This has the REVAMP stamp of approval.

When Nana became the ripe age for marriage, a tender age of fifteen, she was taken to the Volcano. That was where the great priests went to pray and give offerings to the goddess of fire and earth, Pele. No woman had ever been allowed to watch, let alone join the ranks of these high priests. But Nana was different. They took the "man in the forest, Jager" as a great god in human form and his gift as a show of his favor of this girl. She was to be the first woman at the Volcano, the first to learn the truly ancient ways.

The trip to Volcano took a very long time. They had to walk all the way around the island, over mountain passes and through rough weather. Unfortunately, the gods were not shining on the poor crew. A strange disease affected almost all the travelers. It would strike during the night. Small wounds would appear on their necks and they feel extremely tired, even after a full night's rest. But the feeling would pass by the next day and the small cuts would fade into nothingness extremely quickly. Only Nana seemed unaffected. The travelers took this as another sign that Nana was in the god's favor.

She watched the forest as they walked on the well-known path. A flutter of leaves here, a deeper shadow there, even a cold shiver throughout the pack of priests. Was her Jager following her to the Home of Pele? Or was it just her imagination?

They were going to Halema'uma'u, the crater where Pele, the volcano goddess, made her home. Priests were all men in this time; she would be the first priestess. They were required to learn the ancient dance of hula, which Pele directly sent to the priests after long hours of meditation. One mistake meant the dancer had forsaken the goddess and they were cast out, sent back to the village on the beach.

It was obvious when they were coming close. The land, once lush and green, became rocky and black. The volcano rocks were sharp and easily cut Nanas' feet. The priests, who walked ahead and avoided Nana, had skin tough like leather and even the harsh rock-glass didn't cut their feet. Finally the ocean came into view. The chief priest coldly greeted Nana at the bottom of the volcano and walked her around the makeshift village.

The priests lived in long wooden huts down in the forested area around the volcano. She was given her own hut, because she was a virgin and was to remain that way. Pele only talked to these who gave themselves fully to her. She was a jealous master and would not share her humble servants. Nana began her training in hula, in worship, in myth. She learned to push her hips in the motion of the sea, to go into trance to find the steps Pele commanded her to do.

Jager had followed her to the Volcano. He watched her grow up from the little girl in the forest to this young woman moving to live with men. She had grown up well. That little girl who was so tall was now even taller. She was thin, but ample where it was needed. Jager had never seen a girl quite like her, and Jager had seen a lot of girls.

But oh, when she danced! Never had he seen something so beautiful, so graceful. And what she wore! Those priests had it good! A young, beautiful, topless girl with dark tattoos over her legs and breasts, her body smelling of the ti leaf skirt, dancing in such a voluptuous way. Obviously, Jager had been born on the wrong side of the world.

One day, after Nana had spent hours practicing and finally retreated to her cabin, her legs sore and throbbing, Jager came to see her. He could hold off no longer. He had watched her sway her hips for many years and couldn't deny his want any longer.

She would have screamed if it weren't for the instant knowing. He looked almost exactly the same except his skin was paler and his eyes were emerald. And the air around him was different. It was darker, older, and wiser. As if he had aged a lot more than she in the same amount of time. But she knew it was he.

He smiled his impossibly white smile at her. She smiled back. He held out his right hand and caressed the pendant around her delicate neck, his eyes searching into hers, asking a question he didn't quite understand. Nana nodded at him, saying without words that she remembered. Jager looked into Nana's eyes, now tenderly, and sighed. It was like he was home staring into those innocent eyes. It was like the blood flowed in him once again.

"You can't understand me?" he sighed, disappointment showing in his every feature. She frowned, and shook her head, hoping that was the right answer, hoping she wasn't agreeing to something horribly stupid. "Hmm," Jager took his hand from her neck and put it to his head, scratching at his dark hair. Nana did the same to her own hair and laughed at him. His eyes strayed to her bouncing chest but quickly snapped back.

An idea came to the man. He pointed at himself and said, "I."

Nana repeated. "I."

He crossed his arms over his chest, "Love."

"Love," she whispered, forming the strange words thickly.

He pointed at Nana, "You."

"You," she grabbed his hand and held it to her face like he had so many years ago. "Aloha," she crossed her arms over her bare chest. "Love."

Jager leaned in to kiss her lips. She readily met him this time; hungry for the kiss to mean more than it did when she was younger. And this kiss did. It was heavier, more passionate, not the simple kiss of an adult to a child. This was the type of kiss that gave life meaning. It was a kiss that held a promise within its loving lips. It was a kiss that made Nana's knees go weak and her head to spin, forgetting everything except the feel of his body.

He spent the night in her little cabin.