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Ashes in her Wake | C37

The worst of Rasi’s fever broke during the night.

Tamtey had switched out care with Ri’nela and had been there when Anufi called it, and she helped move the elder out of her bath and onto the mat and pat her dry and change over the bandages. Yet the woman did not wake. Even when morning came, and Ri’nela appeared, refreshed, to take over though Tamtey sat off more to the side than leave.

While Rasi wasn’t entirely with them, and not fully conscious, she had noticed that… when she had moved, she favoured towards the warmth of skin. Her head leaned towards a hand a fraction, a hand tightening around something placed or close to her grip. Tamtey was tempted to sit close by and let her lean against her but though better of it; when she comes to fully, there was a high chance she’ll freak out.

Still, Tamtey was pushed out a few hours before noon to rest and begrudgingly left, yawning as she made her way back to their designated room.

So’lek was in there and looking at a collection of wax tablets and pieces of RDA tech with a passive frown. His eyes flickered up to her in her arrival, then back down. “<How is Rasi?>”

“<Not awake, but better>” Tamtey said, sitting down. “<Very touch-starved… which isn’t a surprise.>”

“<Once she is aware, she’ll reject touch.>”

“<I know.>” She suspected as much. As much as Rasi herself wanted to push people away, she was still desperate for connection. For touch and people. Na’vi were social people by nature. They craved connection. If not to people, then Eywa. Which probably explained why she was still alive after so long of self-imposed isolation. She had a Tarsyu.

So’lek nodded once, “<Tsu’lo is planning to bring Rasi’s Ikran here. He believes she’ll be more relaxed to know her bonded is close by.>”

“<Something she can still escape on.>”

“<She will need that comfort to know.>” So’lek pressed. “<Knowing that there is an escape is important. The idea of being trapped… is not one she should experience again. We may be trying to help her, but the Ikran is a long-term companion and comfort to her. It may cause her more distress to let her think she’s backed into a corner.>”

Tamtey nodded, reluctantly. Yeah, that made sense. It would… be safer too. If Rasi did escape, was it better for her to escape on her Ikran or to risk death by trying to climb down in her current state? Of course, she still had to get past the guards at her medical room door, the clan inside Sheltering Falls and the people before the Ikran. Escape was unlikely, just not impossible.

“<What if she does escape?>”

“<Then I will find her.>”

Tamtey’s head tilted towards So’lek at his statement. It was not ‘we will find her’ it was ‘I will find her.’ Him. Just him. Like they weren’t included in that. Rasi was a Sarentu, it should be a Sarentu to bring her home.

But, then she felt the welt of guilt in her stomach at that, because…. So’lek had been through much like Rasi. She was a reflection of loss that he shared. Both of them old enough to remember life before the RDA, before their clans were gone. They Sarentu kids had been too young to truly know the losses. He knew her, in a way that surpassed them, to know where she could go and how she would behave. He had walked her dark path and found connection where she was still in the shadows, wanting but now allowing it for herself.

“<It is also a sign of trust for Rasi. To know that she can be free. That they are not withholding her Ikran from her. Zat has only wrapped the ends of Tanhì’s kuru but that stops a sudden and quick bond and bolt.>”

Tamtey nodded slowly but her head turned as she saw Teylan hurry in, looking very chipper and happy with himself as he held out… a hand carved item. It was clearly of his creation. Shaped that… could possibly be an Ikran or could be a sting bat. It was hard to tell. Hand crafting was not his forte, but she wasn’t gonna say it.

“Look what I have made!” Teylan declared. “I made it for Rasi. As a gift.”

“<That’s nice, Teylan.>” Tamtey smiled.

“<I’m gonna leave it next to her for when she wakes up.>”

Tamtey nodded, watching him leave with a hop in his step, clearly excited to gift it. So’lek did not say anything before he picked up the tablets around and set them into a stack.

“Come, I want to show you something.”

Tamtey followed So’lek as he led her from the room but he took her outside and their Ikrans were waiting, so she took to the skies with him, letting him lead the way before he went North West… to a floating mountain. Yet, she could see signs of the Ke’awa as they landed outside of a cave.

“<This mountain is often used for memory paintings. That is above us. Rasi has been living primarily in here.>” So’lek said. “<Imon showed me this place.>”

Inside, it was quiet but aside from displeased sounds and Zot talking calmly. Tanhì, Rasi’s Ikran was curled up close to a pool of water being cared for. Treated wounds along it side. Zot putting together food and offering it out, which was accepted with some Ikran grumpiness.

This cave lived-in and made to be a home. A giant Tarsyu sat here, pulsing and its roots glowing with life despite being so far from the ground. Still connected with Eywa. Oddly enough, it gave her hope. Even those so far from the roots could still be part of the whole.

She could feel Eywa’s comforting warmth. It must have been a beacon of fire for Rasi to stay warm in.

Rasi’s personal belongings were few and far between. Her bow was up on the side, with arrows. A drying rack of meat and other food goods were set aside. Tended to now, so they didn’t spoil but otherwise untouched. Most likely they’d be taken to Sheltering Falls for use. Bones and hide. Yet, there were masses of dry wood and… strings, braids. A dull, stone, hand ball of blue crystal resin that had been painstakingly moulded, cut and smoothened, but unpolished. Tools and fabric that… showed that this was a piece of something. Something she felt in her heart.

Sarentu Totems, she had kept that tradition alive. This was the latest in production, so no doubt there were more out. Something she should look for. Maybe that would give her an idea of her line of thinking, to better understand her.

Tamtey moved, stepping close to the Tarsyu and watched as it opened up, unable to help herself but to take this opportunity to connect with Eywa. Maybe she had more guidance on the matter?

-

So for five days, things had been quiet. So’lek had kept his distance with the Sarentu woman and the kids whilst they adapted, learning how the clan functioned in that time and watched how they targeted RDA in their territory and… he respected how skilled they had become.

He did not doubt their skill as warriors and they were doing it almost the Na’vi way. Their bows, arrows and strategy, but it was clear that their education Alma had given them had taught them on what to hone onto, to understand what was efficient to target and how to undermine the new upgrades the RDA were trying to accomplish. The radio hub, the breakdown of Intel was fascinating and Imon helped decide on what was actionable and what was considered false chatter based on clan scouting. They had been using the wax tablets to take notes on observation which helped increase what they could remember.

The RDA knew there was a leak by now but could not understand where or how.

They had targeted a massive structure with a small unit. Using the SID, they had disabled the RDA’s capacities to call aid to the base and killed off the external soldiers before they shut down and malfunctioned the technology, causing a series of explosions. The land around them that had dulled or were filled with pollution soon came back to life.

The RDA servers were searched by SID and intel downloaded for updates of upgrades. Anything redundant or known was deleted. Anything of interest was saved and put into their cave’s data centre for later if they could afford to wait on it.

The Ke’awa were starting to look at the biggest of the bases, the heart of the operation that was growing into the mountain side. Teylan had worked out with some of the clan that it was a base deigned for creation; the sky ships, metal walkers and weapons could be crafted from that base using a metal machine. A Grinder, he called it. Ugly name. So’lek didn’t know nor care for the details but he knew it was bad enough that the base had to be destroyed.

That was the lynch-pin holding the RDA to this territory. The Ke’awa knew it too. Once that base went, the RDA would have little choice but to abandon the sites without a stronghold. The kids and He were here for Rasi, of course, but he could afford to see the RDA free from the mountains. If Rasi was being extraordinarily difficult, then the RDA was a good stop-gap to focus on for the kids and a breather for Rasi.

Rasi’s recovery was slow, the infection was still being treated despite the break in fever last week, but it meant the course of antibiotic treatments were working well, though they let it process through before her body had completely vanished the infection. But she was becoming more lucid and mumbling more, though did not behave well when they tending to her other needs. She did eat well, which was something. Tamtey and Ri’nela primarily helped by giving her medicinal broth and soups.

But it was no surprise that Rasi shut down when she recognised the mark on Ri’nela’s cheek that morning and began to refuse to talk to the tsakarem or engage with her or Tamtey. So’lek did not think Rasi was going to scream or shout in high emotion to push everyone away, and he was right. She was not violent, even under mild sedation. But Rasi still refused Ri’nela’s soups and offer to change her bandages. When Ri’nela pushed, a little too hard, Rasi hissed. The Ke’awa were barely tolerated but the woman did not hiss at them doing do. It was the Sarentu that sat the woman on edge.

So’lek watched now as Rasi was laid on her side, the uninjured side, facing towards the wall, balled up, her tail flickering and exposed the fact she was awake. She was sedative enough to not consider getting up, but she was healing well enough to not need stronger sedatives.

So’lek said nothing as he stepped into her space, her ears flickering to the sounds of the steps, made purposely loud for her ears and he set down the tray close by. On the tray, there were two bowls of soup. A gourd of juice, a cool cup of tea and small cups of medicine and some berries.

“<It is lunch time. You should eat to heal faster.>” he stated, though he took his own bowl and turned away to eat. “<The medicine and berries, you should eat first; the taste is not pleasant but the soup will wash that away. It will absorb into your gut better.>”

Her breath held for a second, moving slowly and he felt her eyes on him as he sipped from the bowl. He said nothing, not even as she sat up, struggling with her arm that was otherwise strapped to her middle to keep her shoulder straight but heard when she took one of the bowls and sat back around, no doubt with her back to him.

He was not here to open up a discussion. Or to get her to open up but he had to lay foundations with her. He was not any of the clans here, but he cared for her wellbeing. No expectation. Any attempts to engage would result in her shutting him down entirely from any attempts. He did not want that. Trust was delicate. She did not yet know who he was. This would take time.

He finished his soup quietly, though shook his head as Teylan appeared in the doorway with some new doodad in his hands, disheartening the kid’s attempts but at least Teylan took the hint quickly to walk away, even with a pout.

There was silence, but he felt her eyes on him again.

“<Thank you.>” her voice quiet, barely above a whisper. Exhausted.

So’lek said nothing.

-

Every day past, they got closer and closer to the swamp islands. Their island stops got further and far between. Pizza was a little weary of the trip too but she seemed to enjoy it more with her. Seeing the vast different world than the spires.

The morning of the last stretch that they could reach the waters of the northern Swamps, Alma found herself staring up at her tent ceiling quietly of the early morning, woken up early a particular loud crash of water. This was a small island but it was known and used for a Meitayo camp spots, there had been a totem set to display it’s safe location from predators and high tide. Also, as Mäzan said, a signal for the Windtraders how close they were to the clan. On the island, there was a single mauri set ready so they had already crammed in that for the night than open up a tent, even Tabitha choose to sleep in her mask for the night just for the convenience of upping and going as soon as possible.

Each breath of Tab echoed in complementary to the waves. Mäzan was tucked into her side, his breath tickling her shoulder. Her mind churned with anxiety and what would happen later today once they arrived. She couldn’t get back off to sleep, to steal more hours of sleep, it was kinda dark out still.

Later she would meet the Meitayo clan… and she would hand over the evidence of the old war and shift the weight of burden to their leaders, and she would see Mäzan’s home. His friends, his people. His way of life that… she felt suddenly so under prepared for.

It felt like every lesson Mäzan had taught was out the window all of a sudden, like she had learned nothing. A part of her felt like they’d be less forgiving of her past and toss her out without a second thought… that could happen? Right?

“<My love.>” Mäzan’s voice broke the quiet, loud whisper in her ear. “<You are worrying.>”

“How can you tell?>” His hand, she remembered, was around her as he patted her belly… so he could feel her uneasy breathing and… heart rate. Too fast for sleep or rest. Didn’t surprise her to know he was keeping track. He could have woke due to her tail, that was active and between them.

Mäzan shifted, allowing her to roll more to face him. His eyes opening and his expression relaxed. “<You will be accepted, my love.>”

Alma didn’t feel too convinced, even now. “<I’m that obvious?>”

Mäzan smiled weakly. “<Have faith in me to know.>”

Alma sighed deeply, resting her head more against him. “<Any last second warnings I should know about? Culture-wise? In many human cultures, for example a hand-shake is expected as means of greetings but in another culture, a handshake is rude. Is there anything similar that I know in one Na’vi culture that is frowned upon in yours? My anxiety brain is not reminding me of anything important. I don’t want to embarrass myself or you out of ignorance.>”

“<The… significant thing I can think of is touching the beads in another person’s hair without asking, and touching or grabbing of the kuru without permission. Many people that are recovering from amputation are often scared of people touching their growing kuru.>” Mäzan said, wiping his tired eyes though careful of his bruised nose, a week and a half away from being fully healed now. “<Anyone who grabs another kuru without accord, especially in rage, are reported to the Tsahìk and are punished accordingly.>”

Alma nodded slowly. That made a lot of sense. The Kurus even with the other clans weren’t something you just touched freely. It was a part of someone’s body, but here it was stricter. She’d not fault that. She had to imagine though… a regrown one had to be delicate and treasured.

“<Why… why does your clan know how to heal kurus after the war? Why was it needed?>” She asked, because that had been a wonder since they were told about the Meitayo’s gifts. It was a specific healing technique and not something that comes about randomly.

Mäzan’s eyes opened more, sleep vanishing from his face to a weighted frown. “<During the war, a handful of the Zeswa who lost family in a retaliation strike targeted harm specifically on the kuru. They didn’t cut high enough to kill someone, but still severed some kurus or cut into the kuru enough with intent to cause life-long pain. There were a sizeable amount of young warriors that survived after the war and had to be treated for those wounds. Eywa showed the Tsahìk the way. The Zeswa that took part in the mutilations that did survive the war were…. exiled for extreme actions and the story goes that they went to the Mangkwan.>”

Alma swallowed uneasily. She was… glad to know even the Zeswa as a whole saw that as unacceptable, even in a time of war. That even Eywa disapproved and had to show them how to repair it.

“<I’m sorry.>”

Mäzan sighed deeply. “<Actually, the touching and rebraiding of kuru that happens between people is more… private. No one is to do it around many people outside of family>. In comparison, Sex is considered less Prudent than the act of handling a kuru, especially an exposed one.” He finished off in English, mostly due to the word ‘prudent’, there wasn’t an exact translation that shared the weight and meaning.

“<Wait, sex is an open topic but not the kuru?>”

Mäzan snorted a little. “<Yes.>”

“<Does that mean people openly talk about their sex lives?>” Alma pressed because… she was really not used to that. Seemed very important to know. Comparatively, it did sound odd, a body part vs procreation.

Mäzan gave pause. “<Yes, somewhat. Most commonly spoken between the young and mid-age adults. Sex means more opportunities for babies, our clan’s need for more children the early days brought down the awkwardness between the topics to the point its casual talk in current days. Children can occur out of mated couples for wanting surrogate parents as long as the lineage is tracked to prevent family blood mixing.>” Mäzan said, “<Sex as acts between partners are more encouraged, as it shows a tight bond between two people and shows a strong foundation for a family to grow from.>”

Alma sucked on her teeth. “<So… if you and I go ahead, everyone else is gonna hear about it?>”

“<Some families can choose to be more private.>”

“<Is this a topic we should be talking about this early?>” Nasyì’s voice echoed after a heavy sigh.

Alma froze, feeling a heat wash through her cheeks. She completely forgot about other company.

“<Actually I was kinda getting into that.>” Tabitha said, sitting up with a yawn. “<I mean, I would have gone there shocked and blushing with what I consider vulgar topics. It’s nice to get a heads up about their normal. Now, my question, how open is the discussion? Kinks spoken about across the fire? Like there’s a lot of personal details that can get spread around here. How much of our sex lives are about to become other people’s gossip?>”

Even Tseke had woken up, though they didn’t look too invested, they seemed somewhat amused, though the question did make them look to Mäzan to answer because… they might stay and be part of that.

“<Personal kinks and preferences are private. The act itself is private.>” Mäzan clarified. “<the fact that you’ve had done the act is not, as often it is visible in the hickeys are not masked or concealed. Nail markings aren’t covered up. Good sexual markings are remarked in a positive light. To get marked by making your partner ‘happy’ is a good sign.>”

Tabitha hummed. “<And… modesty?>”

“<There is modesty and an expectation of clothing. Nudity and bodies are not sexualised as they are in human culture.>” Mäzan finished.

“Okay, that’s all I need to know. Thanks.” Tabitha put up a thumb and lay back down with a heavy sigh that resonated through the mask filter. This seemed to be the sign for everyone who was awake, to get back to resting for the next few hours before the light forced them out and moving. Alma closed her eyes to settle back to sleep at the very least now the conversation had honestly derailed her anxiety. While she wasn’t… fond of the concept of people knowing, she suppose it didn’t matter if everyone was in the same boat. She’d see how it all was when they got there.

-

Mäzan lead the way.

Afternoon had the sun lower in the sky but they had pushed past the last break to reach the islands and everyone was eager to get home. Tseke and Alma, they rode at the back. Fayfa and Nasyì took the lead behind Mäzan and for now, it allowed the clan to focus first on Mäzan’s return.

Soon, the islands came into view.

Three massive islands, actually that were only connected by the mass of swamp trees and flora. Each island had a prominent hill, and a wide veritably of tree heights. A Hometree sat comfortably on each one with still plenty of room for more, although one Hometree was visibly burned but not entirely charred. The largest island was furthest back, and had a series of floating rocks that spiral upwards and outwards over the other islands. Ikran rookery, came to mind.

The second and smallest island they passed over, was flatter and the central island hill dipped down towards a bog in it’s centre that was contained between the forest and rocks before the jungle and swamp appeared around it.

The closer they got, Alma realised quickly how big the trees really were. The swamp jungle was dense but there were taller trees that stood out and yet vast open spaces of brackish water. Between the three islands was an open space of water in a basin like- rock formation, with a single white, willow tree. Spirit tree. Supported by the stone formation and arches, its roots deep into the water, lighting up a mossy-grass shallow basin that connected outwards to the rivers and water between.

Then, they decided down where she could see more fine-details of their home. The Lived-in area becoming more seen.

It was clear the clan did not live in any of the Hometrees anymore.

Between the first two islands were a mixture of boats and Na’vi-made islands, large oval, areas around trees, for structure but each had a reed-exterior holding it together and filled and soil. Some had no trees and standing wooden poles holding the false island in place. Each ‘island’ had crops on, but others hand huts on with boats between them.

The Heart of the clan was on the bigger of the two smaller islands.

The clan’s homes were wooden huts above the wetland water, clinging around tall trees with beautiful preserved bog-wooden platforms and great-vines, massive supports of Na’vi-made living bridges made of woven branches and vines that connected between each tree, vines hung down and were woven into the support. Allowing each tree to connect allow people to cross without needing to get wet. Of course, plenty of boats and canoes, transporting goods between areas too vast or to the false islands.

There were animals too, Alma realised.

Viperwolves, but unlike the ones she was used to seeing, these ones were smaller, stouter in build, longer legs, but the tail was long and flat-paddled liked the entire way down from its back to its tail tip, even a stretch of membrane between its last set of arms carried down smoothly, enabling it to cut easily through the water. Its hide a mixture of green, black and purples. A swimming-able Viperwolf. She couldn’t see finer details before they were past that hunting group, being pursued away from the village by a few Na’vi.

There were… creatures that she could associate with Hogs, or shelled pigs with two large tusks that wandered about, some hunting through waters some treading into dryer lands. There other creatures, but they were gone before she could truly see them.

Mäzan led them downwards to a vast of open platform built above the swamp waters to what looked like the largest communal hut.

The huts were a mixture of smoothed shaped wooden frames and woven mauri fabric. But Alma would consider it more of a massive hut than a mauri. Open to the world and allowing air to flow through. There was a fire going inside, but their arrival had been long notices with a booming echo of a horn.

People seemed to turn their attention their way and stop what they were doing.

There was a mixture of different bodies. Forest forms, Reef people and the Swamp people, all in one, the same attire, the same tattoos. Revealing how diverse the clan had become in the name of survival, literally and culturally. One half of the faces she could see were of the forest, one fourth was reef and the last fourth was Swamp. There were of course mixed Na’vi, forest colouring but swamp or reef build, vice versa. All part of the same clan.

Their eyes watched curiously, but Alma focused her attention to Mäzan, jumping off Pizza’s back when Mäzan got off his Ikran. The others mirrored him too. A few warriors approached though they greeted Mäzan and the others but it was clear they were waiting for their leader.

Mäzan turned back to them, moving to Fayfa who helped unsecure the ice box from his waist and held it for him as Mäzan also removed a few more items from his tack before he took it back.

In good time too as the clan’s Olo’eyktan and Tsahìk to appear.

The Olo’eyktan was of the swamp, a tall and imposing man with a lot of tattoos that adorned his skin, unlike the people here, his upper lip had also been tattooed, not just how lower lip. His dark hair was cornrowed back but became loose curls, or decorated with beads. His attire was reed and beaded open shawl of blues and greens. His songcord was actually woven into his kuru, showing how long it had become. He was only an inch shorter than Mäzan but shared a lot of physical features.

The Tsahìk was a mixed race woman, Forest colourings of blue but her form was of the reef, so longer paddled tail, tighter-water stripes patterns and bigger strakes down her arms. Her hair was almost entirely up in an intricate bun atop of her head but a few braids hung down either side of her face with an assortment of beads woven along them. She too had tattoos and like her mate, had the upper lips also tattooed a darker blue. She had deep blue eyes and high cheebones.

“<Brother.>” Mäzan greeted, “<I see you.>” he gestured politely before the Olo’eyktan smiled and pulled Mäzan to his chest to a brief… hug of sorts and parted, mindful of Mäzan’s items in his hands.

“<I see you, older brother. Sooner than expected.>” He noted, a note of inquiry. “<You were supposed to see to everyone’s return first before your own.>”

“<I have faith the will make their choices and come back to us but… there was a matter that is more important, but more private for our discussion, Teyfa.>” Mäzan said, sparing a glance to the obvious alien-crafted item in his hands.

Teyfa’s eyes washed about him, them to the rest of them. Alma watched as the Tsahìk moved ahead, examining both her and Tseke for the longest of moments before the woman turned her focus primarily onto Alma…. then Tabitha who up until now had stayed on Pizza’s back to be less in the people’s eyes. Most hadn’t spotted her until now.

“<You are of the skies.>” The Tsahìk noted, her tone light and more curious. Though the woman’s eyes flickered to her hand, noting the extra finger. “<You too, but with a Dreamwalkers form. Interesting… I have not seen a Dreamwalker before.>”

“<There is much to discuss, Tsahìk Nìlayk.>” Mäzan said, “<But first, could you allow us a time to settle in our homes. It had been a long journey. We can talk more once we’ve refreshed.>”

“<Very well.>” Teyfa noted, “<But in taking the Dreamwalker and the sky woman to us, will that lead to future harm to our clan?>”

“<No, brother. The Dreamwalker left the sky people decades ago and her people months ago. We recovered the sky woman from the sky people committing great harm against her. No one but the Ke’awa Kame’tire know this woman is with us.>” Mäzan assured. “<They were not cohered or taken by force.>”

Teyfa nodded, looking more relaxed. “<Your home is how you left it, Brother. Although my children have often snuck to it to hide things or play in>”

Mäzan chuckled softly, unsurprised.

Alma unloaded the Ikrans, with the others. Tseke opted to move to currently with Nasyì rather than Fayfa to avoid the emotional stress of moving in with the guy they were they starting to court properly prematurely. Alma would be living with Mäzan, as would be Tabitha, who would have her tent set up beside Mäzan’s hut.

A few people helped with the other goods, though otherwise dispersed back to their jobs.

“Is this bog-wood?” Tabitha asked, looking at the smoothen, shaped planks under them as they walked a living bridge from the heart of the clan to the a cluster of trees, connected together by a picture of woven walk-ways or wooden.

“<Yes, there is a peat bog that we harvested many wood from our other island. We believe a growing Hometree used to be there before it died, fell, sank down thousands of years ago and is giving much to the clan since it’s discovery.>” Mäzan said, “<Most of our huts and support beams are made of such woods. Hardy in our swamp waters.>”

“I thought bogs and swamps don’t mix.” Tabitha remarked, “I know there’s a difference, but surely they can’t work together.”

“Not impossible.” Alma replied, “A bog can exist next to a swamp. A swamp is fed by rivers or the sea that keeps it nutrient rich. A bog is cut off from that and is stagnated and becomes acidic. It’s only fed by water by precipitation. Different biome demands, but they can exist together, typically side by side.”

“<We believe the bog was once part of a swamp, but the land rose and cut it off from the flow of the swamp.>” Mäzan added, “<Either way, it is a treasured sight for the gifts we continue to find.>”

There was a long pause.

“Find any bog bodies?”

“Tabitha!” Alma gave her middle-aged cousin a sharp look. That was hardly an appropriate question to ask minutes into arriving.

Mäzan just laughed.

-

Mäzan’s hut was larger than expected, though somewhat plain out the outside with a totem resting against the roof, a beaded curtain across the ways and windows. The doorway’s support had beautiful hand carvings.

Above the Mäzan’s Hut, there were two other smaller huts, structures that had woven walkways, enabling them to access the other spaces.

Interior walls was a light in colour, the woven fabrics were clean with blue patterns. It made it feel more open and airy. The ceiling was high, allowing there to be beams across, and allowing items to be hung and decorated from it. Ornamental items, Beaded strings and a section of it was mostly woven across, with a set steps up wards

There was the central heart of the hut, that house the living space; the fire, work tools and easy access to the waterside. A surprising amount of crop sacks inside, which apparently was normal, unused huts were often used for storage spots. Mäzan said others would remove the food items later once they had found a place to relocate them.

The place to sleep was above, opposite the bare beams to the woven area, which Alma saw had a support pole and hammock set up, showing where she’d be sleeping with him.

Then there was the ‘private’ area of the hut which was down only a 2 meter tunnel from the central heart, which she realised when into the tree they were attached to which opened to a small, Six meter diameter space, walls of woven texture of the living wood, moss and lit by only a bladder lantern with other light from the moss. A natural opening rather than a forceful damage to the tree. This space was used for either extra storage, or for sex, depending how far a couple wanted to go for some pleasure. ‘Home’ was easier, but there were apparently areas of beauty most people preferred. Much more open too. But at the very least the tree would contain sound, and easy to clean.

Alma did not linger there long, though Mäzan simply fixed the beaded curtain across it though she could feel his eyes on her as she examined his home. Large, for just a single man. His tools were neat and organised, decoration was beautiful. He clearly loved this place. It smelt nice too. Incense puts were hung about. Fire bowls, though empty, were about, though they sat on what looked like ceramic plates.

“<So… what do you think?>” there was a genuine waver of uncertainly in his voice as he asked. “<This… is my home.>”

Alma’s smiled softly, letting out an assured sigh as she drifted to him. “<It’s beautiful.>” her arms settled around him, hugging him.

Mäzan’s shoulder relaxed, hands on her sides. “<It… will take time for you to settle down… and have your own things here. To make it your home too. There’s enough space for Tabitha’s tent on the platform outside but… I have two storage huts above us. It is where we keep our wood or bones to dry once harvested. One should be large enough to house her once she is breathing our air.>”

“Sweet!” Tabitha was looking about, amazed. “I get to be your attic squatter.”

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