Chapter Text
There was a certain seed within the forest that, when pushed out of its flower in a mess of pulp and ooze, would melt beneath a tongue in a rush of sweetness. It was not harvested very often by the Omatikaya, but whenever Kiri’s grandmother—the beloved Tsahìk of the clan—permitted them to be harvested, she found herself keeping a few tucked away all for herself. And Spider, of course.
It was one of the few foods among Eywa’eveng that his human stomach could digest.
When Kiri was a child, she used to walk hand-in-hand with her mother towards the area where the short bushes rested. Now, she walked a few steps ahead of her mother, who held little Tuktirey’s hand. Unlike Kiri, who was prone to wandering off, Tuk did no such thing. She just preferred holding hands.
“The opulu seed is a precious resource,” her mother said as they walked, the words familiar. They were once said to Kiri when she was the little girl's age. “Very little of it grows, which means that we must not disturb the opulu plants much. We pick a little and leave the rest for the creatures of the forest to feed on. The seed will pass through them and plant themselves elsewhere. They are very frail, so not much will grow, even then.”
Tuktirey hummed. “Why do we need the seed?”
Kiri glanced over her shoulder and recited familiar words she had heard from her grandmother. “It is put under the tongues of the sick to help protect their body from becoming more ill.” What she didn’t say: and they’re a delicious treat. If she did, Tuk likely would eat more than harvest them. And that would only get Kiri in trouble with both her mother and grandmother. “The seed is large enough to cut; only a little bit will help the body.”
Their mother smiled warmly, but Kiri quickly turned back around. “Your sister is correct.”
It wasn’t long before they reached the small clearing where the opulu bushes grew. There grew close to the base of the trees and had beautiful blue flowers with petals Kiri’s father said looked like ‘butterflies.’ One of the humans from Hell’s Gate had a sketchbook where they drew many different things—animals and people here on Eywa’eveng, animals from Earth, and even made-up creatures from Earth folklore. Curiosity about the planet her father and biological mother were from had Kiri asking about each and every; most creatures on Earth, she learned, were extinct. The human had shown Kiri what a butterfly looked like and she found that her father’s comparison was right.
The three of them kneeled in front of the bushes.
Neytiri explained the process of extracting the seed to Tuk while Kiri absently worked. Already, Kiri pressed her thumbs to the center of the flower and squeezed hard. The flower’s tswin twisted out in curiosity, but Kiri paid it no mind as she worked the seeds that lay within out with a few more pinches to the base. The flower was unharmed as five round seeds the size of a child’s palm popped right out and into the small net Kiri had set up below her. Deep purple ooze fell into Kiri’s hands and she made sure to wipe her hands onto each of the seeds.
That would keep the seeds from rotting outside of the flower.
“Wow!” Tuktirey exclaimed as Kiri turned back around to drop the seeds into the basket next to her mother. “Can I try, Mom? Please?”
Their mother grinned, that beautiful smile of hers that made Kiri feel inexplicably frustrated for a reason she could not explain, and placed her hand onto Tuk’s back. “Yes, let me see you do it, my little cub.”
Kiri huffed out a breath and dropped the seeds into the basket.
“You did great, Kiri,” Neytiri said with a nod, as though Kiri was an afterthought.
She gave her mother a tight smile and went back to collecting the seeds. By the time they collected enough seeds, Kiri had four hidden within the pouch she kept with her and licked her hands clean of any of the persistent ooze. While the seed was sweet, there was a bit of sourness to the liquid that preserved them. When Tuk licked her own fingers, she recoiled and spat it out, which made Kiri and her mother laugh.
Their eyes met, but Kiri quickly glanced away to grab the basket in her arms.
She walked a few steps ahead of her mother and sister.
The Tsahik gave a rare, happy smile when they arrived back at the village. As kind of a grandmother as she was, there was a sterness in her that never quite left even when the woman smiled. Kiri’s brother Lo’ak had always been a tiny bit afraid of their grandmother since she wouldn’t hesitate to scold him and put him to work.
Kiri’s grandmother pushed a lock of her hair behind her ear, her slim wrinkled fingers caressing as she did so. The movement made Kiri scrunch up her nose, but she still leaned into her grandmother's soft touch. Her tail swished back and forth behind her, nearly hitting Tuktirey as it did. “How was your sister's first opulu harvest?”
“It went well.” Kiri answered truthfully as she moved to place the basket onto the floor. “Though Mom had to lick the ooze off of her fingers for her at the end.”
“It was gross, Grandma!” Tuktirey defended herself with a mighty big frown and a cross of her arms. She was so tiny and adorable that Kiri couldn’t help but reach over and pinch at Tuk’s cheek. Her sister pulled back with a hiss, her ears pinned against her head. “ Stop ! Grandma tell Kiri to stop!”
Nothing had to be said from the Tsahìk. The elder woman simply gave her eldest granddaughter a look and Kiri deflated, her tail and ears drooped and her head bowed low. Teasing her young sister was best done away from the adults. The only adult she was allowed to do it in front of was her father, who often joined in. Kiri mumbled an apology to both her sister and her grandmother, whose gaze softened.
“Thank you for your hard work, my dear granddaughter.” The Tsahìk spoke clearly and proudly. Whatever offense Kiri had taken diminished at her grandmother's praise and she smiled, wide and clear, up at her. “Yours as well, Tuktirey. The taste of opulu juice is bitter, but just as vitalizing as the seed. Though, I must say, I do not remember your elder sister caring for the taste when she was your age.”
And—Kiri couldn’t help but laugh at the truth. She had whined at the taste as a child and had whined even more when her mother had leaned done and licked away the juice off her hands for her in rough strokes. She could practically smell that day still. The bitterness of the opulu juice had hung in the air and her mother had smelled like always—ikran and the flowery oil. The memory made Kiri pause in her steps. She missed that.
The simplicity of childhood was long behind her.
Soon, Kiri would be acknowledged as a young woman within the clan.
That wouldn’t mean much, really. In most of the clan's eyes she would still be a child, but she would be given more responsibilities and trials as preparation to finding her role within the clan as well as finding a mate and beginning a family. Neither of which Kiri found herself interested in whatsoever. There was no man within the clan she could ever see herself building a life with. But, even if Kiri didn’t like it, life moved forward and on and on. And she, with it, would have to as well.
Still, Kiri missed being that child who could wander aimlessly and held onto her mother's hand. She wished she could be that little girl again. That little girl her mother had loved so deeply.
_______________________
All was quiet at the moment within their small tented home.
Tuktirey and Kiri had gone to deliver their harvest to their grandmother. Neteyam, as a young man now, was shadowing his father to learn how to be the Olo’eyktan one day. Her boy, her sweet eldest son, took the duty with a seriousness that neither Jake nor Neytiri could shake out of him. While it was a serious act, to be Olo’eyktan, Jake often confided to Neytiri that he wished Neteyam didn’t feel as though he had to live up to him. And, last Neytiri had seen, Lo’ak had shirked his chores to play with the boy Spider.
For the moment, Neytiri was all by herself.
Suddenly and oddly unsure of herself, Neytiri settled on beginning to make dinner. Meals were usually shared with the entirety of the clan, but she found herself wanting to be alone in her ruminations. Besides, she found it difficult to stomach many things lately. Her hands absentmindedly sliced thin pieces of yerik meat that had been stored for the past day, caught by the young warriors of the clan.
There had been a pit in her stomach, right in the middle, all morning long.
It felt as though Kiri was pulling away from Neytiri.
While, in a way, this was expected as her daughter grew older, there was something forbidding to the shift in their relationship. When Neytiri herself was her age, she still held herself close to her family. Even after her sister Sylwanin had died and joined Eywa and Neytiri had suddenly found herself in her elder sister's place, Neytiri had respected her parents. Had found refuge in their closeness. When days hurt, she had turned to her mother. But Kiri? She never spoke to Neytiri. And when she did it felt as though the girl wanted nothing more than to be elsewhere.
Neytiri grabbed a handful of kllpxiwll, the berrys swollen with its savory juice.
In careful movements, she wrapped the meat around a single kllpxiwll.
It was not like Neytiri to shy away from confrontation. Yet, the thought of facing her daughter caused dread to shroud over her entire body, its ugly claws digging deep into her chest. It was so cold.
Movement outside of her home caused Neytiri to startle and nearly drop the berry in her hand. Her husband was stepping inside, laughing at whatever Neteyam had told him. His arm was slung over their eldest son’s shoulders and he pressed a smiling kiss to the boy’s temple.
“Neytiri, I thought we were eating with the clan tonight?” Jake gave Neteyam a small shake before letting go of him. “Why don’t you go find your brother? I think I saw him with Spider.”
Their Neteyam glanced between them for a brief moment, something too close to worry in his big eyes, before nodding his head, serious and quiet. Oh what a weight that boy put on his own shoulders. How Neytiri wished she could make it disappear. “Should I bring them for dinner?”
Jake sighed and shook his head as he crouched down next to Neytiri, his warm shoulder brushing against hers for a moment. His long fingers grabbed a kllpxiwll and a slice of meat, helping her prepare the small meal. “No, no, you go and play with them for a while. Relax, Neteyam, and eat with the clan if you’d like. Come back until near eclipse for bed. Alright?”
Their son grinned, wide and happy, and nodded once again before running off.
It was quiet as wife and husband worked side-by-side. In a way, Neytiri was reminded of when she had taught the Omatikaya way to her Jake. They had spent so many hours, quiet, their shoulders and knees brushing. Those small touches had been like fire to her skin. Back then, she had wanted more and more and more of Jake. All she had wanted was to be wrapped around each other, whole and together. She ducked her head, overwhelmed with the memory of the past.
Even now, knowing his touch for nearly two decades, she felt the same as she had back then.
As though he understood her sudden shyness, Jake grabbed her hands as they both reached for another kllpxiwll. His fingers, calloused and warm and handsome in a way she couldn’t quite explain, wrapped around hers. He brought her own fingers, undoubtedly stained from the juices of the food, to his lips and gave them each a brief kiss. “What’s wrong, my love?”
Neytiri glanced away, but did not pull away. No, she relished in the feeling. Jake’s love gave her strength even when she felt weak. And oh so weak Neytiri felt in the face of her emotions.
“Hey, come on, baby. I know something’s worrying you.” He whispered before pressing a kiss to her palm, his other hand reaching to press against her stomach.
“It is Kiri.” Neytiri quietly answered. Her husband stilled, tense and worried now that she had spoken. Quickly, Neytiri turned to him and reassured him that Kiri was safe and uninjured. That assurance caused Jake to immediately relax, though he still attentively waited for Neytiri to continue. “I worry about her, My Jake. A mother and daughter should be close. But, for a while now, I have felt as if she is pulling away from me. I smile at her and she looks away. I praise her and she rolls her eyes.” She pulled away from Jake and angrily prepared a fire.
She felt more than saw as Jake stood up, but when she sent him a scathing look he sat back down, raising his arms up in a peaceful gesture before rolling the last of the berries. “Neytiri, she’s a teenager. It’s expected that she’ll be annoyed with her parents once in a while. Haven’t you felt the same when you were her age?”
“No!” Neytiri impulsively answered. Then. “Yes. Bah!” Frustrated, she crouched and covered her face with her hands. She wished, guilty, that all was simple again. That Kiri would hold her hand and glance up at her with nothing but love. “She rarely behaves this way with you.”
Her dear husband sighed and grabbed her wrists. When they lowered, she could see in his eyes that he was working through what to say. “Look, Kiri is at an age where she is finding herself. She’s always been opinionated and tough and combative—like Grace.”
“Grace was not combative.” Neytiri replied with a shake of her head. Although Grace had been a Sky Person, she had been so kind and level-headed. Mother, she and the other children who attended her school had called her. She had been passionate, yes, but passion was not the same as what Jake claimed their old friend to be.
Her answer caused her Jake to laugh, loud and wonderful even in the midst of their current discussion. The dread that clung to her seemed to slip away at the sound of it. It would be okay, of course it would be, when she had her mate by her side. “Baby, the Grace you knew and the Grace I knew were two different women.” He shook his head. “You should talk to Kiri, so she can understand you and you can understand her.”
That was the best.
Neytiri nodded her head and vowed both to herself and outloud that she would try to speak with her daughter.
That said, Neytiri set-up a stone bowl into the middle of the small fire and Jake dropped the wrapped kllpxiwll inside. She watched as the yerik meat slowly darkened and nudged at it carefully with a spoon as she and Jake shared their day with one another.
“Neteyam will be a great leader one day,” Jake said with a prideful smile only a parent could wear. “By the way, Mo’at keeps asking whether she could find him a betrothed. She says that as much as she treasures teaching Kiri, she wants to mentor a young woman who will truly become the next Tsahìk.”
The topic of her son’s future mate was one that Neytiri’s mother brought up often. Having a first-born son, her mother often said, was much more difficult than a daughter. With Sylwanin, it was always known that she would mate with Tsu’tey, who had been a diligent student to their father since he was able to hold a bow. Before either had realized they were to be betrothed, they had felt a deep love for one another. With Neteyam, neither Neytiri or Jake wanted to push him into a relationship that felt more like an obligation than love. Their son spoke of no interest in any young woman within the clan—despite many having obvious feelings for the boy—and they more than anyone understood letting a child find love at their own pace.
Neytiri waved her hand dismissively. “Bah, let her wait. It will be a long time before you will step down. Our son can take that time to fall in love.”
Jake laughed, handsome and sweet, giving her a look she didn’t quite understand. “Yeah, he has plenty of time. Hey, maybe by then he can learn how to relax.”
They shared a look, a smile, then a kiss.
_______________________
“There you are!” Kiri called out with laughter in her voice as she hurried towards Spider. The boy was climbing up a tree on the edge of the Omatikaya village, Kiri’s two brothers on either side of him. They all glanced down with various expressions of wariness and happiness. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere Monkey Boy! What are you boys even doing?” She wrinkled her nose and set her hands on her hips.
“We’re trying to see who’s the fastest climber!” Spider said as he already began to climb down.
“What? Bro, are you seriously leaving us to hang out with Kiri?” Lo’ak whined out, sharing a look with Neteyam before they both began to climb down the tree as well.
Spider let out a small grunt as his bare feet hit the ground. While Na’vi did not wear shoes like the humans do, it always looked sort of painful to Kiri whenever she saw Spider’s bare feet on the dirt. However, he claimed that his feet were as strong as any other Na’vi’s. “I promised we would hang out when she was finished with her chores.”
That wasn’t exactly the truth, he and Kiri had done no such thing. But, whenever Kiri sought out her best friend—her chosen-brother—he let himself be dragged away from whatever he was doing. Most of the time. If the boy was with hunters and warriors, he would push away from her, unwilling to let go of proving himself to them. But, none were here. Only their ridiculous brothers.
She stuck her tongue out at the boys as she grabbed Spider’s hands into her own, pulling him away.
Lo’ak yelled something back, but it was muffled by their eldest brother’s hand over his mouth. That made Kiri laugh, her whole body leaning into Spider’s as they walked away and towards their secret place. If Spider was any other human, he may have toppled with the weight of Kiri falling onto him, but he was stronger than most at his age. At least, that’s what the scientists at Hell’s Gate often said.
Their hands interlocked and Kiri gave Spider’s small hand a brief squeeze.
“Guess what I have?” Kiri asked as her left hand patted the pouch at her hip. It was an old and sturdy bag woven by Spider when they were children as a birthday gift. It was one of Kiri’s most treasured items, along with a carved wooden fwampop her father had made for her long ago, a soft woven blanket from her mother, and Grace Augustine’s personal handwritten and video journals.
Her best friend gave the pouch a curious look, his face scrunching up in that silly way of his as he thought. Then, he let go of her hand and playfully reached for the pouch. “What’s in there?”
Kiri half-screeched, half-laughed as she jumped back, her ears pinned against her head and her tail raised up. “I said guess! Spider!”
The two of them ran, Spider making to grab at her as Kiri kept just a pace ahead of him. Finally, Spider’s arms wrapped around Kiri’s waist and he was able to pick her up off the ground for half a second before dropping her back onto her feet with a winded laugh. The two of them leaned towards each other, laughing loudly until their sides hurt, before making their way towards their destination.
Their secret place has been theirs since Kiri was around Tuk’s age.
A little hollow beneath a large tree, it had been their refuge since childhood. Whenever one of them had felt overwhelmingly sad or different, they had found themselves there together. Before, as kids, it had been a wide open space that they could roll about in, but now they could only comfortably fit while laying down or crouching. They kept an extra knife for each of them tucked inside in a small hole Spider had carved into the inside of the tree.
It was one of Kiri’s favorite places in the entirety of Eywa’eveng. She could lay within the tree and listen to the heartbeat of Eywa for hours. And Spider was nearly always there with her, listening too. He would have to pull her away most of the time, but that was alright. Kiri’s mother said that there was no way Spider could truly See or Hear Eywa, but Kiri knew that Spider could. He was a Na’vi by culture. He fully followed each and every part of the Omatikaya clan lifestyle the best he could. He could See as well as any other Na’vi.
As Spider took a knee to crawl into the space, Kiri placed her hand onto his shoulder to stop him. She reached into her pouch and pulled out a single opulu seed. The sight caused him to brighten.
“You didn’t say that the opulu seed was what the Tsahìk had you gather today!” He stood up and grabbed his knife from its sheath. “Come on, let’s share it.”
She set the seed onto the root of their tree and watched as Spider cracked it in half with the edge of his blade.
“You need to get that sharpened,” Kiri observed quietly.
Spider hummed in agreement as he sheathed his knife. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking the same thing. I’ll probably get to it tomorrow,” he responded absentmindedly. “How many opulu seeds were you able to smuggle, Kiri-ki?”
“Four.” Kiri answered as she grabbed one half and handed the other to Spider, who grinned so wide that, with his shining white teeth and muted yellow hair, he looked like the sun above. She smiled back as she moved to help him replace his breathing mask with the cannula. Their movements were quick and efficient—they had their whole lives to perfect it.
Once she finished helping Spider, Kiri placed the half-a-seed under her tongue.
It melted nearly immediately beneath her tongue. The sweetness, nutty and sugary, caused a rush behind her teeth and she hummed in happiness. They grinned at each other and laughed, the sound bubbly and giddy with the taste of opulu seed in their mouths.
Curled around each other in their tree, Kiri felt so warm and sleepy. She closed her eyes and listened to the sound of Eywa’s heartbeat beneath her ear. She called to Kiri, enveloping her in warmth each time she closed her eyes. Kiri could hear her so clearly—through the calls of birds above and the gentle breeze through the leaves.
After a moment, Kiri opened her eyes and met Spider’s. As a child, she had been fascinated with his face. His features were so small compared to her own. She had spent hours staring at his face and he had not minded one bit. No, he would just smile at her like he did now.
“Good nap?” Spider asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.
It hadn’t been much of a nap, but she nodded anyway as she stretched out her arms over her brother and pulled him closer to her. He was warm.
Spider laughed softly. “It’s going to be eclipse soon.”
A quick look out told her that it would be. The plants around them were already beginning to dimly glow and the sky was a deep purple. Resigned, Kiri heaved a large sigh and pushed herself out of the comfortable tree. She didn’t want to leave. She wanted to stay, with her dear brother Spider, in their secret place forever. It was warm and happy there. Even in the face of their well-kept secrets and fears, it was happy there.
Within their tree trunk, their secret place, no expectations were laid on them. On Kiri. She could simply lay in peace, listening to the voice of Eywa course through the dirt and wind and calls of each animal and her own heartbeat.
Spider hooked their arms together and guided her back home.
In the back of Kiri’s mouth, she could still taste the lingering sweetness of the opulu.