The Rainmaker Snake was beautiful, a ribbon of iridescent scales arching across the sky. Rainbow Coil. It sang the Song of Waterholes, summoning a flood to wash away the village.
Hine-te-iwaiwa sat calmly on the roof of the meeting house. She was the goddess of weaving, and she saw the universe as a series of threads.
"You are unraveling the land," Hine noted.
The Deluge
The Snake ignored her. It poured rain from its mouth. Mudcarve Passage. The river swelled, threatening to burst its banks.
Hine picked up her shuttle. It was made of starlight.
Lunar Weaving.
She didn't build a wall of stone; she wove a wall of will. She threw her shuttle across the sky. It caught the falling rain. Instead of hitting the ground, the water droplets were caught in her invisible loom.
The Cloak
Hine worked faster than the eye could follow. Womb-Singer. She sang a song of binding. The rain turned into thread. The flood turned into fabric.
She pulled the finished cloth from the air. It was a shimmering cloak of living water. She draped it over her shoulders.
Then she reached up and grabbed the Rainmaker Snake itself. "And a belt," she decided.
She tied the confused serpent around her waist. Its power was neutralized, woven into her own divine outfit. The storm cleared, leaving only a gentle mist and a very fashionable goddess.