Shahla couldn’t get a wink of sleep during the week-long voyage. It wasn’t as though she was accustomed to luxury, though. She’d lived most of her life out in the deserts with her Bedouin tribe. She could stand being on the water, but she didn’t have sea legs yet. It didn’t help that the roiling waves rocked the boat as if trying to constantly shake her awake.

She didn’t know how the others could do it. Najeem slept soundly, while his body twisted and morphed in unnatural ways to fit in one of the canoe’s two hulls. Shakti lounged on the boards between the hulls as if she was relaxing on the beach.

But Shahla was even more amazed at how Vai had spent every moment awake, with his eyes glued to the sky in silent concentration from the back of the canoe and didn’t seem the slightest bit tired.

Shahla’s eyelids felt as heavy as lead, but she could never keep them closed for more than a few seconds.

Just as she felt tired enough to maybe keep her eyes closed, Vai shouted through the night, “Land!”

Shahla jerked up from her position slumping against the mast, “What? Where?”

“We’re about to hit land, sand lovers,” Vai grinned.

Shahla looked behind her out into the darkness ahead of the boat. The dim moonlight revealed no land, “How can you tell?”

“The stars are in the correct positions,” Vai said.

“So you don’t even know?” Najeem groaned as he rubbed his eyes.

“Of course I know. I’m a wayfinder, not a shaman,” Vai scoffed.

Vai tied up his rope and clambered up the mast once again and shouted into the darkness in his native language.

“What the hell was that?” Najeem asked.

Vai shushed him, causing silence to fall on the boat, save for the creaking mast trying to support a man’s weight. His gaze was stuck to the ocean out in front of the boat.

“Nau mai ki te kainga, teina!” a distant voice cried.

Vai slid down the mast, “I called us a welcoming party.”

The echoes of rapid drum beats started as the soft orange glow of an island alight with torches and fires appeared out of the darkness.

The voice of men in concert with the percussion made them sound like war drums.

“This doesn’t sound very welcoming,” Shahla said, drawing into herself. A sword dance was welcoming. A good meal was welcoming. The sounds of a legion of angry men was very much so not welcoming.

Vai smiled, saying nothing in response. How was she supposed to take that?

The drums quickly died down for a bit as they drew closer to land. Close enough for Shahla to see the rows upon rows of men and women who stood on the beach.

Then the music started again. It started with heavy, slow drum beats that could be heard as the torches lit for them and trails of orange left by men spinning flaming sticks came into view.

Then, the quick, rhythmic beat of wooden clap drums joined them. And as the people on the shore could be made out in detail, the stomps of feet and slamming of chests matched the drums.

Najeem asked, “Are they attacking?”

“No!” Vai exclaimed, “They’re dancing!”

Two lines of men on the beach whooped and hissed as Hokule’a breached coastal waters. The dance’s leader started to chant, followed by the men’s reverberating voices.

“Are you sure?” Shakti asked, turning towards Vai. Hell, if even Shakti was confused, there was bound to be some merit to that assumption.

“Well, it’s a war dance, but it’s for more than just that,” Vai shrugged. “Just enjoy the performance!”

Shahla turned back to the island, her hand palming the pommel of her dagger. She glanced to see Najeem gripping the hilt of his scimitar.

The dancers went quiet, digging their fists in the sand as Hokule’a slid onto the shore. As the boat came to a stop, the clap drums started up a rapid and overwhelming rhythm, signaling a line of female dancers sitting on their knees in front of the men to start their dance.

Their motions were much faster, yet smoother than the men’s dance as they gyrated their hips and wrists above their heads.

With unwavering balance, they lifted themselves from their sitting position to standing, where the dancers started to slowly spin in time with the drums.

The men suddenly rose up with quick, rigid movements, their arms moving in time with the women’s feet.

As the tempo of the drums came to a slow, the women returned to their sitting positions and posed. The dance soon came to a close.

Then the men stepped forward, roaring and drawing weapons.

Najeem instantaneously drew his scimitar.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Vai exclaimed, “Back off! They mean no harm!”

Najeem looked at Vai, then to Shahla in complete confusion and outrage. Shahla signaled with her hand for him to stay his weapon, which elicited a scoff, but he obeyed.

One of the men stepped forward and set a single leaf on the ground before backing up and thrusting out a spear, proffering it in challenge to Vai.

Najeem glared at the warriors, undoubtedly spinning up a thousand different ways to get himself and Shahla out of this situation alive.

Shahla watched intently, her hand never moving from her weapon, as Vai stepped off the boat, maintaining eye contact with the warrior as he picked up the leaf.

A sand grain dropping on stone could break the reverent silence held by the dancers.

Shahla and the other two were paralyzed with a mix of confusion and fear, not sure of what to do when the oldest woman among the dancers began to sing with an unfamiliar cadence and haunting speech.

As the singing continued, an elderly...well, Shahla couldn’t tell if this person was a man or woman, but they made their way through the crowd and pressed their forehead and nose against Vai’s as if they were old friends.

As they exchanged words, Shahla looked to Najeem, who seemed just as bewildered as her.

“W-Who’s this?” Shahla asked, daring to whisper.

Shakti cleared her throat. She seemed far more relaxed now as she whispered, “We’re okay. I think. That is Mahu Kaeo, the one who taught Vai wayfinding. I think we need to go greet them and their entourage.”

Shahla didn’t move until Najeem followed Shakti off the boat.

Three islanders, two warriors and one dancer woman, approached them. One of the warriors abruptly cupped Shahla’s cheek and took her hand, paralyzing her in fear as he pressed his forehead and nose to her in the same greeting Vai had used.

Shahla didn’t dare move until the warrior let go of her and backed away. Najeem had a similar look of bewilderment on his face, including some color on his cheeks as he let go of his grip on his scimitar’s hilt and allowed the dancer to greet him.

The islanders then began cheering and started to make their way up the beach towards where Shahla presumed this festival was being held.

Then Vai’s eyes widened as he exclaimed something, generating a few chuckles from the dancers.

Shahla looked to Shakti again, expecting a translation.

“Someone called ‘the Lady of Fire’ is here. Vai appears to be a well-known fan of hers,” Shakti said. “I say we leave him to his own devices.”

“What in God’s name just happened?” Najeem muttered, picking up his blade and sheathing it.

“I, uh...I honestly have no idea,” Shakti said. “I’ve had Aotearoan welcoming parties before, but none as...aggressive as this one. You two hungry?”

“Tired,” Shahla let herself relax slightly, understanding just how much of a chore it was to carry herself upright without adrenaline. “I’m so, so tired.”

“Hey, no one said you couldn’t celebrate a festival by sleeping in,” Shakti shrugged. “They’ll find you a mat. But then, so long as we’re here amicably, you need to try whatever they’ve thrown into the Hangi. The cooks on this island always nail it.”

Shahla nodded as Shakti hopped off the canoe as though she hadn’t been scared for her life just a few minutes ago.

How was it that just a year ago she’d been wracked with fear about travelling into something as meager as an urbanized city to marry Ahmed and now she had travelled halfway across the world to lands barely any of her countrymen had visited?

If nothing else, this would be one hell of a story to tell at the dinner table once this was all over.