she's my collar

excerpt from she's my collar, chapter 2

Afrra let out a short huff as she lowered herself onto the rocky ground, shifting at the discomfort of stone against her bare skin. “A clan?” she scoffed. “I barely know you.” Shaking her head, she folded her arms across her chest. “You don’t even know my name.” It was meant to sound teasing, but the words sounded more sad than anything. Turning her head from the lake, she hid the look of disappointment that crept across her face. “Alma isn’t Sarentu,” she continued, “but I don’t feel like I am either.”

Rey’nurr’s cheeks colored. “Listen. You are one of us, don’t you feel that mark under your eye? Touch it, and really feel it. That’s all the reminder you need, so don’t start saying nonsense like that.” It was a poor attempt to mask his embarrassment, Afrra realized, but at least he was trying to make her feel that she belonged. 

“And I know your name starts with an A," he added quickly, “You could just tell me your name as I asked you to do earlier.”

Turning her head, Afrra glanced up at him, watching as his cheeks darkened, visible even at night. Her fingers tentatively touched the mark, the raised skin feeling foreign to her.

Sighing, she finally relented. "Afr-" Her tongue failed on the roll, and she cleared her throat, heat rising throughout her face. "Afra." No, that wasn’t it.

Rey’nurr’s ears twitched. Glancing down at her, his forehead creased in confusion. “Afra?” He repeated slowly, then dropped to a crouch, facing her within a safe distance. “Hm, sounds weird. That doesn’t sound very Na’vi to me…” he repeated the name Afra again and again before focusing on the r in her name, “Afrra?” He rolled his r’s this time. His embarrassed composure minutes ago eased into attentiveness as he adjusted himself to face her more directly. “Afrra… Focus on the r, like this… Afrra.” His tone wasn’t patronizing; his eyes were focused on her with an eagerness to help as he continuously rolled his tongue and waited for her to do the same.

Afrra bit down on her bottom lip, worrying the skin until it throbbed. The embarrassment made her heart race, realizing that years of silence had stolen something as simple and essential as the sound of her own name. She listened to him carefully as he enunciated it for her, breaking the sounds apart patiently. When she tried again, her voice was barely louder than a whisper. "Af-ra...no. Af-da?" The sound slipped again, and she let out a frustrated breath. Then, she felt a finger beneath her chin. Her head lifted, eyes rising to meet his. For a moment, the world narrowed, and all Afrra could do was lose herself in his eyes.

Blue eyes shone even in the depth of night, piercing—but not cold like Sky People glass. No. They were like the bioluminescent leaves she brushed in the forest, light bending and shifting beneath her touch, alive and impossible to ignore. When his eyes rested on her, something shifted inside her, something she couldn’t name.

“You almost had it, a little louder this time, I can barely hear you. Like this…” He repeated her name, “Afrra. Focus on that r like you did before. Don’t focus too much on the a.” He was patient with her as they continuously said her name. He kept enunciating and using his hands to mimic a roll as he emphasized the letter.

Afrra continued to make small mistakes in her name, but the sound steadily formed as they practiced. Then, Rey’nurr let out a soft chuckle. The sound made Afrra recoil, offended at the thought that he was laughing at her pronunciation. "I give up," she exhaled. "It’s hopeless. Why do I have such a hard name?" She got up fast, rubbing the back of her legs.

He glanced up in confusion as she stood. His small smile and relaxed face now twisted up in bewilderment. “Huh?” He followed suit and stood as well, raising his arms in a shrug. 

“You nearly had it! Come on, one last time. I heard you. I swear I heard you say it.” She didn’t look happy. Had he offended her in some way? When she wouldn’t look him in the eye again, he grabbed a gentle and steady hold of her shoulder. “Afrra, come on.” 

She glanced up at Rey’nurr when he said her name, his hand warm on her shoulder. She didn’t linger on the feeling of his touch. Instead, she focused on his sad, apologetic expression, and she wondered if she had been too quick to judge the intent behind his chuckle earlier. “Afrra,” she repeated. It finally sounded correct to her, and she cracked a smile after saying it. “Afrra,” she said louder now, more confident. Even Rey’nurr’s face lit up. Feeling a gentle squeeze on her shoulder, she realized that both of their spirits felt lighter than before.

“See, what did I tell you! You just needed a little push. Lucky I was here to help.” Rey’nurr grinned—but he was quick to redraw his hand back to his side. “It wasn’t on purpose, by the way. Me forgetting your name earlier. We’ve just been through so much and...” He sighed. “At least I was right, though. It did start with an A. So, I guess I didn’t completely forget,” he teased.