Page 72 of Ghosts and Ginger Tea

That was when I heard it.

Gunshots.

I stopped the carriage and looked around. The songbirds had gone silent, as if they, too, listened. The loud booming sounds continued. In the distance, too, men shouted.

My hair stood on end.

The battle has begun.

“We should hurry.” Alohi stood beside the carriage, his eyebrows deeply furrowed.

I nodded my agreement, and we continued on our journey. But no matter how far down the mountain we worked, the gunshots seemed to continue. Blaring. Echoing.

Shuddering, I wrapped my shawl tighter around my shoulders.

Malu flew above and I looked up at him, the white flag still blowing in the breeze. “Please let us get home safely,” I thought, realizing the prayer was towards one specific god.

It had been a while since I prayed to Kāne. But now, more than ever, I wanted to go home. Away from the battlefield. Away from the warlord for a time. Away.

We still had a while to go before getting home, and I couldn’t help but think of all that was ahead of me.

I was deeply grateful that Kamehameha spared me, and that I had found favor in his and his wife’s sight but… I still felt so empty.

Yes, I saved our people and kingdom. Yes, I solved Keanu’s riddle, but…

He’s gone.

Malu flew in the night, sometimes circling above the carriage, and other times flying alongside the window, as if to check on me.

At least I have Malu? I tried to joke with myself, tried to lift my spirits, but how could I move on?

I miss Keanu. Distracting me from my melancholy, Alohi opened the carriage door and escorted me out. We had traveled the whole day, going a different route home to avoid the battleground at Nu‘uanu, and it was taking longer than usual. The path was less developed, and several times we stopped to clear off fallen rocks, or to pass through rivers that cut through the valleys.

After a light meal, I rolled out my mat by the campfire.

“You don’t want to sleep in the tent?” Alohi asked.

I shook my head. “It’s the clearest night I’ve seen in days, and the moon looks full and bright. I think I’ll sleep under the stars tonight.”

My guard didn’t question me, just as he never did, but instead kept watch. A wide, flat river flowed nearby, close enough to see the moonlight sparkling on the running water. The coconut fronds rustled in the chilly mountain wind, and Malu occasionally hooted, letting me know he was close.

I don’t know how many hours passed, as I stared at the moon, wondering how I was going to move on. Should I move on from my feelings for Keanu? His death was still so fresh, but… I needed to rule his kingdom–our kingdom–and prepare for Kamehameha’s return, once he conquered all the islands.

It’s practical to forget about him… The thought roused me from my half-awake ideas. I thought I had moved past survival. But there I was, telling myself to “get over” Keanu.

My heart would never “get over” him. Just as the realization hit me, a pū blew in the distance.

The conch shell. I scrambled up, as did Alohi and my other guards. We exchanged nervous looks, which only grew more tense as a drum sounded.

“The night marchers,” Alohi said, his breath lingering in the cold air. My personal guard and the rest of the surrounding attendants all fell to the ground, but I stood there, shocked.

It was as if I stood on the path towards the village, a month ago, the lantern in my hand. I could almost feel the breath on the back of my neck, and see the chilly ghosts approaching.

Last time, I had ignored the superstitions and I made eye contact with one of the night marchers. I gaped.

I’d been just as disrespectful as Keanu in ignoring Kāne’s rules for his night marchers. Then it dawned on me… The riddle applied to me, just as much as it applied to Keanu.

I should become one with the shadow, by obeying the rules. I prostrated myself on the earth, something I should have done last time. The drums grew louder, followed by footsteps. The air grew icier, causing the hairs on my skin to stand on end. A chill ran down my spine as warm lights bobbed in the distance, not far from the river.