Backdated to April 9th. Her 'joining' thread c: WC: 1038

Makani, nana, ka kai! The effect was immediate. The woman's downcast eyes brightened, her velvety ears lifted, and joy swelled in her heart like the rising tide. She relinquished her grasp on the thick rope lassoed around one of the sturdy koa chests that had accompanied her for so many miles and so many moons on this seemingly endless journey. With an ecstatic yip, she tore off towards the shore and fell to her knees in the foamy surf. Her eyes closed and her head tipped back reverently and she sang to the Heavens: Kanaloa, kau he ho'okahua 'oe.

Makani lingered doubtfully behind her. His honey brown eyes dropped to the discarded rope. He bent slowly to retrieve it, then stood for a moment running the pads of his paws over the split and faded fibres. 'Oe maopopo loa? he asked cautiously. They had faced one too many disappointments for him to be so optimistic. The waves that beat against the shores of Lake Superior were surely reminiscent of the mighty Pacific's, but alas, the waterbody was finite and unfulfilling.

His uncertainty caused her mirthful grin to melt into a mild grimace. She looked over her shoulder as he drug both chests over the gravelly sand, then tsked lightly. 'Ae, ho'a'o... pa'akai! she cried, cupping her hands in the water and allowing the briny taste to wash over her tongue. While another might have gagged, to her this sea water was the ambrosia of the gods. It had been far, far too long. Au e 'a'ole ha'alelea ka kai houe, she proclaimed.

And so she would not. Her mind spun as she reflected upon the bizarre string of circumstances that brought her here in the first place: the night she stole away on the merchants' ship; her arrival on the lush shores of California after three long months at sea; the fear her father might send the Royal Guard after her, which drove her further inland; and all of the strange people and places she encountered along the way. Some were better than others, but not once had she felt truly at home. In the end, even her arrival on this particular beach was an extraordinary coincidence — it was so remarkable she would later suppose it was ordained by Fate.

Were it not for the thick fog the night she crossed the Isthmus of Chignecto, she might have found the sea sooner — and she might not have left it. Instead, she set up camp base of Halcyon Mountain. In the morning, she trailed along its base until she encountered marked territory. None too keen on trespassing, she diverted course due southwest on a nearly perfect trajectory through the Dampwoods, Arachnea's Revenge, and finally, Halifax. The silent streets, littered with broken glass and guarded by ghastly concrete citadels, were not to her tastes at all. The contrast between the desolate wasteland and the refreshing breakers of the Shattered Coast overwhelmed her all the more.

Immediately, she set about gathering driftwood. Unshapely pieces were piled for a grand campfire; thick boughs were broken and fashioned into batons, and the longest, straightest limb was soon whittled into a spear. She would Dance and Sing for Kanaloa, and then she would use his blessing to gather a feast befitting such a glorious occasion. Using a length of rope, a bowed stick, a notched fireboard, and a flat stone, she coaxed a flame to life. As the campfire reached its apex, she carefully wetted the centre of two batons then lit the opposing ends. She hummed as she waved the wands through the air, slowly at first, but then with greater speed and intensity. By the end of her offering, both were somersaulting through the air in succession as she spun to catch them in turn. At length, she heaved both as high as she could, then caught one in each hand simultaneously. She bowed slowly and deeply, then tossed them into the ocean as Makani looked on.

As she would soon discover, her companion was not the only one watching her performance.

Unalihelitseti!

Lia turned slowly, ears erect, to behold a tribal woman. Feathers were woven into her long, elegant mane and she carried herself with purpose and poise. Her hands were held palm forward, a universal signal of good intentions and peace. It was fortunate, perhaps, because Gods knew she couldn't make one ounce of sense out of the tribeswoman's greeting. Aha? she questioned forcefully, but with no true hostility or aggression. She made no move yet — this female was the first soul her and Makani had encountered in some time. Do you speak English? she tried instead. 日本語? Россия? اللغة العربية؟

The woman smiled knowingly and offered a friendly wag of her tail. Perhaps I mistook your reverence for the Flame as familiarity with our culture, she began. I'm Tiva Ajila.

Her calm, unyielding nature and eloquence of speech piqued the Akita's interest. Aloha, Tiva, she greeted in turn. I am Lilia a'Mahina. This is Makani. A pause. Tell me, of which culture do you speak?

Let's sit, she suggested, I should like to hear of yours as well.

The Hawaiian wavered only a moment before gathering up her skirt and sinking to the cool sand at a comfortable distance from the fire. Lilia was definitely used to giving orders, rather than receiving them — but there was something about Tiva she responded to. Her legs were intertwined and folded neatly off to one side as she waited to hear what the AniWayan had to say.

The next two full hours were spent in a free-flowing exchange of ideas and ideals, myth and narrative. Lia was surprised to find remarkable kinship with this woman she just met, and she yearned to learn more of her culture. Not once in her travels had she encountered a society that resonated so strongly with her — even Makani, for all his cynicism, seemed impressed. Ultimately, when Tiva offered the two weary travellers a real home amongst the peoples of her clan, it was no surprise they chose to accept. As they set off with the Otlvna Gata leading the way, Lia cast her companion a jubilant grin. For once, Makani returned it.