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Kiri is the one who buries the gun, grim-faced and pale. She climbs to her feet. “Stay here,” she orders, a hint of their father’s steel slipping into her voice.
Lo’ak sits back on his haunches, Tsireya clinging tightly to his hand. Her head is bowed, forehead pressed against his shoulder.
He’s frightened her. Even as he is now, he recognizes this.
The strength has drained from him. His fingers are slack; he can’t even grip hers back.
Tomorrow, he will feel shame. Shame that he thrust this upon her. Shame that he couldn’t follow through with it. Shame that he was weak enough to try.
“Go home,” Kiri says. Kiri, his sweet sister, wiser than any of them.
Tsireya hesitates, eyes flitting from Kiri to Lo’ak and back to Kiri.
He can tell she doesn’t want to leave them. He feels guilty for that too. He knows she has other things to worry about. Her duties as tsakaram keep her busy for long hours as the intensity of her training increases.
Though he knows Tsireya herself would never complain, Ronal must not be happy with him. The thought makes him want to shrivel to a husk. He ducks his head; he can’t even look at her.
What could his father say if he could see him now?
Shameful… disappointment… reckless…
Lo’ak cringes.
Gentler, Kiri says: “I’ve got him. Go home, Tsireya.” She reaches out, laying her hand on the other girl’s shoulder. “Thank you.”
Kiri’s grip on his arm tightens. She’s quiet the whole way back to the village, which leaves too much room for thought.
Lo’ak drags his feet, but allows himself to be towed along.
The marui coming into view wakes something in him.
“Kiri,” he whispers, pleading. He digs his heels in. The thought of facing his father makes his chest squeeze.
Kiri stops.
She turns, grabbing hold of him by his shoulders. “Promise me,” she says. There’s something in her voice that halts any attempt to protest he might make. “Promise me, Lo’ak.”
Lo’ak stares at her. His mouth is dry. He hates that he’s the reason she looks like that.
He tears his eyes away. “I won’t.”
It’s not a promise. It’s not enough to satisfy Kiri. Tears well in her eyes.
Lo’ak can’t look at her. He can’t bear to see her cry. He keeps his eyes on the ground, throat tightening.
His dad is right to be ashamed of him. He can’t even comfort his crying sister.
“That’s not a promise,” Kiri says, voice wavering.
And he’s too tired. He’s too tired to reassure her, to tell her that he won’t. He wants to sink into the sand and sleep forever. He wants to rejoin his brother.
Only Kiri’s tight grip on both his arms keeps him from sinking to the ground. Her face crumbles and she throws her arms around him.
Lo’ak doesn’t hug her back, arms hanging limply at his side, but he drops his head, forehead coming to rest on her shoulder.
“I won’t tell Mom and Dad,” she says into his hair. “But you have to promise me you won’t do that again. Or I will.”
Lo’ak’s breath hitches.
He grasps Kiri by the elbows. “You can’t,” he gasps. The shame of it would be too much for him to bear. “Kiri…”
“Then promise me.” Not to be deterred, she pulls back, holding him at arms’ length so she can look him in the eyes.
“I promise,” he manages around a tongue that feels far too thick. “I promise, okay?”
She searches his face, to see if he means it, but Lo’ak is simply too scraped raw around the edges.
He has nothing to give her.
She shifts, barely, already starting to pull away.
Panic flares in the back of his mind and he latches onto her, grabbing hold of her wrists. His ears fold back, pressed flat against his skull.
He’s not ready to enter the marui. He’s not ready to face his parents- his family, Tuk, Spider, any of them- to have to smile and force a lie so they don’t question too deeply.
Understanding crests over her features.
Without a word, she sits cross-legged beside him on the woven platform when he sinks down, letting his legs dangle over the edge.
Later, Neytiri will come to collect them. The sharp eyes of his mother don’t miss much. She will look at him and she will wonder, but she will beckon them forward, reminding them that the hour is late and they have not yet eaten.
Lo’ak will follow her and Kiri behind him. He will keep his head down and he will avoid the heavy gaze of his father. He will feel the reassurance of Kiri’s fingers brushing against his elbow and know that, if nothing else, his sister stands with him.
But now is not later.
Now, he lets his feet hang over the side. He feels his sister beside him, her pinkie looped around his.