Chapter 6 Modern Exploration #2
“What’s wrong? I’ve seen you carry the plates and cutlery. Are you worried this won’t work? No matter what, we’ll help you get home. No one should have to suffer a curse like this and especially one because of plain jealousy.”
Her concern and reassurance wiped away his stormy thoughts.
“Sorry. Sometimes I slip and feel miserable and angry about my situation. My apologies.” There was no way he’d confess he was furious on her behalf.
He’d known warriors who spoke with their fists, especially after drinking the white man’s stinking water.
“That’s understandable.” She unlocked a door and led the way into a long, low building with a flat roof. “This is our wee shop. Mostly, it’s the T-shirts and postcards I need to restock.” She reached down and lifted a brown box before walking toward Tāwera. “See the empty gaps in this rack?”
The words she used were unfamiliar, but Tāwera soon understood what she wanted of him after she’d demonstrated the task.
“Oh. One thing.” She flashed another impish grin. “You’d better watch for people walking past. It will shock them to see postcards floating through the air.”
“I can do that.” Tāwera spent an enjoyable ten minutes studying the bright pictures and filling the gaps. “I’m finished.”
“Perfect timing,” Nyree said, glancing out their windows. “It looks as if the first load of passengers has arrived.”
“What should I do?”
“Wander around and explore. Listen to the passengers. Try talking to one of them to work out if they can hear you.” She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t scare anyone too much.”
Tāwera nodded, suddenly eager to test the boundaries of this strange world.
Nyree flapped her hands at him. “Go. I’ll be here if you need me for anything. If you have questions, it’s best to save them for later when we’re alone.”
“My thanks, Nyree.”
“You’re welcome. Go.”
The door opened behind him, and two women wearing bright yellow jackets wandered inside. They wore hats and scarves wound around their necks.
“Postcards!” one cried. “Can we mail them here?”
Nyree smiled at them. “We operate as a post office and a store.”
Tāwera slipped through the open door and studied the new arrivals who wandered past him.
Curious about the men of this time, he attached himself to a group of males and followed them as they explored the old whaling equipment.
Several of them stopped to point small machines in different directions, and he made a note to ask Nyree what they were doing.
Most of the visitors had these machines.
“Louise is gorgeous,” one said. “Does she have a boyfriend?”
“Yeah, she has a man at home,” a second man said.
“Might try my luck, anyway. Louise lives in the same suburb as me.”
Tāwera grinned, understanding that the dance between male and female was the same as when he had been a young warrior despite the different times and the unusual machines.
He wandered on to eavesdrop on another group walking to the church.
The wind ruffled and tugged at his topknot, and the chill pebbled his skin, yet he continued with his explorations, despite the low temperatures.
Each flex of his muscles proved he was alive, and it was a magical sensation with the breeze tickling his flesh and the scent of rain riding the air.
“It’s going to rain,” he said.
“Really?” a short woman asked. Her almost square shape intrigued him. “The clouds aren’t dark, and the captain never mentioned rain. I’m certain he would’ve told us if poor weather was on the horizon.”
“I can smell the rain,” Tāwera said and moved on before the woman realized he was invisible. He found if he concentrated, he comprehended most people. Some even spoke like the visitors to his town—the men from the faraway land of France.
Tāwera continued walking and followed a line of yellow-clad people up a hill.
Here, the wind blew wilder and more fiercely, reminding him of the freedom of flying.
Without hesitation, he strode from the group to seek a sheltered spot to leave his clothes.
He stripped off his cloak, the sandals Nyree had found him, piupiu, and undergarments and stuffed them in a crevice.
To make sure his possessions didn’t blow away, he placed a rock over the top.
Naked, he stood poised on the hillside while he centered his mind and called up his taniwha.
His muscles and bones reshaped, starting his change, but it was sluggish. For an instant, worry coalesced in his heart. Would he shift, or was this form cursed too?
Focus.
Memories of his mother stilled his panic.
She’d shown him how to transform and explained how the moon’s pull affected their species.
When they shifted, their taniwha remained stable, but if they couldn’t change because of a compromising position, once they became adults, they needed sexual release during the time of the full moon.
At least that was one problem that hadn’t surfaced during his confinement.
His thoughts slipped to Nyree, then meandered on to the demands of the taniwha. How did she remain level during the full moon? Here, she could shift, but what happened to taniwha in the larger towns and the places Nyree called cities? Another question for his list.
His wings burst from his shoulders, and the jolt of agony almost buckled his knees.
He sank to the rocky ground, his breathing hoarse and labored.
The pain was so intense, Tāwera struggled to hold the image of his dragon in his mind.
Just when he thought he might blackout, his shift burst through him.
Exhausted but elated, he pushed to his knees, his taniwha senses keener than he recalled. The urge to fly batted at him, along with a foreign blast of fury.
His dragon.
Tāwera sucked a breath into his big lungs, his scaled chest rising and falling, then muscle memory had him taking to the air.
He turned into the breeze, allowing the wind to aid his flight.
This first time his flight would need to be short.
Tāwera glanced down at the sea glistening beneath him.
Not the wisest course. He should’ve thought harder and remained on land.
If he went into the sea, he wouldn’t have the energy to swim. Too late now.
He flapped his wings and realized that already he had traveled a distance out to sea.
Fighting the wind, he turned in an arc. The ship bobbed beneath him, and his mind darted to a viable solution.
Land on the ship to rest and recover. He’d steal aboard a small boat from the ship and ride to shore with the passengers.
If that didn’t work, he’d fly after a brief rest. His belly rumbled.
Yes, after a rest, perhaps he’d pilfer food. That would help with his low energy.
Pleased to have a plan, Tāwera directed his body toward the ship.
His landing wasn’t pretty since his wings gave out.
Only sheer determination kept him gliding as far as the open deck.
He thumped down, and a passenger who was standing at the ship railing let out a surprised squeal.
She half fell against the siding. The ship rolled before bobbing and righting itself, and other people screeched when an enormous wave created by his sudden landing almost upended their tiny boat.
Tāwera’s muscles quivered, but he forced himself to grab the female and shunt her toward the safety of a doorway that led inside the ship.
She screamed again, right in his ear, as he yanked at the door with his foreleg.
Luckily, the woman didn’t struggle too much as he shoved her through the gap. As he slumped against the doorway, blocking the exit, he noted the scurry of men and women inside the cabin. The raised, excited voices.
A soft groan squeezed up his throat, and every part of his dragon body ached. Tāwera closed his eyes, unable to do more than rest. He shuddered to imagine what might have happened had he not grabbed the woman in time. He hadn’t meant to place her in danger.
The shunt in the middle of his back had him jerking from the state of partial slumber. A second jolt woke him right up, and he roared, flames tearing from his open maw.