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01. Ma Jake
Their arms were full. Neytiri looked down at the babe in her arms, the bright-eyed Neteyam who blinked owlishly up at her, playing with the ends of her karu, and felt nothing but love and adoration. There was a time, not so long ago, when Neytiri thought she would never feel such love again, but here she was, seated beside her mate in their marui with her children in their arms. A blessing from Eywa indeed.
“You know,” Jake said, and she glanced over to where he cradled Kiri against his chest. Her eyes were wide and unblinking, as if she were seeing more than any newborn should be able to see, sucking on one of Jake’s fingers. “I never thought that I’d ever have one kid, and now I’ve got two. I don’t know how we’re going to do this.”
“Together,” Neytiri said. “We will do it together, just as we have done everything else.”
“Absolutely,” Jake agreed. “It’s just going to be hard, you know? I don’t know how to look after a kid. I don’t know anything about kids! And now I’ve got two of my own, and it’s like… like my heart has been torn from my chest and given arms and legs, and now it’s just walking around. There’s nothing I can do but watch it run and hope it doesn’t kill me when it crashes.”
A morbid thought, but one Neytiri agreed with. “It is only natural to be afraid in the face of new things.”
“Hey now, I didn’t say I was afraid,” Jake protested, grinning. “I just said I was worried about it, that’s all. Not a bad thing. I think being nervous is half the battle. That’s how you know that something is really important to you, when you worry about it.”
Sighing, Neytiri shifted so she could rest her head on Jake’s shoulder, positioning herself and her son so Jake was carrying most of their weight. He, like the tallest trees of the forest, was stalwart and took their bulk easily. “Ma Jake,” she hummed. “We will be okay. Us, our children, our people. I feel it. Eywa has blessed us, and we will thrive."
"Yeah, I know,” Jake heaved an almighty breath that Neytiri felt in her core. Kiri giggled in his arms, gurgling around his finger. “We got this, we got this. We fought in a war and sent the RDA running with their tail between their legs. We can handle a couple of babies.”
Never in her life had Neytiri been filled with so much confidence. Her beloved mate was Taruk Makto. She had two beautiful children blessed by the Great Mother herself. Her family was healthy, her people were recovering, and she had opportunities now that she’d never had before – to lead a full and happy life, surrounded by people she loved and adored. How could she be so lucky?
Against her side, Jake began to settle. He turned to peer down at Neteyam with a fond expression, his brow smoothing out from worry to affection. Kiri continued to gnaw on his fingertip with her blunt fangs, while Neteyam tried to grab the beads from his hair that dangled over his face.
“They are still only babes who cannot yet walk,” Neytiri teased, unable to help herself. “Save your worry for when they start to climb.”
02. Ma Neteyam
Head down, Neytiri arranged her arrows carefully in front of her, keen eyes picking out any in need of repairs. To her left sat a basket of fronds she had collected and dyed to replace flayed fletching. She plucked one from her selection and laid it over her lap, careful of her pregnant belly. Somewhere, Kiri was with Mo’at, and Neteyam was with Jake, and Neytiri was here, ‘taking it easy’, in their family marui high above the treetops.
Soon, she knew, her family would grow into five instead of four. They would need to adjust. Kiri and Neteyam had never spent time with another baby other than themselves. Neytiri knew she must repair and make new arrows now, because when the time came for her to hunt again, she would not have the time. She was pregnant with a babe, and yet, still more competent than most able-bodied people in the clan. But time was a precious resource she never seemed to have enough of.
She could hear her child’s laughter long before he arrived, his shrill giggles almost loud enough to drown out Jake’s fond chuckles. “Mama!” Neteyam was calling, still too far away for her to see through the canopy. “Mama, look what I got!”
“She can’t see you, little man,” Jake laughed. “You gotta wait ‘till you get up to her.”
“Mama!” Neteyam said again as he clambered his way into the marui, wriggling on his belly as he tried to crawl inside until Jake put a hand on his backside and heaved him in. He was holding an arrow victoriously, a long-dead fish pierced on the end of it. “Look what I got! I caught it, all by myself!”
“It’s true,” Jake grinned, as if she would ever doubt it. He had a basket of fish slung over his shoulder, and he set it down as he bent to kiss her crown. “Our little man doesn’t need his father's help anymore. He can provide for his family all on his own.”
“I can fish for us mama,” Neteyam nodded, very seriously. “I can go hunting too, soon! I’ll be even better than daddy.”
“Hey now,” Jake placed a hand over his heart as if he’d been mortally wounded. “I might be getting older, but I’m not that old yet.”
Neytiri took the arrow from Neteyam, and he relinquished it happily. She turned it this way and that, inspecting his specimen, from the clearness of its eyes to the shimmer of its scales to the size of its body. It was perfect in every way. Carefully, she set it down beside her and gathered Neteyam into her lap. He went easily, crawling up her so he could rest against her, careful of her growing belly, always so careful. She placed both hands on the side of his face and kissed him between the eyes. “Ma Neteyam,” She was so happy she could cry. “You will make a fine hunter. Already, you are better than your father was.”
“Alright,” Jake said, smiling. “Now that’s just hurtful.”
Giggling, Neteyam stuck his tongue out at Jake and huddled closer to Neytiri, tucking his head under her chin. They would have fish for dinner tonight, and her son would know what it felt like to feed his family through his efforts.
03. Ma Kiri
Sometimes, Neytiri wished that her daughter were not so free-spirited, only so that she would not be so difficult to find. She prowled through the trees with frustration and worry warring for space in her chest, uncertainty trying to make her lose her footing on the loose leaves and slick mud. Back home, Jake tended to their sons, rocking the baby Lo’ak to sleep and entertaining Neteyam with stories and games, only so he did not pick up on his mother’s distress and join her to look for Kiri.
Most days, she could be found playing with that human boy, the demon’s son, but Neytiri knew he had gone home long ago, when the sun had begun to set, and the scientist had retired to their homes. So where was her daughter, who always got lost in her thoughts and spoke to the plants as if they talked back to her? She searched through the undergrowth and high in the boughs. It was unlike Kiri to simply refuse to return home. Neytiri knew she had no reason to worry and yet…
“Mama,” said a small voice from behind her, and it was only her years of training that prevented her from pulling her bow as she spun to face her daughter. Kiri was drenched in water, and her skin was slick with mud, clay caked beneath her nails, and she was sniffling as she looked up at her mother with sad eyes. “Sorry mama, I got lost.”
“Oh, Ma Kiri,” Neytiri immediately fell to her knees and enveloped her daughter in a hug, crushing her to her chest. She was cold, her skin chilled, and she rested her face in the crook of Neytiri’s neck. “Where were you?”
Sniffling, Kiri wiped her nose on Neytiri’s shoulder and pointed clumsily behind her. “Fan lizards, over there. They were dancing, mama.”
And Neytiri couldn’t help but recall Jake’s own childlike wonder when she had shown the kenten to him that very first time, dancing through the long grasses as they ushered them into flying like young ones playing games. Kiri’s eyes were so wide, so full of wonder. She saw the world differently than anyone else, as if Eywa herself whispered in her ears and sang her sweet nothings. Neytiri pressed her face into her daughter’s hair and breathed in her scent, loamy and sweet. “We should go home,” She said. “Your father will be worried.”
“But mama,” Kiri complained, pulling away just far enough to take Neytiri’s hand and begin to pull her along. Neytiri went willingly, never able to say no to her children for much. “You should come see. They’re so pretty, like you! Come watch. Please? Pretty please?”
Though he was more than capable, Jake was home with their sons, probably worried about her. Supper, bubbling on the cookfire, will be ready soon. And yet…
“We must not stay out too late,” Neytiri reminded her daughter as she was dragged through the brush with all of Kiri’s might, grunting and straining as she tried to hurry her willingly following mother. “We do not want your father to come looking for us.”
“That’s okay,” Kiri smiled. “Because then he’ll bring Lo’ak and Neteyam, and then they can all watch the fan lizards too!”
04. Ma Lo'ak
In her arms, Tuk gave an almighty cry, and Neytiri cradled her to her chest, singing lowly to her, her voice carrying over the rest of the communal din of the village. At her mother’s voice, baby Tuk, barely old enough to even open her eyes, slowly petered off her cries and nestled into her mother's chest. Neytiri brushed her lips over her Tuk’s head. When she thought that her life couldn’t get any more perfect, she had been wrong.
Little footsteps pitter from behind her, and she could not turn in time before a small body slammed into the back of her legs at full force. She stumbled a little, resting her hand against a tree for balance, and twisted to frown down at the young face beaming up at her. “Lo’ak,” she chided. “You must be careful. I am holding your sister.”
“Sorry, mama,” Lo’ak’s ears pinned flat to his head, his tail wiping around his ankles anxiously.
“It is alright,” Neytiri sighed. “What is the matter?”
Immediately, Lo’ak’s unhappy mood recovered, and he stood tall so he was almost standing on his toes. From behind his back, he produced an object that he had been hiding, a necklace that looked like it was made with wooden beads, leaves and flowers, tied together with woven string. His eyes were bright and excited. Neytiri, careful of Tuk pressed to her chest, crouched down in front of Lo’ak, admiring his gift. “Ma Lo’ak,” she gushed, “It is beautiful. Did you make this?”
“Yeah! All by myself!” He said proudly. “Daddy helped me only a little bit, but I did most of it! He said, on earth, he used to make jewellery out of ‘pass-tah’ for his mama, and I wanted to make the same for you!”
“Outstanding,” Neytiri smiled. “Can I wear it?”
Though she had thought it would be impossible, Lo’ak’s eyes suddenly grew bigger. His tail whipped frantically against the back of his legs, knocking over an empty basket on the ground beside him in his excitement. Some of the women around them glanced down at him in amusement. “Does that mean you like it?”
“I do. I love it,” Neytiri promised. Tuk began to gurgle in her arms, and she brought a hand up to stroke down her face, but she kept her eyes focused on Lo’ak. “May I wear it home?”
“Yeah!” Raising up on his toes, Lo’ak stretched all the way up to slide the necklace over her head. He carefully adjusted it so it rested the way he wanted to, careful to avoid his sister's delicate features cupped beneath the palm of Neytiri’s hand. “There, now we have to go home and show Daddy and Neteyam and Kiri.”
Standing, Neytiri held her hand out towards her son, and Lo’ak gladly took it, his much smaller hand slotting perfectly within hers, as the two of them walked through the village back towards their family marui. Now and then, Lo’ak would tilt his head back to beam at her, and she felt his necklace brushing against her skin with every step, a constant and physical reminder of the gift he had carefully crafted just for her.
05. Ma Tuk
Though Neytiri had not taken to the ocean as her children had, she sometimes needed a change of scenery, and she opted to dip her toes in the water, letting the water lap at her feet, while she descaled fish for supper, repaired baskets, or tended to her family's weapons. In the distance, she could see Lo’ak and Kiri trying to teach Spider how to ride a skimwing, Aonung and Tsireya swimming nearby and doing a very poor job of hiding their laughter. Spider was waterlogged and windburned, but he was laughing just as hard as Lo’ak and Kiri as he was bucked once again from the beast.
Neytiri heard light footsteps approaching, and she glanced up to find Tuk walking towards her, something held in her arms, bundled up carefully in the draping of her garment. “Tuk,” Neytiri extended her arm out, and Tuk immediately sank into the space at her side. “You are not playing?”
“I was,” Tuk said. “I am. Why don’t you ever play with us?”
It was an innocent question. Jake played with the children whenever he had the chance to step away from Tonowari’s side in aiding the village's recovery. But Neytiri had avoided the water like it carried a sickness, and in some ways, it did. But Tuk was merely curious, so Neytiri placed a kiss on her brow and spoke with her lips pressed against her hair. “I do not like the water,” she said honestly. “I am not a good swimmer.”
“I miss the trees,” Tuk admitted. Something clenched in Neytiri’s chest. “I miss all my friends, and I miss our home, and I miss grandmother. But this place is nice too. I’ve made new friends, and I like swimming with the ilu and the zukzuk. And I like to collect shells,” Tuk released her garment from the tight hold she was gripping it in, and as it fell back across her lap, it revealed all the beautiful shells she had collected. “We didn’t have shells back home.”
“We did not,” Neytiri agreed. “You are very good at finding the best ones.”
“Yeah, Tsireya says that too,” Tuk beamed. She fumbled around her collection until she retrieved the one she was looking for – it was a greenish colour and striped with black, round but surrounded by sharp spines, like the childish drawings that Jake had once drawn of a sun. She held it out to Neytiri and let it drop into her open palm. “This one reminds me of you, so I thought you might want it. It’s really pretty, but I think if Spider stepped on it, it would hurt him a lot, so it’s really dangerous too. It’s like you.”
“Oh, Ma Tuk, oh,” Neytiri curled her fist around the seashell and brought both arms up and around to embrace Tuk, cradling her against her side. Tuk went willingly, wriggling a little to get even closer. Neytiri tightened her hold on the shell, felt the spines digging into her palm. “What a wonderful gift.”
She wasn't sure if she was talking about the shell or her child. She was already thinking of ways to affix it to her person and never let it go.
00. Ma Spider
There were few sounds in this world that a mother reacts more strongly to – their child’s scream was one of them.
Neytiri was aiding some of the other women in the village when she heard Tuk scream. She was moving before she’d even comprehended the sound. In her periphery, she could see Lo’ak sprinting after her across the beach, Kiri desperately making her way out of the water, and Jake leaping from marui to marui in his haste, but nobody would ever be faster than a mother.
Sprinting into the mangrove forest, she chased the sound of Tuk’s voice. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, her breath came rough and hard, but the sheer need to reach her daughter before she lost another child drove her to run despite the ache in her still-healing body.
She exploded into the clearing with an arrow already nocked in her bow, and found Tuk cowering behind Spider, her hands clutching onto the band of his tewng and her shoulders rounded to better hide behind him. He had his own bow raised, hissing viciously with his teeth bared, doing his very best to make himself large and frightening to distract from Tuk behind him.
At his feet, a slinth lay dead, still twitching with one of his arrows buried in its face. A second slinth prowled towards them, the plates that shielded its face spread wide as it squalled at them. Spider loosed another arrow, and it bounced harmlessly off the slinth's sleek body as it twisted out of the way, and darted forwards before Spider could nock and fire another arrow.
Neytiri wasted no more time. She loosed her arrow, and it met its mark in the slinth’s side. It died mid-leap, collapsed to the ground and skidded until it came to a bloody and twitching stop at Spider’s feet, crashing into the other slinth and leaving them in a morbid pile of flesh. Tuk peered out from behind his back, and her teary eyes went wide and hopeful. “Mama!”
“Tuk,” Neytiri dropped her bow and knelt so Tuk could rush into her arms. She looked her over quickly – shaky with relief and breathing hard with fear, but thankfully unharmed. She looked at Spider. There was blood splattered across his face and neck, scratches all up and down his arms, and a deep, gory gash across his bare chest that would need stitches, blood dripping freely down his torso. He was breathing hard, like that morning when he had almost suffocated in his sleep, his eyes on Tuk’s back. Neytiri extended a hand towards him. “Spider. Come.”
Wordlessly, he did. He stumbled over on unsteady feet and sank to his knees beside Tuk, who immediately shuffled so she could wrap one of her little arms around him and press her face into his side. Neytiri wrapped her arms around his shoulders, holding him against her as he swayed. She wondered if he’d been hit by the slinths' toxin, or if he was just exhausted, the adrenaline fading and leaving him weak and dizzy.
Behind her, she could hear the pounding of three sets of feet, the crashing sound of her family sprinting through the underbrush and shouting for them. But Neytiri just pressed her lips to Spider’s hair and closed her eyes. “Ma Spider,” She sighed without really meaning to. It just came out of her, her relief and gratefulness making her mouth work before her brain. He made a startled noise and jolted, but Neytiri held him tight, refusing to let him go. She hadn’t meant to say it, but she didn’t regret it. It felt right. “Ma Spider."
Jake, Lo’ak and Kiri found them like that, Neytiri holding her exhausted children to her chest, and vowing to never let them go.