Fifteen-year-old Tahiatohiupoko Hita (sometimes known by his obligatory Western nickname of ‘Martin’) used to be just like most contemporary Marquesans: modern, staunchly Catholic and unbelieving of Polynesian legends and superstitions – largely because he didn’t know them. But all that changed late one afternoon during a ride across his home island of Ua Pou. At dusk, as he approached a high ridge, his mount balked; eyes wide, nostrils flared, its neck fought the tightened reins as Martin struggled to keep control of the terrified animal. He looked around, but could see nothing unusual. Despite the hot trade winds there was a distinct chill in the air.