The islands were lush and spread out. Palm trees swayed in a calm breeze, rustling the fronds, gently shifting the shade below. We, the Nari’e, lived underneath them, in harmony with the other islands formed by the sacred volcanoes. 

We are innovative, overcoming the obstacles presented by the sea and the sand, aided by the strength of the islands and the ingenuity of its people. Though the cities are spread out, across the islands like freckles on the face of the blue ocean, we are all Nari’e. The islands, the trees, the sand, the animals, they all know it.

The sun shines down on us, and we smile. Our children will inherit this paradise and grow upon it, like generations before us. 

Some of those children run in circles around a fire, the white smoke idling up into the air, mixing with the salty breeze. The waves push, up and down the beach, as they always do; incessant, reliable, and powerful. Their call is neverending, a promise of adventure, strength, and natural balance. The children laugh, their giggles blending into the soothing rhythm of the waves. 

I look up into the sky, the sun blinding as much as it illuminates. I squint. The volcanoes are tall, their points piercing the clouds. Though they have been dormant for years, the last island they birthed occurred in the days of my grandfather’s great-grandfather, we still always watch. Everything could change in a single moment. 

I looked down at my work in my hands, the net I was mending a tedious, yet important task. There were many jobs for us at the island, and mine was no small one. There is no small job when your community must work together to survive. Of course, I was no leader, the prized inventor, but I knew what we all did was important. My fingers, thick though deft, twisted the rope, knotting it.

A boom sounded, louder than anything my ears had ever experienced. What could that have been? The volcano? The sky darkened, that sun no longer the source of light it was a moment ago. I looked up to see what had changed, and I did not even need to squint. 

The clouds were gray, thick, nearly black. It seemed to originate on the highest tip of the sacred volcano, as I had suspected, the one who had blessed us with the island we lived upon. Was it active once more? 

“Tūtū Ka’iulani!” I shouted, yelling for our leader. She was the inventor, the one we counted on to help guide us through life’s challenges. “The mountain!”

I saw her head perk up from across the way. She had been speaking to a child next to her cottage, a simple structure, covered with palm fronds and supported with creative assistance from the trees and surrounding rocks. Her eyes met mine, then flicked up to the black, growing clouds. Those sharp eyes narrowed. 

“Shelter!” she shouted back, herding in the children that had been running around the fire pit. “The caves!” 

The caves were a place of last resort, a hollow near the beach, formed by an air pocket within the lava eons ago, when the island was first formed. It was a safe place, hopefully, and whatever was happening now, we prayed it would be enough. 

Another boom sounded, farther away, the aftershock echoing around on the surrounding peaks, the other islands that were within sight. Our people ran, grabbing their families, scooping up children, supporting the elderly, and rushing as fast as we could to the caves. There was no time to save anything else until the worst was over. 

When before only the clouds had become dark, now the air in front of us was nothing more than dust. It choked us, the clogging lungs, coating the insides of mouths and noses, freezing our bodies with the pain. 

But the caves were a refuge. We waited it out, heard the incessant booms, what felt like explosions, though it had to be the volcano’s sudden pressure letting loose. There was no other explanation that the danger that lived among us, the one we were constantly aware of. The children cowered next to their parents, who soothed them. The parents looked to Ka’iulani, the voice of reason and direction. Her face was fierce and determined, and showed not an ounce of fear. I envied her confidence, but not her responsibility. I was just a net maker and mender, nobody looked to me for solutions like they did from her. 

“We wait until the smoke clears,” she said in a dignified, hushed voice. “Then we check the damage. Whatever we have to rebuild, we can. We will overcome, as we always have.”

I nodded solemnly, energized by her optimistic words. Her reassurance was more than just a hope, it was a promise. Like the rest of us, I believed in our inventor to lead us out of this crisis. We would persevere, as the Nari’e are known to do. 

It could have been hours, or days, or years. Time was meaningless in the cave, our stomachs too fearful to feel hunger. Though after a while, the inability to sleep from the incessant booming, the fear of feeling trapped in the cave like a cage, and the lack of food or water took its toll. Our numbers began to dwindle, the starvation and dehydration trimming away our weakest of peoples. 

I didn’t know how long we had been in the caves before the booming stopped, but it was long enough for our number to be reduced to nearly half. All of the eldery we had reduced from the initial barrage were gone, mourned by their survivors. The children that had played around the fire pit had lost their cheer long ago, their hollowed cheeks and weak whimpers their badge of strength that they’d survived. 

But the booms had stopped. The silence was almost deafening; we had become so used to the sounds, that it was suspicious when they no longer occurred. Was it safe to check? To see if our islands had survived? What would we be returning to - was there anything at all? 

Ka’iulani stood, every our fearless leader. “I will go and see,” she said. “Kawika, Keoki, you’re with me.” 

I blinked. My name is Kawika. Why had Tūtū Ka’iulani chosen me? I looked around, curious why a simple net mender was her first choice to venture out into the unknown. My ribs were showing, my cheeks as hollow and gaunt as the next person. As much as I felt honored, I was terrified. I wanted to know what was out there, but it was safe in the cave. Would I meet my end out there, in the unknown?

“Come,” she bid. 

I stood, my legs shaky. I would do as she asked, though I felt fear. For the Nari’e, or what was left of us, I would do whatever it took. 

The light was blinding when we exited the cave. The water was strewn with debris, remnants of our houses and villages floated in the surf, smoking. The filtering shade of the palm trees were no more, the fronds burnt off. I examined the wreckage of our livelihood with squinted eyes. The volcano still smoked, but it had begun to recede, though the sky was still choked with dark clouds, the sun filtered through as best it could. Occasionally a ray would poke through and pierce my eyes. 

Ka’iulani looked grim. “Let’s see if any of the livestock survived.”

We kept a small pen of chickens and pigs, though they mainly were left to roam free. If there were any left in the pen, I would be ecstatic. We walked through what was left of the village, which wasn’t much. It was completely decimated. 

But when we approached the pen, I was in more shock than I’d been since that started - and that was something I’d thought impossible. A single boar stood there, its back to us, amidst a pile of corpses of other pigs. The chickens were a bloody mess as well, either trampled by the boars, or ruined from the debris and explosions. It was hard to tell. But how had this single boar survived?

Ka’iulani clucked for it, calling its attention. The fence was strong when we had built it, and though it somehow stood, its strength was waned. I was surprised it could hold up its own weight. The boar turned around and screamed, its tusks a bloody mess, a partial snout of another boar stuck at the end, dripping. The boar’s eyes were wild, a deep, vicious red. I’d never seen an animal's eyes look like that. 

It charged, leaping over the pile of its compatriots and jumping headfirst through the meager fence. 

It went through and bored into Ka’iulani. 

I could hear her screams even now as I ran. Keoki and I turned tail as the boar was busy with Ka’iulani, tears of desperation washing the dust from my face. 

“We have to get to the boats!” I shouted to Keoki, my voice and throat hoarse. “The animals have become poisoned!”

“Some of the boats in storage might have survived,” Keoki shouted back, his breath heavy from the thick air and the exertion. “I’ll check the boats, you collect any food you can find. Rendezvous at the cave!”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

We split up, Keoki heading for the reserve boats stashed in another nearby cave, while I headed for the gardens. I didn’t have much hope for them, given the state of the livestock, but it was worth a look. 

I arrived at what used to be the gardens. It was nothing more than charred sand, once filled with a variety of fruits, vegetables, and whatever we could grow in the harsh tropical environment. I bent down to inspect what was left of a special plant we used for tea, called Kinipopo. It had hope to survive, as it was a peculiar plant that burrows underneath the sand, protected by the layers of dirt. We used the root to make a medicinal tea, more for pleasure than anything of sustenance. 

I dug one up; it was intact. I scanned the other bushes; everything else was above ground, and it was all dust. I pocketed as many Kinipopo as I could fit into my satchel, and continued on running. I didn’t know if that boar was following me, or if any of the other animals had been similarly affected. If they had, there were much more dangerous creatures out there than the tame boars we had kept. I shuddered to think if the mysterious poison had retreated into the waters. 

I returned to the cave, eager to return to a familiar safe place, though I knew I carried the worst news of all. I steeled myself before entering; praying that Keoki had arrived first. 

I crawled inside, seeing only terrified faces. “Where’s Keoki?”

“What do you mean?” said a worried mother. “He should be with you!”

“Worse!” said a middle aged man. “Where’s Tūtū Ka’iulani?”

I blanched. “She… didn’t make it. The boar… the wildlife have been affected… poisoned… the gardens, burnt…” I wiped away the sweat on my brow. “Keoki might still be readying the boats. We have to leave this place!”

The people exchanged glances among themselves, flitting their eyes between me, my bulging pockets of Kinipopo, and the exit of the cave. 

“We are ready,” said the middle aged man who had asked where Ka’iulani was. “We will follow, Kawika. Show the way.”

I gulped. “I’m no inventor,” I pleaded. “I am no leader.” I licked my lips. “But I will do my best for our people. Come.”

I turned around and headed back out in the deathly light. The caves where we stored our boats were similar to the one we had hidden in, though much bigger. Hopefully, it had been shrouded enough from the craziness of the disaster. For it was nothing less than that, a disaster of catastrophic proportions. 

I extended a hand to help each person out, making sure the last of us had cleared the cave. I was nearing exhaustion, the effect of no water and no food weighing on us all, the exertion nearly depleting what little energy I had left. I glanced at the Kinipopo in my pocket. It would have to do, and we all needed some strength. I grabbed one, chewed a bitter chunk from it, and swallowed. It was worse than I thought; the effect of brewing the root in tea takes out much of the bitterness that I now experienced. But it would do. 

“To the boats!” I shouted, nearly coughing on the sudden exhalation. I carefully made my way around the island, keeping an eye out for Keoki. “The cave isn’t far, now.”

They followed, hope in their eyes. It surprised me. I was but a net mender, nothing special. They had no reason to follow me - except that I was the only one left. I glanced back up athte volcano, the clouds still obscuring its tip, though they were beginning to thin. Or, perhaps that was my wishful thinking. This place would never be the same. 

A few minutes later, the entrance to the cave was in sight. 

So was Keoki. 

He lay in a tide pool, his eyes open and bloody, a creature feasting on his insides. It was a humongous vulture, its eyes red and beady, just like the boar’s before. Keoki had almost made it. Tears welled up in my eyes again. How many would we lose before we were safe? 

We would have to do something about this vulture. It blocked the way to the boats, our only salvation now. I scanned the ground for something, anything. What would an inventor do? What would Ka’iulani have done? 

There was nothing except rocks and debris. The vulture hadn’t spotted us yet, somehow all involved within its feast of Keoki’s bones. If I could distract it… it might be enough for us to get through to the boats and escape. 

“Be ready to run,” I whispered. 

The group behind me nodded, eyes never leaving the vulture. My hands lit upon a smoldering piece of wood. It burned, but it would do. If I could throw it far enough…My hands and arms were strong from my work. It would have to be enough. 

I tossed the red-hot, charred wood towards the smoking trees, the opposite direction of the caves. The vulture perked its head up, distracted by the sound. Slowly, it looked around, curious. I had its attention, but it returned to its meal, though its eyes were on the trees. I needed something more.

I spied another piece of debris; this one a remnant stone from our construction. I picked it up, slowly, readying to throw. 

I tossed it again in the same direction. This time, the vulture straightened up completely. It stared at the trees again, intently, determined to see whatever was making the sound. 

“Come on,” I said. It had to take the bait. All we had to do was make a short run for it. The boats were probably still stocked with a few rations and maybe a couple bows if we were lucky. We just had to get there.

The vulture shook its feathers, ruffling them up to look larger. Good, it was preparing to advance. It took a few steps away from Keoki, turning towards the trees. One step, then another. And another. 

I didn’t know how much longer it would be distracted.

“Now!” I whispered. 

I leapt forward, knowing that any motion would alert the vulture, but also counting on the boats as our escape plan. There was no other way! We couldn’t danger the surf; it was a dangerous tide to begin with, and we had no idea if the poison had seeped into the water. 

We ran across the beach, footsteps throwing up sand particles like a dust storm. 

The vulture turned back around, but we were nearly there. I pushed myself harder than I’d ever in my life, begging for more and more speed from my limbs. I pumped my arms, willing my momentum to increase. 

The vulture gave chase, its swift legs quickly gaining on us. 

But the boats were so close now. 

The vulture screeched a horrible sound, a call, a death threat, a promise. It stepped over Keoki, already abandoning its previous feast. 

But the boat cave was nearly within reach. I could see the hulls, a glint of hope. We just had to seize it. 

A scream came from the back of the group. The vulture had caught up to the slowest of us, one of the older adults who had survived so far. He screamed, the vulture piercing his shoulder with its massive claws, its red eyes shining. 

I couldn’t turn back, I couldn’t stop, I couldn’t save this man. But here we were at the boats. I rushed to the first one, and was met with a bow. A quiver of arrows tossed next to it. I threw the quiver over my back, pulled out an arrow, and readied the bow. I nodded my head to the others who rushed over to the boats, readying the positions, some tying off, others prepping the sails. 

I walked back out to the beach. We needed time. The vulture had made quick work of the man, but it was a threat as long as it could fly. I was but a simple net mender, but I had to be able to make this work. I notched the arrow, aimed for the bird’s shoulder, where the wing met the body, and let loose. 

It screeched again, one of shock and sur[rise. I notched another arrow and let loose. It met its mark, a fact I knew when the vulture screamed again. It dropped the man, eyes focused on me. Blood dripped from its injured shoulder. 

I notched another arrow.

This one missed. 

Hands shaking, I walked backwards, making eye contact with the wretched bird. I notched another arrow, nearly dropping it. I aimed for the other wing, hoping it’d be enough. 

I missed again. 

But this time, instead of hitting the sand behind the sickened bird, the arrow dug itself deep into the vulture’s breast plumage. The bird sputtered, blood spurting from its mouth as it screeched a final death wail. 

“Go!” I shouted, running back to the boat and hopping inside. “There’s sure to be more!”

The boats began to push against the surf, a few people using the last of their energy to free them from their restraints. The oars shoved us out beyond the first wave, and the next. The boats crested over the raging ocean, using the pull of the sea to our advantage. We were past the reef. 

Enough space had come between us and the island, our little fleet of boats and survivors minuscule against the spanse of the ocean and the islands. I looked back to survey the damage. Each volcano of all of the visible islands was smoking, burning. All of the trees I could see were charred and black, or gone entirely. The entire landscape was a hellscape, of red fire and flames, smoking remnants of civilization. it was nothing like it had once been. From here, I could hear the screams of more vultures, see specks of creatures fighting on the beach. The animals had gone wild, savage, mad. this was no longer our refuge, our oasis, our home. 

“Tūtū Kawika…” said a child next to me. She tugged at my shirt. “Where do we go now?”

I blinked. I didn’t know what to do. 

“Um, you can call me Kawika. I’m no Tūtū.” I took a deep breath. “Closest land.”

“Aruga?” asked the child. 

I looked down on her, seeing her hungry eyes and frightened face. She looked up at me with a hope and a trust, one that I didn’t know what to do with. I rustled in my pocket for a Kinipopo, and handed it to her. “Eat,” I said. “We will find a new home.”

I glanced back at the islands, bid goodbye to the home we had once known. I closed my eyes, prayed forgiveness to the sea and the sky for leaving behind Ka’iulani and Keoki both. For some reason, I was all that they had left. 

A glint caught my attention from the bottom of the boat. It was a dagger, left over from the rationed weapons that had been stored in the boats. I bent over to retrieve it, turning it over in my hands. 

I pulled my hair on my temple and the left side of my head tight, away from my scalp. pressing the knife as close to the skin without damaging it, I sliced, severing the hair. It fell loose in my hand. That was for Keoki. 

I did the same on the right side, pulling the hair straight out from my head. Again, I sliced, the strands fluttering down. And that was for Ka’iulani. It wasn’t the ceremonial process, but in light of things, it would do for now. It would have to be enough to honor them and their sacrifices; a burden I now carried. 

 I grit my teeth, staring at the horizon, the smoking, destroyed islands behind me. Whatever happened, it was unlike any volcano eruption that had ever been recorded. I could only hope we can find refuge in Aruga, our neighbors to the north.