Free The Survivors (Book 2): Autumn by V. L. Dreyer Page A

two hundred years ago, my ancestors fought the largest land battle in New Zealand’s history on this very spot,” Anahera told us, pride glinting in her eye .  She swept her arm out towards the village, and bowed.  “This may not compare to the mighty pā of my ancestors, but I am proud to call this spot home.  Haere mai , my friends – welcome.”
    “Thank you,” Michael murmured, his deep voice almost a rumble .  “We appreciate being invited.”
    “You shared your home and your hearth with us; it is only fair that we return the favour.” Anahera smiled, and beckoned for us to follow her.  “I hope you will forgive us for skipping the formalities.  As much as I try to keep my people’s traditions alive, I have little patience for ceremony.”
    I was a little relieved to hear that .  You could fit the amount I knew about traditional Maori welcoming ceremonies on the back of a 10 cent piece, and I hated the idea of doing something wrong and upsetting my new friends.
    People had begun to gather near the entrance by the time we reached the ramp, a half-dozen men of all ages, shapes and sizes.  A couple had lighter skin than the rest, indicating that they had other ethnicities mixed in with their Maori blood, but they didn’t seem bothered by or excluded because of that fact.  Anahera led us towards them, and as we drew closer I could hear the sound of excited chatter amongst them.
    “You’re the first women besides me that my boys have seen in quite a while, so be gentle on them.” Anahera shot us a wink, and then turned her attention to making introductions.
    It took some time for us to learn everyone’s names, but they made us feel so welcome that the time flew by .  I was relieved to discover that all of them were fluently bilingual, and excited to see new faces.  Michael stayed close to me, to help keep me calm with his presence alone.  Although I did feel a little uncomfortable at first, Anahera’s brothers were perfect gentlemen.  In no time at all, their friendliness and manners put me at ease.
    Skylar seemed to enjoy the attention immensely .  While I was content to let Michael do the talking for both of us, she went off on her own, and seemed happy to chatter to anyone that she could find.  There was a natural effervescence to her personality that was finally getting the chance to bubble up to the surface; surrounded by so many friendly faces, she was in her element.
    Once introductions were over, we were invited into the tiny fortress for lunch .  I discovered to my amusement that the central building of the complex was actually an old yacht club.  They had converted it and made it their own, decorating it with intricate carvings cut into the building’s wooden framework.  There were monsters and gods, men and women, all poised in the distinctively stylized poses traditional to Maori culture.  I was fascinated.  Handicrafts had been one of my interests since childhood, and the carvings had a professional look to them that surprised me.
    “This place is amazing,” I whispered to Michael as we were led off to the room they’d converted into a dining hall.
    Despite my attempt to be discreet, Anahera overheard and shot me a smile.  “Thank you, dear.  I’m glad you approve.”
    I flushed with embarrassment, but there was no sign of sarcasm in her tone .  “It is.  I mean, these carvings – they’re so detailed.  Did you do them?”
    “Me?” She laughed, and the sound of it reassured me.  “Oh, if only I had that kind of skill! No, Ropata is our carver.” A stocky man in his early forties looked up from where he had been busy sorting out something lunch-related, but Anahera just gave him a wave and a smile.  “He apprenticed as a carpenter in his youth, then went on to learn a variety of other types of woodworking – including whakairo rakau , our traditional carving.  It’s possible that he may be the only master carver left alive.”
    “I’m glad that someone