God-Bird

by Chris Daruns

New Zealand, 1271 C.E.

When his canoe hit the beach, Tane resisted the urge to cheer and shout like the others. After ten long days and nights, the journey was over. For him, a giant weight had been taken off his chest.

He also resisted jumping out of the narrow confines of the dual-hull canoe, and instead shouted orders for the others to stay where they were. His pregnant wife, Nyree, stuck out her tongue in protest, imitating a warrior's aggressive face. From her it was a playful, bratty gesture and now he had to resist smiling.

Rongo's canoe hit the beach a dozen yards down and Tane saw his brother stand at the bow, resisting the same urges. They exchanged a curt glance and watched the last boat come in.

His father's canoe was, at one hundred feet, the largest of the three. It reached sand a few long minutes later. Tamolan, an old man with nearly fifty wind seasons behind him, stood at the bow, his fierce eyes scanning the coast. He jumped into the low surf and walked with spread arms inland. Dense forest lay beyond the beach and the old chief faced them, arms out, and knelt in the sand.

Tane couldn't hear him but he knew his father was performing a greeting song: asking the new island to welcome them.

Leaving their old island, the only home Tane and his father and his father's father had ever known, was the hardest decision Tane had ever made. Were he younger he would have preferred death over leaving and would have wished it upon anyone who thought otherwise. Not doing so was cowardice. But it would have been death to stay, he reminded himself, not just for him but for his entire clan.

A new island. A safe home.

Tamolan stood, finished with the greeting song.

Tane leapt from his boat and went to join his father. The sand felt strange and welcome under his bare feet after the days at sea.

The others in their weak, near broken clan, began filing off the boats and began pulling them up the beach.

"Wind and oar were with us, father," Tane said.

"We are fortunate. This island is grand and plentiful. Look there," Tamolan pointed to the edge of the forest. A group of flightless birds wandered out from the safety of the tree line. They were the largest birds Tane had ever seen. Each one was taller than a man. They were dark brown with thatches of deep blue tail feathers. Small heads, long necks, big bodies and very curious about the newcomers. They squawked and pecked at the sand.

The old chief smiled and thanked the island using the old words.

"Looks like we are welcomed with open arms, brother." Rongo said, approaching.

Tane nodded but kept studying the big birds. They ran in groups and had no obvious wings. Not even vestigial ones. "They have no fear of man," Tane said. He wondered how they'd taste.

As if in response to this thought, a harpoon flew through the air and impaled one with muted violence. The bird cried out shrilly in surprise and attempted to run before tipping over and writhing in the sand. The rest of the flock, all dozen or so, fled into the forest.

One of the boy-men, Fetu, pumped his fist in the air. "I got it! My spear is true! I got it!"

Rongo laughed, "They're so slow and dumb even a boy can bring them down."

"I'm no boy!" Fetu said, his face flushing with anger.

Tane cleared his throat, stopping Rongo's reply, "Your kill should speak for itself. A good hunter knows this."

Fetu huffed but nodded.

"Go clean your kill," Tane said. "You feed us all today. That's honor enough."

***

After the fires died down and the last meat eaten, the clan abandoned the beach the next morning. Though they had hit land, finding a suitable location for a permanent settlement took time and precision.

They sailed down the coast for another two days, camping both nights on the beach. They hunted more of the big flightless birds, who seemed ubiquitous to the land and near oblivious to the danger of humans. Both nights they feasted on the best cuts of their flesh and discarded the rest. One whole bird was burned as an offering to the island.

On the third day they found it. The mouth of a river cut across the beach, either side bowing out to form a large natural bay offering protection for their canoes during the storms of the rainy season. The waters of the bay were clear, and all manner of crab and fish could be seen as they sailed across.

This was truly a land of plenty, Tane thought.

One side of the small bay was a beach of bone-white sand and the other was a rocky outcrop overgrown with the roots of the trees just beyond. Almost dead center was the river mouth and both sides were flat and lush.

This land could support their clan for generations, Tane thought. They would be masters of it.

The whole clan, invigorated by the abundance of the land, worked hard establishing their camp and future village. One of the canoes, Rongo's, was broken down and disassembled to form the foundation of the village hall. The women started clearing areas for the long houses and the central hearths. Tane and several of his cousins began felling trees, some for firewood and others to form the skeletons of buildings. Rongo began clearing a bit of land in preparation for planting some of the sweet potatoes still left. His garden on their home island was widely regarded as excellent.

By nightfall, Rongo's canoe formed half of the framing of the ceremonial hall, the rest of it lying in a pile close by.

“Our activity must have finally scared off the dumb birds,” Rongo mused to Tane. They sat at the water's edge and faced the moonlit bay.

Tane nodded, “They have become weary of us perhaps. Now we'll have to use skill in hunting least we get too fat and slow from easy meat.”

Fetu, looking beat down from a day spent chopping trees, sat next to them in the soft sand. “Have you noticed there are no signs of other people here?”

Tane nodded. He had suspected since landfall that they were the first people of this island. It must be an island too, as every place was. The island he was born on was crowded even when he was a boy. He had traveled extensively to neighboring islands just as crowded as his and it was common knowledge that the world was just a series of crowded islands, each with their own god-personality and people and history. This island seemed to be very large and uninhabited and it unsettled him the same way a clear sky suddenly going storm black would. He didn't know what to do with this thought, so he pushed it away.

"It is either good fortune." Tane said finally. "Or bad. The seasons will show which."

He left his brother and Fetu on the beach and went to his wife, already curled up under a woven lean-to. She slept on their joining mat, keeping the sand out her black hair. The uneasy feeling subsided in seeing her there, beautiful in full-belly and breast.

He laid down next to her and she draped an arm over him. “Sleep, dear husband. You're tired and the baby is still when you're close.”

“Still fighting inside of you?”

“Almost as much as her father.”

“A she now?”

“Yes. She'll be a great warrior princess of the clan. She'll ride one of those big birds into battle against our enemies.”

Tane laughed, “Quite an imagination you have.”

“Can you picture it? A war bird? She can return with an army of them and kill your uncle.”

Tane winced at the mention of his uncle. The whole reason for their flight from his birth island. A greedy uncle who had conspired to have his father banished and perhaps then murdered when he was out of power.

Tane and Rongo had advised war. Tane, more than anyone else, wanted vengeance. But while their father was no coward, he was right to say that to fight his uncle's family and the clans in his alliance would bring nothing but death and sadness. Tane had agreed to flee and felt the sting of cowardice since.

“Go to sleep, Nyree.”

“Make me, you scoundrel.”

***

Fetu could hear Tane wrestling Nyree under their blankets. He tried not to listen but the temptation was hard to avoid. Several of the other couples had already retired for the night to their separate corners of the beach making similar noises. Many babes would be born due to this night, he mused.

Grumbling and alone he started walking down the beach.

He wondered who he would couple with when his man-birth came upon him. There were few candidates from the clan members here. There was Dia and Nape who were close to him in age but Dia was a brat and Nape was too skinny. Besides, other men outranked him and would be better choices for their families. The girl Fetu really wanted was Epa. She was younger than him but already coming into her womanly body. She was fun to talk to, witty, and brave. Her father was close to Tamolan and was part of his advisory council along with his second cousins, Tane and Rongo.

Fetu's walk brought him to the edge of the river as it poured into the bay. He tasted the water and then spit it back out. Too brackish this close to the mouth. He walked upriver, his water-skin in hand.

If Fetu could find a way to distinguish himself, he might be offered to Epa as a suitor. She could always choose him outright but it helped things to have the family support the coupling. He thought killing that first giant bird would have secured him as a suitor but Rongo had berated him. He would have to try something else. His net-weaving talents were sub-par but he was pretty decent at stone carving. If he could find a source of flint he could perhaps start gifting Epa's mother a steady supply of hand tools. He kicked himself mentally for not saving some bones from the recent kills; they might have been good for carving fish hooks like whale bone was.

He stopped and tasted the water. It was sweet and clear. He submerged his water-skin.

There was a sound close to him. He froze and looked around. He had followed the river into the forest and now several tall trees and thick brush surrounded him. The insect song was loud here but he saw and heard no sign of anything threatening.

The attack came from above.

Something impossibly big crushed Fetu, driving him to the ground, knocking the air from his lungs.

A searing pain spread from his knees upward. And Fetu instinctively thrust his hands out. His fingers disappeared into a mass of coarse feathers and he tried pushing off whatever was on top of him.

It released him and he tried getting to his feet, desperate to see where it went.

His legs wouldn't work and pain shot up his back and down the arches of his feet when he tried to move them. He felt at his legs blindly and his hands came away slick with blood. Both of his legs felt broken.

There was a gleam of white bone poking out of where his knee should be. But he couldn't feel it.

In a blind panic, he located the thing attacking him. It stood a mere four feet away, its massive wings half spread in a gesture of attack.

It stood only about five feet when upright, and Fetu was confident that if only he could stand, he might be able to fight it off. It stood over him, head cocked, studying him with one black eye. Its beak was easily the twice size of his hand and wickedly hooked at the end. He tried standing but just trying caused crippling pain.

Fetu held out his hands, if he could just get them around its head. He might be able to blind it. Force a thumb through its eye. Maybe even collapse its windpipe.

It hopped towards him and cawed gently.

Then it darted at him and swiftly, almost casually, disemboweled him.

***

Yukikamak, Nari and Fwaj were sent by their mothers to collect water for the morning cooking. Epa came too, letting the younger girls run ahead. The three girls ran off swinging water skins and giggling. They too were excited about their new home and though Nari and Fwaj had been devastated to leave their old island, the excitement and newness overpowered them.

They reached the river mouth and soon encountered the same problem Fetu had. This close to the bay the river water was undrinkable. They sped upstream, still giggling and laughing, their bare feet alternating between the muddy bank and the overgrown roots of unnamed trees.

Epa, distracted by trying to navigate the root system, looked up when she noticed the girls had stopped giggling. The three of them just stared straight ahead at something just beyond an outcropping of rock. Yukikamak started crying and Nari released her bladder, a stream of urine trailing down her bare legs.

Epa was about to ask what they were looking at but then she saw him.

It was Fetu. The corpse wore his same puka shell necklace.

Epa wanted to scream but it caught in her throat. She looked around instead, the surrounding forest seemed much darker than before.

“Girls, to me now.”

None of them moved.

“Girls, come here. Fwaj, take your cousin's hand and get moving.”

Even as she spoke she couldn't pull her sight from the body.

Fetu was open.

Epa put her arm around the girls. They jumped in surprise but the spell broke and she pulled them away.

“Slow. Don't run. And quiet.”

They backed away and she held the younger girl's hands, resisting the urge to run even though she knew that might cause whatever opened Fetu to give chase.

They made it back to camp safely but Epa couldn't help thinking something was watching them.

***

Tane stared at the corpse, studying it.

From his groin to his throat he was cut open like how they would clean and dress wild pig and deer, only the cuts were jagged and haphazard. There the similarity ended, because Fetu's intestines were spread around him, chewed on in places, severed in others. There was almost no blood because it had seeped into the surrounding mud. One of his legs was missing and the other was torn to pieces.

“This island has no marae,” Rongo said to Tamolan. “We should clear one to hold the funeral rites and bury the body in the bay.”

Tane splashed river water onto his hands, rinsing them of gore from moving the body.

The chieftain nodded, “We have angered strange gods. I was imprudent and ignored sacred charges that should have been undertaken as soon as we landed. A marae should have been established already.”

“I will form a group and scout suitable locations and begin it at once,” Rongo said, glancing at Tane who, so far, said nothing.

“That is my obligation,” Tamolan said, solemn. “You will continue establishing the village. I will take a sight-walk and with any luck the island gods will present me with their marae place.”

Before Rongo could protest, Tane spoke.

“This creature,” Tane began, “is very large. And it attacked Fetu when he was alone. I don't think it is a good idea to take a sight-walk right now. We don't know how many of these animals are around us.”

“He makes a good point,” Rongo nodded. “Let me form the marae group.”

“And I will form a hunting party,” Tane said. “I'll track one down and kill it. But the others will be scared and their chief should be present to comfort them and preside over the funerary rites.”

“I will not avoid my spiritual or sacred duties. They are not burdens for you to take off my shoulders. Tane, as the eldest, you will return to the village and oversee poor Fetu's funeral rites. You know the ceremonies. He should not be alone as he makes his death-travel across. Rongo, our people need to continue working to establish our village.”

Rongo sneered but said nothing.

“As you wish, father.” Tane said, trying to mask his disappointment with a still face. He finished rolling the remains in the grass mat and in one swift movement lifted it to his shoulder. He walked off towards the beach.

At the beach he rested the body in the sand and covered it with several wide palm leaves.

Nyree was soon by his side, fetching leaves with him until Fetu was covered.

“Father is going to walk alone in the forest searching for a marae site,” he said. “Whatever killed Fetu did so while he was alone and did it fast. Should I obey him and stay here? Let him face whatever did this to Fetu?”

“You were never good at obeying anyone,” Nyree said. “Not even your chieftain.”

“I listen to you.”

“When you feel like it.”

“Can you begin the death song?”

Nyree nodded. “Take two spears and a patu. I'm sure your father will attempt to venture in peace.”

Tane smiled because she was right.

***

The forest became dark quickly. Tane moved along low growing ferns and pole straight trees, nameless and covered in dense moss the same shades as the leaves. It was like diving into a green ocean. Unnamed birds sang unfamiliar songs above him.

His father would likely head back to the bay but to the other side. The rocky cliffs on that side would allow an unobstructed view of the ocean and would overlook their settlement. Reaching it required a long loop into the forest before back-tracking to the coast. A perfect setting for a marae.

He crossed the stream and paused.

He'd learned this trick from his uncle, long before that uncle attempted the coup on his father. Pause and take a breath, his uncle told him, take a breath and listen to the sounds around you.

Tane listened.

Everything was strange here. Everything unfamiliar.

But Tane was beginning to differentiate between the different birds he heard. Three, four types just in his immediate area, all with different pitches to their calls. One made an owl-like hoot and Tane thought that call was a good name. Boobook. There were going to be a lot of new names here.

Birds.

He hadn't seen any other types of animals here. No rodents, no deer, no canines or swine. Just birds. From the small songbirds he heard now to the man-sized flightless ones. Nothing with hair, nor hoof, nor paw.

He heard the crunching of leaves ahead and Tane moved forward as silent as he could.

His father was a skilled navigator of the stars and sea. His ability to sail and find direction was unparalleled by anyone Tane knew of. Under his leadership they sailed more than six hundred miles of open ocean to find a thus undiscovered island. And a large one at that.

But he was not a forest dweller and had little patience for a land hunt. He was noisy in his movements and Tane heard him long before he spotted him, walking uphill with a commanding stride.

Tane breathed with relief. His father was thus far unharmed despite announcing his presence to everything possessing ears in the area. He could hang back, watching him, guarding. If he revealed his presence, Tamolan would just send him away. The old man was embarrassed by needing to flee; he would resist any notion of perceived weakness.

It was uncomfortable when Tane realized his father was not invincible as he'd believed as a boy. Even as chief and shaman, Tane could see the age creeping into his father's every movement. How he rubbed his hands on cold nights. How sinewy muscle appeared to melt under his skin, deflating once powerful shoulders and arms.

Tane followed his father to the crest of the bluff. It was a rocky patch of ground with tough-looking grasses fighting for purchase between cracks. Tane could see the campfires on the beach across the small bay. He knelt behind a tree, laying the spears down next to him.

Tamolan stood for a second in the middle of this bare and flat outcropping. He walked around it muttering words Tane could not make out.

Finally, Tamolan turned inland toward the bay and spoke to the island:

“I, the leader of my people, maker of sons and sailor of seas, speaker to whales and reader of the sky, greet you, oh Kuhuna-god of the island. Please take my greeting with your heart and know I am ally and shepherd, sailor and ward of your generosity. Oh, true-speaker and island heart, please forgive the boy-man for his transgression and accept his kai as soul-price from us all. We do not wish to anger you but do not yet know you as island ward. I am your servant and caretaker. I am your voice and heart. I am protector to you and my people.”

Tamolan went on in that fashion for a long time. Tane had always acknowledged the gods, but resented their fickle nature. The sea gods especially seemed to follow their own whims, raging every season despite every sacrifice and ritual. Mostly, Tane thought the gods indifferent to the plight of man. It was best not to get in their way or even be noticed by them. His father might be able to commune with them, but Tane sometimes thought that communion fell to deaf ears.

As the sun reached its midday peak, Tamolan went silent.

The island did not reply.

Tane hated to see his father like this. The weight of the clan on his shoulders, praying to a new Kahuna, this one likely indifferent if not outright hostile. The old man grunted and walked in a small circle, muttering.

Tane wanted to reveal himself, to tell his father if the island didn't listen then he would. That Tane wasn't scared of the island or its god.

But Tane didn't move.

Tamolan sighed and moved back to the forest, his head bowed, deep in thought.

Tane let him pass; his father walked not but an arm's length away but he went unnoticed. When his father got far enough, Tane stood and began to follow, picking up the spears.

He would relive what happened next for the rest of his life, often in the dead of night, in panicked terrors that caused him to wake covered in sweat.

A dark blur fell on top of his father.

It happened so fast, when Tane reacted it felt like his own muscles had been dipped in mud.

It must have been waiting in the trees above, and it dove toward him like a jungle cat. It hit him low, at the waist and so hard that Tamolan collapsed as if a boulder fell on him instead of a ... bird.

Tane saw the wings just as he took his first bounding step. From tip to tip its wings were twice his height. It stood shorter than him but not by much. Its feet ended in talons longer than his fingers, talons now buried into his father.

It was, without a doubt, an eagle. The largest he'd ever seen.

“Aiy! Aiy!” he screamed. Two steps and he planted both feet, his first spear up and ready.

He threw it, his aim reflexive from muscle memory. He charged again as soon as it left his hand. The spear sailed through the air as the giant bird looked up and passed just over its outstretched wing and thick neck. The butt end of the spear brushed against feathers but it landed harmlessly two meters away.

It screeched.

The sound was so piercing it stopped Tane dead in his run, his free hand clamping down on his ear, his eyes vibrating from its intensity.

He held up the other spear with two hands. And the bird spread its wings wider.

Tane charged with the spear.

The bird dodged the tip and attacked the spear with a beak larger than an ax head.

It caught the wooden spear shaft and snapped it in half.

One wing jerked forward and Tane's entire shoulder went numb as a fire-like pain shot up his left side.

The blow sent him backward and he bounced off a nearby tree, going to his knees.

The god-bird hopped off his father and towards him as he drew the patu.

It was a warrior's weapon and not meant for hunting; a wooden mace, wide and flat like a paddle. It was the only weapon he had.

He swung up and caught the creature in the chest.

It screeched again but this time in pain.

Tane brought the patu down with the edge on the creature's head.

It was a glancing blow but enough to where the monster hopped backward, away from Tane. He managed to stand upright, ignoring the limp weight of his left arm. He made the warrior's face at the bird: sticking out his tongue through a grimace.

It flapped its wings once and the force of the wind nearly pushed Tane over. Another flap and it was airborne.

Two more and it was out of his reach. Another two and it was above the treeline.

The god-bird flew out of sight.

Tane yelled after it, low and simian.

Tamolan moaned and Tane knelt by him.

“Get up, old man,” he said, his voice sounding weak and pleading.

His father's legs were twisted under him. Tane attempted to move them straight but Tamolan howled when he did so. His right knee cap was rotated to the side and his ankle was already beginning to swell.

“I've been a fool.” Tamolan said. “I led us to a place of death.”

“You're not a fool. You're the bravest man I know.”

Tamolan's back and thighs were riddled with bleeding puncture wounds, evidence of the ferocity of the bird's talons.

“I shouldn't have brought us here.”

“I need to get you back to your people. Nyree can set your bones. Her touch is excellent.”

Tane attempted to put his arm under his father's shoulder and realized his own was in bad shape. It was out of the socket. Tane grimaced again.

From his knees, he put his left hand on the spongy ground, straightening his arm and locking his elbow. He grunted and drove his body forward. There was pain and resistance and then intense pain. He pushed harder, stabilizing his wrist with his other hand. The pain gave way to a pop and his shoulder joint locked back into the socket.

He resisted crying out but collapsed to the forest floor nevertheless. Breathing hard, he turned back to his father.

“I'm getting you back to our people.”

“I'm dying, my son.”

“That cannot be. Chieftains are not killed by birds. It is against nature. Maybe you are a fool after all.”

“We shouldn't have come here.”

Tane sat his father up and helped him stand on his good leg. His father's strong hands gripped him frantically.

“Don't let me fall!” he cried out.

“I am your son. I will not let you fall.”

By leaning against Tane, Tamolan was able to hobble most of the way back. The pain made him delirious and after a few minutes, Tane had to carry him. He lifted the whole of his weight across his back and hooked his arms on Tamolan's good leg and his arm.

He did not let him fall.

***

The rest of the clan went into a frenzy when they returned.

Tane was surrounded by them, friends and family that had braved weeks of open ocean were scared and close to outright panic.

He let them take Tamolan from him and together they moved him into the partially erected village hall, which after less than two days was the most completed structure. They piled blankets on him and Nyree worked from her pouches of medicinal herbs to work out a pain relieving salve. Soon she shooed him and other unnecessary people away so she could have room to work.

When Tane walked outside again, most everyone in the clan was waiting for him.

Rongo was near the front.

“What happened, brother?” he demanded.

Tane told them about the monster, about the attack. With no writing and no history without the spoken word, storytelling was an important skill with which Tane was plenty familiar.

He exaggerated nothing because he didn't have to. He told them about Fetu, about tracking his father and about his father's prayer to the island Kahuna. He told them about the god-bird, saying it was like a falcon or an eagle only enormous. Because the attack came just after their chieftain's pleading prayer, it seemed only logical it was the island's reply to it.

“Has anyone else seen this bird?” Rongo asked the others. “I have not. Though I saw what it did to poor Fetu. A man could do that, if vicious enough.”

“It was no man I've seen. Regardless, venturing into the forest alone or without weapons is henceforth forbidden. None of our little ones are to be left alone for any reason.”

“We need to leave this land.” One of the other men said. “It's clear the gods do not want us here.”

“Leave?” Tane scoffed, “The intentions of gods are never clear. If some of you want to leave then I guess I cannot stop you. But I think we are being challenged. I intend to take that challenge: I am going to hunt it down and kill it.”

There was a ripple of scattered surprise through the group.

“Are any of you brave enough to hunt with me?”

“I will hunt with you, brother.” Rongo said after several seconds. He turned to the gathered crowd, “I intend to avenge my father and my chieftain, how about you?”

No one spoke or stepped forward. Fetu would have been first to volunteer. But in looking over the clan, all he saw was old men, women, and young children. Very few able bodied men and, of those that were, none of them were of warrior stock.

Tane stuck out his tongue. “Cowards! So used to running you cannot fight for your lives! Only one is brave, and he is bound by blood?”

Tane stormed off into the unfinished hall. Nyree was bent over Tamolan. His knee was swollen and bruised.

“Only my brother volunteered to hunt.”

Nyree looked at him annoyed, “Your father's leg is broken. He probably has breaks in his pelvis too. He will be lucky to live to the next moon.”

“There is a chance?”

“He has many wounds. You say this was a bird? This bird pierced him in many places. If you are going to hunt it, you better be careful.”

“I have no intention of failing.”

Nyree stood erect and crossed the room to him and hit him, hard, on his hurt shoulder.

“You are my husband and the future chieftain of this clan after your father. If you die hunting this thing and Tamolan of his wounds there will be no one left who can lead us. We will all perish.”

“My brother—”

“Your brother would rather tend sweet potatoes and fish and carve bone than lead our people. I will not become his wife upon your death, and if he should perish with you then we are doomed. You will kill this bird-monster! There is no other option.”

Tane nodded and put his forehead against his wife's.

“I have faced it once and bested it. I will do so again. Our daughter will grow up here, on this beach, and she will be safe. I swear it to you.”

“Go then. I will tend to your father. You tend to our daughter.”

***

They set off a first light. The entire clan had spent the previous evening helping them prepare for the hunt. Tane had explained to Rongo that the god-bird had fallen on Tamolan from the tree tops. Likely this was what happened to Fetu as well. They both slept poorly in anticipation.

They set off with two days provisions, weighed down with a spear each, plus patus.

The forest was dense but it was easy enough to see up the trees. They spent a lot of time looking up, careful to check each tree before moving under it, lest they trip an attack.

They moved up the river and then across it to the path leading up to the marae site. They found nothing.

They rested midday the first day.

“Most predators,” Tane explained, as Rongo was not much of a hunter, “have a territory they hunt inside of. A kingdom they see over. Depending on the animal, depends the size of the kingdom. We landed inside this god-bird's territory. It is here somewhere, waiting for us.”

Later they headed further inland. The ground lost the spongy give of coastal wetlands and became harder and rockier.

That afternoon they stumbled upon a creature they could have never imagined.

A few days ago, Tane would have said the giant flightless birds they'd seen on the beach were the largest land animal he'd ever witnessed. What wandered across their path was several times that creature's size.

It was twelve feet tall from its thick, scaly feet to almost comically tiny head and had the same basic shape as the man-size flightless birds they'd already encountered.

They froze and let it pass. Tane wondered if this giant bird would taste as good as its smaller cousins.

Rongo knelt near him, whispering, “Brother, what if we laid a trap?

"What kind of trap?" Tane asked.

"Well, what would the bird-god eat if not us?" Rongo pointed at the flightless bird, who thus far seemed to be ignoring the two strange smelling creatures near it.

Tane smiled, "I think you have finally become bored of farming, brother."

They planned quietly for several minutes, studying the docile giant pecking at the ground. Rongo threw the first spear. His aim was good but his arm weak, which Tane counted on. It hit the bird high over the leg but not deep.

The bird shrieked and ran, utilizing powerful legs to drive into the trees. They followed, staying low to the ground and as hidden as possible.

The bird ran, limping with each step, panicked by pain for a mile before stopping. The hunters hid nearby.

The spear dislodged long before it stopped and the bird's leg was covered in blood. It squawked and poked at its injury with its beak.

What happened next was predictable. In fact, they counted on it.

It fell from the tree tops and landed on the giant bird's back, causing it to scream when the heavy talons dug in.

"This is our chance," Rongo said, itching to attack.

"No." Tane grabbed his arm. "Wait. Watch."

The god-bird drove the bigger flightless bird to the ground. It squawked loudly until the god-bird silenced it with a slicing bite to its neck.

Rongo unable to wait, charged.

The god-bird shrieked when it saw Rongo, spreading its wings wide, ready to defend its prey. The shriek took Rongo by surprise, stopping his charge, making him rethink it.

"Brother!" Tane shouted, "Stand together!"

Tane could tell his brother was as scared as he. However, he had faced this creature once and lived.

The same pattern of feathers on the head, the same cold, black eyes. Yes, this was the bird he faced before. It would not escape.

"Brother," Tane said. "Flank it."

Rongo moved to one side, Tane to the other. Both with their spears pointed and ready.

Tane charged first.

He thrust his spear into the god-bird's chest and then withdrew immediately before it could grab the wooden shaft. The bird shrieked and lunged at him.

As if on cue, Rongo did the same, thrusting at its back. It shrieked again and turned, snapping the spear head. Rongo dropped the useless spear shaft and drew his patu, swinging it wildly, keeping the monster at bay.

Tane thrust again. Drawing its attention back to him.

"You are no god," Tane said. And he thrust again, catching it in the chest. It attempted to bite at the spear but he withdrew it before it could snap it.

Rongo rushed forward and beat at it with his patu. He struck over the shoulder, breaking the bone there.

But the bird was fast. It turned and with lightning speed bit at him. Its hooked beak caught him on the shoulder where his neck met his collarbone.

Rongo cried out and stuck again. Beating the bird in panic.

With a twist of its neck it lifted him off his feet and flung him away. Rongo landed with a thud against the forest floor, bleeding torrents. The bird hopped towards him, going for the kill.

Tane thrust his spear with everything he had.

The spear tip entered the creature's back, between its wings. He pushed in, deep.

The god-bird shrieked and Tane thought he might go deaf but he held on to his spear. He yanked it to the side, and pulled the god-bird with it.

"I am vengeance!" he screamed, pulling the spear free.

The god-bird looked up at him, cawing and writhing on the ground. Its deadly talon opening and closing at the sky. The bird didn't look so powerful now that it was on its back, defenseless.

Tane thrust his spear again and pierced its heart, silencing it.

Rongo sat up, gripping his shoulder, blood dripping between his fingers. "I've decided hunting is stupid and I should stick to my gardens."

"Nonsense," Tane said, helping his brother to his feet. "I couldn't have done this without you."

Rongo's shoulder was a bloody mess but he would live. Tane knelt and with several cuts with his flint knife, cut the creature's head off.

The whole clan met them at the tree line. The small children and old ones making up their ragged clan cheered and screamed when Tane held up the beast's severed head, its sickle beak harmless now.

Nyree was still with Tamolan. She looked up at him but did not smile. When she saw Rongo's wounds she bid him sit so she could assess the damage.

"Our daughter is safe?" she asked Tane.

"As long as I draw breath, she will be."

***

They sat next to their father until he died.

His passing came early the next morning, as the sun was just beginning to peek over the horizon. Tamolan seized then, his fever reaching a crescendo. Rongo and Tane held his hands, and prayed.

The next two days passed in a haze. They buried Tamolan and Fetu at the marae site Tamolan had chosen. Tane remembered singing the words of the death songs and speaking the ancient prayers but felt numb to it all.

Their ragged clan, stinging from the loss of two invaluable men, carried on.

When Nyree gave birth a half moon later, it was to a healthy baby girl. The night she was born they heard a shriek coming from the edge of the forest. The familiar sound caused the hairs on Tane's neck to stand on end.

They named their daughter Tekura. It was a good name and strong. It meant "plan of action."

As the sun rose on his daughter's first day he knew that soon he would have to return to the forest. But not today, he thought, watching Tekura feed at Nyree's breast.

Not today.

About the author

When not writing, Chris Daruns works as a paramedic in Denver. He keeps the insanity at bay by rock climbing, playing guitar, and spending time with his wife and daughter. Sometimes he can be found at school (when not closed due to pandemics) furthering his education in medicine. His short stories have been published in Dark Futures, The Copperfield Review, Obscura, Alcyone, and Infernal Ink.

About the artwork

The illustration is Giant Haast's eagle attacking New Zealand moa by John Megahan, 2004. It is used here, unaltered, under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.5 Generic license, via Wikimedia Commons.