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It was time. The moons in Pandora’s sky were just passing their apex, marking the few hours before dawn. Neteyam looks over at his family.
Jake and Lo’ak were sat amongst the roots of the Tree of Souls. Jake held Lo’ak’s hands in his, and Neteyam could see his lips moving, talking to Lo'ak. Neytiri sat behind Lo’ak, fingers sliding through Lo’ak’s hair as she weaved his usual face-framing braids back into the rest of his ponytail. Kiri stood by, holding a gourd filled with the white sap that will be used to paint Lo’ak’s body. Neteyam looks back up at the Tree of Souls, where he was standing right by the primordial tree trunk. He watches the radiant, ethereal, purple branches and fronds sway in the wind. He kneels under the canopy, taking a low-hanging branch in his right hand and pulling his kuru forward with his left. He lets the kuru’s tendrils curl around the branch and exhales as he feels Eywa's energy course through him. Neteyam’s eyes slip close. His heart thrums, the emphatic sound of it washing out the sounds of the forest around him.
The People say Eywa will listen if you speak to her. The Great Mother never scorns her children. “Oe irayo si ngaru, ma Nawma Sa'nok. Oeru txoa livu, how could I be worthy?” Neteyam whispers. “I would have been happy to live in your eternal embrace. I want to understand. Why? For what?” But in all the times Neteyam has talked to her, she has never replied. Neteyam attempts to look beyond the echoes of the ancestors, but Neteyam was trained to be a warrior, not a tsa’hik. “Was there a reason?” He asks, knowing that only silence will come back to him. He jumps when Mo’at speaks. “Eywa doesn’t need a reason for her guidance, paskalin. Neither does she explain.” Neteyam pulls his kuru out as he turns to his grandmother. “Grandmother,” Neteyam greets. She moves closer, and Neteyam dips his head, avoiding her eyes. “What worries you, Neteyam?” Mo’at asks. “For what are you searching a reason for?”
Neteyam bites his lip. She didn’t hear his initial words then. “Nothing, Grandmother,” Neteyam says, dipping his head. “I was just wondering about Kiri’s conception. We visited Grace the other day,” he half-lies. Mo’at hums, looking up at the Tree. “Parul’evenge. Miracle Child. Eywa balances life and death. Perhaps for Grace’s untimely death she gave us a child in return,” Mo’at breathes in deeply. “Sometimes it is best not to think too much about Eywa’s intentions, and focus on what is in front of you, and your purpose in life. Everything else will fall into place,” she says, resting a hand on Neteyam’s shoulder. Neteyam thinks that is easier said than done. “Right now, your purpose is to help your brother with his uniltaron. Go be with him.” Neteyam nods, and he slips away to join his family.
“Hey,” Lo’ak says, jerking his head in greeting when he sees Neteyam approach. Mom hisses shortly at him. “Ay! Stay still! The sap is drying. The lines must be unbroken.” Neteyam grins, crouching down next to them. “You ready, bro?” Lo’ak’s smile is shaky, revealing his nerves. “As ready as I’ll ever be.”
Kiri takes the bowl of sap paint from their mother, and she goes over to the Tree. She was to outline a circle clearing beneath the Tree, which according to their mother was a hassle. It used to be done in a hollow in the HomeTree. But the HomeTree Neytiri was born in is gone, and a new HomeTree was still out of the question while the RDA is still around.
Neteyam nods. “You will be fine.” Lo’ak exhales. “If I die, Tuk gets all my stuff.” Mom clicks her tongue, not appreciating Lo’ak’s attempt to ease his own nerves. “It is rare to die, ma maitan,” Neytiri reminds him. “What if I don’t find my tireaioang?” Lo’ak says. “You will. Your spirit animal will be in the path of your hunt,” Dad says. “Mine was just before the end. I climbed the last cliff, and there it was, the Toruk, flying below me.” Lo’ak’s fists clench, his nervous gaze not knowing where to rest. It finds Neteyam. Neteyam holds it. “You are a mighty warrior,” Neteyam says, keeping his gaze unwavering so that Lo’ak could find courage. “We will be there with you.”
Mo’at approaches from behind. “We are ready.”
~~~
They encircle Lo’ak beneath the Tree. Mo’at waves the smoking smudge stick over them as the drummers begin a soft rhythm. Lo’ak kneels before their grandmother, his eyes focused on her. Neytiri leads the throat singing, swaying with the branches above them. Mo’at raises her voice above their singing as she lifts the glowing worm out of the bowl.
Ma txantslusama ngawng, a swoka utralti yom. O Wise Worm, who eats the sacred tree. Fìtaronyur apxan teswotivìng äiet angay. Grant this worthy warrior true vision.
Teswotivìng äiet angay. Teswotivìng äiet angay. Mì ayewll, poru teswotìng äiet angay.
Grant true vision. Grant true vision. In the plants, grant true vision to him.
She offers Lo’ak the worm, and Lo’ak dutifully accepts it in his mouth. His eyebrows furrow and his head dips as he swallows the worm. Mo’at continues to blow smoke into Lo’ak, and to his credit, Lo’ak doesn’t blink. Neteyam remembers how the smoke stung his eyes, blurring his vision. It was minor distraction, a small pain compared to the fire that blazed its way through his body when the arachnoid stung him. It was the role of the Olo’eyktan to sting the hunter with the arachnoid, and so Tarsem steps forward. The creature writhes between his fingers, and Tarsem walks a full circle around Lo’ak, eventually stopping at his back. Neteyam digs his fingers into his palms as he tries to keep up with the singing, distracted by his worry for his brother.
The arachnoid sinks its stingers into Lo’ak’s shoulder. Lo’ak gasps, falling forward onto his hands. Tarsem melts back into the circle with a long, low hiss. Jake follows with his own hiss, feinting forward at Lo’ak. They all begin to do so, hissing and growling to chase away the shadows and bad energies that may threaten Lo’ak’s dream hunt. Mo’at spins around the circle, smoke trailing after her as she keeps chanting. Lo’ak shudders, and he falls over, body convulsing unconsciously to the beat of the drums. His hands and feet arch, stiffen and clench alternately. His eyes are open, but they are unseeing, and his face is surprisingly placid in contrast to the agony his body seems to be going through.
Neteyam isn’t allowed to look away, not that he wants to. He keeps his eyes on the erratic rise and fall of Lo’ak chest as he begins his dream hunt, and he steels himself to keep grunting and hissing.
It is the only way he can help his brother now.
~~~
The sun was breaking the horizon when Lo’ak finally stills, eyes falling shut. They all fall silent, and the drummers put down their ladles. Mo’at leaps forward, lifting Lo’ak by his shoulders. She shakes him roughly, and his head snaps back. A groan spills from his lips, and Neteyam sinks back onto his buttocks in relief. Neteyam’s ankles throb, aching from the hours spent crouching. Dad’s hand grips Mom’s hand as they watch Lo’ak wake. Kiri mirrors Neteyam, and when they look at each other, Kiri smiles.
“Tell me what you have seen,” Mo’at urges Lo’ak. Lo’ak’s eyes are barely open. “I saw the streams,” he croaks out. “I followed the streams to the rivers, and the rivers lead me to the shore. I swam into the sea, and it was there that I completed my hunt.”
Mo’at guides Lo’ak to stand, before letting go of him and stepping back. The drums begin to beat again. “Na'viyä luyu hapxì set, Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk’itan!”
~~~
Lo’ak is curled up in his hammock, catching up on sleep after his dream hunt. Neteyam sits by the fire, sticking small branches into it to keep it burning. Neytiri is singing a lullaby as she finishes cooking their lunch, and Neteyam finds himself humming along to the familiar song. It was the same lullaby as the one Neteyam commemorates on his song cord- the first lullaby he remembers being sung to him. It was one their mother sang often when they were young; one part lullaby and one part prayer, a wish for them to grow up healthy and happy.
Neteyam glances to his left, where his father sits next to him. His hands were swiftly rubbing a strip of leather over an oval bead. Dad notices him watching, and he angles his body to give Neteyam a better view of what he was doing. It was already perfectly smooth, telling Neteyam that Jake has been working on it for a while. The firelight was just barely shining through the translucent orange-red bead, casting a faint red spotlight on the floor beneath Jake’s hands.
“A new song cord bead?” Neteyam asks. Jake nods, putting the leather strip down. He reaches into the small pouch that hangs on the back of his loin cloth. Jake opens his palm, revealing another two beads of the same stone. “I knew Lo’ak would be doing his uniltaron soon,” Dad says quietly. Jake puts the sole bead with its siblings in the middle of his palm. “I wanted to gift him something to celebrate his success on his song cord.” Neteyam stares at the dark red stones. “Where did you find this stone? I’ve never seen something like this before.”
Jake smiles. “He seems to have taken to the sea, and I wasn’t surprised when he said he saw the water in his dream hunt. I wanted to gift him something from the sea.” he says. “A few weeks before we left the islands, I asked Ronal where I could find some aquamarine, since her knife was made out of it. She took me to some sea caves deep in the lagoon. The aquamarine was all over the ceiling, but when I looked down, shards of this were in the floor.” Jake drops the beads into Neteyam’s hand. They had a dull clink, but they were cool to the touch. “It just looked right,” Dad shrugs. “Ronal says it is called blood amber.”
Neteyam gives them back to his father, feeling like he’s seen that exact shade of dark red somewhere before. Dad holds them to the fire light, inspecting his own handiwork. Jake’s ears droop and he looks at Neteyam suddenly. “Do you think he will like them?” Jake asks, and Neteyam scans his father’s face, surprised at the insecurity in his father’s voice.
“Why wouldn’t he?” Neteyam asks, confused. Dad drops the precious beads back into his pouch. “Your brother and I talked a lot over the months you were recovering.” Dad stokes the fire briefly. “I like to think we’ve reached an understanding. I always thought your brother was too much like me. Too head-strong, too brave,” he sighs on the last word. “Brave is good, but he is still a boy. I was rash, stubborn and stupid when I came to join the Omatikaya, but I was already eight years older than he was, a veteran of war, so at least I knew whenever I was being stupid.”
Dad flashes him a quick smile, and Neteyam returns it. “We agreed that I would trust him more, and he agreed that he’d try to use his head a bit more. You nearly dying really affected him,” Dad says. Neteyam steals a glance at Lo’ak, who remained asleep.
“Having children was not something I ever expected to be doing and I don’t know if I’m doing a good job of it. I was hard on you guys, but it felt necessary,” Dad says. “I blinked, and you all were suddenly teenagers. When I tried to think of what Lo’ak would like as a present, I couldn’t think of anything, and then I realised I couldn’t think of a single thing you guys liked, and I just wondered if-“ Jake chokes on his own words and Neteyam is stunned to silence at the sudden sight of unshed tears in Jake’s eyes. “Ma Jake,” Neytiri cuts in. “The children understand that we are in the middle of a war. You were distracted. Stressed. They know you love them.”
“But Lo’ak didn’t,” Jake insists. “He thought I hated him,” Jake’s voice cracks on the word, and Neytiri crosses the marui, wrapping her arms around him. Neteyam looks down at the floor, unfamiliar with this show of vulnerability from his father. “He understands now,” Neytiri says gently as she sits back. “You’ve talked with him. He knows now that you were just worried about our safety, that his actions would anger Tonowari and Ronal to the point of kicking us out.”
Jake reaches for Neteyam, and Neteyam goes, letting Jake fold him into his arms. “I grew up in a fucked-up world, but I never felt unloved by my parents,” Jake says, pressing his face into Neteyam’s hair. “I will always love you guys, no matter what,” Dad says hoarsely. “No matter how many fuck ups. Don’t ever think I don’t love you.” Neteyam nods against Jake’s chest. “I love you too, Dad,” Neteyam says. Jake’s arms tighten around him.
They startle at the sound of a hammock rustling. Jake lets Neteyam pull away to turn and look at Lo’ak.
“Sempu?” Lo’ak mumbles. Jake was immediately on his feet, striding to Lo’ak’s bedside. “Always knew your dad was his favourite,” Neytiri whispers playfully to Neteyam with a loving smile, tapping the underside of his chin once before going back to her cooking. “Hey baby boy,” Dad murmurs. “How are you feeling?” Lo’ak makes a small sound, and Dad chuckles. “Your shoulder will hurt for a while more.”
“It hurts everywhere,” Lo’ak complains as he rubs his eyes. Neytiri thrusts a steaming bowl of medicine into Neteyam’s hands, nodding her head towards Lo’ak. Neteyam gets up carefully, making sure the herbal liquid doesn’t slosh around. “Hey bro,” Neteyam says, offering the bowl. Jake helps Lo’ak sit up, and Lo’ak’s nose scrunches when he scents what is in the bowl. “Ugh,” Lo’ak groans. Neytiri looks over with a glare and Lo’ak obediently brings the bowl to his lips. “It’ll give you energy for the celebration tonight,” Jake says as Lo’ak tries his best to down the medicine.
“Yeah,” Lo’ak says, grimacing at the aftertaste. Jake passes him a water gourd, taking the bowl from him. Neteyam hops up to sit next to Lo’ak, bumping shoulders with him gently. “Good job last night,” Neteyam says, offering Lo’ak a fist and a smile. Lo’ak grins back, bumping his fist against Neteyam’s. “So, what was your spirit animal?” Lo’ak’s smile might break his face. “Hm?” Neteyam encourages. “I saw Payakan!” Lo’ak says, and then he frowns slightly. “Or just a tulkun. We swam and played together.” Neteyam realises why the amber red of the beads was so familiar. They were the same colour as Payakan’s eyes.
“That’s very beautiful,” Neytiri says. “It seems Eywa intended for you to bond with a tulkun,” she says, smiling. Lo’ak beams.
“So, uniltaron done, I guess I’m an adult now,” Lo’ak says. Jake laughs. Neytiri scoffs as she takes the cooking pot off the fire. “What?” Lo’ak says defensively. “You will find, baby bro, as I have, that just because we are symbolically ‘adults’,” Neteyam stresses the word as he slings an arm over Lo’ak’s shoulders. “They will never stop treating us like we’re children.”
“You are children,” Neytiri says, as she opens the cooking pot that held their cooked lunch. Neteyam’s mouth waters at the smell of the stir-fried grains and leafy vegetables, thick with spices and silky rich with sturmbeest fat. It was a dish that they had often when they still lived in the forest, the exact ingredients unable to be found at Awa’atlu. Jake sets out six wooden plates in a circle around the pot, and Lo’ak and Neteyam slide off the hammock in sync, eager for lunch.
“Ah-ah,” Neytiri says. “Boys,” she says with a teasing smile. “Will you children be so nice as to go find your sisters for lunch?” Lo’ak pushes Neteyam towards the food. “I’ll do it,” he says, smiling even as he rolls his eyes at their mother’s mocking. Neteyam sits back down next to Jake. He eyes the pouch that holds Lo’ak’s gift. “Dad?” Jake breaks away from the conversation he was having with Neytiri. “Hm?”
“Lo’ak will love it if you ask to meet Payakan.” Dad quirks an eyebrow. “Yeah?” Neteyam nods. “Payakan’s really important to him,” Neteyam says as Jake looks to the marui entrance as the familiar sound of Kiri and Lo’ak bickering approaches. “And Dad?” Jake looks back at Neteyam.
“He’ll really love the beads,” Neteyam says, and Jake smiles.
~~~
“Why do you look like you’re gonna cry?” Kiri says with a laugh. “Because I might?” Lo’ak snaps back before he scrubs at his eyes quickly. He refuses to look away from the cummerbund, inspecting every tiny thread and bead on the item. Neteyam shares an amused look with Kiri.
“It is a fine piece,” Neytiri says from the other end of the marui, as she rocks Tuk to sleep in her hammock. “Very beautiful.” Jake sits opposite his children, and Neteyam can’t stop stealing glances at the pouch Jake keeps turning over in his hands. “Just put it on already,” Kiri says, rolling her eyes. Lo’ak wraps it around the lower part of his chest, swiftly looping the leather tie around the ikran tooth clasp and securing it. “It’s perfect,” Lo’ak says, pressing his hands to it like he could mould to his skin forever. “I can’t believe it.” He looks at Neteyam and then Kiri. “Thank you,” Lo’ak says.
Jake clears his throat. “My present now,” he says, and he hands the small pouch to Lo’ak. Lo’ak pulls the pouch open, tipping the mouth of it on to his palm. The oval beads roll out with a small clink and Lo’ak’s eyes are wide as he looks up at Jake. “Amber, from the sea,” Jake says. “For your songcord, or if you prefer, for your hair or as jewellery, I didn’t know if you’d like them-“ Lo’ak shakes his head furiously. “I love them!” Lo’ak says, looking back down at them. “Three is perfect. One for my songcord, and the other two in my hair.”
Lo’ak puts the beads down, reaching back to his ponytail to pull out one braid. It joins the other two beaded braids that already hangs on the right side of Lo’ak’s face. Lo’ak unwraps the braid halfway and slides the two beads through his hair before braiding the rest of it again, fixing the beads in place. “I’m glad,” Jake says softly. “Thanks for the beads, Dad,” Lo’ak says, as he unties his songcord from the hip of his loincloth. He threads the last bead onto the cord, before knotting under it. “There,” he says, holding it up to the firelight. The firelight illuminates the bead, highlighting its rich red colour. “See? Perfect.” Lo’ak grins at Jake.
Jake smiles back, patting Lo’ak on the head. “Look at you,” Jake says. “Always knew a cummerbund would look good on you.” Lo’ak puffs out his chest. “Hell yeah,” Lo’ak agrees and Neteyam huffs in amusement. “Our two boys,” Neytiri sighs, coming to join them in their circle. She wraps an arm around Kiri’s shoulders. “Soon it will be Kiri’s turn too and then Tuk next.”
“Don’t get sappy on us, Mama,” Kiri groans even as she reaches up to hold onto Neytiri’s hand that sits on her shoulder. “I am just so proud of all of you,” Neytiri says, dropping a kiss on her head. “Every day I thank Eywa for blessing me with this family.” She reaches out an arm towards Neteyam and Lo’ak. They pile in and Neytiri embraces them, with Jake coming behind them to complete the circle. “We’ll just pretend Tuk’s in the middle,” Kiri whispers and Lo’ak gets a sharp flick to the back of his ear for snorting too loudly.