After the Storm: Winter Preparations, Part 4
The Matoran head back toward the campsite with their haul, hoping that this is enough for today’s scavenging.
They look towards the ocean. Sometimes the odd object comes in on the tide— a disc or a tool that the Turaga says is from a time before time. They are interesting finds, and Matoran usually hold onto them as keepsakes.
Shasha and Kai hobble along the beach, heading towards from where they came. Waves lapse along the sand, and seashells crunch under their feet.
“I love the sunsets,” Kai says, breaking the silence. “I hope tonight’s is a good one.”
“It most definitely will,” says Kailani. “Today has been miraculous, and we have done our duty for the Turaga and the village.”
“It is a lot of work to live here!” exclaims Kai.
“But it is worth the view,” Shasa reminds them. She thinks warmly of the shawl she will make in the coming weeks.
The Matoran look at the waves and walk silently together, quietly appreciating the beautiful place they live in. Their silence shows their agreement.
The chill in the air and the oddities of Ga-Wahi sometimes play tricks on Matoran eyes. It is an odd place, and there are many mysteries there that are heard from around the island. Some say spirits of water come in the later hours of the day to watch the villagers. They never speak, but just come forth, and watch.
The villagers whip their heads, swearing that they see something— perhaps a shadowy figure, an apparition standing on the shoreline. It doesn’t look like a Matoran or even a Turaga, but it somehow reminds the Matoran of themselves.
“Do you see that?” asks Kai, dropping the pile of Hareke in her hands. Shasa nods, gripping her sickle tighter.
“It has to be a trick of the eyes,” Shasa says. “Whatever it is, it is not doing anything. This has to be one of those weird bay illusions. It’s only an apparition. Let’s go.”
“Oh, another one!” Kailani cries, pointing towards the other end of the beach. Sure enough, some other blue armored figure, sleek armor draped in the shadows of dusk and twilight, stands on the shore. Both figures are unmoving.
“Let’s go,” Shasa repeats. The Matoran moved together, scrambling with their Hareke back towards the meeting spot.
The apparitions stay there on the shoreline, before dissipating into the mists of the coming evening.
The Matoran make their way back to the campsite. A decent amount of Hareke was collected, but there is still more needed to help repair the village— and, of course, make Shasa’s shawl. They will have to come out here another afternoon to collect more.
