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“Hello,” Neteyam’s voice holds a hint of amusement as he calls you back to the present. You jump a little, ears twitching back as he sits beside you on the edge of the marui.
“Oel ngati kameie,” you greet softly, which he returns with the same gesture and a small smile.
“Oel ngati kameie.”
You hold his gaze for a moment as your feet kick gently in the water below.
“What has you troubled?” he asks, eyes still trained on you even when you return your attention to the bioluminescent creatures swimming around your ankles. You know it’s pointless to hide the truth from him, but at the moment it seems like the easier option.
“I am not troubled.” It’s an obvious lie, one which has Neteyam scoffing and leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. You suddenly feel shy at the way he tries to get you to look at him. Your mouth dries and you press your lips into a firm line.
His bright golden eyes twinkle upon seeing your hesitation. “What is it?”
“You worry too much, you know that?” You steal a glance at him.
“Of course I do,” he replies without missing a beat, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Doesn’t mean you can get out of telling me what’s bothering you.”
You sigh and catch the slightest hint of a smirk lift his lips. You can’t hide things from him for very long and he knows it.
“I miss…I miss the forest, Neteyam. The trees, the rivers, the mountains. All of it.” You look out over the vast ocean and take a deep breath. “It is good here. Beautiful. But it’s not like home. I felt part of the forest at home. Here I am not part of it. Not like Kiri or Tuk or Lo’ak are. I miss flying.”
On the last word, you glance Neteyam’s way and are surprised to find him still looking at you, this time leaning back on his palms. His brow is relaxed, mouth soft. He doesn’t speak for a long moment.
“You find me silly,” you conclude, hugging a knee to your chest and rubbing your ankle anxiously. “I know we are safe here and I should be grateful, it’s just—“
Neteyam places a hand over the one on your calf and you look at him in surprise.
“Come with me,” he says softly.
You blink and nod without thinking, letting him squeeze your hand and pull you to your feet. For a moment as you traverse through the village towards the white beach, you wonder if he’ll let your hand go. It’s warm and rough in yours, and you find you quite like the feeling.
But before long, he ducks his head as if he’s shy and drops your hand the rest of the way to the beach. Your heart is pounding the whole way there.
As your feet hit the cool sand and you fall into place by Neteyam’s side, you inhale sharply at his sudden call for Rey’at, his ikran.
“Neteyam—“ you hiss in warning and grab his arm, turning him towards you. “Your father said—“
But you know it’s too late. Rey’at swoops over you with a low screech and lands with a great flap of his mighty wings, kicking up sand so you have to cover your eyes.
Neteyam slips his hand into yours again. He says your name quietly, urging you to look at him.
He must see the nervousness in your expression again, because his thumb strokes gentle circles across your knuckles.
“I miss home too.”
This surprises you. He’s always following orders, obeying without protest, understanding of his father’s decisions. But this? Something inside you surges with hope. You’re not alone.
“You do?”
“Every day. It makes it easier to be here with everyone, but I still miss it.”
Rey’at calls again, anxious to get off the beach. You feel a tangle of nerves fill your belly.
“Ride with me. Just this once. Then we’ll go back to being okay.” His smile is soft and genuine and you can’t help but smile back.
You nudge his shoulder playfully. “You’re beginning to act like Lo’ak.”
Pushing past him gently and walking to the eager Ikran, you hear Neteyam scoff and shake his head, beads in his braids rattling.
“What, reckless?” he asks with a smile.
You hum in reply and mount first, agily jumping on his back and sliding forward so Neteyam can be behind you. Riding with two is usually an awkward press for space, feet having to overlap and hands grappling for secure holds, but nothing about it is awkward this time.
He climbs on behind you and settles comfortably. “Only with you.”
Your heart does a neat flip flop in your chest and Neteyam lets you take Rey’at’s head and your feet rest next to his. His arms press comfortably around your waist, hips settling against yours.
“You alright?” he asks against your ear, and you blame the shiver running down your spine on the cool breeze lifting off the sea.
“Yes,” you answer as firmly as you can.
Neteyam nods and reaches around you to connect his kuru to his ikran’s.
Rey’at shudders at the bond and you feel Neteyam’s hold on you tighten just slightly before you take off with a jump and can breathe for the first time in weeks.