The rat climbed over a crushed soda can taking care to not let it clang noisily. He gingerly avoided the thorns of the bougainvillea bush as he crept slowly underneath it into the shadows. A deep voice greeted him. “You’re late, Manini.”

“I’m sorry, boss,” said the rat in a whiny voice. “It takes time to get there and back again.”

A pair of savage-looking eyes glowed in the darkness. “You…found it, then?”

The rat pointed at a small pile with his stick. A half-eaten guava, a rusty nail, a nickel, and a peculiar-looking seashell were all thrown in a jumbled mess on top of a muddy old key.

A set of teeth gleamed now under the eyes. “The storm is tonight,” said the terrifying voice. “If nothing goes wrong, the way into Hunaia Awāwa will be open by morning. Use this key to open the shed and wait there.”

Manini shivered as he spoke uneasily. “Y…yes, b…boss. What is so important about this H…h…honey place? Why go through all this trouble when we have such a g…good life here in Kailua?”

“That kind of information isn’t for your nāwaliwali mind, rat.” The voice grew impatient.

“I can—” Manini started to say, but was interrupted.

“Silence. Gather your brothers. Tell them to be ready and waiting in the shed by the first lightning strike. I need to know that this will work, and you’re going to prove that for me. Now go.”

The small rat snatched the key with one paw and fled out of the room on his other three legs, running unsteadily and careening from the weight of the heavy metal he was carrying.

“It’s time to finally end this madness. This is our island now,” the voice said as its teeth and eyes slowly moved back into the shadows. Outside, Manini continued to run as quickly as he could, his fear of the massive creature fueling his paw-steps. 

---

“Bro!” The loud voice of the tall-for-her-age eleven-year-old girl, Kilikina, echoed through the small house. Around other people—her aunties and uncles, even at school—Kilikina was normally quiet, reserved, and somewhat shy. At home with her brother, however, she had no problem speaking her mind and putting him in his place.

“Nah, don’t even with that,” her fourteen-year-old brother, Kaimana, said as he walked out of the living room. “Let’s go.” Outgoing, loud, boisterous, and always looking for an opportunity to push the limits, Kaimana was in many ways the opposite of his sister. He loved big crowds, making new friends, and finding excitement.

Kilikina stared, unwilling to move, hands on her hips.

Kaimana shrugged and put on his slippers. “’Kay then, stay. I don’t care. It’s just a hike.” He smirked. He knew that she hated being left alone, and she’d come with him.

Kilikina stomped towards Kaimana. “Dad said we aren’t allowed to go there,” she said as her hands flung forward. A rule follower at heart, she felt uneasy when her brother pulled these kinds of stunts. Why did he always feel the need to try to get away with things?

Kaimana smiled “So? He’s not here. Besides, it’s not like it’s hurting anyone. We’re just going to see what’s up there. Sure, it’s private, but Vinnie says there’s some sweet

lilikoi up there, and Mom did say to go outside some today.”Kilikina’s mind whirred. She wasn’t supposed to be at home by herself, and her brother made it sound not-that-bad to go with him. She could go next door to Auntie Jenny’s and hang out there until her dad got home, but Auntie Jenny was always cooking and super loud, so she’d be stuck watching the news or playing in the backyard by herself, which was no fun at all.

“Okay,” Kilikina relented. “But if anything happens I’m your responsibility, and Dad’s gonna ground you big time if we get caught.”

“Who’s going to catch us?” Kaimana smirked. “Everyone is probably at the beach.”

“Why aren’t we going to the beach?” Kilikina asked, in a last-ditch effort to try and change her brother’s mind. He was stubborn, and in the back of her mind she figured it wouldn’t work. She was right.

“I don’t want to take the bus today,” Kaimana said, as he slung his backpack over his shoulder.

Kilikina put on her slippers, grabbed an Asian pear off the kitchen counter, and went outside with her brother, slamming the screen door behind her. The trade winds shifted directions and tossed her long black hair into her face. The sun felt warm and comforting on their skin. As they walked up the road toward the sharp green cliffs, the clouds overhead gathered and grew ever so slightly darker.

“Want some?” Kilikina held out the partially eaten pear in a peace offering to her brother.

“Mahalo, kaikaina,” her brother said, taking the fruit and biting off a large section. “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Slow down, eh you!” She laughed, jumping to snatch it back.

Kaimana smiled, parts of the pear visible in his quite full mouth, and handed it back to her. Up the road they walked, the sun occasionally peeking through the clouds above them that cast fast-moving shadows on the ground. Even with the breeze, the temperature changes between overcast shadows and bright, direct sunlight were startlingly strong.

“We’ll cut through the Changs’ yard. They don’t care. Besides, they’re never home,” Kaimana said.

“Why the Changs?” Kilikina asked.

Kaimana smiled. “They’re right up against the cliffs, and most importantly...they don’t have a dog, so we can straight up go through their yard and not worry about being bit like two pieces of pizza.”

“You are pepperoni,” Kilikina said seriously. They both laughed, hooked a right, and crossed the street and headed over to the Changs.

A low white fence wrapped around the front yard. Perfectly trimmed, soft green grass covered the ground, in the center of which was a small stone-lined area with several carefully manicured bushes. Not one branch was out of place.

“Let’s go! hurry!” Kaimana said. “Everyone’s outside since it’s Saturday.” They ducked low and ran through the front yard, opening the side gate, moving past it, and closing it behind them with a clang!

“Eh, you kids! Stop!” The thundering loud voice startled them. In their haste to get through the front yard, they hadn’t checked to see if the Changs’ neighbors were outside in their own side yard. They were. A towering, elderly gentleman who was doing yardwork waved his trimming shears at them. “Don’t go back there. It’s not safe!” he yelled, moving quickly towards the back gate of his yard.

“Run, kaikaina!” Kaimana said hoarsely. Hearts racing, they dashed through the Changs’ equally perfectly maintained backyard, climbed the short cinderblock wall, and disappeared into the lush, tropical forest.

“Hey, get your ʻōkoles back here” the kupuna yelled, but even as his voice finished the question it was growing quieter as the children got farther into the dense woods. “Is he going to call the police?” asked Kilikina.

“You worry too much,” said Kaimana.

Bright green ferns, brown dead limbs, clumps of tall yellowed grass, and red clay dirt all blurred as they ran, climbing over bushes and diving under branches. After a few moments, their heavy breathing broke into relieved laughter.

“Oh my gosh, that was cray-zy” Kilikina said, huffing and tripping over her own feet. The ground beneath their feet suddenly jutted steeply up, and after a few moments they had slowed to a labored walk.

“Here we go!” Kaimana said. “It’s time to get our climb on!” No sooner had he said that than a loud crack echoed over their heads. Instinctively, they dropped low, startled by the noise. A tropical storm that had been hidden behind the mountains had just broken through the edge of the skyline and was towering over them with thick, charcoal-colored clouds that roiled furiously.

“Seriously? Kai, you stupid-head, you didn’t look to see if it was going to rain?” Kilikina was not happy at the thought of getting soaked.

Kaimana paused and stared at her. “It always rains and doesn’t rain. The weather channel don’t know nothing. Besides, you wouldn’t come if I woul—hey!” Kaimana looked down. Much to his delight, there lay, tangled amongst the greenery of the forest floor, bright yellow lilikoi fruits on the vine. “They’re ripe!” He picked one, wiped it off on his shirt, bit thinly through the skin several times, then took a big bite of the tangy, sweetness inside. “Oh man, is it good.” He bit thinly through the skin several more times then handed his little sister the small, fist-sized fruit.

She took her own big bite, and her eyes widened. She nodded furiously, her mouth too full of the seeds to talk. Kaimana bent over and picked several more, handing a second one to his sister. He dropped his backpack, opened it up, and dropped in a few lilikois.

As he turned and stretched his arm out to pick another one, completely without warning, there was a bright flash of a million lights and an earth-shattering explosion as lightning struck the tree that stood only five feet away. Electricity shot through the ground, and the concussion of the tree exploding knocked the children off their feet rendering them immediately unconscious. A lilikoi rolled out of Kaimana’s flung-open bag for a few feet then came to an abrupt stop.

Where the lilikoi stopped, there was a puff of smoke, and out of the smoke hobbled a very old, very small man, no more than four feet tall with a twisted and well-worn walking stick.

“Na keiki naaupo ilihune,” he said in a soft, gravelly voice and shook his head slowly. “These children have no idea how important they are. Their time has come to look beyond themselves and if they choose, help many others.”

He had a long beard that almost touched the ground. and long hair, half gray and half white. He was wearing clothes that looked a thousand years old and were bland and brown. As he looked at the children, his eyes changed from black to a pure, white light. He bent over them, carefully laid his staff down, put his hands on their foreheads, and whispered indiscernible words.

Kaimana and Kilikina’s eyelids fluttered, their chests heaved as they took deep breaths and they began to cough. The elder reached over, picked up his staff, raised it, and disappeared in the blink of an eye.

In a nearby stream that gurgled quietly, a prawn crawled out onto the mud and stared at the children, beginning to crawl towards them slowly as they were coming to. A moment later it sensed danger, glanced upwards in time to see a myna bird that was swooping towards a nearby tree, and shot backwards into the clear, cool water.