Moki’s way of hunting was as simple as it was unique. Unique to the Ngati Porou iwi [tribe] at least. It entailed throwing the spear over the head of a kereru [bush pigeon] or any bird for that matter. Tied to the spear was an ordinary fishing net, which, when thrown, trailed behind, entangling the startled bird before it could fly off. His grandfather had taught him the method as a boy, and now he rarely missed snaring a bird when the opportunity presented itself. Once snared, the bird would be decapitated and bled dry in preparation for cooking.
He sighted another kereru. It was perched upon one of the lower branches of a stately rimu tree and seemed oblivious to the approaching danger.
So focused was Moki on stalking the pigeon, he didn’t realise he himself was being stalked. He’d unknowingly crossed paths with five hunters of another iwi. They were members of the Ngati Kahungunu tribe who were long-time enemies of the Ngati Porou. They’d debated amongst themselves whether to kill Moki. Two of them had deemed it too risky as they were trespassing and wished to keep their presence secret, but the other three considered the lone hunter too tempting a target – and so the decision was made: to kill.
As Moki prepared to throw his spear at the kereru, he caught a movement in his peripheral vision. Some instinct prompted him to throw himself to one side. That saved his life, but the spear intended for his chest tore through the flesh in his thigh, its serrated tip lodging in the trunk of the very tree the kereru was perched upon. Grunting in pain, he leapt to his feet as the five hunters emerged from the undergrowth. He identified them immediately: their distinctive dreadlocks and tattoos along with their threadbare sealskin shawls made them unmistakably Ngati Kahungunu. All five looked young, lean and dangerous, and all had the bloodlust in their eyes as they closed in on their prey.
Moki thanked his guardian spirits he still had his spear. If his attackers had waited a moment longer he’d have thrown it at the kereru. That misjudgement cost the nearest hunter – the youngest of the five – his life. Moki thrust his spear’s tip into the hunter’s chest, impaling him. With his free hand, he grabbed the net tied to the spear, swung it about and snared another hunter in its mesh. The entangled hunter, who appeared to be the leader, desperately tried to disentangle himself. Tugging hard on the net, Moki pulled him to the ground and killed him with a savage blow from the club he now wielded. He turned too late to avoid another hunter, the biggest of the five, who crashed into him, knocking him over. They rolled over and over, holding each other tight and each trying to deliver an incapacitating blow with his club.
Fighting for his life, Moki was oblivious to the pain caused by the wound in his thigh or by other wounds he’d sustained. Blood flowed from a nasty scalp wound, causing him to blink rapidly in order to clear his vision. He was vaguely aware of the other two hunters who were awaiting their chance to skewer him with their spears. For the moment they couldn’t use their weapons for risk of accidentally killing their fellow hunter. Moki’s opponent held his club hand in a vice-like grip. Using his free hand, Moki grabbed his enemy by the testicles and squeezed tight. The big hunter screamed in agony and released his grip on his opponent’s wrist. Moki crushed the hunter’s skull with one thunderous swing of his club then leapt to his feet to face the remaining hunters.
The loss of three of their number in what seemed the blink of an eye gave the other two hunters pause for thought. They looked at each other as if to decide on their next course of action.
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The paperback and Kindle ebook versions of New Zealand: A Novel will be launched before Christmas; the hardcover and audiobook versions will be published early 2025.
Watch this space!
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Morcan Books & Films 