Kicking sand up into the air and muttering words his mother told him shamed the gods, Lagi continued into the jungle as per Ailani’s orders. When he closed his eyes, he saw Kaipo’s face standing over him, hot, bothered, and elated -- the face of a man willing to fight to prove his dedication to the woman he loved. He imagined the women standing watch to the show he had just orchestrated were getting hot and bothered as well. All he had succeeded in doing was pushing Samaria closer to Kaipo. He had only aided Kaipo in proving he was the strongest and most worthy of her.

“Please,” he prayed to the gods aloud, “save me from this misery.” More than embarrassed, he was ashamed, and he wondered why he was ever born into this tribe. He would never have his powers, never be a warrior, never choose a mate, never be a man.

Maybe it was just the spirits finally kicking in or maybe his emotions were just emanating more physically than usual, but a strong heat rose to Lagi’s cheeks, as if they were being touched by fire. He lifted a hand to massage the back of his neck and came to find that it was wet with sweat. A small walk away, there was a spring he knew of where he could cool down. The others could wait a little while longer for the firewood, he thought.

He began his path to the spring as the noise from the beach gradually muffled, softening slowly until it was all but silent and replaced by the melodic clicking of branches breaking under his feet and the songs of jungle insects. As he approached the spring, he saw a figure lying on the ground just at its base.

“Samaria?”