Chapter Text
It was hard, sometimes, being the youngest.
No, Tuk, you can’t come. You’re too small.
You’re so annoying.
Maybe when you’re older.
We grew out of that game ages ago.
Over and over and over again. A part of Tuk understood, a little bit. She was younger and smaller, she didn’t know the things that her older brothers and sister did and she still liked little kid games.
“It was the same with my sister and I,” Mom said once, when Tuk complained about Lo’ak leaving her behind, even when he promised to bring her hunting with him. “It’ll will change, as you get older.”
Except Tuk knew that Mom’s sister was only three years older than Mom. Lo’ak, the closest to her in age, was seven. Some days, when Tuk sat around and watched everyone else do things she still wasn’t allowed, she almost got the nerve to ask why they waited so long to have her? What was the point of having siblings if they never wanted to be around you?
There was one night, when Mom and Dad went out, leaving them with Uncle Norm that night, that Tuk felt her smallness keenly, being sent to bed long before the older kids, lying alone in their hammock. When Mom and Dad were home, at least one of them would lay down with her, or even Grandmother, but tonight, she was all alone. Tuk didn’t like being alone. So she wished very, very hard to Eywa that she wouldn’t be alone.
Then, the Sky People came.
Mom and Dad couldn’t go on date nights anymore.
They moved to High Camp, in the Hallelujah Mountains, and the Sully family was suddenly spending a lot more time together as they prepared for war. Neteyam and Lo’ak took to it quickly, but Kiri all but refused to pick up a weapon, instead falling in line with Grandmother. But healing looked boring and Tuk wasn’t even old enough for her first bow, so she watched the war building around her without a single place in it.
And Tuk was quite literally never alone, ever, but she felt the loneliest she ever had and she hoped desperately that Eywa knew this wasn’t what she meant. A much older Tuk would look back on those moments and laugh at the childish thought process, the mere idea that she had somehow led the aliens back to their home, but children’s minds worked in wonderous ways.
There was one day, one of the many when Tuk found herself alone in camp, or as alone as she could be in a cave system full of people. It was one of those days where none of her usual games seemed much fun. She could go play with some of the other younger kids, but she didn’t feel like doing that, either. Instead, Tuk found herself, sitting on a boulder, alone. The boulder was nice enough, giving her an interesting vantage point on the cave and all the people in it.
But it also gave her a vantage point of all the people doing important things while she just sat around. Useless.
“Hey, Tuk!” Suddenly, a small, pale body climbed up next to her. Spider.
“Whatcha doing up here?” Spider asked as he situated himself.
Tuk shrugged, silent.
Spider let out a long, low whistle. “Nice view. I haven’t been up here before.”
“Shouldn’t you be hanging out with Kiri?” Tuk didn’t mean for the words to come out as whiny as it did. She hated when she sounded like that, Lo’ak always made fun of her for it and Mom kept telling her to use her “big girl” voice, but half the time it just slipped out.
“Kiri’s busy with your grandmother,” Spider said, without a comment on her tone.
Tuk liked that about Spider. He wasn’t as quick to tease as Lo’ak was, but he didn’t go straight into parent-lecture mode like Neteyam or Kiri.
“So I decided to come hang out with my favorite Sully instead,” Spider continued with a smile, bumping his shoulder against hers.
In spite of herself, Tuk giggled at the move. Spider smiled, “There she is. How’s your day going?”
“It’s fine.” But Tuk’s sullen mood returned just slightly, kicking her leg against the rock face.
“Yeah,” Spider sighed, leaning back on the palm of his hands and looking up at the ceiling of the cave. “Mine, too.”
Then, Tuk remembered something about today. “Hey, weren’t you supposed to help with the mission today?”
Spider scowled at the question. “Yup. Got to spend the morning watching the links. I was very important.”
“Oh.” Tuk was very familiar with fake-jobs. She got them a lot when adults wanted to try and make her feel important. They always made her feel worse than if she just didn’t do anything at all. She leaned her head against Spider. “I’m sure you’re the best at watching the links.”
Spider chuckled at her words. “Absolutely. The trick is to just not press the big red button.”
“That seems very hard.”
“Very.”
Tuk liked Spider. She didn’t fully understand why Mom didn’t or why Dad always seemed to try to keep his distance, but she liked him and, at seven, that was as much as she was willing to consider the topic. When they left him behind, she worried, but Spider was practically a grown up. He always knew what to do and he would come back to them, just like he always did.
This time, when Spider came back, it was to actually be her brother. As happy as it made Tuk, there was a part of her that couldn’t help but think that Neteyam would have been so excited to have Spider as his brother officially. Thinking about it that way made her heart hurt, though, so she tried her best not to.
The same way she tried not to think too hard about her newfound appreciation for being left out of things. Yes, Kiri, Mom and Dad and Spider were keeping things from them. Something weird was going on – nothing normal required random clan leaders appearing at High Camp and having “secret” meetings. Tuk just happened to be perfectly fine with not addressing these matters.
Then, Tuk found herself being rudely shaken awake in the middle of the night.
She whined, blinking up at Dad. “Daddy?”
“Hey, sweetie, I know, I know,” Dad hushed, pushing her hair back from her forehead. “Can you wake up for me a bit more? I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”
Tuk obeyed, rubbing at her eyes as she sat herself up, leaning on Dad. The fire was going, stronger than it should be considering the darkness outside of their tent.
Everyone was staring at her.
Mom. Kiri. Grandmother. Spider.
“What’s going on?” Tuk asked with a yawn.
“Baby girl, have you seen Lo’ak?” Dad asked, rubbing her back.
“He was here when I fell asleep,” Tuk tried her best to recall. “But- I think he woke me up a bit. He left.”
“His ikran is still here,” Grandmother said. “Perhaps he-”
“He went on a walk,” Spider interrupted. As everyone’s gaze turned to him, Spider turned that funny red color that he turned sometimes. “Apologies, ma’am, I didn’t mean- Lo’ak goes on walks to clear his head. He’s been annoyed about the secret meetings.”
“We’ve all been annoyed about those,” Kiri’s tail twitched in agitation as she glared at Spider. “But he wouldn’t do something as stupid-”
But Dad had already moved away from Tuk and cursed as he checked Lo’ak’s sleeping area, “His communicator’s gone.”
“Why did I even try?” Kiri muttered with a groan.