Number: #3.
Name: Makana Maui [ma-KANA mau-E].
Species: Smili.
Personality: Being so exceedingly serious, calm, and resolved, Maui can sometimes be accidentally confused for an adult. She holds none of the childish innocence that many her age would cling to, and instead have sharply attuned eyes that have seen many more then most.
She is incredibly stubborn and this shows through in multiple ways. She is not easily convinced by others to change her beliefs or even something simple such as an opinion. Not being so easily swayed makes her a unique target for the swindling thieves that stalk some of the most popular routes she travels, and normally at this point of time she finds the great entertainment of tricking the tricksters.
Maui has simple tastes that come in normally expensive forms. It is oddly easy to please her, but normally the sacrifice will strike randomly later, and this makes her almost dangerous to be compassionate to.
Her differently colored pelt has given her an ulterior motive, and Maui can be found most of the time stalking around colonies and avoiding them. She knows very well that she is much too different to be accepted, and while deep down she revolts against this burdening title, she refuses to wander into a tribe with it.
Despite how she looks, Maui is actually surprisingly sensitive. She takes offense from small insults and tucks it away, hiding it. This has a tendency of backfiring on her and she will explosively blow up in passionate rage at whoever had been causing most of the pain she’d been feeling.
Likes: Maui is multi-versatile; she likes many things. The simpler things in life are what are rewarded with the greatest happiness from her. She absolutely adores warm weather with a soft breeze, like the calm days she remembers from her birthplace. The flowers that her pelt is deduced from, and just overall purple flowers, can always earn a smile from her. Like the delicate feathers that adorn her tail, Maui is attracted to all things the same color, or near the same shade, of her own fur. She adores the unique shades of gold that can be found on most human jewelry and such, and whenever she travels through a place she has been known to collect the discarded rings and necklaces there to admire.
Dislikes:Most of her dislikes stem from the morbidity of her history. She dislikes, and distrusts, mostly every male there is, no matter the species nor age and experience. She hates spoiled strangers, as there is no such thing as a spoiled friend to her. Maui is normally distant from civilizations, so she tends to resent those that get to live in the comfort den of its shelter. She’s rather envious of all members of tribes and colonies, and this shows through both her discomfort around them and her overall dislike of their status and life.
Background:I have received strange looks for my coloration since the day I left my birthplace and branched in different communities. At the beginning I did not understand it. Why should I be classified as unique because my pelt was such a deep and passionate color? I began to shy away from civilizations, confusing their ignorance with dislike, and chose a more nomadic tale. I have not spun many stories about my travels before, but perhaps I shall choose to weave one now. Sit back, little child, and listen well, for I will only speak these words once in my lifetime.
21 Years Earlier…[Please note. Sections of this folklore will have to be fabricated from stories I have been told by others, for I was not here for some of it.]
I was born to parents who knew nothing of heartbreak and were fascinated with love. They had found solace in one another and nobody else, and had been by the other’s side for years before. Ever since childhood the couple had been friends, and over the winding years of life, both sought to keep that relationship strong.
As adulthood spirited their souls and lengthened their forms, a new kind of affection hit, and my mother uncovered a startling symphony of love in my father’s gaze. They clashed with passionate minds and sharp personalities, and although it made many wonder how two solely different beings could fall in love, there was always kindle between them to stoke the lavish fire.
My mother had once been the kind of young girl who constantly spread the rumor that she would never have pups. She was never interested in cultivating a family and having that responsibility, for she had been fostered as a sort of wild, untamed girl.
My father had always been the kind of boy who had dreamed of the children he would one day sire and raise. He had always been daydreaming about the possibilities before him, fabricating names for the sons and daughters he would someday have.
With beliefs so differing, in the beginning there were many skirmishes. My mother constantly fought him on it, making an exception to her private rule to never scream for him for this particular strain of bickering.
Spring rolled around in the beautiful island of Hawaii and my father awoke to my mother’s quiet, smooth singing voice. He had not heard the orchestra in months, near since the beginning of his quest for fatherhood, and so for a few minutes he lay in utter silence, just listening.
When he got up and investigated, he found my mother humming lullabies to a tiny cub curled against her stomach. This was the first morning of my existence.
The litter had been so small, and my mother in such good shape from constant daily activity, that neither had even known. Once my father’s surprise wore off, he worried over my mother, fretting that she would be unhappy with the cub and swear it off. But my mother had changed as she saw me tucked into her soft stomach fur. As she looked up at my father with dancing gold eyes and a curved smile, she said boldly, “Her name will be…Makana.”
My father, familiar with the Hawaiian language, instantly recognized my name as meaning, simply, “gift”. He couldn’t help the small smile. But, of course, as I learned growing up, he never really knew when to just shut his mouth. So, with a sly smile and a submissive head bow, he asked softly, “I’ve always wanted a daughter named Maui.” He expected a heavy barrage of temperament from his darling mate, but all he got was warm, honeysuckle laughter.
“Makana Maui it is.” She purred softly.
13 Years Earlier…On the pinnacle of adulthood, I remember a specific memory rather fondly. My toes were buried in the toasted sand, soft, salty waves lapping across my ankles like an old friend giving a hug in greeting.
I was eight years old at the time, and the local colony had been warning my parents for months now that I was nearing the age when normally younglings my age left. I don’t presume they ever wanted me to actually know about the conversations they were having with the other families, but I had grown clever in my years and could sneak about like a passing shadow.
Wrinkling my nose in distaste, I absently shook my head to myself. I disliked the colony. Their prying eyes would always stare hard at me like I was some sort of freak, gleaming glares or inquisitive glances. I tried to avoid them like they carried the plague, but sometimes I just couldn’t manage it.
Pushing out a huffed sigh, I plopped my flanks down in the damp sand. My royal purple pelt had gotten me much more attention then I normally cared for. The delicate, thin black lines that decorated my face made me average in that aspect, but with the rest of my slender body a single, bold color with no patterns or breaks… I was just too different sometimes.
A crackling sound coming from the nearby brush startled me and I blinked, jerking my head up to stare hard into the surrounding foliage. “Maui!” A voice hissed, and I cocked my head, confused at my name floating out of the leafy emerald haze there.
In the next second a head popped out and I grinned, immediately recognized the familiar face that laughed at me. The older male was a member of the colony I so hated, but he was different then the rest. He did not peer at me funny, or investigate me when I walked through the sunlight and they managed to notice I wasn’t equipped with a full range of markings. Instead, the pale colored male was a constant friend to me.
Without leaving the bushes, I could see his tail swiping back and forth through the air. “Maui, I came to say goodbye.” He added, some of his contagious smile fading across his handsome face. Caught off guard, I frowned. “...leaving?” I echoed.
I had never lost someone close to me, and the only thing I equated loss with was death. At eight years, my parents still lived healthy lives, and since we were distant from the colony, any deaths there were merely politely mourned, not on a personal scale. This random, unsettling news made me feel weak and empty. I did not want him to go. And for a brief moment, I even contemplated begging for him to stay. Me, the local cub who would bow to no one.
He nodded, eager to get out of here. I could see the tension singing in his taught muscles, and worriedly, I took a few steps forwards. “Maybe…could I come with you?” I asked in a soft undertone, leaving quaking paw-prints in the soil behind me. The surprise shone in the widening of his eyes and the way he pricked both tattered ears toward me. Quirking his head to the side, he finally shot me a pleasant, wide grin. “Of course! C’mon Maui, follow me!” Without giving me a chance to even doubt what I had just done, my friend took off into the fauna and, blurring all of my worries and thoughts out of my chaotic mind, I chased after the best friend I had ever found.
8 Years Earlier…At the age of 13, I am at my favorite number and my least favorite section of my life.
I am, at this point of time, completely alone. The male I ran away from home with is long gone, and the only thing he left me with is a broken heart and the soft tickling of the slim feathers he tied around my tail.
The warm birthplace I remember fondly has vanished from the horizon. I have traveled over lands many do not anticipate to even exist, and yet I struggle onward. My goals are hazy. I cannot quite remember my parents by now, and perhaps that is what I’m crawling to in this snail’s pace of a journey.
Two years ago, the male I left Hawaii with, Hekili, scarred me. The memories of that day are burned in my mind, for they came with such reckless abandon and hurtling ache that I could near shrug off the burden of carrying them.
“Maui. We have to talk.” I remember now that I was grumpy. The day was hot, the sunshine thick, and we traveled across wandering acres of desert dunes that all looked the same after weeks of mirages. I glared up at him, cross with being interrupted, seeking to shade my eyes from the glare of the light above by shaking my mane forward.
“What, Hekili?” Despite my temperamental stage, I tried to be polite. As though seeking to remind me to be nice, I felt the softest touch of the thin feathers he had gifted me with stroke my fur. The reminder left a faint smile in its wake, and I watched him almost pleasantly.
His intentions, however, were not so clean. I thought that, perhaps for just a second, a flicker of guilt crossed his gaze. Maybe it was just another hallucination caused by the dehydration the sun set into me. But his expression overall confused me, and after a minute, I lifted my head with a frown. “Hekili? What’s wrong?”
He rubbed his forepaw through the loose soil, seeming both guilt-stricken and raw. I was puzzled, but I didn’t speak again. He had to get this out of himself without me prodding the conversation on.
A faint sigh brushed out of his stout muzzle. “…I’m leaving.” I had a brief flashback to our destined encounter, that lonely day at the beach when we left. I even allowed myself to think this was some kind of cruel prank. I opened my mouth to repeat what I had said all those years ago and slowly, barely, he shook his head. I knew then, in that exact second, that he wasn’t kidding around this time. “I won’t be back. I thought that maybe you were the girl for me but…you’re just not. We should part ways.”
My throat was dry. There were no complaints or replies that could wash away the acrid taste of heartbreak that was flooding into my mouth.
“…what did I do wrong?” I finally said, Hekili’s back to me. He was already beginning to leave. Despite my words, I knew there was no way of stopping his trek. At least the male had the grace to look back at me, and his eyes were clouded. “Nothing, Maui. You’re just too…you’re just too different.”
It was the grand slam of all insults, and he knew it. I shrunk back under the barbed points of that and he turned and ran, pounding hard steps into the sand that flounced under every hit. I watched the sun set across the dunes and swallow Hekili in the shadow of the sunset.
I am now 21 years old. I am a full adult in every sense of the word, for I have grown miles above most others in my stage.
I have experienced the sensation of the first stirrings of love, and the crushing blow of losing the one I thought I loved. I have been attacked, encouraged, berated, tempted, pleased, and disgusted by the civilizations I pass, and despite their seductive ways, I avoid it.
The insult that Hekili left me with still rings in my head every time I even glance at the colonies I walk by. I’m just too different.
In the Sahara desert, I walk the path that my memories force me to relive. I stride through the ocean of sand alone, companionless. Perhaps I am never destined for the happiness that my fated parents achieved.
Perhaps… perhaps I’m just too different.
[Hmm. I'll be in and out for editing. Currently at; 2458 words. <3]