Prologue

The afternoon breeze presses warmly down on Waimānalo. A young girl plays a ball game, alone, in the street, dappled sunlight flowing down her long hair. In the distance, she can hear them. The crisp, rhythmic stomp of marching boots. A smile lights up her face. She runs to meet them.

The ARC soldiers march past in the clear light, sun glittering off their polished rank insignias, the brass of their uniforms, their holstered sidearms. The girl watches from behind the hem of a local aunty’s dress. The aunty scowls at the soldiers as they pass, then motions for the girl to go home.

Undeterred, the girl runs up to a friendly-looking soldier. The cadet breaks formation, smiling, and strides slowly towards her. The whole formation pauses to wait for him. The girl opens her palms, expectantly. He kneels down to her level, shining white teeth, the eternal summer sun ringing him in light, and digs into his pocket for a few sweets. Gently places them in her hands, and ushers her towards the aunty, who reaches out to her, protectively.

Grinning, the girl counts her haul, as the cadet is received by his marching detachment with claps on the back. The girl stuffs her face, running up the street towards home before she can be scolded for wandering.