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“Son.”
Lo’ak closed his eyes to prevent himself from rolling them at his dad. When he opened them again, he looked up from the spear he was working on. In front of him lay the wooden pieces he carved out in order to make the tip sharp enough to kill anything with a pulse – and he has just enough self-control to no ram it up his father’s throat.
The fact that he was his father was only the second reason; the first being that his dad would disarm him in less than a second and hold the spear against Lo’ak’s own throat if he wanted to – and maybe he wanted to, judging by the tone of his voice.
“What did I screw up this time?”, Lo’ak asked, finally looking into his dad’s eyes and, to his own surprise, saw that he was in fact not angry.
“Woah, calm down”, he said, sitting down next to his son by the small fire inside their tent. He lifted his hands into the air and smiled when he said: “I come in peace!”
Lo’ak put the spear and knife down and relaxed his ears as he realized how irrationally he’d been thinking again. Ever since all those things had happened, he’d been terribly irritable. It affected his senses a lot, resulting in his skills for hunting being impaired, right along with his social skills. Sometimes he would misinterpret things or overreact, which still got him into trouble every now and then.
But to his credit, he was significantly less of a troublemaker now. Some people thought he had matured, say the incidents had made him a man. Lo’ak, on the other hand, knew it was rather due to other reasons he didn’t like to admit so much.
“The spear is looking nice”, his father said, nodding toward the carved piece of wood on the ground.
“Thanks”, Lo’ak said, trying to find the real reason on his father’s calm face for why he was making small talk with him.
“Look”, he said, taking a deep breath, and Lo’ak could feel he wouldn’t like this conversation. “I’m gonna ask you a question, son, and I want you to answer me honestly.”
Curiously, he looked into his old man’s eyes. Lo’ak wouldn’t dare to keep a single thing from his family, not after everything that happened.
His father’s voice was gentle when he asked: “Tell me, how are you feeling?”
There it was. The things he didn’t like to admit. His feelings.
Lo’ak had to look away, so he set his eyes on the fire in front of them. “I’m fine.”
“Lo’ak”, his father said with a tone that made the boy gulp. “I told you to be honest.”
He didn’t care that he seemed like a sulky child when he said: “And I told you that I’m fine. Why does it even matter?”
“It matters because everyone can see that you’re not”, his dad explained to him oddly calm.
When Lo’ak looked at him again, he saw his dad eyeing his scalp. “Seriously? This again? I told you I’m not doing it.”
“Listen, kid. I understand. You lost something – we all lost something. But it’s been four months and you need to start taking care of yourself. Your hair is all grown out.”
“No, dad”, Lo’ak said all of a sudden before he could’ve stopped himself. “No, you don’t understand. I did not lose something. When you lose something, you can find it again. But Neteyam is dead, okay? He died and he won’t come back. That’s what happened. That is the truth. And everyone here keeps acting like it’s okay, but it’s not.”
“I understand your anger-”
“You don’t understand anything!”, Lo’ak said, jumping up to his feet and his dad followed him instantly. “Neteyam has always braided my hair! He is supposed to take care of it! But he is gone and now, I’d rather chop it all off and walk around bald than have anyone else touch it!”
Lo’ak was fully glaring at him, ears turned back and his tail swishing from side to side. He expected his father to be furious for talking to him like that. But instead, he collected himself and only said: “You’re right.”
This reaction confused Lo’ak so much, his tail froze mid-air.
“Your brother has died”, he continued and the words stung as if the information was new. “That’s the truth. But it's also true that my son has died. Your mother’s eldest son has died. Your siblings’ brother has died. We are all grieving. So don’t think I don’t understand.”
“But...”, Lo’ak wanted to keep protesting but realized he’d run out of arguments and looked to the ground in despair. “But that’s not the same.”
“Why not?”
“Because I’m not like the rest of you”, Lo’ak admitted. “Everyone keeps going on with their lives and I am the only one who is so affected by... him being gone. I keep blaming myself, I keep wishing I treated him differently, wishing I treated him like a brother instead of a rival the entire time.”
“Oh, son.” Suddenly, his dad was shoving him into an embrace and Lo’ak let it happen. “You treated him just right. That’s just how brothers are. He loved you so much, he was protecting you until his dying breath. You did nothing wrong, okay?” Tears were welling up in Lo’ak’s eyes. Why was it so hard to believe, though? “It’s grief that’s making you feel so guilty. Trust me when I say that his death left a wound on all of us. For some people, it just takes a little longer to heal.”
He could hear his father’s heartbeat. It calmed him. “How do you do it?”
“I don’t know. I guess I visit the spirit tree a lot these days”, he answered. “It hurts but it gets a little easier every day.”
“But I don’t want it to become easier. I just want my stupid brother back so he can braid my stupid hair.”
“I know”, his father said, releasing his son to look into his face. “But that’s life. Remember when I told you I had a twin brother who died?”
Lo’ak nodded, remembering his father telling him about his life before he came to Pandora.
“It was only because he died that I was able to come here. Otherwise, I would have never met your mother or become Toruk Macto. One life ends, another begins.”
“I don’t understand how I could ever find anything good in this”, Lo’ak said honestly. “I feel like my wound will never heal.”
“It will, son, even if it doesn’t feel like it right now.” He put a soothing hand on his son’s shoulder. “What does your mom always say?”
“That you’re an idiot?”
Lo’ak received a death glare and a light slap on his shoulder. “The other thing.”
“That I am just like you”, Lo’ak admitted sheepishly. He himself could never see it. His dad was a leader, a warrior, the mighty Toruk Macto... and Lo’ak was a screw-up, just a troublemaker with anger issues. Always in the shadow of Neteyam – and now that his older brother was dead, he was in the direct shadow of his dad.
“What she means is that you have a strong heart.”
Lo’ak perked up his ears. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you’re fearless”, his dad smiled, the glowing freckles on his nose lighting up. “Moving on seems scary. But I know that you're not afraid. You just gotta dare to take that first step.”
“Promise you’ll be careful?”
“Of course”, Tsireya answered, calm and collected as always, as she was sitting behind Lo’ak and started to open up the matted braids on his head. They were sitting alone by the shore after a long day of training, close to the village but far enough to be out of sight from anyone. He didn’t know why he wanted to have that sort of privacy just for someone doing his hair – opening up his braids felt like he was opening up his heart.
His dad was right, he’d figured. He had to dare, no matter how painful it would be. Tsireya seemed like one of the few people he trusted enough to deal with his hair. Both of his parents had practically zero hair styling skills and he wanted to have a style that resembled the Metkayina clan more, as he was part of them now.
“Thanks again for doing this”, he said, eyeing the softly glowing sunset over the water.
“It’s my pleasure, honestly, it’s an honor”, she said while she removed the beads from his braids one by one, placing them by her side so she could reuse them.
It was Lo’ak’s one condition, as the beads were made from the woods and stones in the forest he grew up in. No matter how much he was a Metkayina now, deep down he would always be a child of the forest.
“I really like your hair”, Tsireya remarked after the braids were all undone and she combed through them with a spiky shell.
She put the other hand on his head to keep it still and the touch made him involuntarily hold his breath. “You do?”
“Yeah. It’s a lot softer and straighter than our hair”, she explained. “Makes it a lot easier to work on.”
Lo’ak felt a warmth rise in his cheeks. He was so thankful for having Tsireya; during the last months, she had become his rock. They had become closer friends and she had always been there to distract him whether it was with more training sessions or just youthful shenanigans. She was the one thing that could always make him feel warm and safe, the one thing he could turn to when everything else felt like it was becoming too much.
“Okay, here we go”, Tsireya said when she was done combing and sectioning the hair. It only fully hit him when Lo’ak started feeling the familiar pull on his scalp of his hair being rearranged into tight braids.
And with that, the memories came flooding back.
“Ouch! Bro, I told you to be careful!”, Lo’ak whined for the umpteenth time.
“It’s not my fault you keep moving your big ass head.”
“Talk for yourself, mister Big Feet.”
Lo’ak felt an intentional tug on his hair. “Ah! Hey!”
“Oops”, Neteyam said, but Lo’ak could hear his grin.
Tsireya was extremely gentle. Lo’ak should be liking this, but it only emphasized that something was missing. The banter was missing. Neteyam was missing.
“Hold still or I’m gonna mess up!”
Lo’ak rolled his eyes. “I literally haven’t moved in ages. My queue is about to make a bond with the soil and turn me into a tree.”
Neteyam laughed at this imagination. “At least you’d finally shut up then.”
“ At least you’d finally shut up then”, Lo’ak imitated his brother with a ridiculous voice, which earned him another tug on his hair, making him yelp.
“Oh no, I’m so sorry.”
“Lo’ak?”
“Hm?”, Lo’ak made when Tsireya’s voice pulled him back into the moment.
“You’re being oddly quiet”, she said. “What’s wrong?”
Lo’ak wished people would stop asking him that question. "Nothing.”
“Come on, I can practically hear you think”, Tsireya joked, then added softly: “You can talk to me.”
And somehow, he wasn’t feeling as defensive as when he was talking to his father. Just very tired. And so, he talked.
“How long is this going to take?”
“I am literally holding a knife to your head”, Neteyam said as he was shaving the side. “I suggest you be quiet if you wanna keep that ear.”
“I just really miss my brother”, he admitted finally, lowering his eyes.
There was silence for a few seconds and he was already afraid he’d made Tsireya uncomfortable with that topic. But then she calmly said: “Tell me about him.”
“What?”, Lo’ak said, having expected something like “I’m sorry” or “it must be so hard for you” or some other form of pity.
“Yeah, I actually barely got to know Neteyam”, Tsireya said while she kept going gently braiding his hair. “What was he like? Tell me. The deceased are alive as long as we keep telling their stories.”
“Well...”, he hesitated, gathering his thoughts as he dared to think about his brother and realized how much he had actually been avoiding that. “Neteyam was... a great warrior. He learned quickly; he was the youngest to ever tame an ikran and become a hunter in our clan. He was an amazing shot; he’d always shoot the arrow right in the animal’s eye.”
Lo’ak couldn’t help but smile with pride as he was bragging about how cool his brother had been. “Wow. That’s so impressive”, Tsireya remarked.
“It really was. And he was a protector, just like our mother”, Lo’ak continued, as the sun disappeared behind the horizon. “Sometimes when I screwed up, Neteyam would take the blame. He was so responsible. I always thought he was being arrogant, trying to impress our parents with his maturity. And honestly, it made me angry. He was their golden boy and I, well, I was the screw-up. I used to hate him for always being so... perfect.”
“You done now, asshat?”
Neteyam stopped in his movement sealing the last braid. “Don’t test me, dipshit.”
“Okay, dumbass.”
Neteyam’s patience broke and he pulled on his brother’s queue this time.
Lo’ak let out a high-pitched scream and turned around. “Are you fucking nuts?!”
“Hey!” Both of the young boys turned to look at their mother. “This is no way to speak to your older brother.”
“But mom, Neteyam started it!”, Lo’ak whined.
“No, he did!”
“No, you did!”
“No, you did!”
“Stop it, boys!”, their mother said, dragging them away from each other by their arms. “The entire clan can hear your childish quarrel. Apologize to each other, right now!”
The brothers were staring each other down. Neteyam was the first one to speak: “I’m sorry I hurt you”, he said annoyed.
“I’m sorry, too...”, Lo’ak said, “...that you are such a dick!”
Neteyam hissed and jumped his brother, wrestling him to the ground and holding a threatening fist over him. “Take that back, jackass!”
“Dickhead! Dickhead!”, Lo’ak said loud and clear, pushing and shoving at Neteyam.
“Little bitch!” And before he could've changed his mind, Neteyam’s fist landed in his brother’s eye.
“It must have been hard living in his shadow”, Tsireya admitted. Lo’ak’s ears perked up. Finally, he thought, finally someone who understood him. “But you must try to see it from his perspective, too. He was the firstborn and your father was Toruk Macto. Neteyam was probably under a lot of pressure as well.”
Lo’ak took a deep breath as if he was about to dive into the waters. “I know that now.” Because now, he was the eldest. Neteyam was no longer there to protect him and his siblings. It was Lo’ak’s job now, or at least he felt more responsible. More pressured. More afraid that if he screwed up, it would have dire consequences. “Now, it’s my job to protect. And what if I mess it up? I’m not nearly as good of a warrior as he was. I don’t solve trouble, I get into trouble.”
It was quiet for a few moments, during which Tsireya seemed to be thinking about what to say. The beach waves and crickets were the only things filling the silence.
“I’m scared, Reya.”
She let go of the braid she was working out and shifted so she was sitting right in front of him. Seeing her beautiful eyes calmed something in him. His heart missed a beat when she grabbed his hand, both her hands enveloping all of his five fingers as if every single one of them was precious to her. “It is okay to be scared.”
“I don’t think so.” He looked down at their linked hands. “My dad thinks I have a strong heart. That I’m fearless.”
“You can be scared and brave at the same time”, she responded, caressing the back of his hand. “A strong heart is one that keeps beating even if it’s afraid. No one is fearless.”
He looked up at her again. Into her eyes, deep as the sea she was born at. Taking in the beautiful patterns of her teal skin. Looking at her, he was everything but afraid.
“But you keep going. Every single day, you keep going despite the pain and despite the fear. That is bravery.” She grabbed his face, gently leaning her forehead against his. He closed his eyes. “You have the strongest heart I have ever seen.”
Listening to it, his heart was calling for only one thing right now – her.
“Be brave.”
And so, he did. Pushing every other thought aside, he closed the gap, sealing their lips in a tender kiss. He could feel her strong tail reach around his body to pull him even closer. She tasted like the ocean and her soft hands on his face felt like the warm breeze.
And it felt incredibly right. He never wanted to stop. Lo’ak wanted to freeze the moment and stay there for the rest of his life, so unbelievably close to the one thing he was not afraid of – the one thing he was sure of.
“I’m sorry.”
Lo’ak looked up from where he was sulking on the floor. Surprisingly, Neteyam was actually looking remorseful.
“I shouldn’t have hit you. That’s not how an older brother is supposed to act.”
Lo’ak felt bad, seeing Neteyam actually sad. He decided to put his pride aside.
“No, I’m sorry”, he admitted, getting up from the ground to be eye-to-eye with him. “I was being really annoying.”
Neteyam’s lips twitched in a way of saying ‘yes, you were’.
“Thank you, bro”, Lo’ak said, pointing to his hair. “It looks amazing. As always.”
“You’re welcome”, Neteyam smiled proudly.
“Brothers?”, Lo’ak asked, holding out his hand in between them.
Neteyam grabbed him by his wrist, tightly wrapping his hand around it and Lo’ak mirrored it. It made him feel safe – he knew that no matter what, Neteyam would always have his back. “Brothers.”
Now Lo’ak understood why they said that when one life ended, another began.
Maybe this was the beginning of his new life.