The entire village had turned out for their arrival in the last fading light of the evening, greeting their canoe with enthusiastic shouts of "bula!" and copious offerings of fragrant flowers strung into salusalu leis. Then the chief's spokesman, a man named Mbeke, had come forth to speak with them.

"Welcome, Maui—demigod of the wind and sea, shapeshifter, hero of men! Ratu Toki invites you to join him in the Vale ni Bose for kava and to be formally welcomed to the village of Rukua."

Maui, naturally, had accepted the invitation. The spokesman had not even looked at Tamatoa, but it hadn't seemed important at the time and Tamatoa had let it slide. Instead, he cheerfully followed along after Maui as they were led to the village, concentrating on keeping his bioluminescent colors burning brightly. He'd only recently been able to control his natural lights with more precision and he was pleased to show that new skill off. This was the first human village they'd visited since his last molt—since he'd outgrown the need to wear a borrowed gastropod shell for protection and Tamatoa was very proud of that, too. He was heavily armored all over now and his colors were bright and vivid, no longer the drab, dull purple of his juvenile days. With the prospect of an audience near at hand, Tamatoa was eager to strut his stuff. He pranced through the village, all aglow and grinning.

In no time, the high-peaked, palm-thatched roof of the Vale ni Bose—the meeting house—came into view. It was a large structure, bigger than most others in the village, and raised off the ground. A rough hewn set of stone stairs lead up towards the entryway.

Maui stepped up into the vale, but when Tamatoa began to ascend the stone steps he suddenly found a tall human blocking his path. He looked up at man, eyestalks quirked in confusion. The man was glaring down at him with a stern, unyielding stare and arms folded across his chest. Drawing back uncertainly, Tamatoa scuttled to the side and tried to edge carefully around him. Again he was blocked. "Hey!" he said with an indignant flick of his antennae. "Let me by!"

"No," came the brusque reply.

"Wha—? Why?" Tamatoa demanded, irked.

The human's face was set like stone. "No crabs."

"No cra—but—I—" he stammered. His antennae swept back, flattening against his shell. Bewildered, he looked at the guard again—standing firm like an impassable obstacle. Why couldn't he come in? He wasn't just some crab, he was Maui's friend! They went everywhere together!

With that, a thread of anger rose to the surface. He clicked a pincer, flexing the claw opened and closed while he considered the best place to pinch the stubborn human. An obstacle, yes, but not an impassable one. Tamatoa had fended off supernatural swamp creatures all by himself, he could get this one annoying human out of the way.

The human, however, was apparently more savvy than he looked. He reached down to retrieve a heavy wooden club that had been leaning against one of the vale poles, holding it casually but with a subtly implied threat.

Tamatoa's eyes flicked from the human to the club in his hands, lingering on the weapon as he weighed his options. He clicked his pincer again. The human tilted the club a bit. It was a very heavy club—a fine piece of quality mahogany, he noted—with knobby burls marking the business end of it. He stared at it. Freshly molted and hardened carapace or not, it still looked like it would hurt. A lot.

"Maaaaauiiii!" Tamatoa howled out, loud and strident.

Maui would set this right. Tamatoa was certain of that. He gave the human a confident smirk and crossed his claws in a mimicry of the guard's pose, settling in to wait.

It only took a moment for Maui to reappear, poking his head out of the vale to see what was going on. "Huh? What is it?"

"Maui!" he exclaimed, giving his friend a grateful look. "I was just trying to come up the stairs and—" He jabbed an accusatory claw at the guard. "—he won't let me in!"

Maui looked from Tamatoa to the guard. The guard shifted his weight slightly, clearly intimidated by the demigod, but remained standing where he was.

Maui gave the human a lazy half-smile. "What's the problem?"

It took the human a moment to respond, as if carefully considering his words. "The kava ceremony is an honor meant for people, it is not for animals."

"Animals!" Tamatoa spat, deeply offended. He raised his pincers again and snapped them angrily. How dare this human! How dare—

"Well, he's with me," Maui asserted, stepping in easily before Tamatoa could say another word. "Can't you just make an exception this time?"

The human shook his head decisively, standing his ground. "No. I am sorry, but this is not possible."

Maui shrugged. "Let's see what Ratu Toki has to say about it," he said, then disappeared back into the vale to speak with the chief.

Tamatoa waited in smirking silence, glaring at the guard and tapping his claw tips together to remind the human that he had claws. Claws that could pinch! But the human didn't even look at him, nor did he loosen his grip on the bludgeon in his hands.

A few minutes later, Maui reappeared. One look at his sheepish expression and Tamatoa felt a twinge of apprehension.

"Heeeey," the demigod drawled, drawing his words out in an obvious attempt to stall for time. "Sooo, why don't you wait for me back at the canoe? It's getting late, you know? I'll be back in a little while."

Tamatoa's mouth fell open and his glowing colors flickered in surprise. For a long moment he stared at Maui in disbelief. Finally, his temper flared through his shock. "What? No!" he sputtered, aghast. "Maui!"

"Sorry, kid," the demigod shrugged awkwardly, looking uncomfortable with the whole situation. "The rules are the rules, can't change them."

Tamatoa heard a voice call from within the vale and Maui glanced over his shoulder anxiously. He looked antsy, eager to get back to the laughing crowd of villagers within. Tamatoa felt a spike of annoyance. It was always the same with humans. Maui wanted their attention so badly, for reasons Tamatoa still didn't fully understand. It made no sense. The humans were so fleeting. Sometimes they would return to a village only to discover that none of the humans they'd met the previous time were still alive—even the young ones were long gone. Yet, despite this, Maui was always trying to impress them. It was almost obsessive. Most of the time, it didn't bother Tamatoa.

This time, it did.

He was grown now, no longer a juvenile needing a borrowed protective shell. He'd proven himself on their last adventure against the swamp witches. There was no reason why he should be left behind now. They were friends, partners.

As Maui looked longingly towards the little soiree already in progress, Tamatoa's anger gave way to hurt. His antennae drooped and his eyestalks sagged. "But Maui," he said, dejection in every syllable, "what about—"

"Not this time, Tamatoa," Maui said absently. He was barely paying attention, casting distracted looks inside the vale. "Go wait at the canoe. Tomorrow we'll go explore the island, okay? I'll see you later." Then he ducked back inside the vale and vanished.

Tamatoa was left standing at the base of the steps, mouth agape and utterly shocked.

The human guard, to his credit, didn't rub it in. He simply moved back to block the stairs and looked down at Tamatoa impassively.

Tamatoa took a slow step backwards, deeply hurt and not understanding why he was being shut out—why Maui wasn't doing more to stand up for him. Maui was a demigod, after all, couldn't he just change the rules? Then he took another step and righteous anger rose back up to cover up the hurt. Tamatoa wouldn't be turned away so easily!

With a huffy flick of his antennae, he spun around and marched stiffly off. He stomped through the village, cranking his glow up as bright as he could make it.

Then, as he passed behind the shadow of a small bure, he forced his bioluminescence to extinguish and slipped into the darkness between two small huts. Doubling back, he raced from shadow to shadow, dodging the gleam of bright moonlight, towards the big vale again.

Skidding to a halt as he reached the meeting house, Tamatoa moved forward with greater care. Tapa cloths, intricately painted with fanciful designs, were drawn down like shades between the support pillars of the massive structure. He couldn't see in, but nor could the occupants see out. Thus concealed, he circled carefully around it in the shadows, approaching instead from the back where no human watchmen waited to harass him.

There were no stairs here, so he instead wrapped his long legs around a thick wooden support post. It was just like climbing a coconut palm and he shimmied up with ease. Still clinging to it tightly, he edged around until he was even with the dangling end of a tapa panel, hanging just above the raised wooden platform that served as a floor. Cautious and careful, he slipped his antennae under the cloth. Then his eyestalks followed, peeking under the tapa without disturbing its natural drape.

His eyes adjusted quickly to the dim vale, lit by a few small bundles of dried fish that gave off a weak bioluminescent glow of their own. Fresh flowers hung from the rafters, their sweet smell filling the enclosed space. The humans were seated in a circle on a woven mat. They were murmuring softly amongst themselves. At the focus of the circle, a wizened old man sat before a wide wooden basin. Tamatoa watched curiously as the man wiped the basin out with a damp cloth. Then he filled a small bag with some some brown powder. Even at a distance, Tamatoa could smell its sharp, earthy odor.

The old man placed the filled bag in the wooden bowl, then nodded. Another brought forward a thick bamboo pole, which he tilted over the seated man's shoulder. Clean river water flowed out, pouring over the bag and filling the bowl. Then the old man's hands began to move, kneading the bag gently within the water. He worked with his gnarled fingers, occasionally lifting the bag to squeeze the water through it, until the clear water began to turn a pale, creamy brown color. It looked like the frothy mud of a fast moving river after a heavy rain, when the water ran thin and was filled with churned up silt.

Tamatoa quirked an eye, watching the whole process curiously. He'd never seen such a thing before, but it was fascinating. For a moment, he almost forgot his anger at being turned away. Then the man began to speak, a solemn litany invoking gods and the like. Boring. It quickly shifted, though, and the attention was centered on Maui—Maui, their honored guest that they were welcoming to the village, honoring with the sharing of kava. They went on, running through his titles and enumerating his great deeds. Tamatoa's eyes narrowed and he let out a huff, burying hurt under annoyance. All of this was to welcome Maui, to make him an official, honorary member of the village; and Tamatoa was shunted to the side, left out and ignored.

He could just barely see Maui's face in the low light, but he could see enough to know that the demigod was eating it all up. He looked pleased as could be to have the humans welcome and praise him. A half coconut shell, polished smooth and thin, was dipped into the brown water. An attendant carried it, two handed, across to Maui and presented it to him with an air of formality.

Maui clapped his hands once, accepted the cup with both hands, and drank it down in one long gulp. He handed the empty shell back and clapped his hands three more times. Tamatoa was perplexed, wishing he knew what the clapping meant. He loved details, but apparently he wasn't welcome to these. His antennae drooped unhappily.

The ceremony continued on and drinks were passed around to the other humans one at a time, in what appeared to be some order of precedence and status. When all the humans had drunk, the ceremony lost some of its formality and became more social and casual. They began another round, again starting with Maui. He said something to the attendant and they filled the coconut cup to the very rim this time. As before, he drank it all down in one long gulp.

Round after round, the villagers drank until the heavy basin was empty. The humans grew more chatty as the rounds went on, laughing and joking with a relaxed air. Then suddenly the spokesman for the chief stood and made an announcement—the celebration would now commence, with dancing and feasting awaiting them. With cheers and whoops, the villagers all stood and began to depart.

Tamatoa's eyes went wide and he swiftly yanked his antennae and eyestalks out from under the tapa cloth before he could be spotted. Hastily, he shimmied back down the post and hid under the raised wooden floor. Overhead, he could hear the cacophony of footsteps made by many humans, all blended together as they hurried en masse to their waiting festivities. He could easily pick out Maui's heavier footfalls, leaving with the rest of the crowd.

Then all was silent and Tamatoa was left alone, crouched in the damp earth under the vale.

He stayed there for a long time, trying to decide what to do. He was supposed to be waiting at the canoe. Would Maui go look for him there? His antennae perked. Maybe Maui would come to invite him to the festivities! With that in mind, he scurried quickly out from under the vale and slipped back into the shadows. He knew he had to get through the village without getting caught, but quickly enough to beat Maui back to the canoe and be waiting there like he was supposed to be when the demigod showed up to invite him.

Tamatoa could be both quick and stealthy, though, and had little trouble making his way back to their boat. Once there, he clambered up onto the deck and laid down on the wooden planks. He carefully arranged his legs around him and laid his head on a claw, draping his antennae loosely. He swiveled an eyestalk to look at himself and suppressed a grin. Yep, he was the model of casualness—displayed in a meticulously cultivated pose implying that he'd just been quietly napping all along and certainly not spying.

Thus posed, he settled in to wait for Maui to arrive and invite him to the feast.

He waited.

In the distance, log drums beat their fast rhythm. The smell of roasted pork, fresh from an earthen oven, drifted through the air to him and Tamatoa's mouth watered. He was so hungry. When was Maui going to come back to get him? Surely he'd be along any minute now. Maybe he wasn't welcome in the kava ceremony, but surely he could come to the feast.

Right?

Time passed. He could hear singing now, clear and strong. Someone obviously had a lovely singing voice in that village. The song would sound even better if Tamatoa sang along with them! His legs scratched restlessly at the deck, the sharp points leaving little marks on the planks. He curled an eyestalk to examine the marks, blemishes marring the fine wood. Ugly little marks—it was a shame to damage the finish like that. He dug his legs into the deck harder, carving deep, spiteful gouges.

More time passed and he picked at the gouges in the wood with a claw, pulling splinters loose and tossing them into the sand dejectedly. He looked wistfully down the darkened path to the village, lit only by the moon. There was no rustle of movement, no crunching footsteps, no shadow of an approaching figure. The realization slowly crept in on him, settling like a heavy weight on his shell.

Maui wasn't coming.

Tamatoa stood up, moving stiffly but holding his head up high, his mouth set in a thin line. He was hungry. If Maui wasn't going to come invite him to the feast, he'd just go help himself to something.

He jumped off the deck, landing in the sand with a thump. With his bioluminescence still muted, he stalked off towards the village.

Keeping low and out of sight, he slipped with ease through the shadows once again. There were clusters of humans standing around, chatting gaily in the moonlit night. Laughter and music flowed from the center of the village. A pang of hurt ran through him. Tamatoa wanted so badly to join the festivities—to sing and laugh and tap his legs along with the music. He still didn't understand why he was being excluded. He had accompanied Maui to plenty of other villages when he was smaller and there had never been any issue. Why was this one different?

He paused as he reached the edge of the festivities, clinging to the shadows still. There were men dancing now, while the women chanted a harsh meke and others beat out a pounding rhythm on the log drums.

The dancers were moving in tight formation, their movements fluid and perfectly synced to each other. It was a fierce dance, with the men striking aggressive poses and sticking their tongues out in what they must imagine was a ferocious grimace. Tamatoa wasn't impressed by the posturing. Humans didn't even have strong teeth, so what threat was there in making a face like that?

As they danced, they carried lightweight wooden war clubs, wickedly curved to a fan-shaped head and bearing a brutal wooden spur near the end. The dancers swung them around, making mock charges at the audience. He could see the details, but there was nothing fantastic about them, really. The clubs were carved and painted with fanciful designs, clearly more ceremonial than functional. The dance was clearly highly regarded, however, if the cheers from the audience were any indication. Tamatoa, on the other hand, was nonplussed—the dance props were only wood and paint and not even remotely shiny. And who cared about some silly war club, anyway?

He kept moving.

As much as he'd have liked to stay for the singing and dancing, he was hungry first and foremost. He edged around the crowd watching the dancers and followed the scent of roasted meat and baked taro. It wasn't difficult to find and when Tamatoa finally reached it, his eyes went wide.

The lovo had long since been unearthed; its stone-lined pit was open to the air and still warm—heated by the volcanic forces at work just below the island's surface. Waiting nearby was a vast banquet of foods still laid out on banana leaves to cool. Savory pork and chicken was piled high, along with stacks of baked cassava and taro root. There were steaming packets of shredded meat and coconut milk, wrapped in layers of taro leaves and tied closed with a strip of screwpine leaf. Off to the side were bowls of tender fern sprouts and a basket of fragrant pandanus fruit keys, their sweet smell pungent even amongst the delicious scents of the meat and root vegetables.

Tamatoa grinned wide. It was a veritable feast! And best of all, it was completely unattended.

He took a few steps forward towards the tantalizing buffet, but then hesitated. Tamatoa had never stolen food from a human village before. Granted, he'd never been shut out of a celebration before either. Humans had always been willing to share food with him and Maui. Would Maui be mad if he just took some uninvited?

The food all smelled so good, only sharpening his hunger as he gazed longingly at it. A flick of his antennae into the air and a quick glance around was enough to tell him that he was alone. No one was nearby to catch him or tell him to go away. His stomach growled and that was all it took—he made up his mind.

Maui would understand.

Wasting no time, he stepped over to the spread and began sampling the fare. Sampling, that is, by way of big clawfuls that he stuffed gracelessly into his mouth. He made short work of the meat, polishing it off first, then he started in on the taro packets. By the time those were gone, there was a faint rustle of sound nearby. His antennae twitched, picking up the signs of unfamiliar humans. Someone was coming.

Snatching up as many taro roots as he could carry, he hurried over to the basket of pandanus fruits. He piled the taro on top, grabbed the basket in his claws, and skittered away into the undergrowth with his prize just as a pair of humans arrived on the scene.

Behind him, he could hear their raised voices, yelling about the missing food. No one pursued him as he darted nimbly through the brush. Tamatoa grinned back over his shoulder, feeling pretty good about himself. He hadn't been spotted and had gotten away clean. He headed for the beach, aiming to go enjoy the rest of his meal in peace down by the water where the night sky wasn't obscured by trees overhead.

The brush thinned out as he approached the shore until finally he could see the wide, sandy expanse, gleaming in the moonlight. Just as he went to step onto the beach, he heard a noise and shrank quickly back into the sheltering fronds of a low-slung screwpine. After a moment, he poked an eyestalk out cautiously.

Stumbling out of the bushes was Maui. He was laughing and singing off-key to himself as he reeled over to the edge of the high tide line. The demigod went to sit down, but he seemed off-balance and it was more like an awkward collapse. Legs splayed, he sat heavily and let his hook fall loosely from his hand. Once settled on the sand, he leaned back to look up at the sky. Of course, he kept leaning back until he hit a tipping point and flopped back to the sand with a giddy laugh.

Tamatoa peeked his other eyestalk out, flicking his antennae forward as well. He waited for an excruciatingly long time, keeping alert for anyone else who might emerge from the brush to join him.

The sound of heavy snoring drifted down the beach.

Tamatoa snorted. He set his basket of stolen snacks down, concealing it in the fronds, and stepped onto the beach. Silently, he crept to where Maui was sprawled in the sand until he reached the demigod's side. Maui's eyes were closed, but his mouth was hanging slack. The thunderous, rasping snores made Tamatoa cringe. Mammals had such weird quirks. And was that a string of drool or was it snot smeared on Maui's face? Gross.

It must have been quite a party, if Maui had passed out like this. As he looked down at his friend, Tamatoa felt a sense of injustice rise in him again at being left out. Indignant, he poked Maui in the side with a claw, intending to wake him up and give him a proper down-dressing about his rudeness—about leaving him behind. "Maui?"

There was no reaction, not even a hitch in the awful noises the demigod was making. Irritated, Tamatoa grabbed ahold of Maui's hand and pinched it. "Maui!" he hissed, more insistent now. The demigod let out a grumbly snort, mumbling something incoherent, then he pulled his hand free and rolled over onto his side, his face turned away from Tamatoa. For a moment, everything was silent except for the gentle lapping of the surf. Then the snoring resumed, now at a higher volume.

Tamatoa flopped down on the sand beside him, frustrated and angry and upset in equal measure. "Fine," he huffed. "Be that way."

He stared idly at the tattoos on Maui's arms and shoulders. On his arms there was one for his shapeshifting, another for defeating a bird monster, and another still for harnessing the wind. The cool ones were on the front though, lassoing the sun and lifting up the sky. He loved hearing those stories and never got tired of Maui telling them. The demigod's back was mostly blank, though. Tamatoa reached forward to push Maui's bushy hair away with a claw. Blank except this one—the one under there that Maui refused to talk about.

Tamatoa's lip turned down in a thoughtful frown. Maui said he'd earned these for his great deeds and adventures, but there were none on there for any of the things they had done together. A sly smile slowly spread across Tamatoa's face. Maybe Maui's tattoos could use a little improvement. And maybe with those improvements, Maui would remember not to leave his best friend behind next time.

His basket of snacks forgotten, Tamatoa jumped up from the sand and scurried down the beach to their canoe. He had an idea! Once there, he yanked open the hatch and climbed into the hold, dumping baskets out heedlessly until he found what he was looking for. Clutching a small package in his claw, he clambered out of the hold—barely able to squeeze out of the narrow opening. He'd grown a lot in his last molt, it would seem. Next time, he'd probably outgrow the little hatch and that would be the end of his having a dark, cozy place below decks to sleep.

He wasn't worried about that now, though. He had a plan!

Back down the beach he ran, hoping Maui didn't wake up before he got his chance. He was in luck, though—Maui was still snoozing, utterly oblivious. With a grin, Tamatoa unwrapped the package he'd taken from the boat. Inside was a thin wooden stick, the end frayed to make a brush, and a bundle of brown dye made from mangrove bark. It was all they had left after painting the new sail on the canoe. Maui had insisted on painting a huge fishhook to dominate the entire sail, but while he wasn't looking Tamatoa had added a little claw to the corner. Now, however, it was Tamatoa's turn to make all the artistic choices!

He put his claw to his chin, thoughtful as he considered his canvas. Well, first of all, some general embellishments. He carefully stepped around to Maui's front and examined the tattoos already there. Maui had done all these things before they had met, but that didn't mean those stories wouldn't be improved with the addition of himself. What stories wouldn't be, after all? Tamatoa grinned.

Holding the brush delicately in his pincer, he dipped it into the dye and started to paint. First, he added himself to the scene where Maui was lassoing the sun. Tamatoa was no great artist, but the figure now pulling the rope beside Maui was clearly a monster crab. He paused to admire his work. It looked just right, as if he really had helped Maui slow down the sun in some other life, and Tamatoa smiled.

Next he added himself beside the depiction of Maui lifting up the sky. Although, this time he drew himself pinching Maui's leg while he was trying to hold up the sky and added little stress marks around the demigod's face as if he was yelping in pain. Tamatoa snickered.

What next? Maui's arm was curled around his midsection, making reaching the bare skin there difficult, so instead Tamatoa stepped around to the other side. There was far more canvas to work with here, with most of Maui's back empty of ink. Maybe it was time for some real adventures now. On Maui's right side, just below the shoulder, he began to paint a large lizard. When he was done, there was a good representation of the two of them defeating a Mo'o. That had been their first adventure together when he was just a drab little thing and, even years later, Tamatoa still remembered it perfectly. Despite his anger, he gave his friend a fond look.

He moved to the other half of his back, under his left shoulder. Here, he painted their most recent victory. Tongue between his teeth, Tamatoa concentrated hard on getting this one just right. It had been him saving Maui from the swamp witches on the previous island they had visited. If not for him, they would have surely lured Maui to his death with their siren's song. Tamatoa puffed up with pride just thinking about it. Scene complete, he leaned back to survey his work with a critical eye. Perfect.

What else now? Tamatoa giggled, another idea coming to him. He moved to the demigod's lower back, just above the worn and frayed lavalava circling his waist. Very carefully, he drew a tiny pair of thin crab legs, tipped with tiny claws, as if they were emerging from under the tapa cloth of the skirt. He put a claw over his mouth to muffle another snicker, absolutely sure that Maui would have no idea what those were even for.

He was almost out of dye now, so he had to make the rest count. He paced circles around the demigod, considering what to do next. His eyes fell on Maui's face and his grin grew wider.

Tamatoa had never understood how mammals could possibly get by without antennae. It must be awful to only have their sniffly little noses to smell things with—terribly limiting. Even a demigod like Maui could barely smell anything by Tamatoa's standards. Well, he couldn't give him real antennae but he could at least improve his looks by adding a rough approximation of them. He applied the brush and the last of the paint to Maui's face, drawing a pair of sweeping antennae from just above his eyebrows all the way down the side of his face to his chin. Much better.

Then he noticed the dye smeared in Maui's hair around his face, gluing the silky locks together in little patches. Oops. He hadn't meant to do that, but now that he had maybe he ought to teach Maui one more lesson for snubbing him. One glance at Maui told him the demigod wasn't going to be waking up anytime soon.

He put the brush away and marched down the beach towards a stand of mangroves lining a murky freshwater stream that emptied into the sea. The water was milky brown, almost the same color as the kava Tamatoa had not been permitted to try. He reached a claw into the water under the arching roots of the mangroves, then dug down deep into the muck lining the bottom. The claw came back up with a good amount of thick, sticky, smelly brown mud. It was full of rotting detritus and reeked of swamp scum. Tamatoa held his antennae away from the stinky muck and headed back down to where Maui slumbered on.

With an admittedly vindictive gleam in his eye, Tamatoa smeared the mud generously all throughout Maui's precious hair. There was a certain righteous satisfaction in working the squelchy mud deeply into those clean, well-maintained curly locks. It was pretty nasty muck and it would likely take several good washes to get it all out. The mud was filled with little bits of sticks and rotten leaves and even some squirmy little critters, too. Tamatoa picked one out and held it up to his eye, examining it closely as its tiny legs thrashed the air in his grip. It was a young mangrove crab, small and shiny black in color. Tamatoa popped it in his mouth absently, just a crunchy little snack while he admired his handiwork.

Maui was covered in graffiti now, with the added bonus of his hair being absolutely filthy. Tamatoa nodded to himself, satisfied. This ought to get the point across fairly effectively. With that, he wiped his claws off on the edge of Maui's lavalava, stepped carefully over the hook laying on the ground, and returned to where he'd stashed his stolen food. He grabbed up the basket and set off for the canoe. He'd finish his dinner there and then settle in to wait for the fun to begin in the morning when Maui woke up.

The morning dawned bright and clear—too bright and clear. Maui groaned miserably, his head aching already. The harsh light seemed to pierce straight through his closed eyelids and into his skull. His limbs felt heavy and for a long moment he just laid there on his side, putting off the inevitable. Maybe if he waited long enough, the awful feeling would go away.

It didn't.

In fact, the longer he laid there the worse he felt. The sand was uncomfortably hot and he was exposed, baking in the blazing tropical sun. Finally, he reluctantly opened his eyes. The brilliant light reflecting off the pale sand and water hurt his eyes and he squinted against it, trying to adjust. Every muscle dragging him down, he somehow managed to force himself to sit up. A wave of dizziness swept through him, but he closed his eyes until it passed.

Steadier now, he opened his eyes and, looking around, took stock of his surroundings. He had been sprawled on the beach, not too far away from the canoe. He squinted again, staring down the beach towards where the boat was beached. He could see it, but his vision was still a bit hazy and he couldn't make out any fine detail yet.

What had he gotten into last night? He couldn't remember much after the celebration had begun. The last he could recall, he'd been inducted to the village through a kava ceremony and then they had all gone out to enjoy the music and dancing. He remembered that there had been food and drinks as well, but the very idea of food right now made him queasy and he pushed the thought away.

His skin felt itchy and he absently scratched at his chest. His fingertips came away stained brown. Uncomprehending, he stared blankly at the brown on his fingers for a moment that stretched on into several. When his mind finally caught up, he looked down at himself.

There were drawings all over him. Drawings that were tacked onto his existing tattoos. Drawings that were quite conspicuously all containing a very easily identifiable crab. Eyes still bleary, he examined them. Wait, was that Tamatoa pinching him while he held up the sky?

His back itched too, so he craned his neck to look. There were even more drawings back there, including a curious pair of little clawed legs right above his lavalava. He looked at them in confusion but without much understanding. Maybe it was a crab thing. Straining to look over his shoulder had made his headache flare up again, though, and he groaned, dropping his head to his hands.

When he lifted his head back up, his hands came away streaked with paint again. There must be drawings on his face, too. Maui sighed wearily, too miserable to be angry. Clearly, Tamatoa must have been a little miffed about being left out last night.

Trying to get himself centered, Maui straightened his back and ran a hand through his hair. His fingers caught on something and he pulled his hand away to look.

It was mud. Sticky, slimy mud that smelled like death and clung to his fingertips like some swamp mucus. He reached up to touch his hair with both hands now and was horrified to discover his hair was positively inundated with the gunk. Rotted leaves and bugs sprinkled like rain from his shoulders. His hair was filthy. It was disgusting.

Okay, so maybe he wasn't too miserable to be angry.

"Tamatoa!" he bellowed down the beach, even as his own yelling made the pain in his head spike even higher.

There was no answer and no motion that he could see back at the canoe.

Maui stood up, his vision briefly going dark around the edges with the too-fast movement. He reached for his hook, but found it wasn't beside him. Getting irked now, he glanced around, but the hook was nowhere in sight. He swore floridly under his breath.

"Tamatoa!" he roared again, stomping unsteadily towards the canoe.

The crab wasn't on above decks, but the hatch was open and Maui glared into the darkness of the hold. A pair of glowing eyes looked back at him. Tamatoa was tucked comfortably into a dark alcove, far in the back and out of Maui's reach.

That didn't stop Maui from making a grab for him anyway. Tamatoa didn't even flinch, watching nonchalantly as Maui's hand fell short.

"Problem?" the crab drawled and the eyes tilted into a shamelessly amused expression.

"Tamatoa!" Maui barked angrily. "Come out of there right now!"

There was a snicker from in the hold. "Nope."

Maui growled out an exasperated sound and made another grab for him. Again, he fell shy of reaching the grinning crab. He simply couldn't reach and he knew that, short of tearing the deck apart, there was no way to dislodge Tamatoa until the crab was good and ready to come out on his own.

"Something the matter, Maui?" Tamatoa asked, badly feigning innocence.

"You drew all over me!"

Another snicker drifted out of the hold. "Your tattoos needed some improvement. I'm not in any of them! Much better now."

The crab sounded ridiculously smug and Maui wanted to tear his own hair out in annoyance. His filthy hair, which brought him to the next thing. "And you put mud in my hair!"

There was no laugh this time from Tamatoa, the glowing eyes went round and lost their mischievous gleam. "Well, you left me behind!" he countered. It was said hotly, but even Maui could detect the hurt in it.

Maui felt some of his anger wither, suddenly feeling a little guilty. The mortals were adamant about the rules of the kava ceremony, but they had said nothing about the feast afterwards. He probably could and should have gone back to get Tamatoa for that, but he'd forgotten all about it once the party began.

Not that any of that excused the disaster that was his hair right now. Or his missing hook.

His head hurt too much to keep arguing, though. He let out a weary, resigned sigh. "Okay, okay. Well, you've had your fun. Now, where is it?"

The eyes quirked, one higher than the other and one narrowed to a squint. "Where is what?"

"You know what," Maui said, not buying the crab's confusion. "Where'd you put my hook, Tamatoa?"

"Your hook?" he echoed, confusion evident in his voice.

"You heard me!" Maui said sharply. "Don't play games, not about this. Messing with my hair is bad enough, but hiding my hook? Not cool."

There was a scratching of hard exoskeleton against wood as the crab moved, then pair of long antennae unfolded out of the hatch, followed by a pair of eyestalks. Tamatoa, eyes no longer glowing in the light of morning, looked up at him, remarkably devoid of guile. "I didn't hide your hook," he said, still sounding confused and a touch defensive.

"Then where is it?" Maui demanded. "Don't lie to me!"

The eyestalks shied away, dipping back into the hold just slightly. "I'm not lying!"

"Tamatoa!"

His whole head popped up out of the hold now. "I'm not lying!" the crab repeated, emphatic. "Yes, I drew on you and put mud in your hair—which you deserved, by the way—but I didn't touch your hook!" he insisted. "It was right beside you when I left you!"

"Well, it's not there now!"

Tamatoa's eyes went round and wide at that. "Someone must have taken it," he said slowly, apprehension creeping into his voice. "We gotta find it!"

There was such earnest worry and concern in the crab's expression that Maui suddenly felt as if someone had poured cold water onto him. Perhaps Tamatoa wasn't messing with him, after all. Maui felt guilty again, but that feeling was quickly drowned out by a disquieting question: If Tamatoa hadn't hid his hook to mess with him, then where was it?

Maui felt his stomach flip, dread settling like a rock inside him. He'd had it with him when he passed out and Tamatoa had seen it while he was engaging in his little art project. That left only one logical conclusion:

Someone had stolen his hook.