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Keeping the faith, reading the signs, connecting threads

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The story 'Resident Magicians' began here. Then, continued here. And now you are here. 👇 The green Plant was nearly as tall as 'Iliahi. At seventeen he stood six feet, slim through the hips with shoulders and chest well-muscled from diving. His fingers were long, fine and agile, strong as vices when they needed to be and delicate in his precision with mending needles when patching old silk.  'Iliahi chanted his mele of permission before gathering the waxy leaves. The cool thick leaves would draw the heat from Pua's body. To himself, and the guardian plants he wondered aloud, "Kini a ke akua, I been hearing voices. Well, actually I been hearing one voice. Nice one. Deep wahine voice. Kinda like Aunty's voice. She sings. Old time songs."  'Iliahi chose four generous leaves including the long stems which would wrap gentling behind Pua's forehead as the leaves themselves drew the fever from her. A breeze wound his way through the stand of La'
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Ho'okano

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Wikiquote - 'disdain'   h oÊ»o. kano  Haughty, proud, conceited, rude, disdainful of others, insolent, vain; to act superior - Wehewehe.org The story began here and continues 🠋  The dream came like cotton candy on a hot day. Pink. Sticky. Teeth-achingly sweet.  "Why do I do this?" The Pua of her dream muttered, "I mean I don't enjoy getting this stuff in my hair, and it always gets in my hair."  "Wanna know what I think?" It was the giant talking. He, she, whatever gender being puppeteering the dream asked with the voice of Rosemary Clooney. A dated voice, a voice from Pua's American songbirds era. Looking with dream vision eyes, her mouth challenged the candy to keep her from answering. With her fingers poised to take yet another lump of the stuff Pua said, "Yeah, I'd wike to know." "You buy cotton candy because you love the carnival. Mostly, you love the clowns." Her eyes were still closed. The hot sticky feelin
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Mounting a response

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" OK my dear sister it sounds to me like your immune system is mounting a response and that’s exactly what you need. Even though there is another version of the virus if you’ve had it before your immune system will recognize a part of it and mount a response." Pua read the email. Squinting through her sunglasses, she grunted, kinked her head with the thought that she didn't know if the virus was a new-comer, or a return visit. She figured for as many years as she'd put in, it was the later, nodded and called Iliahi then remembered he was still at school.  "I'm really too old to keep this up," she said, mostly to herself, though she knew they were always listening anyway. She reached for the small vial of herbs. Two rows of amber bottles, in alphabetical order, lined her small bedside table. It was the St. Joan's Wort she wanted. The glass tube filled with the pale red liquid as her thumb and finger squeezed the rubber bulb. Keep it simple. "I wi
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