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Neteyam had always been told that he was the calm, rational Sully.
It wasn’t a hard contest to win. Lo’ak and his dad, so similar in jumping into things without a hint of a plan, impulsive and reckless as was their nature. His sister Tuk was more chaotic, willing to run off after whatever caught her eye but she was young, so it was expected. Kiri was usually calm but just as willing to chase after strange creatures that caught her interest or hang out in trees forever without telling anyone just to examine how the leaves move in the wind. Neytiri was more rational as a parent, but with a wild streak herself that had her throwing herself off of branches and catching leaves on the way down instead of climbing down slow and steady like someone with a will to live.
So, by default that left Neteyam in the role of being calm and responsible.
That didn’t mean that he wasn’t capable of being rash, tsunamis of emotion appearing from nowhere before settling back to calm waves. And usually, it was in response to his parents.
When he was very young, maybe just 5 or 6 years old, when Lo’ak was just old enough to leave their home without parental supervision, Neteyam lead his little brother around the Hometree to explore their home, showing him all the hidden nooks and alcoves that he had found scattered throughout so they could play hide and seek. But in his eagerness to show his brother everything, he had run far ahead of the younger boy, and he had lost his brother.
Neteyam ran back along the path he had taken, trying to backtrack and find his brother, panic slowly setting in. His parents told him to keep an eye on Lo’ak, that he was the big brother and was supposed to take care of him. Losing his little brother was not taking care of him.
He found his little brother part of a gang of 4 or 5 older boys, maybe a few years older than even Neteyam. They were clustered tightly around him, and Neteyam started to relax when he heard his brother start to cry. A rush of adrenaline felt like ice through his veins and Neteyam launched himself forward, hissing at the cluster of boys as he pushed his way towards his brother. His little brother was sobbing, a small cut above his eyebrow welling with small beads of blood. Neteyam’s heart sunk into his gut, and he lifted his loincloth to press against the cut, pulling Lo’ak close to try and soothe his cries.
“It’s okay Lo’ak, you’re okay.” Neteyam reassured, when he was reminded of the other boys when they started to snicker behind him. He whirled around and bared his fangs, hissing loudly at these boys who had attacked his brother!
“What did you do to him!” he demanded, tail lashing with fury. The ringleader of the group, an older boy with a sneer across his face.
“We were just trying to help him out, he’s never going to be a proper Na’vi with that hair growing above his eyes.”
A proper Na’vi? A proper Na’vi!
“You could have cut his eyes! You could have BLINDED him!” Neteyam shouted. Lo’ak started to hyperventilate again, so he made a pointed effort to slow his breath and calm down, to not agitate his brother.
“Apologize to him.” Neteyam demanded.
The boys snorted and giggled amongst each other, the oldest boy holding up his small knife. “Hey, it’s not a big deal, we were just trying to help him.”
“Apologize to him.” He warned, giving them one last chance.
The boys started to turn away, ready to leave now that the fun of picking on Lo’ak was over. But Neteyam wasn’t done with them.
With a hissing scream, Neteyam launched himself at the oldest boy, throwing himself on his back and pulling sharply on his queue, gnashing his teeth and trying to bite the boy’s ear off. His weight forced the boy to the ground and Neteyam pinned him down, pinning the one hand holding the knife while yanking on his queue with the other hand to force his neck and head to arch sharply. The older boy cried out with pain, blood leaking from his ear. Neteyam looked over at the other boys, faces surprised with shock and a hint of fear.
Neteyam bared his fangs again, and he could taste the salty iron of blood on his fangs and tongue. “If you ever go near my brother again, I will kill you.”
He stood up to get off the older boy and they all scurried away, tails between their legs and Neteyam turned back to Lo’ak, who was still standing there sniffling, tears streaked across his face. Neteyam took Lo’ak’s hand and knelt down in front of him.
“I’m sorry I left you behind Lo’ak, I didn’t mean to.” Neteyam apologized, pulling his little brother into a short hug. “Now let’s go find Grandma and patch you up before Mom finds out and kills us both.”
Lo’ak looked up at Neteyam and hesitantly asked “Teyam, am I a real Na’vi?”
“Of course you are, those boys are just skxawng.” Neteyam assured, ruffling his little brother’s hair. “You’re blue, you’ve got freckles, and a tail. Plus, you’re the son of Toruk Makto, which means you’re a cooler Na’vi than those bullies. They’re just jealous of you.”
Lo’ak giggled and started to tug Neteyam along to Mo’at’s home, and Neteyam let his brother lead the way.
Neteyam had always been most protective of his family. He had grown up on stories from his parents on the family that they had lost, the hardships they had faced in wars across on far off planets and the much closer conflicts with the Sky People. His father told him about his twin brother on earth, how he was killed while Dad was unable to walk and unable to protect his brother. He heard about his mother’s sister, getting gunned down by Sky People at the steps of Kiri’s mom’s school in front of his mother. He knew the losses hurt them deeply and wanted to do everything possible to prevent that pain in his family. So, when the Sky People returned, he took it very seriously.
“You’re too young to go out with us Neteyam. Stay here and watch the ikran.” Dad said firmly, clustered together on a branch far above where another patrol of Sky People were hunting, trying to gain ground in their territory.
“I passed the trials Dad, I’m just as much of an adult as any of the warriors. Besides, someone has to watch your back.” Neteyam argued in a hushed whisper, desperate to convince his father. Dad had been returning injured from too many battles and raids, scraps and burns from one too many close calls. With his mother already gone to fly around Hometree and keep an eye out, it was up to Neteyam to make sure that his father returned home to the rest of their family.
“Son, when I give an order, I expect it to be obeyed. If you want to get on the battlefield, I have to be able to trust you’ll listen to me.” His dad said, his tone indicating the argument was over. Before Neteyam could argue back, his father turned to the other warrior they had flown with and gestured with his hand and they both dropped down, disappearing through the foliage to the forest floor below. Neteyam hissed quietly to himself, shoulders slumping. His ikran nudged his head forward, brushing comfortingly against his back.
The forest seemed overly loud tonight, sounds of creatures crying and the general hum of life drowning out any potential sounds of battle and Neteyam strained his ears for a hint of danger. His orders were to fly out with the ikran as soon as there was a hint of danger, to escape to the rendezvous point where everyone else was going to gather. At the first sharp rattle of gunfire however, Neteyam heard a pained scream, and all thoughts of orders fled his head.
That could be his dad down there.
Neteyam took only a moment to grab his bow before launching himself onto some lower branches, rushing as quietly as he could along the branches to reach the bright bursts of violent white light in the soft glows of green and blue. As he stood over the scene of the skirmish, he could see his father was pinned down, a bullet having gone through his lower leg and leaving him unable to run. The other warrior was pinned down by gunfire, unable to leave the safety of a small outcropping of trees without being shot to pieces. The squad of 4 Sky People were ducking for cover, their forms small enough to make difficult targets in all the noise and chaos. Neteyam’s eyes narrowed, trying to find a vantage to get to his father without getting shot himself.
“Come on out you savages, save us both a little time.” One of the Sky People called out, pausing in his fire to reload his weapon. Neteyam took that at his moment to pounce, silently dropping to the forest floor next to his father in shadows. His father started, but only looked more pissed when he realized it was only him.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Dad hissed, breaking off as Neteyam pulled at his leg, examining the wound. The bleeding was not terrible, so Neteyam took some cloth from his loincloth to wrap tightly around the bullet hole to stem the bleeding.
“Someone had to save your ass.” Neteyam bit back, barely holding back the fury trembling in his limbs. These damn Sky People were relentless in trying to take what they wanted, but Neteyam wasn’t going to let them hurt anyone else tonight.
“Don’t move, I’ll get rid of the Sky People.” Neteyam assured and ducked through the foliage before Dad could argue. Gunfire continued to focus on his father and where the other warrior was ducking for cover, so they wouldn’t be expecting a third attack from behind.
With one steady shot, he took down one of the Sky People, who fell with a gurgling scream. The gunfire immediately whipped around to Neteyam’s direction, who crouched and scuttle-walked beneath branches along the perimeter of the little clearing the Sky People were in.
“There’s another one!” one of them cried out before he fired again, taking the man in the throat as he collapsed. With half the Sky People down, the other warrior managed to break away from his cover and sprinted towards the Sky People, snapping one neck with his bow, and going for the leader with a knife. Neteyam didn’t even wait to see the rest of them fall, clicking his throat to call his ikran to him again as he rushed back towards his father.
“You should have stayed with the ikran.” Dad said through gritted teeth as he helped him stand.
“You can’t learn to trust me if you’re dead, Dad.” Neteyam argued. “And I’m never going to leave my family behind. Now come on, let’s get you home and patched up before Mom finds out and kills both of us.”
Neteyam had killed two people tonight, but he couldn’t find it in himself to really care. Not because they weren’t people – he knew the Sky People that stayed behind in the first retreat of the Sky People, knew they were good and could love Eywa and life and respect the natural balance. Theses humans were just as capable of that positive change as anyone that had stayed behind, maybe even reach the levels of Spider in their integration into Na’vi culture. As soon as they turned their weapons on his family though, he didn’t care about their potential growth or ability to learn. He only saw the threat they posed, and he would have put his family’s safety before himself, and his family far outweighed some violent, uncaring Sky People.
As much as Neteyam loved his little sister dearly, her ability to completely disappear on them was going to drive him to throw himself off a cliff.
Since she was the baby of their family, Tuk got away with a lot more shenanigans than the rest of them. Neteyam as the oldest brother was expected to step up to take care of Tuk, and that included holding on to her tail as she tried to run into danger to look at pretty flowers or whatever else had caught her eye. She was sweet and adorable, but also a little thanator when it came to getting what she wanted – doing whatever necessary to have her way. So, when Neteyam took her on a small trip to gather berries to help Mo’at, he kept both eyes on her and still managed to lose her.
“Tuk, come on!” Neteyam called out, followed the faint impressions her feet had left in the dirt and moss. “You know you’re not supposed to wander off.”
He heard her giggles somewhere up ahead and found her crouched down playing with the feelers on some flowers. Neteyam sighed, shaking his head lightly at her.
“I’m going to get a rope to make sure you stay with me next time.” Neteyam playfully threatened. He was almost too distracted to notice the heavy presence that seemed to fall over the forest. His ears perked up, and even Tuk took notice, pausing in admiring the flowers to look around. Neteyam rushed towards her and grabbed her wrist.
“Come on, we should get back.” He tried to tug Tuk along, but barely had time to pull her to her feet before he heard a low growl from just above them. Neteyam whipped his head around to see the smooth black face of a thanator, quills spread out and clicking.
“MOVE!”
The thanator pounced as Neteyam scooped up Tuk and bolted, feet pounding on the ground as he raced to keep ahead of the apex predator. Tuk screamed as the Thanator gave chase, claws clicking and yowling in pursuit. Neteyam ran as fast as he could, breath coming in sharp bursts. He weaved and ducked through branches, too far from his ikran to be able to call it to him. So, he put all his energy into running as fast as he could, branches whipping across his face and legs as he barreled forward through the forest.
A chance to duck for cover in some exposed tree roots had Neteyam diving forward, crashing into the roots with the thanator hot on their heels. Tuk screamed again, crying into his shoulder as the creature scratched and bit at the roots, gradually tearing them to pieces.
“Tuk, you’ll have to run for the river.” Neteyam told her, gasping for air. “You have to run to the river, the thanator can’t swim very well so you’ll have a chance to escape.”
“No ‘Teyam, don’t leave me alone!” Tuk sobbed, and Neteyam braced his legs, preparing to roll through the small opening behind them. The thanator yowled and hissed, quills quivering around its eyes.
“I’m going to be right behind you Tuk, just don’t look back. Ready?” Tuk nodded frantically and in the next moment, Neteyam squeezed through the opening behind them, pushing Tuk ahead of him towards the river that glimmered maybe 20 meters ahead. Tuk bolted, and Neteyam turned and drew his knife, hissing a challenge at the beast. The thanator hissed louder in response and launched itself at him, rolling through the grass. Claws dug into his arms and ribs, beads of blood streaking down his sides. Neteyam grit his teeth and swung with the knife, trying to strike at the fleshy underbelly not protected by armor. He stabbed with brutal efficiency – 1, 2, 3 – before the thanator hissed and released him, leaping back to eye him and tensed his legs to pounce again.
Breathing heavily and not waiting for the thanator to regain its bearing, Neteyam bolted again, dashing forward until he could launch himself into the depths of the river, a rush of cold washing over him. Tuk was treading water nearby, heaving gasps of fear, and paddled towards him crying his name. On the shore of the river the thanator skid a few paces into the shallow riverbed with a growl, armored tail lashing in fury before it turned away. Gulping for air, Neteyam wrapped his arms around his sister and brushed his hand over her hair to try and calm her down.
“It’s okay Tuk, you’re okay.” He gasped, slowly starting to drift down the river. “It’s all going to be okay.”
“You said you were going to be right behind me!” Tuk shouted, slamming her small fists into his chest with fury. “You said!”
“I had to make sure you had time to run,” Neteyam said “I had to make sure that you were safe first.” He started to laugh, relief rushing through his bones as the adrenaline slowly wore off. “Just wait till we get home and tell Lo’ak about this, he’ll be so jealous that you faced off against the mighty thanator.”
Tuk pouted, but her angered calmed.
“We should head back anyway, though Grandmother won’t be pleased we lost all her herbs and berries.”
Kiri was often too ambivalent for Neteyam to get very protective of. She was calm and uncaring of what others thought of her generally, more content to hang out with Lo’ak and Spider or do her own thing, helping their grandmother and comfortable in her role as the future Tsahik of the People. Kiri was calm and capable, confident in herself, but that confidence wasn’t entirely unshakeable.
Neteyam found her while trying to look for where Lo’ak had run off to, tucked away in the highest branches of Hometree with her arms wrapped around her knees and looking teary-eyed over the roosting ikrans.
“Kiri!” Neteyam called out. Kiri never cried, not even when she fell and twisted her ankle, not even when the other kids teased her for her five fingers and the hair above her eyes. “Kiri, what’s wrong?”
Kiri looked up and quickly wiped her eyes, trying to hide her tears. “Oh, I…I’m just trying to get away from Lo’ak and Spider. I can only take so much uncontrolled chaos before I start to go crazy.”
Neteyam sat down next to his sister, his twin in all ways but birth, raised and grown together in the same step, partners in everything until Lo’ak and Spider were old enough to tag along.
“Why are you crying Kiri,” Neteyam asked, bringing one hand to place on her shoulder. “You know you can tell me anything.”
Kiri sniffled and took a moment to gather her thoughts. Neteyam was patient though and waited silently. Kiri was very thoughtful and prone to thinking deeply, so he knew to give her time to get her thoughts together.
“I…Lo’ak and Spider were just being skxawngs, and I needed a break from them for a little while.”
“What did they say to you? I should know what they said before I shove their faces in some pa’li shit.” Neteyam reasoned, and Kiri chuckled wetly.
“They just, they were making jokes about my dad being Norm and my mom being in love with him or something. It was just stupid jokes; they didn’t mean anything by it. It just, just, hurts sometimes to think about it. That I’ll never really know the answer.”
Neteyam leaned his head against her shoulder and wrapped one arm around her ribs. “Don’t listen to those dumbasses, boys are not very good at being sensitive, especially Lo’ak and Spider. They wouldn’t know sensitive if they had to hunt it down in the forest.”
“And what about you?”
“I happen to be especially sensitive, but again I’m not Lo’ak or Spider.”
Kiri wiped her eyes one more time before leaning her head against his, and they sat in the moment quietly, listening to the rustle of leaves around them.
“And you shouldn’t worry about who your dad is. You and I have the same Dad, he raised you and loves you the same as any one of us.” Neteyam glanced at his sister and smiled. “Except for maybe Tuk, I think Tuk is his favourite.”
“Tuk wouldn’t be happy unless she was everyone’s favourite.” Kiri bit back but smiled too, and her tail brushed his. “Thanks, Neteyam.”
“And don’t worry about the boys, I’m still going to be shoved their faces in pa’li shit.” Neteyam assured, and that got a bark of laughter from Kiri.
It didn’t take long to track the boys after that, and Neteyam squared his shoulders to loom as much as he could over Lo’ak – Spider was easy, being closer in height to Tuk than the rest of them now.
“You two are insensitive skxawng, you know that?” Neteyam asked, biting back on the worst of his annoyance with them. Lo’ak squared his chin at him in that familiar you’re not my dad look, but Spider seemed more concerned about Kiri. “You really hurt her feelings today, so I want you both to man up and apologize.”
“We were just joking around, its not a big deal.” Lo’ak said, flicking the two braids that hung close to his eyes. Neteyam narrowed his eyes at him and jabbed a finger into his chest.
“It’s not a very nice joke, and Kiri wasn’t laughing.” Neteyam warned “So I want you both to apologize to her and stop making jokes about her dad. We were all raised by the same man, and he is our dad. Alright?”
Spider, if he had Na’vi ears, would have been drooping in shame. Lo’ak, while a bit more prideful, also looked sorry. They may be his brothers but by Eywa, that gave them no excuse for being mean to Kiri, and Neteyam was more than prepared to keep the both of them in line.
If Neteyam knew anything about his mother, it was that she was a proud woman. For as long as he could remember, his mother had told him his heritage, the long history of olo’eyktan that had led the People before, his father being Toruk Makto, her place of pride as the future
Tsahik of the People. She had been a figure of importance, respect, and reliability for everyone to turn to. In her own right she was one of the best archers, a skilled hunter and ikran rider that could not be rivaled in the sky. So, he knew the move to the Metkayina village was difficult for her. To tear her from everything that she had known, all the responsibility and being a strong pillar of her community had been ripped away from her and she was left adrift, unsure, and embarrassed.
It did not help that the Metkayina people mocked them, laughing at their thin tails, weak lungs, and inability to swim or ride ilu. While he and his siblings received bold-faced teasing from the other children, and his father was used to being humbled by the Na’vi, his mother was facing the subtle scorn and isolation that the women of the tribe inflicted on her for the crime of being different.
He noticed gradually that while his mother helped to gather fish and such with Tuk and Tsireya, while Ronal taught her what she could, she was the only woman who seemed interested in interacting with Neytiri at all. And Neytiri, with all the smarting pride of going from the mate of Toruk Makto to a refugee that abandoned her People. She would not stoop herself to begging for inclusion amongst the snickering women of the Metkayina. So Neteyam decided it was time to, as his father might say, ‘break the ice’.
He asked Tsireya if he could come along with her to help the women weave fishing nets – the Omaticaya were known far and wide for their weaving and he wished for the chance to return to the craft of his People. Tsireya had smiled and assured him of course he could, that the boys often refused to help weave nets, deeming it far more boring than fishing or diving. So Neteyam joined the small circle of women, 6 in total including Tsireya. It was awkward at first, the normal gossip and chatter silenced in his presence in awkwardness and confusion. Neteyam though had the blunt force of personality to ignore all the awkwardness entirely and chatted with Tsireya on his left and tried to bait the woman on his right as Tsireya showed him the knotting technique.
He picked it up in no time, speeding through the knots with flying fingers. Tsireya smiled proudly over his finished net, spreading it between them.
“Your knots are perfect! Where did you learn how to make fishing nets so well?”
“I told you, Omaticaya are skilled weavers. If you think I’m good you should see Lo’ak, his four fingers make him even faster at weaving. My mother is the best though, she taught me everything I know.” Neteyam said, and Tsireya blushed at the mention of his brother, obvious as she was.
One of the women snorted and made hand signs at one of the others. I am surprised she is good at anything, acting so high and mighty and above good work for the village. She is a pampered mate.
Neteyam narrowed his eyebrows and locked eyes with one of the women. “Excuse me, I couldn’t help but oversee your conversation. I must say I’m sorry that my mother has not managed to join you yet, but have you extended her the invitation to join you? In Omaticaya culture, it is very rude to intrude where you are not welcome.”
The two women flushed, one looking down with embarrassment while the other seemed to puff up in outrage, sea green eyes staring at him through the clear lids.
“In Metkayina culture boy, it is expected that everyone should help out. It is not our fault that you are outsiders who do not understand our ways.” The woman bit out.
“And it is not our fault that we are new to your way of life, that no one sought to help my mother learn these ways and contribute. She knew how to help at home, knew how to cook and weave and hunt. But this is not home yet, so she must be taught, just as I and my siblings and my father have been taught by the children and the men of this village.” Neteyam folded up the fishing net quickly and said with a short hiss “So I would appreciate you not speaking ill of my mother to my face again.”
Tsireya looked caught, upset at the whole interaction. Neteyam stood to go, but a voice behind him spoke up. “It seems that we have been neglectful in our duty as teachers, boy.”
Ronal walked in amongst the small weaving group, and even the woman who spoke ill of his mother looked contrite in her presence. Ronal cast a piercing look around the circle, and finally looked at Neteyam. “If you would like to remain, I would send Tsireya to fetch your mother. I would like to compare your work to your mother’s, and see about her weaving skills. And of course, many hands help to make the work-load lighter.”
Ronal seated herself next to Neteyam, and Tsireya scurried off to go and get his mother. Neteyam was still tense, shoulders tight as if he were standing before a herd of ‘angtsìk, unable to show weakness for fear he would be trampled to death.
While the edge remained to the weaving group, they slowly descended into nervous chatter and gossip. Ronal took up some weaving of her own, knotting the fibers into fishing nets without even a glance, so practiced in the movement. She instead looked at Neteyam and said in a quiet voice “We are a proud people, boy, so we do not stoop to invite others into our midst easily.”
Neteyam did not speak, afraid of breaking the fragile peace between them.
“Still, your family has faced many hardships, in leaving your home and being treated as children once again here.” Ronal paused, then quietly said “I am sorry we did not make the process easier for your mother. You are a good son, to stand for her.”
Before Neteyam had the chance to reply, Tsireya returned with Mom, who hesitantly sat herself amongst the circle.
“Neytiri, your son claims you were the best weaver in the Omaticaya. I would like to see this, for your gift would be very useful to help the clan.” Ronal announced. Neytiri hesitated, before a slow smile slide across her face.
“I would be honoured to help the Metkayina people.” His mother said graciously, and Neteyam allowed himself a moment of softness as his mother finally found the sense of community again that had been missing since they had fled their home.
After weaving until sundown, they returned to their Marui pod and his mom pulled him into a tight embrace.
“You are a thoughtful son,” Neytiri whispered into his hair. “You would have been a great Olo’eyktan. Thank you.”
Neteyam felt his breath catch, the reminder of his abandoned future smarting for a moment before he reassured her “Of course Mom, Sullys keep an eye out for each other.”
Neytiri laughed and ruffled his hair. “Do not let anyone say that you are not the best of us Neteyam.”