EpilogueThe tiny boy’s slender brown frame tumbled down the grassy hill, tossing his body head over heels again and again. He loved it. His giggles drifted across the landscape.
“Tane Hohaia, get back here now!” his mother shouted. “And for goodness’ sake, put some clothes on!”
“No fanks,” he called back as he finished tumbling. “This tickles. I like it.”
Lara sighed and chased the four-year-old down the hill. Running seemed ill advised at this late stage of her pregnancy. Arama’s son rolled around in the grass, completely free as his little shorts and tee shirt flapped in his mother’s hands. A law unto himself, he exuded a sense of freedom incomprehensible to both his parents. His affinity to the whenua seemed ethereal. Lara smothered a smirk at his antics as the long grass enfolded hi
