Chief 'Colada planted his staff in the sandy ground and gazed at the distant palm groves. Three of them stretched across the horizon, their fronds swaying in the warm breeze. His tribe needed more land, more resources, more room to grow. Those groves would be theirs. He turned back toward the heart of his village. Between two tall palms stood his new throne, built from split coconuts and woven vines. Bright flowers grew around its base in a riot of colors. From this seat, he would plan every move, every step toward claiming the groves. The throne sat in the open air where all could see their chief at work. He climbed onto it and felt the smooth coconut shells beneath him. The staff rested against his shoulder as he studied the land ahead. His warriors would need guidance. The other tribes would need convincing. But from here, he could see everything he needed to make his dream real. The next morning, Chief 'Colada walked the edge of his current territory. He stopped where the packed sand met loose beach. His tribe had lived here for three seasons, but they had grown too large for this space. He knelt and placed coconuts in a straight line along the ground. Each one marked where his land ended and the open territory began. The nearest grove sat just beyond this boundary. He pressed the last coconut into the sand and stood. His people would see this line and know how far they had come. Soon, he would move it forward. Chief 'Colada returned to his throne as the sun climbed higher. He gripped his staff and looked out at the three groves again. The middle one was closest, only a short walk from the coconut line. He would start there. First, he needed to know if other tribes claimed it. Then he would decide whether to talk or fight. Either way, those palm groves would feed his people. From this coconut throne, he would lead them to something bigger. The dream was clear now. The path was set.