To Moana's relief, the farther she got from Motunui, the warmer the weather became. After about a day's journey, the temperature was as it should be and Moana gladly shed her extra layers so that her typical sailing outfit remained. While her chieftess ensembles on Motunui tended toward the elaborate, with shells and feathers adorning her garments, she preferred her familiar simple blouses and grass skirts when out on the sea. She felt like herself . . . of the ocean, instead of anchored to the island where so much rested on her shoulders.
While her people had taken up voyaging again following her restoration of the heart of Te Fiti, it had slowly come to a stop after Tui's death. Some neighboring islands had been settled with small colonies, but the majority of the people stayed on Motunui. With all of her chieftess responsibilities, Moana herself found less and less time to go out on the ocean. Now, despite the ominous circumstances, Moana couldn't stifle the swell of joy welling up within her. At last, she could breathe!
Moana assumed she was about four days away from Te Fiti. Early in the morning, before the sun came up, she had passed Maui's island that lay below the fish hook in the stars. She eyed it with baited breath, but to her relief (or disappointment?) no one appeared to be there. She could spot no smoke or light from her boat. Of course, why would he come back here?
Twilight was beginning to fall, and Moana secured the sails as she prepared to rest her eyes for a little while. The ocean always made sure she never drifted too far off track as she napped. She laid down, looking up at the stars that were starting to appear in the darkening sky. Just as her eyelids began to grow heavy, a strong wind blew through her sales, ruffling her hair and skirt.
A strong, cold wind.
Moana sat up with a start, spotting dark, billowing clouds rolling toward her across the sky. A storm? She jumped to her feet as the temperature dropped; the sea suddenly choppy as her canoe was tossed around like a toy in the surf. Knocked to her knees, Moana struggled to regain her footing. The sail spun in the wind, but she feared if she let go she'd be knocked off her boat.
"Ocean!" she cried as sleet and hail began to fall. She shielded her face from the assault as best she could, but it was of little help. On her hands and knees, she crawled along the length of the boat and grabbed the rope of the mast. She tugged with all her might, using all of her strength in an attempt to collapse the sail to loosen the wind's hold on her boat. It was of no use; the storm grew stronger by the minute. Snow, sleet, and hail pelted her skin, the cold so intense that her hands and feet felt frozen to the boat. In desperation, Moana threw herself flat on her canoe, gripping the boards with all her might. "Help me!" she screamed into the storm.
Through the roaring wind, a voice rang out. "Princess of Maui!"
Moana lifted her head, squinting through the blinding storm. "Who's there?" she called out, her voice drowned out by the din. At the bow of her canoe, a figure materialized out of the storm. Moana blinked at the woman who stood before her, surely she must be imagining this?
The woman was tall and slender, her skin as white as the snow that had fallen on Motunui. Her hair was a sparkling silver, but what was most striking was her piercing blue eyes. Filled with hatred, she stared at Moana with disgust.
"Princess of Maui," her voice was as melodic as a wind chime, ringing through the storm. "I will not be made a fool by a mortal like you."
"What are you talking about?" Moana sputtered, pushing her soaking wet hair out of her eyes. "Why do you keep calling me that? I'm Moana of Motunui, I'm not a princess! And what have I done to you?"
The woman did not answer. She lifted her hands, her icy blue eyes narrowing. To her horror, Moana's fingertips began turning to ice. "What are you doing?" she screamed, trying to lift her hands to her face. But the ice was quickly spreading up her arms. When she tried to stand, she realized the same was happening to her feet and legs.
Another scream was stifled on her lips as the ice traveled up her neck, spreading up her face. The last thing she saw was the woman laughing, smoke rising in the distance behind her.
Flying as fast as his hawk wings could carry him, Maui sped across the sea, scanning for the familiar canoe in the massive expanse of blue. He furrowed his brow at the sight of thick, fast-moving clouds up ahead. They were moving swiftly in the opposite direction of him. He figured he should investigate the odd phenomenon, but was instantly distracted by the site of a boat he knew all too well.
"You're tough to find, Curly!" Maui transformed back into a man, grabbing the mast in one massive hand as he slid down to the deck. "I've been back to Motun-" He stopped abruptly after brushing the hair from his eyes. His breath catching in his throat, Maui stared in horror at the sight before him, a sick mixture of panic and despair rising in his belly. She was kneeling, her hands raised before her face, eyes frozen in terror and pain.
Moana, his beautiful Moana, had been turned to solid ice.