by Lee Murray
Oh. It’s not possible! That looks like a…
‘It’s a moa,’ whispers Moana quietly.
‘She’s so huge!’
‘It’s a male, silly,’ Moana says. ‘Only the males sit on the nests. The females are too big. They’d crush the egg.’ Aware of the girls’ presence, the huge flightless bird lifts its head and stands full height. It lets out an angry, trumpeting bellow. The rumble resounds through the trees, making Annie quiver.
Someone got out of bed on the wrong side this morning!
‘Don’t worry, moa don’t eat people. He just doesn’t like us so near while he’s incubating his egg,’ says Moana softly. ‘We should go now.’ Annie and Moana creep past the creature in a wide semi-circle, keeping well away from its powerful kicking legs.
Annie is stunned. A moa! She’s just seen a moa! Imagine if the newspapers got hold of the story. She and Moana would be front-page news: Girls Discover Modern Moa! But the giant moa is extinct; gone — even before Captain Cook charted the country’s coastline in 1776. All that remains are its bones, uncovered by scientists in swampy marshes and at Māori archaeological sites.
Annie feels queasy. She knows now why the city and the port have vanished. She knows why she is suddenly able to speak fluent Māori, and why Moana is wearing traditional Māori dress. There is no other answer. Somehow, the eagle had woken up in the present and carried her back to the past.
Annie is back home in Aotearoa — but she’s 1000 years too early!
Village
The village is a cluster of thirty or more huts surrounded by a stockade of stripped branches. In its centre is a larger hut decorated with ornate carvings, which Annie guesses must belong to someone important. An elevated storehouse, also elaborately carved, stands off to the left like a doll’s house on stilts. Beneath the storehouse, a pile of empty shells gleams white in the morning sun. Nearby, three silver fish dry on a rack. A small boy chases away a dog with a stick. People rush purposefully in all directions.
An old woman standing in front of a huge earth oven shouts, ‘There you are, Moana. I’ve been looking for you. Your uncle says we are to go to a meeting of the tribes. We leave tomorrow. There’s a lot to be done. Come now.’ She stops and points at Annie. ‘Who is this?’
‘This is Annie, Grandmother. You’ll never guess how she got here! She rode in on the back of a bird.’ Moana’s grandmother scans the sky, a flash of fear on her face.
‘A bird, you say?’
‘Yes, Kuia,’ says Moana. Annie follows the old woman’s gaze. The eagle is circling high above the village. So it has followed her then, watching as the girls descended the mountain.
Yep, still here.
Moana’s grandmother watches the eagle warily, as if it is sinister and menacing, but Annie figures if the eagle had wanted to hurt her, she’d already be birdseed. In fact, Annie feels certain the eagle means to protect her. Perhaps, eventually, it might take her back to Wisconsin; to her family.
Turning her gaze away from the sky, Kuia looks closely at Annie. With bony fingers she strokes Annie’s blonde hair, and touches her T-shirt and the stone pendant around Annie’s neck.
‘What tribe are you from, Annie?’ Should Annie say she’s from the future? Would the old woman believe her? Probably not.
‘Er…I’m from America.’
‘The America tribe has unusual clothes,’ Kuia says. She bends over to investigate Annie’s trainers, wrinkling up her nose at their rubbery smell. ‘Hmmph.’ She pulls at Annie’s jeans pocket. The dome comes undone with a little pop. It startles the old woman because she jumps. ‘Hmmph,’ she says again.
‘It’s just a pocket to put things in,’ Annie says. ‘Look.’ She opens the pocket flap again and slides her hand into the opening. Her fingers find a wrapped sweet. Annie unwraps it for Moana’s grandmother. ‘It’s a sweet,’ she says. ‘You eat it.’
The old woman puts the sweet in her mouth, pursing her lips around it as she sucks. Then slowly, as the sugary taste gets stronger, a smile comes over her wrinkled face. She sucks harder, puckering her mouth into fish lips. The girls laugh loudly, attracting the attention of those around them.
Breaking away from a group of weaving women, a tall warrior strides over. He wears a dog skin skirt and flax cloak tied roughly over his shoulder. His face is adorned with swirling black tattoos.
Annie had seen him earlier talking to one of the weavers. Annie wouldn’t have paid them any attention except the woman was as beautiful as the warrior was fearsome. The woman, however, didn’t seem frightened. In fact, Annie guessed she wasn’t impressed by whatever he’d been saying, as she’d barely looked up from her plaiting. Now the warrior is casually poking his spear in Annie’s direction.
‘Who is this girl?’ he demands gruffly.
‘Good day to you too, Toa,’ says Kuia, straightening her back. ‘This is Annie, from the America tribe, friend to my granddaughter Moana, and rider of the great bird,’ she says. The man’s black eyes narrow.
‘What do you want here?’
The old woman steps between Annie and the warrior. She puts a hand on Annie’s shoulder and squeezes lightly.
‘Well, why is she here? Does the chief know?’ Toa asks loudly.
‘Of course, Toa, it is a chief’s duty to know. My son, the chief, has already welcomed Annie to the village. She is to join us on our voyage to the Great Lake.’
‘Why did he not tell me, then?’
‘I cannot say, Toa, I’m just an old woman. I do not know all things.’ Snorting, the warrior stalks off to a nearby hut.
‘Ooh, he’s a grumpy one, that Toa,’ says Moana. ‘Always shouting and angry. Just ignore him, Annie.’
‘Shhh, Moana,’ says Kuia sharply. ‘You should be more respectful. Toa is a courageous warrior and a skilled hunter. Just because he’s grouchy doesn’t mean he’s a bad man. But I must speak with your uncle about Annie. Come with me, both of you. Hurry now.’
The Pendant of Tūhua
They find the chief in a clearing. He’s seated on the dusty ground with the tribe’s elders consulting the tribal tohunga. In spite of the heat, Ahuru wears an iridescent green feather cloak over his shoulders, a sign of his greatness. The tohunga wears only an apron of twigs about his hips. With a hint of pride, Moana whispers to Annie that theirs is a powerful tohunga, a matakite or seer. His name is Ruānuku.
‘A runner has come from our cousins in the south. They report great unrest in the kingdom of the birds,’ announces the chief. The tohunga nods.
‘It was prophesised.’ The seer shields his eyes as he watches Annie’s eagle glide across the sky. ‘The Guide is here,’ Ruānuku looks at Annie, ‘…and the Speaker too.’
‘This little girl?’ says Ahuru. Ruānuku nods again. He drops the bundle of thin sticks he’s holding to the ground.
‘But we were expecting a warrior,’ says Tama, Moana’s father. The other elders nod their agreement.
‘Nevertheless…’ says the tohunga, examining the pattern of his fallen sticks.
‘I don’t believe it!’ shouts Toa, who has followed Kuia and the girls into the clearing.
‘Can we be sure she is the Speaker?’ Ahuru asks Ruānuku.
‘It’s her,’ replies the tohunga, with a certainty that makes Annie anxious. ‘She has hair the colour of kōwhai, does she not?’
A shrivelled old man speaks up, ‘With respect, the Tauiwi had yellow hair too, but they were thieves and cheats. Let’s not be fooled a second time.’ The tohunga closes his eyes and smiles.
‘But those men did not come on the back of an eagle.’
‘It’s true! I saw her,’ exclaims Moana.
‘Nor did they wear the black pendant of Tūhua around their necks.’ There is a hush.
‘It’s inside her clothing,’ pipes up Kuia. ‘Show them the pendant, Annie.’
Annie pulls her pendant out of her T-shirt. The black rock glints in the sunlight.
‘Bah!’ says Toa. ‘There are lots of old orn
aments like that around. Even my old mother has one. It proves nothing. Can she speak the language of the birds? If she is the Speaker, then she will know the words.’
What? That’s just crazy. Annie doesn’t know how to talk to birds. As much as she would like to help Moana’s people, the only twittering she’s done has been to Lauren’s cell phone.
Ahuru stands up. The big man approaches Annie, kicking up dust with his bare feet. As he speaks, he bends close to Annie’s ear and his voice is low and gentle. ‘Annie, do you know the language of the birds?’ Annie’s shoulders droop.
‘No.’
‘See, she’s says no. It’s not her. That old man is wrong again,’ grizzles Toa, throwing his hands in the air in disgust. But in Annie’s head an answer comes.
‘Yes, you can, silly.’
‘Who’s talking?’
‘It’s me, up here. I’m the Guide, and you are the Speaker.’ Annie’s eyes open wide. She looks up at the sky and the eagle soaring overhead. Did the bird just speak to her? She tries again.
‘You mean I’m actually talking to a bird?’
‘Actually, you’re talking to an American Eagle, a symbol of strength and freedom.’
Annie isn’t imagining it! She’s having a conversation with a bird. It’s amazing! All she has to do is concentrate hard about what she wants to say and the words come out in a series of twitters and chirps. If only it were this easy to pick up Spanish or Japanese!
But Ahuru and the elders have already moved away, disappointed. Only Ruānuku remains crouched over his fallen sticks. Annie hears the chief barking orders for the journey south.
‘Wait!’ Annie runs to the racks of drying fish and holds a silvery morsel above her head. Immediately, the eagle plummets, feathers fluttering, talons drawn. Annie throws the fish on the ground and the bird pounces on it. Swiftly, Toa seizes his taiaha, steps in front of Annie, and points the deadly spear at the bird’s breast.
‘Wait!’ shouts Annie again, ‘don’t hurt him. I was wrong. I can speak to birds. I am the Speaker, and this eagle is the Guide.’
The eagle’s name is Ken. Annie suppresses a chuckle. She expected something grander. Ken is ravenously hungry, not having had time to hunt since he emerged from the earth in the library grounds. Moana and Annie toss him the rest of the fish and a dead rat.
‘I prefer my fish battered,’ Ken grumbles. He gobbles it up anyway.
Ruānuku approaches them, along with Tama, and some of the elders. They all squat on the ground. Except Toa who stands warily to one side, his spear half-raised in Ken’s direction.
‘Annie, we must talk,’ Ahuru says, excitedly. ‘This may sound strange, but your coming here isn’t unexpected.’ He nods to Ruānuku who continues.
‘It’s true Annie. Stories, pakiwaitara, passed to us from long ago, tell of great conflict coming to Aotearoa. The stories say that one day, on the brink of war, a Guide would come bringing with him the golden Speaker. Wearing the pendant of Tūhua, the Speaker would understand the language of the birds. That person is you, Annie. You’re here to play a part in a great destiny.’
‘Me? A role in a great destiny? What destiny?’ Annie is stunned. She looks at Ken who shrugs.
‘Mmm, sorry, I brought you here by instinct. It was as if I were a young eagle called to migrate. I don’t know anything about great destinies.’
Why is this happening to Annie? She’s just an ordinary fifth grader. She turns back to the tribesmen. ‘But what can I do?’
‘You can help determine the outcome of the prophecy,’ says Ruānuku solemnly. ‘And you can mediate at the Council of Birds.’
In spite of the sunshine, Annie shivers. ‘Mediate? How can I do that? I don’t even know what it means.’
‘It’s like a translator. You will help the Council to communicate. You are to go to the place near the terraces at Rotomahana where the bird leaders are gathering. Our people will accompany you for some of the way. We must go now and prepare.’
When they’ve gone Annie and Moana study the glassy black pendant around Annie’s neck: the pendant of Tūhua. Annie turns it over in her hand. All at once, the stone feels warm. It takes on a luminous glow. Annie can make out English words carved deep in the stone. Annie’s positive those words weren’t there when her grandparents gave her the pendant.
‘Can you understand those funny squiggles? What do they mean, Annie?’ Moana asks.
‘Personally, I’m hoping for something ordinary like, Handcrafted in New Zealand,’ Ken quips.
Annie scans the words and shudders. This must be the prophecy Ruānuku spoke of. Feeling like a carnival fortune-teller with a crystal ball, Annie reads it aloud to her friends:
'As this dark stone reflects the light, so will rise who conquers flight.'
New Friends
It’s a noisy group that sets off to the south following the coast.
Unnerved by yesterday’s discoveries, Annie has hardly slept. Exhausted, and more than a little overwhelmed, she’d lain awake for hours, listening to the creak and groan of the trees overhead. She wanted to go home. She missed Mum and Dad. Especially Mum! Annie’s eyes filled with tears thinking how terrified Mum must’ve been when she came out of the library and found Annie gone. Not at first. She probably thought Annie had gone looking for a drinking fountain, or a shady tree. After a while, she would’ve gone back and checked inside the library to see if Annie had come looking for her, and then in the car, and then back to the effigy mound, and after that she would’ve started imagining all the horrible scary things that might’ve happened to Annie. She wouldn’t suspect a giant eagle carrying her daughter a thousand years away to Aotearoa. Annie doubts Mum and Dad would ever imagine that! Annie’s heart tightened in her chest. It hurt so much she could hardly breathe. Would she ever see her parents again?
It was close to dawn when Annie had finally dozed off, comforted by the warmth of Moana’s back and the murmur of her breathing.
Today though, Annie is buoyed up by the lively bustle of the tribe. She looks about her. For the moment, everyone seems to have forgotten Ruānuku’s gloomy talk of conflict and unrest. They’re excited to be going on a journey.
Kuia has loaded Ken up with provisions. Seeing he has an audience Ken pretends to stagger under the weight.
‘I’ll have you know I’m a proud and majestic eagle, the heroic herald of new worlds — not a common shopping trolley!’ Annie chuckles. For an eagle, Ken has a pretty off-beat sense of humour.
‘What did the eagle say, Annie?’ Moana asks.
‘He’s moaning. Says he’s not…’ Annie hesitates. She can’t think of the Māori words for shopping trolley, and even if she could, will letting on she’s from the future destroy her chances of getting home? ‘Er…Ken says he’s sure his carrying half the village on his back isn’t part of the prophecy,’ she fibs. Swivelling about, Moana gives Annie a searching look. Annie has never been good at lying! Luckily, a kete has worked its way loose from the provisions on Ken’s back and several kōpīa have tumbled to the ground. Moana is distracted as Kuia calls out to the girls to help her collect the escaping fruit.
The kete restored, they set off again. To her right Annie recognises the Papamoa Hills. In years to come, there’ll be a quarry, a car park, and a toilet block at their base, and at the summit, there’ll be a trig station. Annie remembers it being scratched and scarred with the initials of cheeky weekend ramblers. For the moment though, the hills are covered in a duvet of dense bush. Walking in single file, Annie follows Moana, holding back branches as she passes to prevent them from swinging into Kuia’s face. Clouds of insects delight the small fantails that follow along in their wake. Waving the tiny flies away with her hand, Moana looks back at Annie and says, ‘By tomorrow we should reach the place where my friend Kahurangi lives with his people.’
‘Your friend?’
Moana blushes. ‘Well yes, he’s a boy, but he’s all right.’
‘But aren’t the other tribes your enemies?’ Annie is a
stonished. She’d always believed the early Māori tribes fought fiercely amongst themselves.
‘Enemies? Oh no. It’s true that sometimes there are squabbles, but mostly we like our neighbours. Anyway, we’re quite safe. If there is any trouble our tribe has the fiercest, strongest warriors.’ In a low voice, she adds, ‘And possibly the grumpiest if you count Toa!’ She grins. ‘Hey Annie, did you hear this joke? What happened to the owl that lost her voice? She couldn’t give a hoot! Get it?’ Moana hoots herself. ‘What do you say when you meet a kea? Kea ora!’
‘Please, Annie, make her stop,’ Ken wails theatrically.
Annie screws up her face in a good-humoured grimace. To think, even a thousand years in the past kids are telling the same lame jokes. Still, a few jokes won’t hurt. Annie suspects there might not be much time for fun later. At least it helps to pass the time as they pick their way through thick bush on the narrow, almost invisible path south.
In the late afternoon, after a long hot day of walking, the group sets up camp. Annie, Moana and Ken collect firewood for Kuia before skiving off for some time together while the dinner is cooking.
‘Come on you two. I’ve got something to show you,’ Moana says as soon as they are free. Not far from the camp, they discover a long open clearing of tussocky grass.
‘This is the perfect place,’ Moana announces. She slips her kete off her shoulders and carefully removes a parcel of leaves. Moana opens the parcel. Inside, is a simple triangular kite made of light toetoe reeds and papery bark.
‘It’s called te manu tukutuku. My friend Kahurangi, the boy I told you about, made it for me. Here Annie, you hold it and I’ll make it fly.’
‘This should be funny.’
