to something you could not control.

  She smiled, amused. “I forget my pull is the same as the tide itself. Men are especially drawn to my presence, like tiny fish to coral. Or are you more of an eel Howaru? Wanting to bury yourself inside one of my holes?”

  “Aue,” Howard lamented, “I am just a man as I made clear to your daughter. But please great goddess, who are you and do you mean to carry out the order sent from below?”

  “Don’t you know?” Her smile remained easy. “I am your god. I am Na-Mala-o-Kala’i. Goddess of water and the sea.”

  “You are Na-Mala-o-Kala’i? Of the West?”

  “In the-” she stopped for a moment to inspect herself. Satisfied she posed and continued, “in the flesh I suppose.”

  Howaru swallowed away the lump beginning in his throat. What before were legs betraying him now were footsteps aligned in agreement with growing intent. Just the act of standing in front of the goddess, of holding her attention, felt like standing in the middle of a tidal surge. “I worship Takaroa from the eastern seas,” he managed. “But I have heard of your name spoken among the Ahukai and the east coast rohe of Kafiki.”

  Her spiritual force pulsated outwards; invisible tendrils pulled at him from head to toe. “You’ve heard of me? I’m impressed.”

  Howaru stopped within reach. “I was the Champion of Kafiki,” he said, “and got around the island a bit.”

  “And am I the kind of god you could find yourself worshipping?”

  “I…” Words escaped him for the moment, his body helpless as he found himself reaching for chest. “Takaroa is not a jealous god,” he murmured. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

  “Then come worship Howaru.”