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Smoke swirls through a barren wasteland, long abandoned by its mother. The only light in the long, dark night is borne of flame, from the camps, and from the volcanic river that dances through the corpse of a once beautiful forest.
Shrill cries and yips break through what should be silence. No creatures stir here, they died long ago. Only the Mangkwan survive.
A war party mounts their ikran, painted in the ash of their old home. Their Tsahìk calls upon her ska’avum, holding her decorated kuru out with an unsettling confidence. A wicked grin sprawls across her ashen face when a voice breaks through the excitement.
~
“Don’t you think you oughta sit this one out, sweet cheeks?” he asked, placing a gentle hand on her swollen belly. She wore her loincloth lower as of late, out of necessity, not recognition of the child.
“You make your child weak, Skyman,” Varang hissed, batting his alien hand away. “I will not sit.”
She pulled herself up onto her mount, away from his attempts to ground her. Quaritch shrugged, and mounted his ikran silently. Her will was strong. He wasn’t going to be the one to test it. He was alien to their tribe, with his five fingered hands that they found so fascinatingly defiant, with his foreign language and mistranslated jokes. They would have no problem killing him if they found him to be a threat to their Tsahìk.
The journey was long, but the ravenous chants of the ash people passed the time. They hungered for violence with a greed only paralleled by RDA shareholders. They could hunt the rogue animals that lurked near the edges of the volcanic ruin, but they preferred to loot other villages. Varang flew ahead hiding the way she weakly clutched her abdomen, and the deep breaths she had to force whenever the pressure was too strong. Whenever a rider got too close, she hissed and swooped them. If she kept her distance, she kept her power.
After a day of uncomfortable flying, the Tsahìk spotted worthy prey.. Below, in the dense, lush forest, was a clan of forest people, unaware of what horrors flew above them. They danced to the music of their people, perhaps celebrating new life, or an old life. Varang barked and raised her arm, gathering the attention of her people, dramatically throwing her arm down as she rapidly descended with her clan. A giddy smile crept across her face as the wind whipped her face. Screams chorused out from below, fire erupting from mangkwan arrows. Smoke swirled above the treetops, a beacon of death. Creatures could be heard crying out in pain as they attempted to fly out of the burning trees, drowning in smoke, struck down by merciless hunters.
Quaritch rode behind with her. He wasn’t here for the hunt. That was just a bonus. He was here to protect her, and their child, though he would never verbalise it. If he were to ever admit he thought she needed protecting, he’d be strung up above the fire and eaten over the course of several days. There was a twisted love between them, but not at the risk of her standing and her power. Threats were eliminated and put in place. Step out of line, and Quaritch would go from Mate to Threat real quick.
Varang leapt to the treetop village, bodies littered around the hearth. She could hear her clan chasing down the villagers, their cries filling the air. But there was silence behind her. Overturned baskets and interrupted meals littered the woven mat beneath her feet. The Tsahìk stalked towards a large jug, turned on its side, still rolling gently from the evacuating crowd. She crouched down, prowling towards it, a devilish smile revealing her sharp teeth. She reached inside swiftly, and a child's scream echoed off the carved walls of the jug. The girl kicked and screamed, but Varang held tightly onto her kuru, drawing her blade.
“I found you,” she hissed, holding the girl against her blade, drawing her close to the hip. The child was incoherent, calling for her mother, who was likely already dead. A presence rushed towards her, and Varang turned defensively
“What the hell are you doing?” Quaritch exclaimed, horror and discomfort washing across his face.
“I am hunting. Perhaps I will teach you one day.”
Her grip on the girl grew stronger, her knife cut through hair as the child twisted and writhed, screaming.
“Silence! Your sa’nok is not coming,” she hissed, twisting the girl around to face her as she crouched.
The child was small, likely no older than five. She didn’t even have her own knife yet. Completely defenseless. Her face glistened with rivers of tears as she continued to sob, gasping for breath as her chest shook.
“Tsahìk.” Quaritch demanded her attention again. She knew what he was asking of her, but he was not Tsahìk. He did not get to make demands. Not of Varang. But his eyes pleaded. He was a cruel man, a lover of war, but he had grown weak as of late. A soft spot had formed in his stoney heart, and he was more sparing than he had once been.
Varang prayed his child did not share this weakness.
She hissed, jerking her arm back to sever the kuru of this child, when a sudden pain erupted from her core. She dropped her knife and landed on her knees. Before she looked up again, the child had run off to be slaughtered by another raider.
Varang gripped her stomach with both hands, panting and hissing. Quaritch placed a hand on her back, whispering something in the Sky people’s language that she did not understand.
“I told you to stay home, woman!” he shouted, pulling her off her knees and into his lap. She pushed him away half-heartedly, slapping at his hands, but ultimately, the contractions gave him his victory.
Varang rocked herself in his arms, holding her lower belly. Smoke filled the air, and the screams were gone. A clan wiped out. At least the Mangkwan were not weak, as she was. Brought to her knees by The Skyman’s child. Her people must not see her like this. It was not their way. They should fear her. They should cower and respect her.
“Call for your ikran, Skyman.” she murmured, tears welling in her eyes, squeezing the hand he had placed on her thigh.
He paused, then twisted to face her. “You are in no condition to fly.”
Varang hissed back at him, eyes wide and crazed. “Do as I say!”
There was something behind those eyes, wide and nightmarish. Eyes that haunted the sleep of so many. There was fear. Varang was scared. Quaritch saw that drop of fear behind her heavy mask, and his command melted away. He pulled Varang to her feet and helped her walk towards his ikran. She sat in front, holding her belly and his arm, and he held her tightly to his chest. Keep her upright. Keep her steady.
The Mangkwan would find their own way home. They would not notice her absence for a few hours at least. The hunt of stragglers was a game all Mangkwan hunters enjoyed. Quaritch flew anxiously, biting his lip every time Varang tensed in pain. He wanted to soothe her pain, but that would only anger her. The Skyman had learned to be careful around her. His instincts to protect those he loved were not the Mangkwan way. He protected himself, she protected herself, and the people were more individual than a people at all. Every man for himself.
Something about these twisted ways fascinated him, and he wasn’t going to leave his kid behind. Not again. The RDA didn't want him anymore,and neither did Miles, so he was going to watch this one grow up. Even if that meant shutting up and staying quiet, he was going to watch this kid grow up.
The forest turned to rivers, turned to mountains, and finally, Varang spoke something other than pained cries. “Land.”
He brought her down on a rocky facade, and helped her to the ground.
She curled up against a rock, cool on her exposed skin. The light disappeared into the eclipse and Quaritch sat quietly beside his mate, screaming na’vi curses he wasn’t familiar with as she rocked herself.
“You have made me weak, kwa’rish. My people-” she paused to scream out in pain. “My people will skin you.”
Quaritch opened his mouth to remark back, but no witty joke ever escaped. Instead he placed a hand on her belly and softly rubbed it. She scowled at him, but she did not swat his hand away. It was… soothing. There were not many children born in her village. Many of the families were those spared and kidnapped during raids. This was a new experience for her. It was terrifying. A pain so deep inside, with no wound. This was not a warrior's agony. It was meritless and weak.
“I’ve only done this once before, Cupcake, but I think you gotta push,” Quaritch offered quietly. To say he had done this at all was an exaggeration. He had sat outside the MedBay for a few hours 17 years ago being chewed out by an RDA representative for breaking company policy while nurses delivered his son. If he could go back though… Maybe he would have sat with her.
Varang looked at him, ears pinned back, eyes wide with fear. She nodded. The Tsahìk tried to keep her eyes on the sky, in case her people came across them, but the waves of crashing pain spun her head and clouded her vision. She hardly heard Quaritch's motivations, and eventually it felt like her body took over. Eclipse passed and all she wanted was to curl up in her yurt and sleep. Away from this child. This parasite that fed on her strength for months. She lapsed in and out of consciousness as Quaritch kept a hand on her arm to shake her awake.
She faded into a daze once more, but he didn’t wake her. The pain washed away, leaving her with an emptiness she hadn’t felt in seasons. She opened her eyes and saw him in a state she’d never seen him in before. Never seen… anyone. He held something small in his hands, and looked at it with the softest gaze imaginable. Like he might look at it too hard, and it would shatter. He caught her eye and perked up, a gentle smile on his lips.
“You wanna see her?” he whispered, scared to hurt her ears, which twitched with every overwhelming gust of wind.
Varang stared at the little child in his hands. Hair matted with blood, softly crying, and probably freezing in this breeze.
“No.”
She curled away from him, leaving him to cradle the child alone. He held her to his chest, covering her from the wind with his arms. Her face was all squished up and bloody, but he had never seen anything more beautiful. His world had grown in an instant. His daughter.
Her name was Txep'ite.