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The scream is shattering. Ao'nung jumps and the armband he was working on tumbles from his hands as they tremble on instinct. He can feel the pressure of his ears, flat to his skull.
Stumbling to his feet with his friends in tow as they race down the walkways, eyes-wide. Someone is hurt. Someone is badly hurt. Calling for help. The voice is unfamiliar and Ao'nung prays to Eywa it is not one of the children.
There is a sparse crowd already gathering but Ao'nung notices with a sick feeling that something is already very wrong. It is not a crowd focused on assisting somone in need, it is a crowd circled around and watching. Ao'nung shoves his way into the middle and realizes why.
It was Neteyam. Neteyam had screamed.
No wonder he didn't recognize the voice, Neteyam never screamed. Ao'nung doesn't think he has ever even heard Neteyam raise his voice over a rare shout.
He has one of his siblings in his lap, by her hair it must be Kiri and Ao'nung swallows thickly at the sight of red.
"Neteyam?" He asks and the boy doesn't sems to hear him, he's muttering indistinguishably, fumbling with her hair as red smears over his hands he grabs her shoulder and shakes it viciously even as he holds her head steady. Kiri wobbles and stays limp in his lap.
"GET THE TSAHÍK!!!" Neteyam roars and Ao'nung stumbles back, nearly tripping on his tail, Neteyam focuses in on his movement and his normally clear, calm eyes are unfocused and glassy. "GET HER, NOW!!!"
Ao'nung staggers back a few more steps and looks over his shoulder, his clansmen simply look amongst eachother and whisper.
"Did you all go deaf or something, get Tsahík Ronal!!" he screams and finally someone turns and starts running back into the village.
"YOU! I ASKED YOU WHAT HAPPENED!!" Neteyam's voice is breaking and rattling in his chest and throat, his accent slipping and spittle flying from his raw lips as he bares his fangs.
A boy crumpled in the sand shakes his head desperately and scrambles back away from the other boy, "W- I- T-they-!" He looks close to pissing himself as Neteyam snarls so loudly Ao'nung thinks he hears his voice tear.
"SPEAK!!" Neteyam thunders and dumbly Ao'nung remembers that the boy is the oldest son of Toruk Makto and the successor to all of his fathers accomplishments. Heir, successor, Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan.
"They pushed her onto the rocks!" The boy squeals and throws up his hands as if to defend himself from a blow, "Her foot got caught and she hit her head-"
"WHO?! SPEAK CLEARLY FORE I TEAR THE WORDS FROM YOUR BRAIN!!!" Neteyam orders and even Ao'nung feels his knees buckle. He can't imagine how that kid must feel, staring down a wrath like that.
"I- uh- T-tek'ohta and Apanu- a-and Retxhali- 'n Opihke!!" He takes a fistful of sand and drag himself back a little farther, a few men behind him shuffle away so he doesn't hit his head on their knees.
"Why?! WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS?!" Neteyam screams and Ao'nung winces as his voices shreds. His frantic eyes are wet and foggy as he clutches Kiri's bleeding head to his chest.
"Neteyam-! KIRI!!!" Lo'ak barges through the crowd, hovering over his older siblings before whipping over to stare venom and hate into the terrified boys eyes. "What the fuck did you do?!" He spits a foreign word and it's not hard to tell it isn't a sweet one.
"It wasn't me! I-i swear, please tell him- I didn't do it, I brought her here, but it wasn't me!" The boy is on the verge of tears as he waves at Neteyam who heaves a choking breath and cuddles Kiri a little closer to his chest his breaths ragged and forceful as he stares down the terrified kid.
"You know their names! YOU SAW!!" Neteyam screams and Lo'ak's ears flatten at the destroyed sound of his brothers voice, "YOU WATCHED!!!"
"I-I-" the boy sobs and drags himself backwards again, Ao'nung grits his teeth and clenches his jaw. Neteyam must have been right.
"What the fuck happened?! Why the hell would you do this?! What is wrong with you?!" Lo'ak steps over the pathetic trails the boy has left in the sand. Tek'evhio, Ao'nung recalls his name finally. He seemed nice enough, always hanging around the wrong crowd though. Ao'nung supposes this is the product of that, and even still he can't muster any empathy for the brat.
"N-no- I- I told them- it- I knew it was a bad i-idea!" Tek'evhio sobs and cutches a fist to his chest, trying to convince Lo'ak even as the boy looms closer.
"And you didn't stop them?! You didn't get anyone?! YOU DIDN'T WARN US-?! SHE'S BLEEDING!" Lo'ak cuts himself off, his anger is loud and bitter and hot and as much as Ao'nung finds himself wary of it he can't help but compare it to Neteyam's.
Lo'ak's anger was reasonably earned and it was harsh, snapping and fierce enough to knock someone back. It is dissipating and reigniting just as quick, like a uncontrollable flame roaring over the wild jungle.
Neteyam's anger was always just over the horizon, a threat to far away to feel real. Until today, when it came over the horizon, a mass of black storm clouds swallowing the blue sky, and it struck.
It struck hard and merciless, cold and unforgiving as it beat against your skin, thundering on the rooftops until even they yield, cold rainwater pouring in, until there is no where left to hide, no where left to go. Here the winds threaten to tear you off of Eywa'eveng itself, tossing you into the sky to be swallowed by the storm in it's entirety. You cannot fight, or argue, you must hold on for dear life. To try and defend yourself from this would be like trying to fend off Eywa herself. Ao'nung takes the tiniest step forwards and trembles.
What if Lo'ak had come back from outside the reef like Kiri is now, wounded and unconscious. Would he be in Tek'evhio's position, cowering in fear, begging for understanding? In the back of his mind as he watches Lo'ak curse at the boy in the sand Ao'nung thanks him wholeheartedly for coming back safe that night.
"I didn't-n't do it!" Tek'evhio shrieks, tears running down his face.
"THEN BE FUCKING USEFUL AND BRING ME THE FUCKERS WHO DID!!!" Lo'ak thunders, his tail whipping low behind him as he roars down at the boy crumpled in the sand under him. Ao'nung doubts the kid could get up even if he wanted to. Come to think of it, Lo'ak and Tek'evhio must be about the same age. Ao'nung looks between the two of him and the fact doesn't sit right, despite being a fact.
He takes another wary step closer to Neteyam's trembling shoulder, holding out a hand like one would of to a wild animal, it catches in Neteyam's peripheral and he whips his head up to look at Ao'nung.
Neteyam's eyes are wide and nearly crazed with fear and anger. Ao'nung sinks to one knee, keeping his hand out, hovering over the boys shoulder, "Neteyam?" He tries, doubtful he even recognizes him right now.
"Ao'nung-" Neteyam croaks and then coughs into his chest, even now he is careful not to jostle Kiri's injured head. From this close he can tell it's not good. There is blood matting all the hair on the left side of her head, it's wet against her cheek, smeared by Neteyam's shaky fingers, her eyes are closed and unmoving beneath her lids. She's breathing but it seems weird and almost off-beat. He can see the scratches and scrapes all over her from tumbling onto the coral rocks, and her ankle is a angry red-purple, twisted at a very wrong angle. A broken bone, he recognizes in mild terror.
"The Tsahík is coming, we just have to wait." He tries to say it soothingly, even as he glances over his shoulder in search of his mother or the young woman that went to fetch her. Plus, he's inches away from throwing himself into the center of a typhoon. He doesn't want to say he's scared, but he definitely isn't safe.
"The Tsahík, Gran- no-" Neteyam shakes his head slightly and his voice is horribly hoarse. It sounds like it hurts.
"No??" Ao'nung mutters and Neteyam meets his eyes, his gaze is still glassy and unclear but where there was panic and fog there is now a determination, a focus.
"Tsahík. Where is she? We must find her now, Kiri needs her help." Neteyam leans closer and Ao'nung jumps back, some irrational part of him still scared of getting bitten or worse.
"She's coming, right now. She'll be here soon," he reiterates, holding out his other hand placatingly, Neteyam wrinkles his nose at him.
"Don't talk to me like that."
"Wha- like what?" He sputters, inching back slightly as the crowd starts to get bored with Lo'ak's ranting and threats.
"It's odd, stop it," Neteyam says bluntly and cradles Kiri in his arms, craning his neck to try and look past the remaining eyes on them.
"What are you fools doing?! Move, go!" His mother's furious voice brings Ao'nung relief for the first time in his life.
She comes to them with a basket under one arm and a bag in her other hand, her Tsahík garb is regal as ever and her hair spills like over her shoulders like night over the sea. The remaining crowd parting before her and a medicine person beside her.
"Momma! Uncle Etxye!" He calls and she rushes to him.
"Ao'nung? What is this," she snaps at him and Ao'nung shrinks.
"She is hurt, Tsahík Ronal. Please." Neteyam answers for him, leaning forward and proffering his unconscious sister. A grim look comes over her face. She kneels slowly, and it makes Ao'nung want to scream for her to hurry up, he can't imagine how Neteyam is staying calm.
Slowly Kiri is laid in the sand, Ronal sits back on her feet in a poised kneel, her eyes narrow. Ao'nung wants to yell and shriek and shake her and grab her by the arm but instead he digs his fingers into the meat of his thighs and stays seated.
Ronal raises her eyebrows when Neteyam clasps his hands over Kiri's stomach and she leans back, eyes fluttering wider with shock as Neteyam crouches into a low bow. His legs finally folding fully beneath him as he hovers his head over his sister's unconcious body, his hands clasped and his braids spilling over her chest and hips and he lowers his face till it can no longer be seen. It is a uncomfortable position and Ao'nung can see the strain it puts on his neck and back but Neteyam is still as a rock.
"Neteyam?" Lo'ak whispers in the falling silence.
His voice is strong, just like the rest of him, and even, hunched over, his hands clasped tight before his brow, he commands attention, "Tsahík. Forgive me. Forgive my blood and birth. Forgive me, for I beg you. I beg you to help her, to save my sister as she lays wounded. She is the first sibling Eywa ever gave me. I have treasured her for fourteen years. Please, Tsahík, I beg. Please, save her. Please." That strong voice withers away, he whispers desperate and pleading and Ao'nung watches his Mother's face flicker.
She was a strong woman, the strongest he had ever known, and now, she looks wounded and scared. Unsure of what awaits her, faltering before the pleads of a foreign boy, crouched on her soil, a prince begging on his knees on her sands.
"I am Tsahík boy, that is my job. Move." She commands, her face steeling in a moment. Ao'nung breaths out relief and Neteyam shuffles back, away from her. His hands stay clasped in front of his face as he tilts his head lower.
"Thank you. Thank you, Tsahík. Thank you so much. Praise Eywa, her blessing be upon you." He whispers quietly as Lo'ak shuffles closer a terrified look on his face as he reaches down to touch his brothers shoulder.
"What are you doi-"
"Thank Tsahík Ronal, Lo'ak." Neteyam cuts his brother off and tilts his head almost imperceptibly toward Ao'nung's mother.
Ao'nung grits his teeth and turns to look at his mother, how can she allow this? Ronal hisses to herself and purses her lips at the top of Neteyam's head.
"Stop that. I am doing my job, cease this." She orders and Neteyam raises his head at her demand. He looks royal and almost unreal. With wet eyes and tousled hair, blood on his hands and chin, smeared over his arms and now his lap.
"Lo'ak," he whispers and his brother nods, concern still painting his face. "Get Mother and Father. Explain what you can and bring them here." Neteyam speaks quietly, a hoarse whisper rattling out of his throat.
Lo'ak opens his mouth to protest but bites his tongue and nods again, "Okay. Stay here."
Neteyam hums in acknowledgment as Lo'ak goes and Ao'nung sits in the sand, flabbergasted. Neteyam who is calm and unbothered, had screamed and roared and cried, and now he sits, poised and flippant again.
No. Ao'nung realises with a sharp breath. Neteyam's eyes have not left Kiri, there is still a fog over them. He cannot see anything but her. Cannot feel anything but her.
Ao'nung swallows thickly and sits back on his haunches. Today, things were shattered and torn apart at the seams. And what were any of them to do, but watch.