Chapter Text
The day after the riduurok celebration was quiet. People emerged from their quarters in various states of pain and hungover, and more than one person seemed remarkably smug.
Rima was deeply pleased. The sentry rotation had gone well. The children all had a riotous time in their giant slumber party. The food had been excellent, even if the Nevarro kitchens stopped sending trays out abruptly in the middle of the evening.
She nodded to herself. There were still things that needed to be sorted out but the day could be used to rest and recover. It had been a good night that promised a new beginning for them all. Perhaps that was a lot of place on the shoulders of one happy couple, but she’d take it.
Later that afternoon, Feralia looked around at her Tribe. “So we’re agreed?”
They all nodded and San grinned. “I told you. You’re our alor.”
Feralia gave him a scowl. He was in an annoyingly smug mood for someone who completely disappeared the night before. “And we all are in agreement that we should try to make it work here?”
The entire Tribe nodded again. San had told her that no matter what they decided, he was staying. He hadn’t told her why, but he’d been pretty firm about it. Then there was the issue of allowing their children to grow up safe and as the Mando’ade they were.
Some people expressed concerns. How would they fit in with these warrior Tribes? What did they bring to the table?
Someone else had pointed out that at least one of the children had shown an aptitude for metalwork, and here they could learn how to actually become an armorer. “And they all fought when they were kidnapped. They’re Mando’ade. We’re Mando’ade. We should stay.”
Feralia had given a confident smile. “If we’re trying to build a society, we all bring things to the table. We can help them, they can help us. We support each other, that’s what my buir told me.”
Later, she walked to Rima’s office where she’d requested a meeting with the other two alors. If they were going to do this, if they were going to have three Tribes in this one place, they needed to figure out they’d make it work.
Rima smiled. She had also had this thought, as had the Armorer. They needed to work out a system of how decisions that affected all three tribes were made, how to allocate resources.
In the back of the mess hall there was a room with a large table in it. Rima, the Armorer, and Feralia looked around and nodded. This would do. They each took a seat at the table, and they began to discuss.
“We have a few people who did animal husbandry before the Purge, they’ve noted that this is a good place to raise hogs….”
Teryn emerged in the afternoon feeling well pleased with herself. The evening hadn’t been as bad as she’d feared. It was even, if she dared admit it to herself, a little fun. The children had been released to their buire in the late morning and almost all of them required naps.
She found Din at the edge of the field watching Jha’iil play with Atin. Jha’iil was making some leaves fly around and Atin was alternating between chasing the leaves and gently knocking Jha’iil over. Jha’iil would giggle madly then pick himself up. It was their favorite game.
Teryn handed Din a mug of fresh behot with a straw. He nodded in thanks.
“How was your night?” she asked, amusement dancing in her eyes.
“Fine.”
“Did you talk about what she’s going to do now?”
Din grunted. “Didn’t really have a chance to talk.”
Teryn raised her eyebrows and said sweetly, “But you two left so early.”
“Shut up.”
Teryn let out a peal of laughter that echoed around the trees. Din found himself smiling. She was happy, happier than he could ever recall seeing her, even as children. Teryn sat down and they watched Atin and Jha’iil dance around each other.
“Some people take a trip after they get married,” Din said. “Will you?”
“We talked about it, but if we do it won’t be for a while. Not for several months at least. His ship still needs to be completely gutted and refitted. Plus leaving Kurs’ika again so soon wouldn’t be fair to anyone.”
Din nodded. That made sense.
“What about you? Are you planning on leaving soon?”
“Not for a while. I asked your scrapper friends to give the Crest a going over - she needs it- and I promised him we’d stay put. Do my time training the Foundlings. Rest a little. It’s been a while.” Jha’iil toddled over for a snuggle. Din obligingly picked him up and before too many minutes had passed, Jha’iil was starting to snore. Atin hopped up on Teryn’s lap for his own nap. They sat in contented silence.
“You know,” Teryn started after a while. “After… Gideon, after everything, Kurs’khaded asked me what I wanted. If I didn’t have to worry about anyone else, what did I want? Do you know what I told him?”
“No. What did you say?”
“I said I wanted yaim’la. I wanted a home.”
Din smiled and nodded. “Seems like you got it.”
“I did.” Teryn turned to look at him. “I got what I wanted. What about you? What do you want?”
Din sighed, looking at his child, then looking around at the place that had become their home in only a few short months. Where his Tribe was settled in the sun, where his aliit was.
“I want him to be safe. To grow up happy. To have a home he can come back to when he needs to.”
Teryn nodded. “We all want to give our ade the things we never had. It’s the nature of parenthood.”
“You’ve been a parent for like a week.”
Teryn punched him in the arm. “Shut up.”
Din sighed again as Jha’iil snuggled closer. “I can’t promise him any of that while Gideon is still alive.”
Teryn nodded. He was right. Gideon’s very existence threatened them all, but it was Jha’iil he threatened the most. “Then let’s go get the fucker.”
