Makani knelt over her gramma, tears filling her eyes. She wanted to pull back, so they wouldn't stain the old woman's dry cheeks, but she could not move. The tears fell, splashing against Gramma's skin. And only then did she open her eyes.

Makani felt arrested by the dark brown, empty. As if all she held was open for Gramma to see. But if there was anyone she would trust her heart with, it would be her gramma.

"You woke me," Gramma whispered shakily, smiling gently up at her granddaughter.

"I'm sorry," Makani whispered, the words barely forcing their way from her throat. She wiped hastily at her eyes, the strange spell holding her in place broken.

"It's okay to cry. It's okay to be sad." Gramma smiled again, even fainter, and raised a trembling hand to take Makani's. "I was, when my gramma died."

There was that word. The word the healers were using. Dying. Died. Death. Dead. "Don't use that word," Makani hissed. "I hate that word!" Suddenly, she wasn't sad anymore. She was furious. Furious at the world, for taking away something so dear to her. Furious at herself, for not being able to do something, anything to help her gramma. Even furious at her gramma, for growing old and by doing so, returning to the earth.

But she wasn't gone yet. Her brave, strong grammawas holding out.

"It is not a bad word. It is a sad word, yes, but people are too harsh to it," Gramma said. She spoke as if the word was a person, and Makani felt bad for her hostile feelings toward it. That was the effect that Gramma had on people - twisting their reality and making them see their actions clearly, if from a different perspective than was expected.

As Makani pondered this, Gramma tugged at her hand slightly and then released it, as if she had used up the last of her energy in the action. "I have told you a lot of stories, Makani, about my travels, but there is one I have not told you."

This snapped Makani out of her thoughts. Gramma loved nothing more than sharing stories with anyone who would listen, and as she had had such a fantastic, adventurous life, there was always someone to listen.

"I didn't even tell my parents this story," Gramma said confidentially. "At least, not the whole thing."

Makani felt her anticipation rising. Her great-grandmother had died when she was seven, but she still remembered how close she and Gramma had been. Apparently, it had been that way with her father as well. So what was so important that Gramma wouldn't even have told her parents? And why did Makani get to hear it now?

Gramma took a shuddering breath. "Water," she hissed on her exhale, and Makani grabbed the pitcher from her side to refill her cup. Once the old woman had drank what she needed, she sighed and leaned back. "Now, I can begin the tale," she murmured, sounding stronger than she had for days.

"Child, you have heard the stories of the gods? Of how our islands came into being? You have heard of the stories of our people - of me?"

"Of course, Gramma." Makani loved the stories, because she knew they were true. Her Gramma herself had taken Makani to see the sleeping form of Te Fiti. It had been a truly awe-inspiring trip.

"I speak of the story of Te Fiti's heart."

"The one where it was stolen by the demigod?"

"The demigod has a name, Makani." Her gramma's eyes closed momentarily and she sighed through smiling lips. "Maui."

"I know, Gramma." Makani balled her hands into fists on her lap to hide her impatience, but when her gramma's gaze flicked down, Makani knew that it was foolish to try to fool her. Even on the brink of death, Gramma saw everything Makani tried to hide.

"Maui stole Te Fiti's heart right out of her sleeping form, and in doing so, cursed the world to a very slow, ancient, powerful curse. Now, you know my story." This was not a question. Everyone on all of the islands knew of Gramma and her bravery.

"Yes! You were chosen by the ocean and given Te Fiti's heart, which it had been keeping safe, waiting for you. You snuck off of your island, with the help of your gramma and mother, and managed to evade evil until you made it to Te Fiti and restored her heart." Makani said it as if rehearsing lines. She knew the story inside-out, being the granddaughter of its protagonist. It was the reason Gramma had been allowed to establish colonies in other islands, given help and islanders by her father. In doing so, she had brought prosperity to her people that had not been seen in centuries.

"That is not the story," Gramma said, closing her eyes. This time, she was not smiling - she had a slightly pained look on her face.

Makani felt the words in the pit of her stomach. "Wh...what?" Please have heard wrong. Please have said wrong. Please just be a senile old woman.

"That is not the story," Gramma said again, the words gaining strength. "The real story is much more dangerous, and much more exciting. But it involves someone who wished to remain hidden."

"Who, Gramma?" Makani no longer felt scared. Gramma had been brave and adventurous, even more so than she had said. And noble, too, if the identity of this figure had remained so well hidden.

"Maui," her grandmother breathed, and Makani once again felt the words in the pit of her stomach. Her gramma forged onward.

"I was chosen by the ocean to find Maui, and make him help me return the heart. After my ship crashed, I found him on a barren island. I finally got him to help me...mostly just by refusing to leave him alone. To make a long story short, for I feel myself tiring, we were able to make it to Te Fiti's island. She had turned into a monster, and nearly killed us both. Maui's fabled fishhook was destroyed before I realized the monster was the heartless goddess. I talked her into coming to me and not killing me by using her heart as a lure, and I replaced it. Once she had returned to normal, she gave Maui a new fishhook, and gave me a new boat - mine had been destroyed."

"But...Maui hasn't been heard of in centuries. Why would he want to stay hidden?" Makani asked, desperately trying to align the two versions of the stories that she had now heard.

"At first, that was the only reason he was doing it. He thought he lived to be loved by the humans. But by the end of our little quest, he had made a much braver decision. Instead of living like a god with our people, never really having to do much work, Maui left this part of the ocean to travel the world and help other humans. He stayed for about a year before he started his journey."

Makani blinked rapidly, the factualness of her gramma's voice confirming the story. Her gramma was humorous, but rarely joked about what she considered serious matters. "Gramma," she started gently, "have you - "

"Heard from him since? Yes, I have. He visits me regularly, in all sorts of forms, of course. He is a shapeshifter, after all." Gramma laughed slightly, but it was more of an affectionate laugh rather than a humorous one. "Oh, Moana and Maui. Those were the days."

Makani smiled down at her gramma and stroked the hair from her forehead. "Thank you for telling me. I loved the story."

"Oh, you think I was telling you just to amuse you?" Gramma coughed, waving a hand at Makani's protests. "Typical youth. No, no, you need to find Maui, of course."

Makani found she could no longer control her blinking. "What?"

"Find Maui," her gramma repeated as if she was slow. "Find Maui."

"Why, Gramma?"

"Because the only reason I'm still alive right now is because I want to speak with him."

"You...want me to find Maui...so he can say goodbye to you?"

"I know he can sense how I am. He is a demigod, after all, and he does have a few, small powers outside of that huge fishhook. Usually, he knows when I'm sick, and he comes to give support. But he doesn't come when I'm dying? I want you to go find him so I can have a good yell at him." Gramma grinned and patted Makani's knee. "Please, dear. I know I can trust you."

"How long do the healers say you have?" Makani asked after a beat of silence.

"I may seem on the brink of death, but if I do everything they say, I have a good two weeks."

Makani steepled her fingertips together and took a deep breath. "So I have two weeks to find a demigod who may or may not be in this part of the ocean and bring him back to you to say goodbye?"

"You're a smart one, all right." Gramma smiled and drifted into slumber.

Makani stayed there, knelt by her side, for a few more minutes before raising painfully to her feet. Wincing at her aching knees, she pushed her way out of the dark tent (Gramma refused to stay in one of the huts) and into the bright, tropical day outside.

She had two weeks, starting now, to find a demigod who she had only learned was connected to her Gramma mere minutes ago.

Makani moaned and clapped a hand to her forehead.