Chapter Text
Despite popular belief, and the evidence against him, Spider considers himself extremely careful, cautious and self aware. It’s just his tendency to come off as fierce, daring and completely unafraid that says otherwise.
He’s the only human being growing up on a planet that wants to kill him; having good instincts comes with the territory. A gorgeous, deadly planet that didn’t want him or others like him to adapt to survive. If he wasn’t as careful as he was, he’d be dead.
As a young kid he found out how badly the planet didn’t want him there in the first place. His first experience? A massive bug chasing him all the way back to Hells Gate on one of his first adventures outside the fence by himself. Norm had laughed until he’d clutched his stomach in pain, he’d found it so funny. Spider hadn’t been able to stop having nightmares about that bug for weeks.
It only took going back out into the trees and chasing after one of its friends to get rid of them. Who knew that a tiny human screaming loudly and chasing after them with a knife would be enough to scare the insects of Pandora? The science guys certainly didn’t.
Being the extremely careful, cautious and self aware person he is, it pissed him off to no end when someone else told him to be careful, cautious, and or self aware.
Like when Max or Norm would shout from the airlock for him to take the spare exopack they held out, even though he was halfway towards the trees.
“I’m just going to the village!” he’d shout back, knowing his battery would last until he returned that evening, but still dreading the lecture that would be coming for him once he got back.
Or how Kiri would yelp at him to go a bit slower while they bounced between the roots of the Hallelujah mountains, even though he knows exactly where to put his feet. His next jump was always higher, just so she’d cheer him on instead, proving he knows what he’s doing.
Or the one time he spent supper with the Sullys, sitting at the edge of the family circle and picking at the food on Kiri’s plate that she didn’t want.
“Y’sure you can eat that, Spider?” Jake had asked when he’d gone to lift the edge of his exopack.
The morsel between his fingers was warm, dripping animal fat and whatever sauce it had been covered with down his arm. It was the most enticing thing he’d seen all day, and he’d been the one to help catch it.
At the time, Kiri had been against eating meat and fish, saying it was cruel to hunt and kill forest creatures when they’d done nothing to deserve it. Of course, this was before she’d realised that, to become taronyu, she’d need to hunt.
“Yeah?” he’d said; he’d scanned it twice with his datapad just to be sure. “It’s safe.”
“But,” Jake had continued, although he’d sounded like he was just stalling for some reason, “won’t it, I dunno, mess with your appetite for dinner later?”
Spider had tilted his head, and dropped his hand when his arm grew tired, the piece of meat already getting cold. “No?” he’d said again.
The McCoskers hadn’t given him food in ages. They just assumed he ate out in the forest, and Spider had become used to scrounging through the cafeteria’s food storage to supplement.
“Just thought I’d check,” Jake had said. “Y’never know what’s poisonous for you, and the last thing I’d want is to send you back to Hells Gate with an upset stomach.”
Spider hadn’t told him that it would’ve been fine if that happened. That he knew how to take care of himself because no one else would. He’d simply shoved the bite of food past his teeth and sneaked another.
Or like right now, with Kiri shoving his knee and making him rock backwards, as she says, “You need to be careful, Spider.”
The worry in her voice drags her eyebrows down, until a crease appears between them. If it weren’t for Tuk’s hand on his shoulder, keeping her balance, he’d reach up to smooth it away.
Instead, he leans forward and says, “Careful’s my middle name.”
Spider knows better than anyone what Pandora’s air would do to him if he even took in one breath. Unconscious within twenty seconds, dead in four minutes. It’s been drilled into him like a mantra, the same way it is natural for his eyes to flick to the corner of his mask every hour to check the battery life.
It sucks that his best friend doesn’t seem to believe him, rolling her eyes at his tone.
Spider’s not so reckless as to allow an exopack’s levels to drain so much that he almost dies in his sleep. There have been many nights he’s spent within Hometree, and High Camp, with only one spare to use, and he’s timed it perfectly so he got a perfect night's sleep and had minutes to spare to switch out the pack.
It’s not his fault he can’t control the dreams his mind cooks up for him in the dead of night.
Especially when he can’t even talk about them.
Tuk giggles right in his ear, but he’s still able to hear the disapproving click of Kiri’s tongue.
“Yeah skxawng,” Lo’ak laughs as he yanks Spider into his side, roughing up his hair. He can’t see Kiri anymore, fighting back and laughing at Lo'ak's stink of seawater and wood seeping off his skin. “Y’need to be careful.”
“And you need to stop climbing the roots of Hometree,” Kiri protests, but Spider can’t see her over Lo’ak’s arm.
His knuckles dig painfully into Spider’s skull, but it’s easy to twist out of the hold and retaliate, digging his smaller fingers into the space between Lo’ak’s neck and his shoulder. Like always, the boy shies away, scrunching up to keep him out.
“Oh yeah?” Spider grunts, grabbing Lo’ak’s wrist so he can’t escape and going for the other side. “Like you should’ve been when you nearly tripped into the sea, yesterday?”
Lo’ak yelps and shoves at Spider’s fingers with his free hand. “No I didn’t!”
“Wasn’t that when Tsireya was waving at you?” Kiri says, tapping her chin where her mourning paint still remains. Her pensive look falters around her giggles as she says, “I swear she was only asking you to join her for a dive.”
“Yeah,” Spider laughs, “he acted like she’d asked him out on a date!”
“Kiri! Betrayed by my own sister!” Lo’ak manages to exclaim through his choked off giggles. Spider’s moved to try his armpit next, but he misjudges the reach and suddenly finds his head under Lo’ak’s knuckles again.
“Careful,” Kiri says again, adjusting her brother’s grip so his hands aren’t so close to the edge of Spider’s exopack.
A flash of annoyance rushes through his chest, but Spider elbows Lo’ak in the side and slips free. He hisses playfully, grinning when Lo’ak takes the bait and rushes after him into the morning sunshine. Annoyance turns to playfulness as they roughhouse, keeping their grapples light and easy in case one of them goes tumbling into the water.
It’s moments like these that he wishes he could forget everything going on around him; not be so observant. There’s a cold, blank gaze on him, but Spider doesn’t let his grin falter as Neytiri stares at him from the corner of the pod. As she has been doing ever since he came back from the RDA’s clutches.
From what he can remember, she was the only one not worrying over him last night, when his chest was heaving from oxygen deprivation and many hands clutched onto the exopack like they could keep it there.
Spider’s not surprised, he’d’ve been shocked out of his hammock if she had been hovering. The open contempt is shocking, because he didn’t think that whatever small sliver of connection they had had degraded so much.
Neytiri used to hide her feelings for him from her children. By the tension in Kiri’s shoulders, and the quick glances from Lo’ak though, it’s now very obvious. Spider had thought he’d been careful not to draw Neytiri’s ire; it seems they’ve gone back to his very existence being a bad thing.
“There you are!” Tsireya suddenly calls to them, gliding gracefully through the water with a large grin.
Lo’ak is quick to drop his hold on Spider, clearing his throat and lifting his hand to wave. He elbows Spider’s side when he makes a knowing noise.
“I came to find you,” Tsireya continues as she leads her ilu to the edge of their walkway. “The Windtraders have arrived. You must come see!”
“Windtraders?” they ask in unison, with varying levels of confusion and excitement.
Tsireya beckons them with a hand, “Our brothers and sisters from the sky. Come, come and see them!” before turning back towards the village.
Now that they’ve quietened, Spider hears the shriek of welcoming bugles, one a different tone to the Metkayina.
He runs in that direction, following the cheers and cries of welcome as the Metkayina joyously dive into the water to greet the arrivals. Spider skids to a complete stop when he catches sight of the Windtraders.
“Woah,” he murmurs once Lo’ak, Kiri and Tuk catch up, eyes wide with wonder.
It’s a caravan of massive floating creatures, with woven boats attached to their underside. The bugle sounds again, and one of them turns slowly, exposing the large animal tacked at the front, with a Na’vi sitting in the harness up top. It’s unlike anything Spider’s seen.
“Amazing, aren’t they?” comes Tsireya’s voice again as she lifts herself up from the water. “They’ve arrived to trade their wares with us, and the whole village is gathering to welcome them.”
On the walkway just outside the Olo’eyktan’s pod, Tonowari emerges in a ceremonial robe made with brightly coloured fabric. He pounds the end of his spear against the ground, and around him, music rises, a few of the Metkayina waving to the caravan as it gets closer.
“Bro,” Lo’ak says, grabbing Spider’s arm, “we have to get a better look.”
“Hell yeah,” Spider replies without hesitation.
The ships are even more impressive up close, the creatures' fins connected to the ropes and rigging to act like sails. They’re so big, he has to crane his neck to see the top.
As they fly by, Spider calls out and waves, his grin growing wide when a couple sailors wave back. Behind him, Kiri giggles, joining in in the welcome.
It’s so colourful; their clothing, the streamers they wear on their arms, the baskets that cover the top deck, filled to the brim with goods. A few of the sailors hurry around them, tying rope to their handles as another bugle sounds.
“They’re docking,” Spider calls out to Kiri, pointing where the creature leading the ship is being unhooked.
The ship stays afloat even without the creature, and they watch the rider lead his mount down to the water to drink. It stays just at the surface, the Windtrader leaning forward to pat its flank as the tentacles at its front reach for the sea.
Are they like ikrans, and only bond with one companion? A few of them are unharnessed and follow behind the main ship, so maybe they swap when one gets tired.
Kiri leads her ikran in a circle around the ship one last time, watching as a rope extends down to the ground and the crew begins to load the baskets. One by one, they drift safely to the waiting Metkayina.
“Bet you Lo’ak tries to find something for Tsireya,” Spider shouts over the roaring wind.
At Kiri’s confused look, he points towards the festival, the traders setting up shop, and Tsireya leading Lo’ak into the crowd. From this high up, he can’t see his expression, but Spider can guess he looks love struck.
“You’re on,” Kiri laughs, urging her ikran into a dive that nearly throws him off. A few of the Windtraders duck at the gusting wind, but Kiri expertly lands out of reach of the forming market.
As soon as his feet touch the woven walkways, Tuk’s chirping his name. Darting through the throng of people with a smile brighter than any he’s seen the past couple days.
“They’re opening their market,” she says, grabbing hold of his hand and jumping in place. “We have to go see it, c’mon!”
Spider doesn’t get a chance to ask Kiri to follow. He’s barely able to stay on his own two feet as Tuk yanks him, the crowd closing around them so quickly it’s a shock to the senses.
There’s so much to see, hear, even smell. Through the exopack the scent of food rising with the smoke from a cookfire makes him drool. Windtraders call out to potential buyers, offering a shell for a woven mat, or a musical instrument made from the wood of the northern forest for strengthened arrows. Kids dart through the crowds, nearly tripping people up as they go.
Amongst it all, villagers come together to sit and talk, gossip and information flowing freely throughout the market.
“Woah, look at those!” Tuk says, hurrying to a woman who’s surrounded by large white shells. She picks up one that’s the size of her head, peering in at the smooth inside. “It’s so pretty.”
“It comes from the Ta’unui clan, child,” the woman tells her. “Good for cooking and serving food, and as a wash bowl for little ones.”
Spider’s stomach turns, so much he nearly upends the small breakfast he had that morning. It must’ve been collected before the recoms passed through, the shell unblemished and clean, no cracks or damage on the sides. He doubts anything had survived through that destruction.
Tuk searches her waistband for something to trade, her ears drooping when she has to put the shell back down. Spider crouches, pressing his side against hers and taking in the other shells.
“It’s too big,” she tells him. “I don’t have anything to trade for it.”
There’re loads of different shapes, sizes, and colours spread over the woman’s blanket. There’s one that is bright blue and shaped like a helicoridan coil, and another that’s a pale yellow and looks like a plate. Spider spies a pair just to the right of his knee, and digs around in the pouch tied at his waistband.
“Can I trade these,” he says, holding out a handful of dried mangrove roots, “for those?”
He’s not expecting her to say yes, after all mangrove roots aren’t really all that useful unless you know how to either cook them properly, or use them to fortify your bow. But, the lady smiles, and takes the roots readily.
“Good trade,” she says, putting the shells into his hand.
“Hey, Tuk,” he says, standing and placing them over his chest. He wiggles his hips as he side steps, pulling a ridiculous face as Tuk bursts into loud giggles.
“Spider!” she calls, as the lady claps in approval, her grin amused and fond as he cheers up his friend. “You’re so funny!”
Not really caring if he looks stupid, he keeps dancing, wiggling his hips and turning in place. Spider suddenly notices Jake standing in the shadows. He’s speaking with someone, a man wearing a colourful cloak looks over too.
A glance in his direction, and Spider gets the sense that they’re talking about him. The weight of perception digging deep into his shoulders.
“You’re so funny,” Tuk tells him again when he stops, wiping tears from her eyes.
“Nah,” he says. “You’re way funnier Tuktuk. Here,” he hands her the shells, her hands fitting around them perfectly, “for you.”
She beams at him. “I’m gonna show them to Kiri right now!”
Spider loses her in the crowd then, but he’s too distracted by the gazes on his back to care. They’re looking at him, watching him, assessing him. Noticing his unnatural presence in the village. He ducks his head and manages to thank the lady before hurrying away, deeper into the festival to escape.
Spider’s trading an arrowhead he carved for a couple of beads when Kiri finds him again. She’s wrapped in her green shawl, mourning paint smudged and tail drooping tiredly, but she manages a small smile when she joins him.
“I was thinking,” he says, holding up a bead to the lock behind his ear, “this could replace that one? It’s a bit worn, and I don’t want it to fall out.”
“That sounds good,” she says. “You made that one back at Hometree, right?”
“Yeah, my first,” he admits, considering the other three beads in his palm. The trader hadn’t let him trade just one bead, insisting the arrowhead he’d given him was too much for something so small.
Spider had been rushing to pick another three, but looking at them now, something seems right about them.
“And look,” he says, “one for you, Tuk, and Lo’ak. Right?”
They’re the same shade of blue, but with different winding patterns of green paint. If he places all four next to each other, it kind of looks like the roots connecting the Hallelujah Mountains to each other.
“Yeah,” Kiri says, taking her bead delicately between two fingers. Spider doesn’t mention how her voice wobbles, or the quiet sniffle that escapes her as she tucks it away for later. “We need to get Tuk bad to the pod before she tires herself out. Dad’s orders.”
“Got it,” Spider says, searching the mass of people for a hyperactive seven year old.
She says it all the time, but something about what happened on that island after the battle has Spider’s head all turned around about Jake, and his connection to the Sullys. Did Jake even mean what he said? Does he consider Spider his now, because he’s lost a son already?
Spider’s heart had soared when he’d been pulled into that protective embrace, and again last night when Jake’s expression had been so worried, so protective. But there’s been nothing official, no sit down son let me just make sure you know you’re part of this family talk.
It’s why he’s still being so careful, so cautious. His place here isn’t set in stone, not like the others.
Getting Tuk back to the pod is like wrangling an excitable ilu pup, and takes twice as long as it does to pull Lo’ak away from Tsireya. Seriously, Spider’s never going to run out of blackmail material at this rate, with all the heart eyes swirling around Lo’ak.
“Did ya get her something nice?” Spider asks as they walk back to the pod, waggling his eyebrows.
“What? Dude, no,” Lo’ak protests. He can’t hide how his tail flicks even as he says, “We just looked around at stuff that’s all. She showed me the different types of instruments they bring down to trade. And I found a guy who had a massive knife collection.”
“I’m sure she found that riveting, brother,” Kiri says, skipping ahead when Lo’ak tries to shove her.
“She actually did,” Lo’ak sniffs, lifting his chin as Spider chuckles. “She nearly traded for one of them, but I convinced her not to.”
“Oh, how good and kind you are, brother,” Kiri teases.
“Look what Spider got me!” Tuk calls out, cheerfully holding out her shells for inspection, walking backwards with uncanny grace. “Aren’t they cool?”
“They’re so pretty,” Kiri compliments, leaning down to take a look at the inside. “Did the trader tell you where they came from?”
“They do that?” Tuk asks, eyes widening in wonder. “I should go back tomorrow and find out.”
“I got something else too,” Spider says as they duck into the shade of the pod.
He fishes for his pouch as Tuk bounces in place. Blushing, he holds out the other two beads, tilting his hand so they don’t fall to the ground. “I wanted one, but the arrowhead I had was apparently too much, so the trader gave me more. Kiri has one, so it’ll be like we’re…y’know…”
The hot flush of embarrassment races down his back, his ears turning red.
“It’s so pretty,” Tuk whispers, holding hers up to the light. Spider’s chest warms as she adds, “I wanna put it in now!”
“It’s really cool, bro,” Lo’ak says. There’s no hesitation as he threads it into a braid at his right ear. “Good pick.”
Spider smiles, tucking his hands at his sides to hide the shakes. He thought they wouldn’t take them.
“Mine’s gotten all tangled, someone help,” Tuk suddenly whines, and with Kiri’s tinkling laugh, they gather in an impromptu braiding session, as the girls call it.
Spider, with his smaller fingers, works the bead out from Tuk’s braid, and then shuffles over to let Kiri do the rest. Lo’ak, like he’s worried his own will slip out when he moves his head, reaches up periodically to brush against it, until Spider offers to tighten the hair tie and he lets him.
“Your turn,” Kiri says, and Spider turns easily, exposing his back to her and keeping very still.
Her fingers, light against the locks of his hair, causes shivers to race along his skin as she works. Spider has to keep from shuddering, leaning further into the ray of sunlight that’s bearing down on them.
“There you are,” comes Jake’s voice, as quickly as it came, the peace and quiet disappearing.
Spider’s back turns rigid at Neytiri’s blank gaze, the emotion weighing down Jake’s brow into a frown. A sense of foreboding creates a pit in his stomach.
“C’mon guys, family meeting,” Jake says, beckoning them over.
Spider’s muscles tense and he half gets to his feet to leave, instinctively. Kiri’s hand stops him, tugging him back down to the ground. Spider blinks and realise, oh, it includes him. Who knew?
(he didn’t)
“Alright,” Jake says, taking a breath, “what I’m about to tell you, has been hard. We’ve thought about it for a while, and given recent events we think it’s for the best.”
The pit in his stomach widens when Jake’s eyes turn to Spider. His shoulders inch closer to his ears.
“Spider, you move back to High Camp to live with Norm and the guys,” Jake says, and the pit becomes bottomless. “You’ll move out with the Windtraders when they leave.”
“What?”
“Dad no–”
“Jake, please–”
“No, stop, it’s a done deal,” Jake raises his voice, slicing his hand through their arguments and the ringing in Spider’s ears. “You can’t live in a mask the whole time, it’s just– it’s not possible.
“Can’t we find a way?” Spider pleads.
“Dad, don’t do this,” Lo’ak says.
“What if something like last night happens again but we’re not around with a spare?” Jake argues. “You could have died.”
“Last night was a mistake, it won’t happen again,” Spider argues, even though it doesn’t get through. “I promise, Jake– Mr. Sully– Please–”
“Dad, you can’t do this,” Kiri protests at the same time.
“I-I won’t cause trouble, you know that. I can get more spares from the guys and keep a closer eye on the battery,” Spider suggests.
He knows he can, he did it while in captivity with the RDA because none of the recoms were gonna bother to carry a spare. Not with all the extra ammo they ‘needed’ to pack.
“I just wanna stay here with you,” he tries, the words cutting deep into his own heart with how they’re sharpened with truth. “You’re the only family I know.”
“He’s our best friend, you can’t just send him away,” Lo’ak adds.
“Yeah,” Tuk adds.
“He needs to live with his own kind,” Neytiri suddenly cuts in, her voice bland and level.
Kiri shuffles beside him, until her side is pressed against his, and Spider frowns at the tension in her body. He recognises the set of her shoulders, the rise to her chin. A second before she speaks, he thinks that this will do nothing good.
“And what kind is that, mother?” Kiri demands, coldly. “Human? Pinkass?”
Spider flinches at the familiar insult, but Neytiri’s expression doesn’t even twitch.
“You hate them so much, that’s all you see,” Kiri continues. She turns her gaze on Jake, who falters under his daughter's determination. “Spider is part of this family–”
“He will never be a part of this family,” Neytiri growls, leaning forward.
Neteyam’s songcord, which she’d been holding close to her chest, swings with the movement. The bright orange shell at the end catches the light, the beads gently clinking together, and Spider feels all the air escape his lungs at once.
She’s right. Spider won’t be a part of this family because he’s the reason it’s not complete. He’s responsible for the empty hammock, the white paint still adorning their faces, the space always left open at mealtimes. The heavy, oppressive grief that surrounds them.
It’s his fault that Neteyam’s dead, because he and Lo’ak came back to save him. No one else.
And what has he done to repent? To say he’s sorry? Saved the man who’s hurt this family more than anything else, because he couldn’t deal with the guilt of letting him die.
Spider glances at them all. He’s the only one who knows the danger they’re in, he hasn’t told anyone - not even Kiri - about what he did. Quaritch will still be out for blood, the RDA will still hunt them, and he might be the one to lead them straight to the Sullys. He’s the one who will bring the danger.
It’s his fault.
It’s all his fault
HIS FAULT–
“Kiri,” Spider says, stopping her in her tracks and catching her hand to keep her from lunging forward. The new bead in his hair weighs a tone, and hers catches the light as she turns her betrayed look on him. “It’s okay.”
From Lo’ak’s expression it’s definitely not. He’s staring at Spider like he’s grown a second head.
“I’ll go, and stay with Norm in High Camp,” Spider says, and then scrambles to add, “and you guys can come and visit when you can.”
Jake’s shoulders slump in relief, and Neytiri uncoils, but his attempt to smooth things out doesn’t land.
Kiri’s mouth wobbles, her eyes brimming with tears as she shoves herself to her feet and storms away. Tuk follows, the little whines escaping her breaking Spider’s heart as she doesn’t even look at him.
He’s hurt them, this is hurting them, but he can’t explain why it’s best for them without revealing everything.
“I’ll go talk to them,” he mutters, removing himself from the pod while keeping his head low.
Just as he’s out of earshot, he pauses.
“Why?” Lo’ak exclaims, voice shaking. “Why would you suggest this?”
“Lo’ak, it’s for the best,” Jake replies, voice hardened by battles and years of dealing with argumentative kids. “I won’t speak more on the decision–”
“We’ve just lost our brother,” Lo’ak cuts in, and Spider closes his eyes against the squeezing in his chest. “We can’t lose anyone else.”
He finds Tuk and Kiri easily, sitting up against the mangrove roots of Hometree, with their feet sprawled across a walkway. There’s a moment where it’s so obvious Tuk is copying her older sister - all folded arms, grumpy expression - that he has to stop and watch. It draws some joy out of a shitty situation, at least.
When Spider approaches, Kiri gives him an unreadable look but she lets him join them. She doesn’t scooch over to make room though.
“Why?” she asks after a while, as the sun sets and Tuk nearly falls asleep. “Don’t you want to stay with us?”
Part of being his careful, cautious and self aware self means that Spider intuitively knows when he should be keeping things to himself. There is nothing good that will come with him revealing everything to make her understand, because he couldn’t leave anything out.
“I really, really do,” he whispers, voice shaking with truth. “But, your dad’s right. I can’t live in a mask forever. This’ll be better in the long run.”
The words taste bitter and heavy on his tongue, like ash spilling down his chin and onto his chest. The dark look on Kiri’s face doesn’t help.
“What if we found a way?” she suddenly asks, keeping her eyes on the horizon, the sunset turning them bright yellow. “For you to live in a mask? Or even without one?”
“Then I’d grow wings and fly myself back,” Spider says. Tuk giggles sleepily, and Kiri combs her hand through her hair. “You know I would.”
“Promise?”
He hates how much his heart lifts at the hope and determination in her expression, but he nods. Spider can’t bring himself to say no, he never could. Not to his best friend. Even though Kiri would need a miracle to make it safe for him to stay permanently. And from his track record, Spider’s the last person who would have a miracle happen in his lifetime.
He thought he would have more time to say goodbye before the Windtraders moved on. Turns out, he had a day, if that, to get everything he needed packed in a woven bag before the goods were being lifted back into the airships - gondola, Spider discovered.
For all their floaty, easy going outlook on life, the Tlalim clan go by a strict schedule dictated by the wind currents. It’s all too soon before the bugle for their departure is sounding, and Spider is having to sling his bag over his shoulder.
“We’ll walk you to the ship,” Jake says, like it’s a comfort instead of whatever messed up thing it feels like. Spider only nods, and forces himself not to flinch away from the hand that pats his shoulder.
The walk to the gondola is quiet. Spider’s fingers hurt with how hard Tuk is squeezing his hand. His bow - the one he’d left in the forest, found by Lo’ak - bounces against his hip, the newly made arrows rattling in the quiver with every step he takes. He’s got the shawl Kiri had given him last night, one of her spares he can wrap around his shoulders, tucked away in his bag for the chill nights in the forest.
It’s like they want him to take a piece of each of them with him. Like Spider’d ever forget.
When they reach the edge of the village, Spider craning his neck to watch the last of the baskets be brought onto the gondola, something soft and heavy is given to him.
“You will need this, for the colder winds,” a Tlalim clan member tells him, and he recognises her as the shell trader. She smiles kindly at him. “When you are ready, I will take you up.”
His stomach drops at the suddenness, like he’s been unseated from an ikran without any handhold to grab onto, and he turns to find the same look of shock on his friends faces.
“Don’t we have some time?” Kiri asks, but the woman sadly shakes her head.
“No,” Tuk whimpers, and Spider barely lifts his arms before she’s burying her head into his chest. She’s so tall already, it hurts to think that a few months ago she barely reached his midriff. He can already feel her tears falling onto his skin. “Don’t want you to go yet. Stay.”
Spider ignores the adults for a moment, and yanks Lo’ak over when he doesn’t join the growing cuddle pile immediately. His arms are too short to wrap around either Kiri or Lo’ak’s shoulders entirely, but he makes a good effort. It helps that he feels their fingers lock in the middle of his back, completing their little circle.
“You’ll come to visit soon,” he says, as if it’s any comfort when they’re being pulled apart right now. “And I’ll get way better at root climbing so I can show you all up.”
“Yeah right,” Lo’ak says wetly as Tuk buries her head even further against his collarbone.
He doesn’t think about the quiet sniffles happening around him. Doesn’t think about the beads in their hair, connecting them like the roots of the Hallelujah Mountains. Definitely doesn’t think about how, the last time he was away from them, he was captured in the worst scenario of his life. Definitely not.
His heart hurts anyway, even though he’s not thinking about any of it.
The blowing of the bugle jolts all of them, and Spider can’t delay the inevitable anymore. He untangles, and shifts his bag higher on his shoulder.
“Got your spare?” Jake suddenly asks, and Spider can’t make sense of the expression crinkling his forehead. The question annoys him, his hand pointedly patting his bag.
“And a spare battery,” Spider replies, staying still so that, when Jake’s hand reaches for him, it lands on his head and not his shoulder. It’s better that way. Brings up less memories.
“We’ll see you soon,” Jake says, scratching the back of Spider’s scalp gently. “Promise.”
Spider nods, hiding his eyes so that the tears collecting on his eyelashes aren’t visible. When the hand lifts away, he sniffles and adjusts his bag again.
“See you later,” he says, pointedly, the English jarring against the travelling song that’s slowly building momentum around them. He turns away from his friends (family) and finds it’s one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do.
“You will need that,” the shell trader suddenly says when he approaches her again, long fingers gesturing to the pile of cloth she’d given him. “It is to be worn around your shoulders. If you require assistance–”
“I got it,” Spider says, unhooking his bag and wrestling himself into the blue shawl.
At least, for the seconds it takes him to find where his head is meant to go, he’s able to get a grip, and briefly lift his mask to wipe his wet cheeks. He’s done so well fighting back his tears, no way is he letting them get the better of him now.
He finds himself under the shell trader’s scrutinising gaze once he comes back to reality. Spider shrinks underneath it, but then she’s unhooking something from her wrist and passing it over.
“To tie away your hair,” she tells him. “We wouldn’t want it getting caught up in the ropes.”
Her smile is sly and a bit cheeky, like she’s laughing at her own joke as Spider hurries to gather his locks. Now that he looks closer the majority of her kuru is slung around her shoulder like a coiled rope, while the rest has been arranged neatly on top of her head. It makes sense to keep it so tidy, but Spider finds it strange not to have his own shaggy dreads hanging around his face.
“Are you ready?” she asks when the bugles sound another sharp blast, more insistent than the last. Spider nods, stepping closer to grab onto the rope she gives him.
Then the ground disappears under his feet, and he’s yanked upwards. It’s so abrupt it steals the breath from his lungs, but his feet collide with the decking almost as soon as it starts with a jarring thump.
“Welcome,” the lady says. “This will be your home until you disembark.”
The main deck is abuzz with movement and noise. People dart to and fro, calling out lingo that Spider can’t even begin to understand as they work the ropes.
“Heave!” a group of men shout off to his left.
“--communicate that we must head westward,” a guy says as he passes by, his companion scuttling up into the rigging and disappearing from sight.
“Come,” the lady suddenly says, gently taking Spider’s hand, “we will see the anchors away, then I shall give you a tour, and explain your duties.”
Good, he was hoping he’d get something to do to distract himself from everything.
The lady gestures for him to climb onto the prow of the gondola, where another crew member stands, waving their colourful streamers to signal the other ships. Spider clambers up easily, shakes off the wave of vertigo that hits him to search the crowd gathered to wave them off.
Their travelling song is loud, so that the crewmembers can easily hear the well wishes and good winds within the lyrics. Tonowari’s again in his colourful shawl, at the head of the gathering, leading his clan with his spear thumping the rhythm against the floor.
It’s not difficult to find his friends, although it’s difficult to watch them. They stand at the back of the gathering, Jake and Neytiri keeping guard behind their kids. Spider lifts a hand in a muted goodbye, and thinks, for a moment, that he’s too small for them to see from there.
But then, Tuk sees him, pointing him out to the other two and jumping on the woven walkways so her waves can be seen over everyone else. Although he can’t hear her, Spider can imagine what she’s shouting. It helps, a little.
He worries about the other two; what will Kiri do without Spider around to protect her from the jerkwads who could bully her? Who will Lo’ak talk to when Jake acts too militaristic and orders him around? Will they be okay without him? He hopes so.
He wishes he could have one final goodbye. He wishes he could have one final full day with them.
The sudden blaring of the bugle startles him and he yelps so loud that the crewmember glances around for danger. Spider sheepishly grins, turning back just in time to see Kiri hiding a smile behind her hand, Lo’ak clutching his sides as he laughs.
It cheers Spider up, drawing out his grin from the depths as his waving gets bigger, more enthusiastic. The traveling song rises similarly as the sails on either side of the gondola extend to catch the updraft, and they cast off.
Spider keeps waving until the crowd is no longer visible. Then, he’s on his own.
<...>
Kiri has been sitting watching the horizon since the airships left, deep in her own head. Not even the smell of lunch had been enough to drag her out of it, so fixated was her gaze to the point where the sea met the sky, and the tiny pinpricks of the caravan had disappeared.
At some point, Lo’ak had joined her, dangling his toes into the water next to Kiri’s. They haven’t moved since. The glowfish crowd around Kiri’s feet.
“Something feels wrong,” she suddenly says once the noise of the village has dropped back to normal levels, the people returning to their chores.
Lo’ak chuffs a laugh. “I know. It feels so quiet without Spider here.”
“No, not that kind of wrong,” Kiri interrupts, clenching the edge of the walkway so hard it hurts. The glowfish dart away at her sharp voice.
She’s got Lo’ak’s attention, but she waits for a group of young hunters to drift past on their ilu.
“We should have gone with him,” she says once they’re gone. “Something’s telling me we were meant to go with him, I don’t know why he agreed to leave without us.”
It’s not fair, goes unsaid.
“Wait, by something you mean–”
“Eywa,” Kiri murmurs. “I feel her in my gut, in my bones. She’s…angry that we let him leave.”
“We didn’t let him do anything,” Lo’ak scoffs.
Kiri has to agree, they tried everything they could to stop what was happening but it was like a barrier made of metal had been placed between them and their father.
Twisting to check whether their parents are still distracted by making evening meal, Kiri winces at the lack of chatter happening between them. Mom is crouched over the cookfire, and Dad’s digging around for their spare bowls. Where there would be banter and teasing, there’s silence.
“No,” she says, lowering her voice further just in case, “but I don’t want to let him go. He’s our best friend, we should’ve at least dropped him off at High Camp.”
“Are you suggesting,” Lo’ak begins, a certain gleam in his eyes, “that we go after Spider?”
“I’m suggesting that we follow the will of Eywa,” Kiri replies, doing her best to emulate her grandmother. “And if that means leaving the village to go after him, then who are we to argue.”
She shrugs her shoulders nonchalantly, and Lo’ak’s expression breaks away from the dark cloud that has been hanging over them. Kiri’s about to get to her feet so that she and her brother can creep past their parents to the makeshift ikran roots in the mangrove trees, when a small, familiar body leans against her back.
“Are you going to go after Spider?” Tuk whispers with terrifying accuracy.
“Were you listening the whole time?!” Kiri hisses as Lo’ak tilts his head back to silently groan to the sky. “Tuk, come on.”
“You can’t come,” Lo’ak whispers, pointing a finger at Tuk’s nose. “We’ll be flying hard and fast and won’t be stopping for pee breaks.”
“Tuk, seriously, you need to stay here–”
“But I want to see Spider too,” Tuk says, her voice rising a bit too much.
Kiri hushes her, while Lo’ak reaches forward and covers her mouth with his hand. He snatches it back just as quickly with a disgusted face, wiping it off on the ground. Tuk rounds Kiri so that she can’t escape her glare, her little tail lashing behind her and her hands curled into fists at her sides.
“If you go without me, I’ll tell on you,” Tuk says, and Kiri frowns. “I’ll tell Dad you’ve gone after Spider.”
“Oof,” Lo’ak says behind Tuk, his grin a bit too pleased. “Seems nothing’s changed. What d’you think, shall we let her come?”
There’s a stare off between the two sisters, and Kiri refuses to back down so easily. She glares at Tuk, who glares right back, until her eyes burn and she has to break it off, throwing her hands into the air.
“Ugh, fine,” she admits, “you can come. But if there’s any whining–”
“I’m not a baby, Kiri,” Tuk retorts, swatting at her accusing finger. “I’ll go get our shawls.”
“I’m regretting this already,” Kiri says, with a joking roll of her eyes as they begin to creep past the pod to the mangrove trees.
It almost feels too easy, taking to the air without any shouts or yelling for them to ‘get back here’. As they pass over the rockpools, Kiri glances over her shoulder, blinking at the empty sky behind them. Neither Mom or Dad are following them, and for a second she worries.
They weren’t that subtle, were they? Or is their grief so consuming they just haven’t noticed that their kids are missing? Kiri can say with some certainty that Mom was very distracted, and she hasn’t let go of Neteyam’s songcord since they laid him to rest. But, Dad’s been on high alert since the battle ended, and they were sitting right outside.
“Hey,” Lo’ak calls, coming level with Kiri’s ikran and knocking her out of her head again. “They’ll realise we’re gone sooner than later. Best to put as much distance between us and the village as we can so we can catch up with Spider.”
“Right,” Tuk cheers from where she’s sitting in front of Kiri, her little fist nearly punching Kiri in the chin when she pumps the air. “Let’s find the caravan!”
Lo’ak holds Kiri’s gaze until she nods.
“Let’s find our Monkey-boy,” she adds, goosebumps rising on her skin when the wind pushes against her back.
Kiri keeps her gaze on the horizon, where the sea meets the sky, and urges on her ikran. “Faster, girl,” she murmurs to her companion.
Go, go, go, she thinks.