Z

Oneshots

Goodness Late-night Outings Part 2 Mine Will Come Part 2 Part 3 Shy Near

Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan

Miniseries

From The Sky - Lo'ak Sully x fem Omatikaya reader (TBA)

Summary: Lo'ak quite literally falls into her life. Landing into her gather basket of a weaver. To him, it's their first meeting. To her, it isn't. The more he returns to her silence, the deeper he begins to fall.

Oneshots

I Always Hear You Sit Still Scent for now cheer me on

Aonung te Tsika'u Tonowari'itan

He was a blur, whipping the beaded curtain out of his way, he left the healing circle. Sprinting down the root that led to the gathering place, he turned sharply running past the cooking station feeling the warmth of the fire briefly before it shifted to humid air of the forest. Standing there, the two cooks only saw a blur, and heard his quick steps. Though their gaze didn’t follow him out, but they knew where he was going.  

Neteyam knew the path, because he had seen you walk it for years. Seen Ro’kani run down it with Lo’ak while he didn’t follow.

Though one night, he did.

Years ago.

While the clan gathered in the communal area for dinner, soft chatter and children quick steps filled air. Neteyam sat with Kiri and Tuk, his parents off speaking with the cooks and he and Kiri were trying to a bribe Tuk to get to her eat her roasted roots.

Then, two hands slapped against his shoulders, the sting lingered and the hands remained there, Neteyam didn’t jump, nor scold the one responsible because he knew who it was. Glancing over his shoulder he saw Ro’kani behind him and crouched beside him was Lo’ak.

“Bro, Y/n isn’t here.” Lo’ak said.

Neteyam remembered frowning first; looking to Ro’kani who had straightened, arms crossed over his chest. His ears twitched uncertain, keep his face neutral to hide the subtle raise of panic.

“She didn’t answer the call for dinner.” Ro’kani co-signed.

“Watch Tuk.” Neteyam instructed Kiri, giving Tuk an assuring head pat before leaving his spot to find you. The more they walked the more the panic Ro’kani felt settled in Neteyam. It was late, the sun had long set, and no clan members were out meaning you were completely alone. Those facts alone didn’t settle none of the worry in the boys hearts. Instinctively Neteyam hand went to his obsidian knife at his waist, fingers flexing around the grip.

Walking into the quite clearing Neteyam didn’t give himself the luxury of taking in the place you called your second home. Instead, his eyes locked on your slumped figure against a thick tree. You laid there, holding your bow close to your chest. Your breathing slow and steady, exhausted. Shoulders dropping his worry quickly disappeared, moving slowly beside Ro’kani he knelt in front of you while Lo’ak stood behind. Ro’kani shook your twice, wakening you from your sleep. You blinked slowly, eyes coming into focus with each one. Sleepily, you glance at all three of them, brain registering the time and probably the reason behind Ro’kani scolding stare. Though, there was no confusion nor gratefulness, just your familiar scowl.

“What did I tell you about coming here?”

Instantly Ro’kani and Lo’ak argued with you while Neteyam stood off silent but admiring the scene. It was one of Neteyam fondest memories of you. Seeing you relaxed even than was a feat, and now it was even rarer. 

It only took one time walking the path, one time, to commit it to memory. And now as he ran down the path under the bioluminescent canopy of pandora. Branches nipping at his skin, and his chest raising and falling rapidly. Worry had an unforgiving grip on his heart again, heavier than the one felt years ago. Though another weight overshadowed it.

Pain.

It was an empathetic ache. He felt the agony you carried for something completely out of your control. He remembered the crack in your voice as you addressed Ro’kani wound, the full force of blame when his grandmother worked to save Ro’kani. He felt your guilt, unwarranted, but deep rooted.

He had seen it in that single step you took away from your mother comforting hand. Had felt it watching you walk away despite Ro’kani wishes, your eyes watery and ready to break. Neteyam heart hammered against his chest, and his hands trembled even though they were in tight fist. He pushed his legs to go faster despite the burn, because he had to get to you.

Finally, the familiar clearing came into view. Neteyam reached out, gripping a nearby tree, using it to slow his momentum. Gasping for air he saw you in the center of the clearing. Slumped over in the dirt hands cradle over your arms. Your braids flowing over your shoulders shielding yourself from the world.

Neteyam heard your sobs, quite but there. He saw how you tried to make yourself smaller, how your body trembled holding back yours sobs because even here you feared being heard. Neteyam clenched his fist tighter, nails wounding his palms, jaw tightening at the sight. He blinked rapidly to rid his eyes of the tears that formed, he couldn’t cry, not now. He took one step, quiet enough that it shouldn’t have been heard.

But you heard it and then, you spoke. Quiet, so quiet but Neteyam caught it in the silent of the forest.

Fragile and meek.

“Don’t.”

Neteyam froze, his ears pinning back against his messy braids, tousled by his run. He had never heard you like that. So broken and defeated. His frown deepened, but determined he still approached, careful and slow. Telling you he was coming, telling you he wasn’t walking away. Slowly, Neteyam knelt in the dirt in front of you. Hands practically aching to reach out and comfort for you, but he forced to remain beside him.

“Y/n.”

Just your name, his voice trembling slightly, almost a plea. To let him be there. To let him share your burden, and pain. But again, you refused, shaking your head. Pulling yourself inward, away from him and away from the world.

“Go away,” you choked out your voice stripped of the authoritative tone you always used. Eyes closed tight, you shook your head softly. “Leave me alone.”

Neteyam didn’t move, not an inch.

“No.” He whispered softly in one breathe. “I will not leave you alone. How can—,” He swallowed, a lump forming in his throat.

“How can I? When I know you are in pain?” He said brokenly and you remained slumped over hugging yourself.

Not speaking another word, Neteyam shifted closer, not crowding you but close enough you felt his familiar presence. Lowering his arms, he rested his wrist against his knees, extending his large hands to you. Palms up and open.

Surrendering himself to you. He was offering himself to you, his heart, his strength and his shoulders. He didn’t rush you, nor did he force it. He simply kept his hands open for you to take if you wished. And he silently hoped you would.

For a long quiet moment, the only sound was the distant natural hum of the forest and the shallow hitching of your breath. Slowly, you opened your eyes and stared at his hands. His large, callused hands, evidence of his years of training. Faint scars decorated his skin showing his devotion and labors. Showing his heart—his kind, gentle and reverent heart.

And he was offering it to you.

A small voice whispered that you didn’t deserve it. That his hands were clean, yet yours was stained with the crimson color of your failure and the soil of pandora. As much as that small voice gnawed at you, telling you cruelties you agreed with. Neteyam hands remained there, open and unmoving.

The absolute warmth and understanding radiating off him was a lifeline, and you couldn’t refuse.

Hiccuping softly, you leaned up, hands moving from your arms, you placed them directly into Neteyams. He didn’t close his fingers immediately, nor did he move too fast. He waited patiently until you held him, even then he waited a beat. And when you didn’t pull away, when he knew for certain that you want him there. His hands twitched slight before closing around yours, holding them wirh immense care.  

Looking up you met his gaze. His golden eyes stared back, wide with concern and worry, with fear and care, keeping nothing from you. Baring his emotions, completely vulnerable for your eyes to see.

And he saw you. Your face drench in tears, eyes wide, broken, terrified and lost in a sea of guilt. He felt your hands trembling in his hold, felt the dried blood of your older brother rough against his calloused hands. Slowly, his thumbs gave gentle caress on your knuckles, worn by years of training. Your bottom lip trembled.

“Neteyam.”

You whispered his name. A broken and vulnerable, sound that tore through the quiet of the clearing, piercing straight through Neteyam’s heart. Fresh tears left your glossy eyes, trailing down the soft curve of your cheek.  

Neteyam tilted his head; the strong front he aimed to put up for you shattered upon your broken cry. Seeing how deep rooted your pain was, his brow furrowed, and his lips downturned into a saddened frown. He didn’t see the silent huntress that the elders spoke of, that children sung praises of.

He saw the girl he grew up with, pushed to her absolute limit.

One of his hands tightly held yours, while the other slid up your arm slowly gripping your forearms. He gave a soft comforting squeeze.

“I know,” Neteyam whispered, voice low and cracking raw sincerity. Your tears continued to flow, a few hot drops falling onto your joined hands. “I know, I know.”

Moving slowly to not startle you, to assure you he wasn’t aiming to crowd you. Neteyam brought his arm up and around your shoulders, pulling you closer to him. Your cheek pressed firmly against his shoulder, while his hand rubbed up and down your arm comforting you. His skin was warm, a sharp contrast to the cold sweat on your skin. The sheer radiating, steady warmth of him shattered the linger wall preventing you from breaking. But Neteyam, held you in a strong unyielding grip, giving you the permission to break, and the absolute certainty that he would be there through it all. Feeling that—feeling him, you allowed yourself to succumb to your pain.

And you broke down completely.

Fresh, violent sobs left your throat. Your entire body shaking wirh every cry that left you as you buried your face in Neteyam’s shoulder, wrapping your arms around his torso holding him tightly. Neteyam froze for only a breath before his arm tightened slightly around you, his other hand coming brushing your braids gently. The soothing drag of his fingers against your braids gave you an anchor to the world. Neteyam just held you, letting you cry, letting you break, giving you all the time you needed.

“It…it’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” You choked out, against his shoulder. Hands gripping Neteyam torso fingers digging into his skin, as if you were scared, he would disappear if you let go.

“It was my decision.”

You mind played the moment you realized you could make the shot.

“My arrow.”

You remembered drawing your string back with practice ease and letting your arrow whistle through the air hitting that exposed tank. Seeing the flames, seeing the metal— seeing Ro’kani take a hit from the blast.

“If…if I had thought longer, planned it better. He…” you hiccuped unable to finish.

Neteyam squeezed his eyes shut, leaning his head against yours briefly, before shaking his head at your words.

“No.” he said, voice low against your ear. He stopped brushing your braids for a moment, his palm firm against the back of your head, keeping you close to him. “Don’t do that to yourself. Look at me, Y/n.”

Reluctantly, you pulled your face from his shoulder though your hands stand wrapped around him. Unwilling of letting go or creating any distance. Your eyes were wide, shining with a new set of tears and your chest heaved with quick shallow breaths. Neteyam stared down at you, gaze raw and honest.

“You save his life.” He whispered. Bring his hand from your head he used his knuckle to gently brush away a tear from your cheek. “You can control an arrow. But you can’t control sky people metal. It’s unpredictable, chaotic. You made the most logical decision, in a life or death situation. And if you hadn’t, he would be resting with the great mother right now.”

You heard him. The logic was sound, you knew that, but it didn’t feel like it. The weight of blame still rests heavy on your heart, and in your hands. You could still feel the warmth of your brother's blood, remembering how it grew cold around your palms as you tried to fix what you had ruined. Neteyam watched as your eyes glazed over, drowning in thoughts he knew did nothing to save you.

“I know, what it’s like,” he murmured. Meeting his gold gaze you held his stare. His voice was laced with vulnerability, carrying the knowing weight of a decision that could cost others their lives. “To replay every single second of a mission, or simple scouting. To wonder where you went wrong, wonder why you didn’t think more before acting.” He stopped for a second, the same blame you felt filtered over in his golden eyes for you to see.

“To wonder why someone else had to bleed because of what you decided to do. It’s like a poison.”

Neteyam hand returned to the back of your hand resting there gently.

“Don’t let it break your spirit. You are so much more than one moment. A moment no one blames you for.”

You swallowed, your hiccups slowly dying down. Neteyam licked his lips before speaking again.

“Ro’kani lives. He will heal. The Tsahìk, my grandmother will see to it. And sooner than later, he will be walking this path ready to come and annoy you. To tease you until you react more than your twitching ears or tail.” Neteyam gave a faint smile, barely there but it was. You stared at him, listening, looking at him. Swallowing again, you hand came up to Neteyam’s forearm, where he held your head.

“Thank you, Neteyam.”

The blame you felt didn’t leave you, not completely but the fire of it wasn’t as intense. Your hand subconsciously tightened around his forearm.

He made it better.

Neteyam shook his head. “You don’t have to thank me,” he whispered, his eyes flicking down to your hand wrapped around his forearm. He was aware of your other hand too, that still grip his torso refusing to let go. Fighting to keep his mind from dwelling on being this close to you, his eyes lingered on the dirt on your hands and the leftover soot on your body from the mission.

Following his gaze, you mind went to the same realization. Eyes trailing to where your hands were placed on his body.

Here you were, practically in the lap of Toruk Makto eldest son, covered in soot, mud and blood. Looking like a broken mess. In reality, Neteyam didn’t look pristine and clean either, but your mind seemed to have blocked that out entirely. Feeling a growing sense of shame, you pulled your hand away from his forearm but the other remain on his torso.

“Sorry—”

“No,” Neteyam interrupted softly. He wasn’t offended nor disgusted by you holding him. Actually, it was taking him so much right now not to he overjoyed with how comfortable you were being this close to him.

“No, I don’t mind.”

His hands left you head, moving down to gently hold the hand resting in your lap. “Let’s get you cleaned up.” He gave a small encouraging nod. “Then we go see Ro’kani, together.”

Your ears twitched at the mention of seeing your brother. “But, Jake should be looking for you. For a debrief.”

“My father will understand.”

Neteyam moved, rising from the ground, and your hands twitched, leaving his body and warmth. A sudden wave of panic washed over you, a cold fear that he was leaving you there alone. But before the panic could fully settle, his hand was stretched out once again for you to take.

He wasn’t leaving you but guiding you.

Placing your hand in his, you let him guide you away from your training grounds and down to a quiet stream nearby. Kneeling beside the cool stream, you stared at the water, and it stared back at you. The silence stretched, and Neteyam watched you, his hands twitching in his lap hesitantly for a beat before extending them toward you.

“May I?” he asked softly, waiting for your consent.

Without a word, you shifted to face him, resting your hands slowly into his larger ones. The silence of the forest hummed around you, thick but comforting. Neteyam dipped his hands into the clear, cool water, scooping it up and began to slowly wash the dark soot and dried crimson blood from your hands. Each time he gathered the water, he looked up wordlessly, asking for permission with his golden eyes, ensuring you were comfortable with every touch. And each time you nodded softly, and he would continue. He worked quietly, with reverent focus, his thumbs brushing softly over your hands and forearms.

You watched the water ripple, turning from clear into a dark cloud of what remained of the mission; your chest heaved with small hiccups. You could still feel the cold linger weight of blame pressing against your ribs. But as Neteyam's warm hands erased the stains from the battle, his hands moving softly across your skin, the suffocating feeling of guilt started to lift. Once finished, Neteyam rose again, taking your hand to help you up and both of you walked the path from your training grounds back to Hometree. He led the way, step by step, moving low-hanging branches or leaves out of your away glancing back to assure none of them touched you as he walked.

He shielded you from the stares, just as he had done at the lower roots. Although when you arrived at the healer circle, you stopped short standing several feet away. Neteyam stopped beside you, looking down at you, waiting for you. But you didn’t move any closer, shaking your head softly. You stepped away until your back hit a thick root. Sliding down it, you sat on the ground, pulling your legs close to you, your eyes trained on the opening of the healer circle. Getting mere glimpses of your parents hovering over Ro’kani’s resting body. Neteyam stood there; he looked toward the opening of the healer circle, then he looked down at you curled against the wood.

Not speaking, he made his choice. Taking three steps towards you, he slid down the root and sat right beside you, legs outstretched; he chose to be with you tonight. As the hours stretched on, the endeavors of the day had caught up to you; the physical and mental exhaustion of the day had finally won. Despite the want to watch over your family from where you sat, your body fought against the idea, your eyelids grew heavier, and your breathing slowed. Nodding off, you stopped fighting it; your head slumped sideways, resting against Neteyam's shoulder as you drifted quickly into a deep sleep. Neteyam shifted slightly, adjusting himself so you could rest comfortably against him.

An hour or so passed, and you shifted beside him, hugging yourself and snuggling close to him. Neteyam stared down watching over your movement, and every inhale and exhale and it was then a small worry crossed his mind. It was never truly freezing in the hollows Hometree unless the weather was stormy, but the chill of the night often did creep in through open spaces. He grew steadily worried that you would grow cold, that his body warmth would only do so much. But he didn’t want to move and wake you, bevause he feared you wouldn’t properly rest after. As if Eywa knew of his dilemma, the beaded curtain rustled catching Neteyam attention.

His grandmother, stepped out from the healer circle. Her hands were clean, the blood and sweat from tending to Ro’kani was washed away, but the sharp earthy scent of healing salves and herbs still clung to her skin. A comforting scent, and Neteyam eyes lit up, his ears twitching up slightly seeing the heavy thick fur blanket she carried in her arms. Approaching, her eldest grandson Mo’at gave him a knowing quiet look, and he subconsciously returned it reminding her of her daughter, his mother. Then her gaze drifted down to your sleeping form, snuggle close beside Neteyam. Without a word, she draped the warm blanket over the two of you.

“Thank you, Grandmother.” Neteyam whispered, barely audible, because he didn’t want to disturb your sleep.

Mo’at gave a soft smile, her hand moving to hold his face caressing his check softly before she stood up and turned away walking the path to her home.

Watching his grandmother go, Neteyam felt lighter somehow, assured. He relaxed a bit more, and carefully he moved the fur blanket around ensuring your had majority of it to protect you from the cold. Settling beside you, Neteyam rested his head softly against yours. His golden eyes stared at the entrance of the healer circle, seeing through the bead curtain that your family now slept peacefully around each other, the exhaustion had caught up to them as well. And Neteyam remained there, beside you through the entire night.

Early light began filtering through the massive canopy of Hometree, the cold from the night had slowly gone. And silence still filled the clearing; the clan had yet to awake yet.

Except the Olo’eyktan, who had slipped out early from his home making his usual rounds around Hometree to assure the safety of his people. One of his rounds was to the healer circle to see Ro’kani and your family. And as he approached, he found Neteyam.

He saw the two of you, tangled together under a thick fur blanket, completely exhausted. Jake simply stopped and stared for a moment, he didn’t wake Neteyam and you. He didn’t try to pry for a debrief that should’ve happened yesterday, instead he looked away peeking into the healer’s circle to see your family still sleeping. He gave one more glance over to you and Neteyam, and he smiled softly before walking away quietly leaving you to sleep peacefully.

Two hours passed, and slowly you began to regain consciousness pulling you from the heavy fog of sleep. But before you could even open your eyes, you were highly aware of an intense warmth enveloping you. Moving your arm an inch, you felt the soft texture of the blanket. And a steady thrumming sound pressed directly by your ear.

A heartbeat.

Your eyes fluttered open, your breath hitched as you realized your position. You weren’t just leaning against Neteyam like you remembered doing, no. You were tucked against his side, face buried in the curve of his neck and nose brushing his collarbone with every breath you took. And you felt around you, one of Neteyam’s arms wrapped securely over your shoulder keeping you close to him, while the tip of his tail brushed your ankle faintly and your own brushed his calf under the blanket.

Instantly, you pulse quickened, heart hammering against your ribs, a distinct sharp contrast to the slow steady rhythm of his. For a moment, for a terrifying, beautiful moment you couldn’t move, and you didn’t want to. You stayed there, right there tucked beside Neteyam. Breathing him in, his scent of pine, rain and the faint smell of soot he didn’t wash off. The realization of how much he made you feel safe made your ears flush with a shy warmth. Ears twitching against your hair, before peeking up to catch his soft breaths.

Before you could settle further into him, you heard a shift in his breathing. Neteyam began to move, his board chest expanding with a deep sleepy breath, his grip on your shoulder tightened instinctively for a brief second before his eyes slowly blinked open. Before either of you could speak a word, to talk about the morning closeness. The beaded curtain of the healer circle rustled open.

Pulling away from him slightly, the blanket slipped down off the both of you as your eyes locked on the Navi standing there.

Your mother stood there. Her eyes were tired, heavy bags under them but the panic and fear from yesterday was gone. When she saw you, the remain bit of it vanished form her. Replaced by an overwhelming feeling of relief and softness. She wasn’t surprised seeing Neteyam beside you, not even seeing you tucked close to him. Because she knew he was beside you the entire time.

“He is awake.” Your mother said, her voice rough from sleep. You sat up straighter and finally Neteyam arm legt your shoulder but rested close behind you still keeping you close to him.

“Ro’kani is asking for you.”

Shoulders tensing, the warmth you felt had instantly vanished replaced by the familiar feeling of dread. The blame rushed back to the surface with a crashing force, making a knot from in your stomach and throat swell with a lump.

He was awake. And you had to go in there, speak with him—look him in the eyes.

Neteyam felt you tense beside him, moving without a word his other hand moved under the blanket, finding yours and giving your hand a firm grounding squeeze.

Reminding you, you are not alone. That he is here.

Coaxing you from the warmth of the blanket you stood at the entrance of the healer's circle, you felt rooted to your spot. From there, through the gaps you could see your older brother. He was wrapped in clean white bandages, looking pale and battered but his was blinking, his eyes open.

Standing beside you, Neteyam didn’t push you inside, didn’t force you to step forward instead he made sure to stand with you. His larger steady presence acting as a quiet safety net, letting you take the lead at your own pace. And he would willingly follow.

Taking a deep breath, you exhale through your mouth slowly before stepping into the healing space. The silence felt heavy, your father and mother sat beside the mat, exhausted but relieved for their son and daughter.

You stood froze at the entrance a few feet away, lips pursed together tightly. Too scared to speak, too choked with guilt to kneel beside him and take his hands. Still, you couldn’t bear the thought, the constantly replay of you arrow being the reason he laid on that mat.

Feeling your presence, despite his mother's sharp protest and his father heavy hand on his shoulder, Ro’kani grunted and forced himself to sit up. Wincing, his ears twitched pinning against his messy hair as the pain rippled through his body, he ignored their warnings. He always hated being fussed over.

Finally sitting up, Ro’kani looked up past his parents and his eyes fell on you. Slowly, a soft familiar grin came to his lips, then he looked over to Neteyam who stood behind you close to the rough wall of bark then back to you. Ro’kani felt thankful, he knew he couldn’t comfort you last night, but he also knew without a doubt that Neteyam did.

Still unable to move, your eyes grew glossy as fresh tears threatened to fall. You open your mouth to speak to attempt too beg for forgiveness. But, that same lump from before continued to expand in your throat making it difficult to speak. Because you couldn’t find your voice, your face spoke for you. And like an older brother, he read you like an open book.

Your face held a look of pure guilt and crushing sadness that knew no end. The self blame was written in your tightly pursed lips that trembled, and in the broken look in your glossy eyes. Ro’kani stared up at you, his golden gaze scanning your face carefully. There was no playful smirk that he usual wore, that you are so accustomed to seeing. Instead, his face softened into something so deeply fond and sympathetic your tears finally fell. He recognized that face.

“I know that face,” Ro’kani said, his voice scratchy and weak but still filled with warmth. Weakly, with his bandaged arm he patted the other empty spot beside his mat opposite of your parents, right beside him. “But I don’t like when you wear it, come here.”

The soft tone of his voice broke the chain that’s rooted you to your spot, holding you back. Your legs finally moved, crossing the remaining distance between you two, you slowly sat down beside his mat. You didn’t reach for him, because a cruel voice in your head, whispered you would cause further harm if you did. So instead, your hands trembled moving to hold the edge of the blanket draped over his legs.

“I…I—” you choked, chest heaving as your struggled to speak. Eyes closed tight tears continued to flow down your face. Neteyam who stood off balled his fist beside him, fighting the urge to walk over and wipe them away.

“My arrow…Ro’kani I didn’t…I should’ve…”

Shaking his head softly, Ro’kani felt his heart break seeing you like this. “Hey, hey look at me,” he interrupted gently, his hands sliding over holding your hands. Ro’kani waited till you opened your eyes and looked up at him.

“Stop. Stop replaying it. Stop thinking of what ifs. You made that shot, a good shot that most couldn’t. And that shot kept the sky people metal from taking me away from this life early. You didn’t fail; you didn’t cause this—you saved me.” Ro’kani declared.

One of his hands left yours to wipe away your tears. “It wasn’t in the way you thought. Or the way you planned it out, but nonetheless you saved me, tsmuketsyìp (little sister).

Neteyam watched the two of you, a sense of relief washed over him as his fists unclenched and shoulders relaxed. You still felt at fault, though seeing your brother here giving you a soft stubborn grin teasing you about your never ending tears. And feeling Neteyam steady gaze. It felt like you could at least breathe, the suffocation had subsided. Even if it lingered like a ghost, haunting your thoughts it was nothing compared to the profound relief of seeing your brother look back at you.

Ro’kani was here. Alive and warm, his hand holding yours.

Deciding the room was too heavy for too long, Ro’kani mischievous glint returned, his eyes flickering behind you landing on Neteyam. A familiar teasing grin returned to his face.

“You know,” Ro’kani sang, voice playful and teasing despite his raspy throat. “I wake up in a pool of my own sweat, fighting for my life,” his hand came to his heart dramatically making your father shake his head at him. “Only to hear that my little sister was outside spending the entire night cuddled up under a blanket with the grand Olo’eyktan eldest son.”

Your ears shot back against your hair, warmth spreading across you face instantly. “Ro’kani,” you warned. You brother let out a weak laugh enjoying your reaction, highly satisfied with himself for brining it out. He looked over to Neteyam, giving him a knowing wink.

“What does Jake call it? A hero coming to save the day? I’m grateful you swooped right in bro.”

Standing near the entrance, Neteyam ears lifted up not flustered because of the teasing. But happy and he smiled, a rare, genuine smile at you, and at Ro’kani his friend who is going to be okay. His gaze met your embarrassed one from across the room and he shook his head amused. He gave you an unmistakable quiet ‘I told you so’ look, reminding you of his promise from the night before. That your brother would back to teasing you in no time, and Ro’kani wasted literally no time. Seeing your familiar dynamic return, your mother and father shook their heads fondly watching with tired smiles.

The heavy terror that had gripped your family since the mission had finally lifted, replaced by a familiar tenderness. Your father had left you mother walking to Neteyam he rested a hand on his shoulder in quite gratitude and subtle blessing, while your mother reached for you like the night before but instead of your hand, she brushed a braid from your face smiling at you with glossy eyes.

Though the nightmare wasn’t entirely over, the sky people threat still loomed in the forest, and that knowledges rested heavy on the Olo’eyktan shoulders.

The lighthearted moment faded from its warmth to the cold reality. Jake stepped into the beaded curtain rustling behind him. His eyes immediately went to Ro’kani, softening with relief seeing him sitting up and grinning. Then hjs gaze turned sharp and focused as it landed on his son.

“Neteyam, we need to debrief. The scouts I sent have just returned from the blast site; I need you there.”  Jake said, voice low and carrying authority, then he turned to you his gaze softening. “Y/n, your father will join us shortly, but I want you to go eat and rest first. You’ve given enough of yourself to the night.” His tone softened as he spoke to you, eyes shifting between you and Ro’kani.

Swallowing hard, the mention of the blast made your chest tighten, hands trembling softly under Ro’kani hold before he gave a soft assuring squeeze. You gave a small obedient nod at Jake orders. Neteyam straightened, falling into his familiar disciplined posture.

“Yes sir,” he replied softly.

Neteyam moved first stepping out of the healer circle behind his father, giving you and your family a moment of privacy as to talk. Subconsciously your eyes followed Neteyam back, watching as the beaded curtain closed behind him. After speaking with you family and giving Ro’kani hand a squeeze you promised to meet them at the family pod later.

As you walked out of the healing space, the bright light of Hometree seemed to blind you causing you to squint. You expected Neteyam to already followed after his father, ready to speak of the mission. But instead, you found him standing a few feet away waiting for you. Jake had already walked ahead giving Neteyam this moment with you.

Looking up his ears lifted seeing you, he approached you taking your forearm gently to lead you away from the main root of path to a nearby quieter one. His straightened shoulders, relaxed as his eyes met yours, his stoic expression replaced by a gentle protective warmth. He stood close, but not too close still always measuring with you, always keeping your comfort in mind. Neteyam golden eyes searched your face, seeing the lingering tiredness in your eyes and the way you fingers twitched before reaching for his forearm pulling him only a little closer.

“You did good in there.” Neteyam murmured, his voice a low rumble only meant for you. “He doesn’t blame you, Y/n. I hope you can start believing that now, truly.”

Neteyam looked down at your hand, the one that held his forearm in that gentle grip. Slowly he reached out, his larger hand hovered over your hand for a brief second before settling on top of your hand. His gave your forearm a soft squeeze.

“I have to go meet my father,” he said his golden gaze locking onto yours with such an intensity that made your heart skip a beat. It was a slow burning gaze that kept you rooted to your spot, rooted to him. “But Iam going to check on you later. Go eat, and sleep. And promise me you won’t sit alone in your thoughts.”

You gave him a look, a conflicted one that deemed that promise would be hard to keep. But the raw sincerity in his voice softened that mindset.

“I promise.” You whispered.

Neteyam let his hands linger on your forearm, on your hand for a beat too long, his thumb sweeping lightly against your knuckles before he finally pulled away. Giving you a small nod, and a faint encouraging smile, he turned away and jogged lightly down the path to meet his father. Leaving you standing in the morning light, the lingering warmth of hiss touch still burning against your skin. Your hands rose to rest where Neteyam’s had been, then you turn away.

The small quiet of your own pod did little to ease the thoughts you found yourself drowning into. You were supposed to be resting, but the walls of your home felt like they were closing in on you. That every assuring word spoken to you felt like nothing here, standing in the quiet.

Keeping Neteyam promise in mind, you stepped out of your dirty gear, standing in front of your water basin you finally washed away the leftover soot and sweat from the rest of your body. There wasn’t much thanks to Neteyam. As the cool water trickled down your skin, your mind began to drift. Pulling you back into the events that happened last night. Replaying every second, you remember Neteyam shifting close to you in the clearing, extending his hands to you. Remembered the overwhelming feeling of safety, breaking down against your strong unyielding hold. Holding onto his torso unwilling of letting go. His soft reverent touch as he washed away the blood, from your hands at the stream.

Most of all you remembered waking up beside him after the exhausting day, tangled together under the fur blanket, your face pressed into the curve of his neck. Listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat. You remembered how you didn’t want to move, how you wanted to tuck yourself further into him.

Your feelings were shifting, the feelings you didn’t name before, that couldn’t name. But it was the only thing you could think of when looking at Neteyam or simply thinking of him. The line of him being the friend of your brother, a childhood friend had blurred into something much deeper before you could fully grasp it.

He made it better.

A simple thought, but it held so much weight that it shook you.

Gaze drifting across the room, they landed on your heavy bow and quiver sitting on your weapon rack. The warm feelings left, replaced by a crushing familiar feeling of self blame. You still hadn’t truly forgiven yourself, and right now you couldn’t just lie and sleep while Ro’kani was still in bandages in the healer circle. When the sky people still loomed near, edging closer to your home.

Grabbing your weapons, you ignored your hammock entirely. You needed to train, needed to draw the sting back until your fingers bleed. Until everything flew perfectly, with no fault whatsoever.

Until it was enough.

But deep down, that same cruel voice—your voice told you it never would be. Jaw tight, and ears pinned against your messy braids, you walked to your training spot anyway, desperate to outrun your own mind.

To keep your promise at least a little.

The young hunters dropped their weapons. Bows, arrows and quivers left in the dirt. Their braids whipped behind them in the air as they ran through the trees, jumping over small boulders and roots. Ducking under low hanging branches and pushing past leaves. Looking back, they raced against the shadow, grinning and laughing. Excitement buzzing through their veins. Quickly, hometree came into view, and their poor attempts at ululating carried catching the attention of other clan members.

“Lo’ak is back!”

Word spread quickly, the calm of the morning replaced by the excitement of the return of Tork Makto youngest son. You sat near the edge of the clearing, had heard the young hunters screams and jumps of joy as you bundled your newly crafted arrows. In the distance you saw a small girl, her short braids moved with her every step as she dropped her basket of fruit and ran after the young hunters, little Tuk. Kiri, who had been doing the chore with her, called for her but the young girl had taken off. With a soft shake of her head, Kiri followed after her feet moving faster than she would admit. You gaze fell to the basket of fruit laid forgotten, shaking your head softly you returned your arrows to your quiver. Walking over to the forgotten chore, you cleaned up the fruit returning it to the basket.

Piling the basket with the other gatherings you kept yourself busy. You personally believed this moment of Lo’ak return wasn’t for you to be a part of. It was for friends and family. The clan happiest stimmed from the knowledge that tonight would be a feast for this return, also because he returned safely. Though you were happy about his return from Awa’atlu. Happy he was safe. It was fitting for him to be greeted by his family alone.

But you should’ve known he wouldn’t have it that way.

He had found you before you could slip away, and you had heard him approaching. Stopping behind you he stood with his arms crossed over his chest staring at your crouched form.

“I know you’ve heard, let’s go great the skxwang.” Ro’kani said.

Your attention remained on the baskets, making them neat, a pointless chore. Your reply was quick and short.

“No.”

“I wasn’t asking.” He grinned turning away from you, slowly walking the path to the ikran landings. Looking over your shoulder, you stood glaring at his back. “You can’t drag me to greet him.”

Ro’kani walked backwards, eyes drifting to the ground before returning to your stern gaze with a teasing grin. “Good thing you’re already moving.”

You knew what he was getting at, despite your protest and thoughts of leaving Lo’ak be. Your feet were already moving, following after him. Ro’kani faced forward, and you could hear his grin widening.

“It’s not dragging if you come willingly.”

“Don’t make me turn around.”

“You won’t”

Making it to the ikran landing roots, clan members had gathered, lingering behind the Sully family bright with energy. You moved through the sea of blue behind Ro’kani allowing him to make the path. You were never one for crowds. Once out of the crowd you saw, Tuk attached to Lo’ak hip arms tight around his waist as she stared up at him mouth running with question before Lo’ak reached into his porch pulling over small trinkets for her to take. With childlike joy, her eyes were bright and wide she ran off to show off her gifts.

Kiri moved in next to hugging her overgrown little brother with an annoyed expression that held that fond softness of an older sister. She rolled her and eyes scolded him for a moment when he lifted her off her feet against her wishes. Neytiri and Jake moved in, his mother’s hands held his face turning it over in her palms her eyes scanned his body as well, assuring her son had returned to her whole. While Jake stood with his hand at the back of Lo’ak’s head bringing him into a rough fatherly hug whispering something only for Lo’ak to hear, he grinned in return. His smile a copy of Jakes.

Eyes drifting away from the family, they fell on Neteyam. He stood close, arms crossed loosely over his chest. He wore a faint smile, reserved for his family. A softness so vulnerable to see on him you forced yourself to look away, deeming yourself unworthy to see that expression. Just when you looked away, Neteyam eyes fell on you capturing his attention.

Approaching with confidence, Ro’kani and Lo’ak gazes locked together, grins matching. “Man, all this time away and my looks outmatch you. I feel deep sorrow for Tsireya.” Ro’kani grimaced.

Lo’ak released a short chuckle, shoulders relaxing more. “You were never a good liar. But you’ve always been fluent in sprouting bullshit. Have you learned nothing from auntie?”

Ro’kani opened his arms, and Lo’ak came crashing into them, a rough brotherly hug. Their laughter mixed together with ease. Releasing him, Ro’kani ruffled Lo’ak braids, his beads and shells clacked together under the sign of affection.

“I’m glad your back.”

“Happy to be back.” Lo’ak grinned.

Then his golden eyes shifted to you, and they still held the same fondness he had looked at Ro’kani with. Most straighten around you, making their movements more careful or fell silent completely. That dumb name made you a warning to others, but Lo’ak had never been good at listening to warnings.

Smiling at you Lo’ak stood in front of you, “why are you already glaring at me? I haven’t done anything.” He chuckled.

“I’m not glaring.” You glared.

“Right.” He sang teasingly. “I’ve been gone so long, I’ve forgotten this is your natural scowl silent huntress.”

Before you could roll your eyes, or grumble complaints about the name he engulfed you in a hug. It was brief, warm and careless, so Lo’ak. No one here was crazy enough to try this despite your own family, and of course Lo’ak. But still you froze, but only for a moment before your hands came up to his shoulders resting there. It was small, and it could also be considered nothing. But Neteyam stood watching, and to him it didn’t feel like anything.

He watched as you allowed Lo’ak into your space, allowed him to hug you. Saw how you didn’t step back or close off. You even accepted the hug, your ears moving back slightly not in discomfort but in slight embarrassment. Something sharp and ugly twisted in his chest, a contrast to the soft quiet pull he felt whenever he was with you,

Jealousy.

It came and settled so quickly Neteyam didn’t have time to stop it. And he hated himself for even having the feeling, because its completely idiotic to feel this way. Lo’ak is his brother and mated to Tsireya. That hug was nothing but affection and familiarity. A small action of welcome home. You didn’t do anything wrong either, this was your friendship. One Neteyam has always known about, had seen grow while he stood off to the side respecting your set boundaries. Still, he felt jealous.

It wasn’t the hug, not really. But instead, it was boundaries.

Neteyam has spent his time respecting them. Being patient and careful, waiting for permission to cross them. And over these past weeks, he has been making progress, and he will continue to respect whatever and any boundary you set. And Lo’ak also respected your boundaries, but in his own Lo’ak way. Warmth first, and caution second. But with Neteyam he has always chosen caution so many times in his life, it is instinctive. And watching Lo’ak step over your boundary not even thinking about caution with a bright grin and being allowed to stay.

Neteyam gaze dropped to woven platform. Guilt overtook him as he couldn’t help but want what Lo’ak had, or at least his nature of thinking of caution second.

Ro’kani looked for Neteyam, ready to pull him into the conversation. But he stilled, watching as his friend stared at the ground, his face contoured in a conflicted, guilty and jealously ridden expression. Tilting his head, Ro’kani looked at you standing talking to Lo’ak then back to Neteyam who remain fixated on the threading of the old woven patterns. He sighed through his nose, grin softening. Lo’ak also noticed, his curiosity quiet and questioning as he watched his older brother behave out of character.

“You look like someone stole your favorite bow.” He teased, mouth twitching.

Neteyam lifted his head, instantly his eyes fell to you before flicking back to Lo’ak who had noticed. “I’m fine.”

“Sure.” Lo’ak laughed under his breath, eyes dancing between you and Neteyam subtly,

“What?” you looked at him, eyes narrowed.

“Nothing.” Lo’ak and Ro’kani answered at the same time. Now you looked at both with growing suspicion. Not believe either of them.

Ro’kani ignored your glare, his hand resting against Lo’ak shoulder. “I have so much to tell you.”

“Ro’kani.” You and Neteyam said at the same time, eyes locking together before you looked away first. Lo’ak grinned his tail, swishing low against the ground radiating with teenage mischief.

“Oh, this is going to be fun.”

The warmth of Lo’ak carried from that morning to late night, under the clan fires of celebrations and cheers of praise. Stories were told, missed ones, old ones and new ones. More from Lo’ak of his time in Awa’atlu, about Tsireya, his newly mate, how the people are there and his improvements in ranks there. In the mix of it all you sat with the family and friends, beside Ro’kani and Nìraya beside you leaving her little one to her mate for the night to welcome a longtime friend. The night consisted of easy laughter and excitement that settled in your heart, warm known but not always felt.

But with the way things were on pandora, good things come to an end.

That next morning, laughter shifted to duty, Lo’ak stood with his father, older brother, warriors and elders in the pavilion. Sharing news, he had gathered and seen on his flight.

RDA. Not soldiers, or amp suits with their fire cannons. No, just structures, rebuilding in places they’d cleared up months ago. Moving in supplies to rebuild to conquer and destroy the forest.

When the sun was at its peak, surrounding the map laid with markers and routes on the war table was a small group gathered by Jake himself. His finger pointed across the map, west. “It should be a quick sweep,” he said palm resting against the map his gaze drifting up to the warriors before him. “Not long. You should be back by nightfall. We need eyes on that old portal route. Make sure nothing is active, and nothing is being moved.”

Jake eyes fell to Ro’kani who stood in the middle, bow slung over his shoulder, knife sheath over his chest. “You will scout inner ridge, check the old outside clearings. Take two others with you, don’t crowd you don’t want to be spotted. Don’t engage unless you have to. We need information, not a fight.”

Ro’kani nodded once, straightened to full height. “Understood sir.”

Jake nodded, “Dismissed, prepare your ikrans.”

Following the other warriors out Ro’kani came to stop seeing you standing outside, waiting for him. With a lopsided grin he approached you.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Where did he assign you?” you ignored him.

Shaking his head Ro’kani titled his head back in the direction of ikran landing. “Old portal routes out west. I go with two others, get information and avoid a fight. It will be short.”

“You’re not one to avoid a fight.”

“No. But I know when to pick them.” He grinned.

You stared at him, ears flat against your hair, frown more a pout. Ro’kani lips curled into a faint smile. “Don’t give me that look.”

“I don’t have a look.”

“You have one for everything. And that one,” he points at your face still smiling but not with tease but fondness. “Is the one when you want to tell me to be careful, a sign that your care for your older tsmukan safety.”

“Be careful.” Your ears twitched against your hair again.

Ro’kani smile softened, fond. “I will. I know to behave whenever you’re not around.” He brought his hand to your head resting there briefly, and you welcomed it.

“That is why father says your never listen.” You scolded and Ro’kani laughed in return.

From afar, standing with other warriors waiting for another debrief with his father. Neteyam watched the exchange. The jealousy from yesterday left a faint linger, shamefully still resting beneath his ribs. Though as he watched Ro’kani smile at you, teasing your frown that was more a pout as you worry for him slipped through your mask. It reminded him of something important.

Others were allowed to know you in ways he didn’t. Lo’ak, Ro’kani, Nìraya, your parents and whoever.

And with him, he would have to do it the way he has known. Patiently. He would earn the spot beside you, without turning his want into pressure. Because he valued you, that much he knew.

The call of your name brought your attention from your brothers back as he walked the rooted path to his ikran. Turning, you saw Jake standing at the entrance of the pavilion waving you over where Neteyam stood beside him. Straightening you approached the two stopping beside Neteyam, the distance between you two palpable. Neteyam gaze remained fixed on your stiff posture beside him, mimicking his own.

Jake clearing his throat brought Neteyam attention back to him. “Y/n, you and Neteyam will secure the outer line near the lower slope. Stay close enough to respond if Ro’kani’s group signals, but don’t crowd the route. If their equipment is there, so are their soldiers. I don’t want anyone walking in blind.”

Both of you nodded. “Yes, sir.” You spoke in unison.

A short assignment, beside Neteyam isn’t new and these always went easily with you two. And the worry from earlier had lessened. You would be within reach to respond to Ro’kani if he needed aid. One short sweep, that is all.

It didn’t take you or Neteyam long to mount your ikrans and take off into the sky. Your ikran cut through the warm air beside Neteyam’s gliding easy and low enough to the treetops. And ahead farther west Ro’kani’s group had already vanished beyond the ridge. You tried not to look in that direction too often. Because looking wouldn’t make your brother safe, wouldn’t draw you any closer to him. So, you didn’t, instead your ears twitched west anytime something shifts wrong, or you felt uneasy. And Neteyam noticed, his gaze shifting to you everyone few seconds.

“You trust him.” He said, voice low crackling through the comms. Your ear twitched.

“Yes.” You replied, finger tightening around you’re the leather reins.

His eyes went to your grip then back to you. “But you still worry.”

“Trusting him doesn’t stop the fear.”

Neteyam went quiet after because he understood that feeling. He had felt it whenever Lo’ak traveled alone, the feeling had eased when he returned. Instead of speaking again he glided his ikran closer to yours, not enough to crowd but enough that you felt his steady presence. And to your quiet dismay it helped.

Your ear twitched once and twice within a second. Almost trying to shake the small metal comm pressed against your ear. You hated it. You had protested against wearing it before leaving, while Jake only lifted an eyebrow at your response to the device. He reminded you that you would need it to keep in contact if something went wrong. So, you wore it, but you hated the cold foreign feeling of it. The weight of it against your ear. Your ear twitched constantly than you reached for it. Once, twice, then a third time. Fingers brushing against the device tempted to rip it off and throw it into the forest below.

Neteyam had already been watching your ear, and now he saw your mess with the piece. “Don’t.”

You shot him a look. “It’s heavy,” you said exasperated.

“It weighed less than your arrowheads.”

“My arrowheads belong around me.” Your fingers hovered over the comm again. “Sky people metal doesn’t.”

A crackling sounded in your ear, causing your ears to twitch against your head. Then Ro’kani voice cut through clearly amused.

“Did I just hear my baby sister speaking through comms? Willingly?”

Your stomach eased hearing his voice, but your face went flat brimming with annoyance. Neteyam looked away, his lips twitching into a small smile. “Don’t start Ro’kani.”

“Oh, but I have to. This is a rare moment, historic even. You hate metal and yet you’ve accepted the tiny demon in your ear.” He said pleased with himself.

“I didn’t accept anything. Jake order it, I am not one to disobey orders.” You said the last part slow and firm.

“Ah, a shot at me. Baring your fangs huh.” He laughed through the comms, the sound roughened up by the static.

“Neteyam,” Ro’kani voice continued to crack through the comms. “Has her ear been twitching? She’s been touching it hasn’t she?”

Neteyam looked to you for a second than away. “No.”

Ro’kani laugh crackled through the comes louder and bright with disbelief. “You are already lying for her?”

Your head turned to Neteyam, so fast your ikran gave a low screech in protest. Neteyam didn’t meet your gaze keeping his eyes forward face causal and innocent.

“I answered your question.” He said.

“With a lie.” Ro’kani replied. “Brother, I know she has touched that thing so much I can basically hear her clawing at it.”

“I don’t have claws.” You muttered.

“I beg to differ; you’ve been clawing at me since you’ve been born. Especially when irritated.” Ro’kani said delighted and wicked. “And Neteyam, you’ve reached the stage of defending her bad habits? Have I missed something?”

“It’s not a bad habit, at least I don’t think so.” He said causally, not explaining why he defended you.

“So, you are protecting her?”

“Ro’kani.” You warned.

“What? I am just noting recent developments.”

Neteyam fought his smile, “if you keep talking,” he looked over to you, amusement dancing through his eyes. “She will remove the comms.”

“I was going to remove it anyway.”

Ro’kani released a chuckle. “See? He knows you so well now.”

Dropping your fingers from your comms. Your ears twitched with annoyance and embarrassment. “Focus on your route. You are distracted.”

“I am focused. Can I not be focused and entertained?”

“No.” You replied, quick and sharp.

Neteyam chuckled low, “you are impossible.”

“And you are a terrible liar.”

Before Neteyam could continue the conversation, the comm went silent. Deadly silent, Ro’kani teasing had stopped. Something had changed. Your hand moved to your bow holding it steady in your hand while your ears moved west, your nose twitched in the air. Oil. Unknown to pandora air, meaning sky people—RDA.

The easy playful atmosphere had gone, replaced by the mask of duty. Your fond irritation, the faint smile that had barely been there had vanished, replaced by rooted worry and focus. Neteyam own amusement had gone, gripping his own bow, his posture had straightened. His amber eyes scanned the thick canopy below. Then the static filled your ears, Ro’kani voice returned, lower now devoid of laughter. “You smell that?”

You did. You both did. “Yeah,” Neteyam replied. “They are moving. Don’t engage, find out what is needed. We are close if you need us.”

“Copy.” Ro’kani replied before cutting out.

Focused, your ikran banked lower following Neteyam. Descending through the trees, the slope came into view. Thick branches were broken, covered in ash and metal. Fresh tracks, metal scrap caught between thick bark. And tree cut down, too clean to be done by the forest. They had been here, walking the old route. The route that had been quiet for months, abandoned after the clan had drawn them back. But now they were using it again, trying to win back what they had lost.

Neteyam voice was quiet beside you. “Stay close.”

You nodded once understanding.

Both of you moved without speaking, feet moving easily and quiet against the bent grass darkness by oil. Neteyam moved on your left, eyes scanning the slope with that quiet focus. You were the same, holding a few arrows with your bow crouched over the grass inspecting the prints.

“These tracks, they’re fresh.” You murmured, fingered hovering over the heavy footprints. “Too fresh,” you said breathlessly, turning your head to look up at him. “Not even a day, Neteyam.”

He heard it, the soft panic in your voice the worry swirling through your eyes. Neteyam expression tightened. Without hesitating his fingers moved to his comms ready to call out, to confirm locations and tell them to draw back.

“Ro’kani do you—

An ikran screech, gun fire and static. Then sharp ululating—a warning.

You rose from the ground, your head snapped west. In his direction.

Ro’kani.

You took off running before Neteyam. Springing through the underbrush, leaping over large branches and floral. Your bow clenched right in your hand, your heart beating against your ribs so hard it hurt. Neteyam was beside you quickly, still trying to reach Ro’kani over comms, but he kept getting static.

“Fuck.” He hissed frustrated.

Running beside you, matching your steps with ease Neteyam looked to you.

“Y/n. We can’t rush in blind.”

“Then we keep our eyes open.”

Neteyam didn’t have the heart to argue, because he knew you were focused on one thing alone.

Ro’kani.

So, he said nothing, instead deciding to run beside you, providing you with the support needed.

Reaching the west ridge, you came to the clearing scarred by the sky people. Human crates sat half hidden under camouflage netting. A large amp suit moved over the musky soil, damaged by the poison of the oil. And scattered through the old camp were soldiers holding their demon weapons. And there, near the far side was Ro’kani and his two warriors, ducking to take cover. Trying to retreat without drawing attention to all the soldiers. But they had already been seen.

The AMP suit turned, heavy arms lifting, the weapon tracked their path, Ro’kani’s path.

Your breath left you, body running cold.

“No.”

There were a lot of soldiers. A lot of movement and possibilities but you saw your target. A fuel canister strapped along the AMP’s side, exposed. If you hit it, the suit would fall before it could fire. Your eyes shifted to Ro’kani, he was far enough. The trees before him will take the majority of the blast. Then in one calculated breath, your body moved instinctively. Remembering everything your father had drilled into you, what you spent years honing. The distance, the wind, the angle and the force.

One breath, and your arrow flew.

And it hit true.

The canister burst violently, giving off a wave of heat. The AMP jerked sideways, the suit malfunctioned and then the exploding tore through its frame. And for a second you felt relief.

Then pieces went flying, and one specific piece cut through the air faster than a blink. It struck his side, sinking into his skin. Your eyes widened and your breath left you.

Ro’kani staggered, one hand flying to his ribs while his other pushed another warrior away protecting him from the incoming pieces. Those same pieces cut at his body. His stared down at the wound, blood spread between his fingers spilling fast. The warrior he had saved shouted his name in distress, holding him up before he could fall.

The soldiers began spraying and Neteyam pulled you behind the trees. And with ease, he began knocking down soldiers. His voice shouted over the fire, giving orders to return fire, and the other two aided him. But you heard nothing, saw nothing but Ro’kani clenching his side chest raising and falling in short breaths.

Then you were moving before you realized it. Leaving Neteyam ssideaid, he turned instantly seeing you running. He followed stilling aiming and killing soldiers.

“Cover her!” His voice yelled clear and sharp through the chaos.

Sliding on your knees, you stopped beside Ro’kani small twigs and strays of metal tearing at your skin. Your hands went to his wound instantly, pressing hard to stop the rapid bleeding. Warm blood soaked through your fingers; his blood soaked your fingers. Too much of it.

Ignored the churning of your stomach and thoughts of an outcome you couldn’t live with, you forced your hand steady, forced your voice steady.

“Stay with me.”  You said palms pressing firm causing him to wince in pain. Your ears pinned flat against your hair. “Ro’kani look at me, keep your eyes open.”

He looked at you, and you looked at him. His face was pale, not that vibrant blue you are use to seeing. His breathing came sharp and shot through clenched teeth. And still somehow, he smiled. He smiled at you, barely but he was smiling.

“You look…angry.” He rasped struggling to breathe.

“Don’t talk”

“That bad huh?” He tried to keep his tone casual; to keep his voice light but he released a pain groaned in return.

“I said don’t talk, Ro’kani.” Your voice cracked speaking his name. It lost its steadiness and you hated it. Hated that he heard hit and covering you, Neteyam had heard it as well.

Moving quickly, you pulled out your medical wraps and leaves that would stop the bleeding. Noticing you didn’t have much, you cursed under your breath but still dressed the wound with them working around where the metal piece remained. Your hands moved perfectly and steady, too perfect. You remembered your mother’s teachings, remembered watching Mo’at. You knew what to do. Knew not to remove the metal because he would bleed out and go into shock. You knew to stop what you could, to keep him alive until you could get to Mo’at.

Moments later, the gunfire had stopped and Neteyam dropped down beside you, kneeling in the dirt. The two other warriors stood guard watching and waiting to see if any more came. Neteyam eyes went Ro’kani his hand resting against his friend shoulder. Than to your hands, that didn’t shake. That moved with perfect memory, tying the wrap tight while pressing hard keeping the leaves in place. That’s what’s scared him, your steady hands. Then his eyes drifted to your own. And there he saw them, lost and young. Carrying the weight of guilt. His jaw clenched at the sight.

“Y/n. We have to move him,” Neteyam said gently urgency in every word. “Now.”

Hearing him, you nodded once. Though your hands remained over his side not pressing but there and Ro’kani hand came to your wrist, resting there weak but present.

“Don’t,” his breath hitched before continuing. “Don’t blame yourself for this.”

“Ro’kani.” Your voice came out small, so small and fragile.

His eyes found yours through the pain. “You saved us.” He whispered. “The sky people did this to me, not you.”

You wanted to believe him. Eywa, you wanted to believe him so badly it hurt. But you couldn’t. Because all you could see was your arrow leaving your fingers. Hitting the canister, seeing it burst. The metal flying, and your calculations being wrong. Your hands drenched in your brother's blood.

Neteyam crouched beside you, one hand hovering near your shoulder but not touching you. “Y/n. We’ve got to go.”

You looked at him. Really looked at him, and for once Neteyam didn’t hide what he was feeling. Fear and worry sat plain in his golden eyes. Fear for you, for Ro’kani. Even in the fear, beneath it was the one thing he always gave you.

His steady presence.

“Help me get him up.” He said softly. And so, you did. Moving Ro’kani body from the ground your help Neteyam to his ikran. Getting on, Neteyam strapped Ro’kani carefully in front of him, holding him so he wouldn’t slip.

The flight back to Hometree felt like the longest flight of your life. You flew directly beside Neteyam. So close your ikran snapped at Neteyam’s when their wingtips brushed. You didn’t apologize and Neteyam didn’t want to you. Didn’t want you to move either. Because he knew your need the closeness, assurance. So, he said nothing. With every passing second your eyes moved to Ro’kani. To his bandages that continued to stain red with his blood.

By the time you landed, Neteyam had already called for preparations. Even then his voice carried through and the clan was ready. People were beside Neteyam’s ikran as soon as he landed, Jake was amongst them. You quickly slid off your ikran to help him carry Ro’kani off. You brought your hand to his side apply pressure to stop the bleeding. You gave him support with Neteyam helping him to the healer's circle.

Moving into the healer's circle, carefully you placed Ro’kani on the prepared woven mat. Your mother arrived quickly, whispering quick prayers and denials. Your father was close behind her; face covered in terror he tried to hide but failed. Mo’at moved through the crowd, calm and fierce, her hands replacing yours.

“Move aside.” Mo’at ordered.

And you obeyed, because she was Mo’at. This was her space, her element. And you’ve done what you could, and now you would only be in the way.

Your mother fell beside Ro’kani, her trembling fingers moved to his hair. Brushing his braids from his damp forehead. Your father knelt beside her one hand around her giving support while his other laid clenched on his thigh, nails digging into his skin bruising his palm. Ro’kani eyes fluttered, barely able to keep them open. And they found you.

“Stay.” He breathed.

Bottom lip trembling, you bit down to prevent it from continuing. You almost obeyed him, almost took the spot beside your mother. But then Mo’at cut away the blood soaked bandage, and you saw the wound fully. Saw the leaves not stop the blood nearly enough. Saw what your decision has caused. What your arrow has caused. Saw your brother's blood on your hands, dried under your nails and smeared on your wrist.

Blame.

Forcing your face still, neutral like the mask you’ve always worn. Your straightened forcing your breathing even. Forcing yourself calm. Ro’kani knew better, Neteyam did as well. He saw the tremble in your fingers. Saw it slowly build until you curled them into fist at your sides. And swallowed trying to force the lump in your throat away. Your mother reached for you, not looking away from Ro’kani but needing the assurance that her other child was alive, was safe and unharmed.

“Ma’ite—”

You stepped back before her hand could touch you. Just out of reach, just one step. But it was enough, and everyone saw it.

Ro’kani struggled forcing his eye lids open, frustrated that he couldn’t keep the open. “Y/n…”

You didn’t answer him, you couldn’t answer him. Because if you did it wouldn’t be words that came out, it would be pure grief. Guilt. It would be you, cracking open for everyone to see. So instead of answering, you turned away.

The healing circle went quiet, Mo’at experienced work filled the quiet along with Ro’kani ragged breathes. Your father eyes followed you; pain and confusion twisted across his face. Your mother watched with wet eyes, her hand still hovering where you had been. Neteyam had been watching you the entire time, his gaze followed you out. And he took one step before stopping himself.

Ro’kani asked you to stay. You heard him, everyone heard him but instead you walked away. Out of the healing circle you continued walking, passing Lo’ak and the other warriors waiting outside. Their gazes followed you, but they didn’t. Your steps were measured and even, aiming to keep your mask up. Walking past the cook fires, your vision grew blurry, and one tear had slipped.

A cook saw. He stilled, eyes tracking you until you disappeared behind the thick roots. He didn’t call out, didn’t know how.

“What is it?”

A female cooked asked noticing her friend no longer preparing the roots for roasting.

“Y/n.” He said slowly with disbelief and understanding. “She is crying.” The women face fell. Word had carried of Ro’kani condition. And the two cooks didn’t speak any further instead worked in silence praying silently that Eywa gave Ro’kani a speedy recovery. And to lessen the burden on your shoulders.

It’s when you passed the lower roots, the place where Neteyam had helped you that day. Shielding you from wandering eyes. Your steps lacked control; you staggered before forcing yourself still. Once your feet touched the grass, once your forest swallowed you, you ran.

Branches snapped around you, nicking at your arms and legs. Overgrown roots caught your feet, but you didn’t trip. You ran fast, legs burning but you didn’t slow down. You knew this path two well, even with vision blurred by your tears. It led you away from the loud voices, away from hands reaching to comfort you. Away from your brother bleeding because you were wrong. Your training spot came into view, quiet and empty. Covered in moss targets and bark targets hung with vines. A weapon rack full of a variety of bows and knives. This place where you trained till your fingers bleed, till your arms shook with over exertion. Until your father teachings became instinctive, until your own wants and became nothing but distant thoughts.

You came to a stop in the center, chest heaving. For a fragile moment, you stood tall. Then your hand came to your chest rubbing at it as if it could ease the pain. But it did nothing. Dropping to your knees. The first sob tore out of you so violently it hurt. Your hand came to your mouth, trying to force it back. Trying to stop it from drawing attention. But there was no one here to watch you. No clan members. No Ro’kani teasing you until you felt better. No Neteyam giving you his steady presence without you asking.

It was only you.

You bent forward, forehead pressed into the dirt, your blood stained hands curled into the soil. Your shoulders shook as your cries tore through you. And you sat there feeling, blaming yourself.

Alone and broken, punishing yourself for being wrong.

The mud shifted beneath him, only an inch that led to him leaning back almost falling but instead he buckled in. Dropping hard into the mud, his arrow flew wide missing the beast. But Neteyam’s had landed. It didn’t end the beast, recovering quickly, he notched another arrow aiming again to end its suffering.

Together with the other hunters they secured the kill. After finishing, Lo’ak stood off to the side, posture rigid. Ears pinned against his head tail low and unmoving behind him when he saw his father approaching. He was prepared for the usual scolding lecture, harsh and wounding. Instead, a rough hand rested against the back of his neck. Jake looked at Lo’ak for a long second before speaking.

“It hard to find good footing in mud. Don’t beat yourself up.”

Not a lecture, not even a scolding. A simple comment on what had happened, and why it had happened. Along with assurance that it wasn’t a big deal. But it didn’t feel like it. That small slip up felt massive. Lingering in his mind, play back without ceasing. Other hunters mention the same mistake, joking about themselves also falling. Saying it wasn’t a big deal they had caught the beast anyway. Lo’ak found it hard to hear them, to see their words as comfort. 

Returning to Hometree the hunters made their arrival known and loud. Marching into the clearing with the bountiful kill in tow. Clan members and children came down to greet them. Surrounding them, they sang cheers and praises to all the hunters who had worked. Especially Neteyam and Lo’ak as they had led the hunt under their father’s watch. Hands came resting against their shoulders patting them or to their braids teasing that they’ve grown. But it was hard for Lo’ak to hear them, to hear anything but his running thoughts.

It was a small slip up, an annoying mishap. And he was frustrated, because it was so insignificant that his father didn’t even care. Yet here he was dwelling on it while younger hunters looked at him as if he had brought in a nightwraith by himself.

Truthfully, Lo’ak knew why he dwelled on it. It was instinct. Years of lectures about being reckless and disobedient flooded his mind. Years of being told by other clan members that he was the son who tripped up and brought nothing but trouble and chaos. Those memories, no matter how hard he tried to live past it, stuck with him like a leech. Resurfacing in moments like this often and when they did it was hard to hear praise. Hard to hear good words that he had done a great job. Gripping his bow, Lo’ak stared blankly at everyone who talked around him. Drowning in his own thoughts.

In the crowd you watched him silently, surrounded by clan members but not mentally there. You saw his still tail, his pinned ears and his distant stare. Your frown gently, heart squeezing in your chest.

"Lo'ak."

It wasn’t a shout, but it was loud enough to carry. To reach him through the dense fog of his thoughts. Blinking, Lo’ak lifted his head golden eyes scanning the sea of blue. Finally, his eyes locked with your figure. Moving through the bodies, gaze focused on him. He straightened, gaze still on you while Neteyam grinned beside him. “Feeling better now?” He said teasing, but Lo’ak ignored him. His tail finally began to sway behind him low brushing his ankle. Giving Neteyam simple and quick well wishes, your hand took Lo’ak larger one leading him away from the crowd of clan members who began skinning the large kill.

Once far enough, out of reach from wandering ears. Your hands reached for him, his face first cradling it gently you turned his face over in your hands softly. Then they slid from his neck to his shoulders, to his arm lifting them up so you could check his sides. Your eyes trailed over his stomach and legs, but the mud made it difficult.  

“Are you hurt?” you finally asked, Stilling trying to see through the mud.

Lo’ak watched you. Felt the way your hands moved across his body, searching for any injuries. A small crease between your hairless bows and the soft relief when you found none. That is what he looked for, what he craved to see.

A foolish part of him lived for it. For your eyes to be on him. To see you smile at him and praise him. Though right now he felt he didn’t deserve any praise. Not the clan carelessly thrown ones nor your sincere ones. Tilting his head to catch your eyes, you meet his gaze. Seeing his fascination, his dilemma, and his negative thoughts. Without thinking you brought your arms around his neck bringing him down into a hug, Lo’ak bent down to make up for the height difference. One large arm wrapped around you, his hand resting on your waist and his head in your neck. Lo’ak slowly breathe you in, his breath warm against your neck. You didn’t force him to speak, because you already knew. Instead, you held him a little tighter, grounding him.

“You were good today.” You whispered softly only for him to hear, praising him alone. “You hear me?” you pulled away, he moved from your neck meeting your gaze while your hand cradling his face thumb brushing over the dry mud on his cheek. “You did good.”

Lo’ak stared at you, his ears twitched folding back then lifting again as if he didn’t know what to do with your words. He has heard praise before, loud and careless and some meaningful. But hearing it come from you always felt like you were speaking directly to the part of him that waited for disappointment. He let out a weak laugh, “I missed.”

“You slipped.” You said quickly, leaving no room for his negative thoughts to crawl back. “There’s a difference baby.”

Lo’ak fingers flexed against your waist, ears twitching toward you at the nickname you stole from him. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

Releasing a soft sigh, your thumb brushed oved his cheek again, “I know. So, I will keep telling you until it does.”

Lo’ak looked at you again, and the ache in his chest shifted, feeling more bearable. You stood within his arm, staring up at him tenderly. Giving him what he needs, reassurance and praise. Specifically, your reassurance and praise. Not the clans, not even Jakes even though a part of him felt relief hearing him speak it. It was yours that settled in his heart.

“You do know you don’t have to be perfect for me to cheer for you.” You said voice steady despite the way you face warmth under his lovesick gaze. His tail curled around your calf slowly, shy. Though his arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Even when I look stupid in front of everyone.”

“Especially then,” you gasped offended for him. “Someone has to make sure you don’t start believing your bad thoughts.”

He laughed at that, quiet and rough. He didn’t hold that distance look no longer instead it was boyish. His shoulder dropped, easing and his ears lifted up fully facing you ready to catch any word of breath that came from you. Not the loud chatter of the clan in the distance, just you.

“You are annoying.” He grinned, leaning his forehead against yours.

“And you are muddy.” You shot back matching his grin. “So, let’s go home, away from here. So, you can wash up and I can praise you there.”

Lo’ak moved away an inch meeting you gaze. “Praise me more?” his grin widened, more boyish.

You rolled your eyes, smiling at him. “Yes, praise you more. Theres always more.” Lo’ak gave you that same lovesick look. “Then, can you say it again.”

Your gaze softened no longer teasing. Hand moving down to hold the side of his neck, pulling him down so your foreheads met.

“You did good, Lo’ak.”

Lo’ak closed his eyes, his breath left him slowly. And this time, when the word settled in his heart, he let himself believe them. Patting his back his neck softly, you took his hand leading him away from the clan back home.

You hadn’t spoken much to him since the training grounds. At most Neteyam has only gotten a nod, quiet replies whenever they were in the same place at once due to duties. Nothing more. It wasn’t unusual, you were distance with everyone. Always polite but unreachable. But for a moment, at the lower roots, at the training grounds. Neteyam had seen beneath all of that. He had seen the girl beneath the title. The one who was gentle despite the sharpness of her arrow. The one who whispered Eywa prayer with such tenderness and reverence like it cost her life. The one held herself stiff as stone, because she refused to break. It wasn’t your feats, not how precise your aim was, nor your reputation. Not even the stores told of you by the children and older hunters alike.

It was the soft tremble in your fingers he pretended not to see. The quiet grief in your eyes when you looked at your bloody wound. And that softness, always directed at children that you couldn’t mask. All of that, it stayed with him.

“Brother.”

Neteyam blinked, stilling under the voice. Ro’kani stood beside him both arms crossed over his chest as he stared at him. The look on his face a mix of amused and suspicion. Neteyam didn’t like either.

He straightened. “What?”

Ro’kani followed his line of sight across the clearing. You were kneeling beside a young girl near the cooking fires, helping her untangle a bundle of cord she had been trailing around as a toy. The child spoke rapidly and giddy, hands moving as she explained something like it held great importance. Most likely about the cord. You listened with that same unreadable face, but the way your ears angled toward the child was a sign she had all your attention. Neteyam noticed the faint curve at the corner of your mouth as you stared at the child with tenderness. Ro’kani noticed Neteyam noticing.

A slow grin spread across his face. “Oh,” Ro’kani said, drawing the word out. “So that is what this is.” Neteyam’s ears flicked. “What are you talking about?”

“You are staring at my sister.”

“I am not staring.”

Ro’kani hummed, unconvinced. “No? Then what would you call it?”

Neteyam looked away, jaw tightening. “Observing.”

Ro’kani let out a laugh loud, so loud a few people nearby turned at the sound of it. Neteyam shot him a warning glare, but Ro’kani simply shook his head grinning. “Observing,” he repeated, clearly enjoying himself. “Yeah, alright. The future Olo’eyktan must observe the clan very carefully. Especially my little sister.”

Neteyam looked at Ro'kani. “You are impossible.”

“And you are obvious.”

Neteyam went quiet. Rokani teasing had stopped, mostly. Though he still watched Neteyam with the same amusement and growing suspicion.  His gaze returned to you, watching as the child’s cord had finally been untangled. She beamed up at you, like you had hung the stars. You gave a small nod, gently patting the childs hand guiding her along to play once again. You had risen to your feet, posture straightening the moment an older hunter passed by. The softness that had been there merely seconds ago long gone. Like it was never there to begin with. Your face returned to the same unreadable mask.

“She looks like she is made of stone,” Neteyam murmured to himself. Ro’kani went silent, eyes lingering on you as he shook his head in response. “No.” he said softly, memories of your teary eyes whenever you shot an animal wrong which caused more pain for them. “She is made of glass.” That made Neteyam turn toward him.  Ro’kani teasing grin had gone away, his gaze held protectiveness molded over the years of watching his little sister grow to the person she was today. “She just keeps herself polished, so no one sees the cracks.” He said.

Across the clearing, you picked up your bow and walked away from the fires, disappearing into the forest, walking the path to your training spot. Neteyam watched you go, gaze lingering until it couldn’t no longer.

Neteyam should have been using the short break to breathe. For once, the morning had loosened its grip on him. There were no immediate patrols dragging him to the forest line, no urgent reports waiting at the war table, no younger warriors needing training. He had been given a small silver of time for himself, barely enough to be called free. But enough that his shoulders could rest more than they had the entire day.  He told himself he would spend it wisely. Perhaps he would eat something as he had skipped breakfast or simply sit somewhere quiet where no one could bother him, nor seek him out.

Deciding on the latter, he walked a path that would lead away from hometree. Then he heard Ro’kani’s voice.

“I told her I would stop by,” Ro’kani was talking to another hunter as he adjusted the strap across his chest. “My father is away, and my mother has a few things around the home that need mending. Nothing difficult. A loose support here, a stubborn binding there. If I don’t go, she will climb up and try to fix it herself. Last time she did that she hurt herself.”

Neteyam paused. He should’ve kept walking. Should’ve sought time alone, Eywa knew his mind could finally use some peace and quiet. But he didn’t. Instead, his feet turned before his mind could find more excuses his heart would simply ignore.

“I can help,” Neteyam said. Ro’kani turned around, surprised Neteyam was even standing here more surprised her offered to help.

“You can help?”

“Yes.”

Ro’kani’s eyes narrowed with the same suspicion from before. A short chuckle left him, “You do know you are expected at the eastern watch in less than half an hour, right?”

“I have time.”

“You have Neteyam time,” Ro’kani corrected, already walking the path to his family hut. “Which means you will convince yourself there is enough until there is not.”

Neteyam ignored the jab that was very much true and fell into step beside him. Ro’kani didn’t question him further, though the side glance he gave was far too knowing. Neteyam kept his face calm, his pace even, as if this was nothing more than one warrior offering help to another.

It was only when they finally reached Ro’kani’s family hut that Neteyam realized he should’ve better prepared himself. Because you were here. Standing there near the entrance with two large woven baskets balance in your arms. Each full of cloths meant to be washed.

His ears lifted towards you before he could stop them. Neteyam should’ve expected this. This is your family hut, if Ro’kani made time to help around, so would you. So, his surprise is unwarranted.

Looking up, your eyes locked with his briefly. You gave a polite nod. “Neteyam.”

“Y/n,” he returned, a little too quickly.

Ro’kani’s mother appeared behind you, wiping her hands against her thighs. “Good, you came. The binding above the sleeping mat has loosened again, and the rack by the side wall will not sit straight.”

“We will fix it,” Ro’kani promised, already moving inside.

You adjusted the baskets in your grip. Neteyam noticed the flex of your fingers, the pressure of woven handles digging against your side. He stopped himself from stepping forward. He wanted to take one from you, or both. Say it was nothing. He wanted to be useful, in a way that didn’t require any explanation. But he had only just arrived. Following after you now would be obvious. Too obvious. Worse, Ro’kani would have seen it, and Neteyam had no desire to give him more ammunition than he already had.

So, he stayed where he was. Watching you walk the path to the stream carefully. Baskets heavy against your hips, braids swaying light against your back with every step. He stared until the trees swallowed you from his sight.

“Yo,” Ro’kani’s voice called from inside. Neteyam blinked, looking away at once. He saw Ro’kani there, his head poked out of the entrance. A teasing smirk at his mouth, “The mending is needed in here brother. Not out there.” Neteyam cleared his throat, stepping inside without answering.

Neteyam focused on the work needed. He tightened the loosened bindings above the sleeping mat while Ro’kani fixed the crooked rack. Simple work, and it was easily done by the two of them. Ro’kani voice filled the home, easy and welcoming. But more often than not Neteyam attention continued to drift to the entrance. Ro’kani noticed, of course.

“You are very interested in whether Y/n returns with clean cloth,” Ro’kani said lightly. Neteyam gripped the strip of binding tight, too tight. He wished Ro’kani didn’t notice so much. “I am making sure there is nothing else to be mending over here.” Ro’kani raised his hairless brow high, eyes scanning his family home. He laughed under his breath. “The mats are nowhere near the entrance.”

Neteyam chose not to respond, tail flicking low beside his ankle. His reaction seemed to please Ro’kani more. A few moments later, Ro’kani’s mother stepped back into the home, her attention trained on the path you had gone. “Ro’kani, go fetch your sister for me. I forgot to tell her the blue wrap needs to be washed separately. The dye still bleeds.” Ro’kani slowly began to raise, dusting his hands off.

“I can go,” Neteyam offered, already standing. Already edging to the entrance. Their eyes fell on him, room falling silent for only a moment. Then Ro’kani mother smiled, warm and unsuspecting. “If you don’t mind Neteyam.” He shook his head. “Not at all.”

Ro’kani returned to his spot on the floor, leaning back on his hands, his grin slow and wicked. “Remember, you have somewhere to be soon.” Neteyam looked at him, his expression calm despite the heat threatening to rise on his face. “I will be quick.” Ro’kani hummed, far too entertained. “Mm. Very quick, sure.” He dragged out. But Neteyam had gone before he could finish.

Neteyam followed the path toward the stream, telling himself he was only carrying a message from your mother. A simple task. Nothing more. But his feet carried him faster than they needed.

He heard the stream before seeing it. The soft sound was steady and low, only disturbed by the small splashes of cloth being washed. Then Neteyam saw you. You were kneeling at the bank, both baskets beside you. Most of the cloths had already been washed. Wringing out the last pieces before smoothing them flat. For a moment, Neteyam just stood there. It felt different seeing you like this, away from wandering eyes, and people who expected the silent huntress. Here with the cool water running over your fingers, the sunlight shifting through your beads, you looked quieter. Less guarded.

Your ears twitched before you turned.

“Neteyam,” you said, voice calm. Though your eyes flicked behind him as if expecting Ro’kani to appear too.

“Your mother sent me,” he said, stepping closer but stopping at a respectful distance from you. “She said the blue wrap needs to be washed separate. The dye still bleeds.”

You glanced down at the folded pile beside you. Without a word, you reached for the blue cloth resting near the top and moved it into the second basket, away from the rest. “Thank you,” you replied.

That should have been all. He had delivered the message. He had done what he said he would do. He should have turned back toward your family home, toward Ro’kani’s knowing grin, toward the duty waiting for him at the eastern watch. Instead, Neteyam remained where he was. You dipped another cloth into the stream, watching him from the corner of your eye. “Was there something else?”

“I can help,” he offered.

Your hands stilled beneath the water. You looked at the nearly empty basket beside you, then back to him.

“I am almost finished.”

“Then I can help with what is left.”

“There is no need.” Your tone wasn’t cold, only final. The same voice you used with young hunters when an instruction wasn’t meant to be argued with. The same voice you also used with Ro’kani whenever he pestered you. “You have your own duties.”

Neteyam’s mouth twitched almost a frown before stopping it. “So, everyone keeps reminding me.”

You gave him a brief look, uncertain on whether that was meant as a complaint or humor. Neteyam only shifted his weight, his hands clasped behind his back. As if standing here at the stream while you finished washing the cloth is a perfect use of his already limited time. As if this was where he wanted to be. You didn’t speak on it, instead returned to your work. Neteyam watched, scanning his surroundings, the stones, the trees, the small fish darting through the stream. Then it would return to you whenever he thought you wouldn’t notice.

You noticed every time. When the last cloth was wrung dry enough to carry, you rose and began folding everything into the baskets. Neteyam stepped forward at once.

“I will carry them.”

“No.”

The answer came quickly, before he could even finish asking. You reached for both handles, intent on lifting them yourself. Neteyam didn’t move to take them from you. He only stayed close, hands at his sides, waiting.

That irritated you only a little. You lifted one basket, then the other, feeling the weight pull at your arms. It was not unbearable; you’ve carried heavier things than this. Weapons, supplies, and expectations. Wet cloth was nothing compared to any of that. Yet, Neteyam still didn’t leave.

Finally, you met his gaze. And his eyes caught you off guard. There was no teasing, no challenge, no belief that you were weak and he was stronger. No, it was just a want to help. A need to be useful for you. Like helping you with this small chore would ease a restless feeling inside him. Irritation vanishing, your masked slipped. Only a little. Ears twitching soft and off guard, you looked away. Then without a word or another glance you held one basket for him to take. Only one. And Neteyam eyes perked up, accepting the basket carefully. “Thank you,” he said.

You gave him a look, confused. “Are you thanking me for letting you carry my basket?”

His small smile came before he could hide it. “Yes.”

You stared at him for a second, then turned toward the path before he could see the way your expression threatened to soften. Neteyam fell into step beside you, holding the basket easily in one arm. He tried not to smile too much, but failed, miserably.

The walk back to your family home was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Neteyam kept pace beside you, careful not to walk too close and careful not to fall behind. When you reached home, your mother stood at the entrance, waiting for the two of you. Her eyes landed on Neteyam first then fell to the basket in his hand. A pleased smile warmed her face.

“Ah, Neteyam,” she said. “You have helped more than we asked. Stay for lunch. It is the least I can offer as thanks.”

Neteyam straightened. “I would be honored to—”

“Neteyam!”

A young warrior appeared on the path, slightly breathless, eyes landing on him. “Your father is asking for you at the eastern watch. Now.” Neteyam shoulders dropped, and for a small selfish moment he wanted to pretend he didn’t hear. To tell the young warrior that another would have to take his stead. But this was his duty alone, the familiar weight returned to his shoulders. Exhaling slowly through his nose, his eyes returned to your mother. “Another time, if the offer still stands,” Neteyam said.

Your mother smiled kindly. “It does.”

His gaze flicked to you before he could stop it. You were setting your basket down, face turned slightly away, but your ears had shifted toward him. Listening. That was enough to make his chest tighten. Neteyam lowered his head respectfully to your mother resting the basket near the entrance. “Thank you. For the invitation, and for allowing me to help.” Then he left with the waiting warrior. He didn’t look back until he reached the turn in the path. When he did, you were looking down at the basket’s hands busy with the folded cloth. But your ears were turned his way. Neteyam smiled at himself, the warrior beside him stood confused. Excusing his behavior, he continued down the path.

Your mother waited until Neteyam’s footsteps faded before she spoke. “He is kind,” she said. You kept your hands busy with the folded cloth, smoothing damp corners that didn’t need smoothing. “He was delivering your message.”

“Mm.”

You didn’t look up, but you could hear the smile in her voice. “And carrying one of my baskets too, apparently.”

Your fingers tightened around the cloth. “It was heavy.” You lied.

“Both were heavy.”

You finally glanced at her. Your mother’s expression was gentle, but far too knowing. She sat near the entrance with the herbs spread across a flat weaving mat, her hands moving slowly through the leaves as though she had all the time in the world to wait you out. You looked away first.

“He offered,” you said. “I allowed one.”

Your mother hummed softly. “You allowed him to help.”

There it was. What she actually meant, what was so shocking to see. Not the basket. Not the cloth. Not the short walk home through the trees. The help.

You didn’t like needing it. You liked accepting it even less. There were too many hands in your life that tried to help by taking, by deciding, by pushing you toward paths you hadn’t chosen. Help often felt like a hand around your wrist, forcing you somewhere you didn’t want to go. But Neteyam didn’t do that.

He waited. Annoyingly and patiently. With those open hands and steady eyes, making no move to take what you refused to give. He didn’t argue when you said no. Didn’t look at you like you were fragile. No, he only looked at you as if carrying one basket would matter to him because it mattered to you. It was that fact that unsettled you. Made you feel confused and caught off guard. You hated it. Your mother watched your face, and you knew she saw too much. As your mother she always had an easy read on you. Ro’kani did it with jokes and protectiveness, your mother did it in silence.

“He doesn’t look at you like the others do,” she said as if it was natural. You stilled, eyes turning to your mother. “Everyone sees your bow first, your skill,” she continued. “They see what your father trained you to be.”

You grabbed another cloth, folding it too sharply, your mother noticed. “He barely knows me.”

“Maybe.” Your mother’s voice softened. “But he is looking.”

A strange feeling settled in your chest. Unknown. You wished she hadn’t said it like that. Because looking was dangerous. Looking meant noticing and that meant seeing things you had buried carefully. And with Neteyam it felt worse, because he is always noticing. And that came with learning.

Your mother set a small bundle of herbs aside, then reached for your wrist gently. Not pulling, or forceful. A simple touch, warm and grounding. “It’s not weakness, to let someone carry one basket.” she murmured. Looking down at her hand around your wrist, you exhaled slowly, masking loosening. Your ears lowered, then twitched down the path Neteyam had walked once again. Noticing your mother gave a soft smile, but this time didn’t tease you about it.

Instead, she released your wrist and returned to sorting herbs. “Another time, then.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Lunch,” she said simply. “He said another time.”

You stared at the folded cloth in your hands. “If he comes, it would be rude to turn him away.” You said lowly. Your mother smiled and chuckled softly. “Of course. Only because it would be rude.”

A few days passed and Neteyam hadn’t forgotten the invitation from your mother. If anything, the promise of another time had lingered in the back of his mind longer than he wanted to admit. It sat there during patrols, during briefings, and during meals with his family where Tuk tried to steal from his plate. Another time. Two simple words, and yet they followed him teasingly out of reach.

For you, the days moved as they always did. Duty first, then training after. That morning, your mother sent you to the healer’s circle with gathered herbs bundled carefully in woven bands. The healers accepted the bundles with grateful nods. When the last bundle was placed beside the healer’s supplies, you turned toward the path that led to your training spot. You had already missed one morning session. It felt wrong, your fingers itched for the quiet ache that proved you had done enough. Trained enough. Training didn’t bring you peace, but assurance. Giving your thoughts somewhere to go.

“Y/n!”

You stopped before your foot could continue down the path. Turning, you saw Nìraya, one of your few friends and mother newly mated a year ago. She came hurrying down the path worry plain across her face. Your grip tightened around you bow as you turned to her fully. Your hand outstretched in worry. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing dangerous,” she said quickly, hand covering your outstretched one in assurance. “No one is hurt. I only need help.” Your shoulders relaxed a fraction, but your face remained still, confused even. “Help with what?”

Nìraya exhaled, glancing over her shoulder toward the lower clearing where the youngest children were usually gathered while their parents worked. “The little ones. There are too many today. And two of the older girls who were meant to help me watch them were called for gathering. Apparently extra hands were needed. I thought I could manage, but Talu has decided he is part thanator, Mìkan keeps trying to climb everything, and the twins have been arguing over the same wooden toy for half the morning.”

You blinked once, lips already moving to decline. Nìraya’s expression turned pleading. “Please. Just for a little while. They listen to you.”

“Children listen to anyone who sound serious.”

“No,” Nìraya said, shaking her head. “They listen to you because you don’t speak to them like they are foolish.”

Exhaling slowly, you looked past her toward the clearing, hearing the distance rise of small excited and frustrated voices. Your fingers tightened around your bow. You were supposed to be training, honing your skills. Instead, you sighed softly, “Only for a little, until they are under control.” Relief brightened Nìraya’s face quickly. “Thank you. Truly, you are saving me from stress.”

“Don’t thank me yet. If Talu is truly part thanator, we may need more people.”

Nìraya laughed, the sound easing some of the worry from her shoulders. The lower children’s clearing was already chaos when you arrived. Small bodies darted between woven mats and low roots. Two children tugged at opposite ends of a wooden ikran toy, both wearing identical scowls. Another child had climbed halfway up a slanted root and was declaring herself queen of the branch in a voice loud enough for half the clan to hear. And in the center of it all, a little boy crouched on all fours, baring his tiny fangs at anyone who came close.

Talu, clearly.

Nìraya pressed her fingers to her brow. “I was gone for one moment.” Fighting the smile that threatened to come to your face, your handed Niraya your bow. “Hold this please.” She took it without question, watching as you stepped forward. You didn’t raise your voice. Didn’t clap your hands or bark orders the way some adults did when children didn’t listen. You simply moved into the middle of the clearing and lowered yourself into a crouch, eyes level with the little boy pretending to be a predator.

“Talu.”

The boy froze mid-growl.

“Thanator’s don’t bare their teeth before they strike. They wait. They watch. They know the forest better than their own breath. If you are going to be one, be a good one.” You said calmly. Talu blinked up at you, caught between embarrassment and wonder. You pointed toward the shade beneath a low root. “Go there and watch the clearing. If anyone drops a toy or climbs too high, you tell me. That is your patrol.”

His ears shot up. “I have a patrol?”

“A very important one.” You spoke earnestly.

Face full of pride, Talu scrambled to the root at once, dropping into a dramatic crouch with his eyes narrowed at the other children.

Nìraya stared. “How did you do that?”

“He wanted to be useful,” you replied, already turning toward the arguing twins. “So, I gave him something useful to do.”

The ikran toy was next. You knelt before the twins, letting them both talk over each other until their words tangled together into chaos. When they finally ran out of breath, you held out your hand.

“The toy cannot belong to both of you at the same time if you are pulling it apart,” you said.

One twin sniffed. “She had it longer.”

“Because he dropped it first,” the other argued.

You studied them both, serious enough that they quieted under your gaze. “Then we make a trade. One of you holds the toy, while the other chooses the next game. When the game changes, so does the holder of the toy. Fair?” The twins considered the plan with a serious expression; faces you’ve seen in war counsel. Then they nodded.

By the time you coaxed Mìkan down from the root by asking whether she could teach the smaller children how to climb safely, the clearing had transformed. Not silent, but steady. Laughter replaced shrieking. Running became organized games. Arguments became negotiations with very dramatic hand gestures.

Nìraya watched you with open gratitude. “You are wasted with a bow.” Your hands stilled around a fallen bead you had picked up from the dirt. Realizing what she had said, Nìraya turned to you, “I only meant-

“I know what you mean,” you said softly. Not harmed by the words. But you understood them. Before your mind could wander to the many what ifs. A tiny hand tugged at your wrist. Looking down, your eyes meet with one of the youngest girls staring up at you. Her lower lip trembled slightly as her small hands clutched a broken woven doll. The arm hung loose by a single thread. “Can you fix her?” she whispered. You took the doll with care, turning it over in your palm inspecting it. “Yes.”

The child’s eyes widened. “You know how?”

“My mother taught me. I will teach you.”

Walking to a nearby tree, you sat beneath the shade with the child pressed close to your side, guiding her fingers through the careful knotting of thread. Your voice stayed low and patient, each instruction quiet enough that the child had to lean in to listen.

That was where Neteyam found you. He had been sent to find Nìraya’s mate for a patrol matter and had only meant to stop by briefly. Instead, his steps slowed at the sound of your voice. Not the voice you used in training. Not the one sharpened by duty. This one was softer, almost hidden beneath the noise of the children, but he still caught it. Neteyam stopped near the edge of the clearing, half hidden by the hanging leaves.

You didn’t notice him. Your attention fully on the child beside you, on the doll in your lap, on the tiny fingers fumbling through the thread. When the knot slipped loose, the little girl’s face crumpled, frustrated.

“I ruined it.”

You shook your head once. “No. A loose knot only means we try again.”

“But I did it wrong.”

“Wrong is not useless,” you said. “Wrong teaches you a lesson. Now, your hands know where to go next.”

The child stared at you, then slowly tried again. The doll’s arm was finally secured after a few careful attempts. The little girl beamed as if you had healed something living. Without warning, she leaned into your side, wrapping both arms around your waist in a quick fierce hug. You froze under the display of gratitude for only a heartbeat. Then your hand lifted slowly and rested against the child’s back. Your ears twitched low against your hair, warm and startled. As Neteyam watched, that same quiet pull returned, something he still had no name for. Nìraya spotted him at the edge of the clearing and brightened.

“Neteyam! Good, you are here.”

Your head turned instantly, gaze locking with his. The softness had vanished quickly as usual. Your spine straightened to the same stiff posture you wore. And your hand slipped away from the child’s back. The silent huntress mask had returned. Neteyam pretended not to notice. Something had begun to understand. Pretending not to see was the kindest way to prove he did.

“Nìraya,” he greeted, stepping into the clearing. His gaze moved to you only briefly as you approached the child beside you, “Y/n.”

You nodded once. “Neteyam.”

The child at your side lifted the repaired doll proudly. “Y/n fixed her.”

Neteyam looked at the doll with appropriate seriousness. “Then she must be a very skilled healer.”

The girl nodded fiercely. “The best.”

Your ears flicked once.

Neteyam caught it and, out of the kindness of his heart, didn’t smile. Not where you could see at least. Nìraya glanced between the two of you, before remembering why she called him over. “Neteyam, I think my mate went toward the western roots. But if you have a moment, could you help lift the spare water skins and move them? The children keep tripping over them.”

“Of course,” he said.

He moved to gather the water skins while you urged the girl to go play, but to be careful with the doll. The girl ran off to show the others, and for one brief second you were left standing beside Neteyam.

“You are good with them,” he said quietly.

You looked ahead, watching Talu continue his very serious patrol beneath the root. “They are easy to understand.”

“Are they?”

“Yes.” Your gaze softened without notice. “They say what they want. They cry when they are hurt. They ask for help when something breaks.” Neteyam turned his head slightly, but he didn’t look at you directly. “That sounds brave, and honest.”

You nodded softly. Before either of you could say more, Nìraya called for your help again, and the moment slipped away as quickly as it had come.

Neteyam stayed only long enough to move the water skins as requested. Then as he began to leave the clearing for the western roots, his eyes found you once again. You were crouched beside Mìkan, showing her how to tie a safer knot around a climbing vine. There on your lips was the soft smile you held for the children. Smiling to himself, he carried that image with him all the way to the debrief.

By late afternoon, Neteyam stood among a small circle of warriors near the eastern watch. Jake was at the center, one hand resting on his rifle as he listened to reports from the patrols. The talk was brief. Fresh tracks near the outer ridge. A broken sensor left behind by the sky people. No movement close enough to threaten Hometree, but enough to keep everyone alert. Neteyam answered when spoken to, giving his observations clearly, and kept his posture straight under his father’s watchful eye. But when the meeting ended and the other warriors began to scatter, he didn’t immediately leave. Instead, he stood shifting his weight on the balls of his feet. A motion Jake hasn’t seen since he was young.

“Something on your mind?” his father asked, glancing over while securing the strap that held his rifle. Neteyam hesitated for only a moment. “I wanted to ask a favor.”

Jake’s brows lifted slightly. “From me?”

“Yes, sir.” Neteyam kept his voice even, though his tail betrayed him with one restless flick. Jake noticed. “There is no urgent patrol for me tonight, and I have finished the eastern report.” He paused, forcing himself still. “I was invited to share a meal with Ro’kani’s family after helping them earlier this week. I had to leave before accepting.”

Jake stared at him for a long second. Then the corner of his mouth twitched. “You’re asking me permission to go to dinner?” Neteyam’s ears flushed purple. “I am asking not to be called away from it unless it is necessary.”

Jake’s expression shifted into something far too knowing. “Uh-huh.”

“It is only respectful,” Neteyam added quickly. “Her mother invited me. I said another time.”

“Her mother,” Jake repeated eyebrows raised high. Head tilting to the side, teasing. Neteyam ears twitched. “Ro’kani’s family.”

Jake hummed, looking over his eldest son, observing him. Then he shook his head, amused. “You finished your work?”

“Yes.”

“You’re still close enough if I need you?”

“Always.”

Jake nodded once. “Then go. And Neteyam?”

Neteyam paused.

His father’s teasing softened into warning, gentle but clear. “Don’t make promises with your eyes if you’re not ready to keep them.”

Neteyam swallowed, surprised by how directly the words struck him.

Then he nodded. “I know.”

Jake studied him for a moment longer before clapping him once on the shoulder. “Good. Now get out of here before your mother finds out I let you skip helping with supper.” Neteyam huffed a quiet laugh and left before his father could change his mind.

The sun had lowered by the time Neteyam reached your family hut. The smell of roasted roots, fresh herbs, and something sweet cooking over the small fire inside danced through the air. Neteyam stopped just outside, he was suddenly very aware of his posture, his hands, the way his braids were arranged and rested against his shoulders. Wringing his hands out, he took deep breaths. He has faced enemy fire with steadier nerves than this. After gathering himself as best he could, before he could decide whether to call out, your father appeared at the entrance.

The older warrior’s face brightened. “Neteyam.”

Neteyam dipped his head respectfully. “I see you.”

“I see you,” your father returned warmly, though confusion followed quickly after. He stepped aside, glancing past Neteyam as if expecting another warrior. “Were we meant to meet? Has Jake sent word?”

Neteyam opened his mouth, but your mother’s voice came from inside before he could answer.

“He is here for the meal.”

Your father turned, still confused. “A meal?”

Your mother appeared beside him, wiping her hands on a cloth, her expression far too pleased with herself. “The lunch I promised him. Since duty stole him away, it is dinner now.” Your father looked from his mate to Neteyam, then back again. Slowly, understanding settled across his face.

“Ah.”

Neteyam stood very still. Your mother smiled at him. “Come in before you decide to run.”

“I won’t.” Neteyam said, stepping inside.

Your father gave a low laugh. “Good. I would have had questions.”

Neteyam was guided to sit at the low family table while your father settled across from him. It should have been simple conversation, and in a way, it was. Your father asked about the eastern watch, the patrol routes, Jake’s latest concerns, and whether the younger hunters were improving under Neteyam’s instruction. Neteyam answered respectfully, grateful for something familiar to hold onto. Warrior talk. Duty talk. Things he could speak about with ease like breathing.

Still, every few minutes, his eyes shifted toward the entrance. Every time, they had your mother noticed, a knowing smile tugged at her lips. She didn’t comment on Neteyam interest on their entrance. Moving around the table she set the bowls down, setting the table. Moments later, voices carried from outside catching Neteyam attention, he recognized both.

“You carried the lighter basket on purpose,” Ro’kani accused.

“I didn’t,” you replied.

“Yours has herbs. Mine has fruit and roots. It is heavier.”

“Then you should be grateful for the strength father trained into you.”

Ro’kani scoffed. “You sound like him when you say that.”

“Then perhaps listen.”

The flap of the entrance shifted, and you stepped inside with a basket of herbs balanced against your hip. Ro’kani followed behind you with a larger basket filled with fruits, roots, and folded leaves for the meal. Then you both stopped. Neteyam sat at your family table across from your father, straight backed and respectful, with a cup of fresh water in his hand.

For a moment no one moved. Then Ro’kani gave a welcoming smile to Neteyam. His eyes slowly shifted to you. But your face didn’t change, though your ears betrayed you as they lifted slightly before pressing back against your hair.

Neteyam rose at once. “Y/n. Ro’kani.”

“Neteyam.” Ro’kani greeted approaching Neteyam and gave a welcoming pat on his shoulder before letting his hand rest there. “What brings you by?”

“Dinner.” Your mother answered once again. While Ro’kani removed his hand confused. “I thought it was for lunch?”

“It was. Now it is dinner.”

Your father cleared his throat, though the amusement in his eyes was impossible to miss. “Set the baskets down, and both of you stop staring like frightened yerik.”

“I am not frightened,” you said.

Ro’kani grinned looking at Neteyam. “Neither am I. Just surprised.”

Neteyam lowered his gaze to hide the small smile threatening his own mouth. Dinner began with far more watching than eating. Your mother moved around the large space with practiced ease, passing bowls into waiting hands and nudging Ro’kani aside with her hip when he tried to steal a piece of roasted root before everyone was seated. Your father remained in his spot, eyes shifting between you and Neteyam waiting to see whatever he had missed. Ro’kani sat across from Neteyam, grin small and teasing. Waiting for a moment for his prey to run so he could pounce. You, unfortunately, were seated beside Neteyam. Thanks to your mother, not so subtle glare when you tried to sit beside Ro’kani.

You didn’t sit too close. Not enough for your shoulder to touch. But enough that you are aware of his proximity whenever he shifted, enough that you could feel the warmth of him. Enough that your movements were far too careful whenever you moved. Ro’kani noticed, of course he did. “Careful, Y/n,” Ro’kani said, reaching for the same roasted root. “If you sit any straighter, Neteyam may think you are preparing for battle instead of dinner.”

You didn’t look at him, tail swishing once against the floor. “If you speak too much, I may.”

Your father chuckled into his cup while your mother clicked her tongue, though the smile she tried to hide made the scolding pointless. Neteyam kept his attention on his bowl, as if giving the food an inspection. To give himself a small distraction for the attention that rested on him.

It didn’t help.

He could feel Ro’kani watching him from across the table, could feel your mother’s pleased amusement, could feel your father’s assessing gaze moving between him and you with quiet patience.

“So,” your father said at last, tearing a piece of roasted root with his fingers, “my mate tells me you helped repair the loosened binding.”

Neteyam lifted his head. “Yes. It was nothing difficult.”

“And carried baskets,” your mother added lightly.

Your spoon paused halfway to your mouth, eyes flickering over to your mother in warning. Though, she didn’t meet your gaze. Ro’kani grin widened. “Ah, yes. The baskets. A heroic task from Neteyam.”

“Ro’kani,” your mother warned, though her voice held no true threat as she had just done the same as him.

“What?” he asked, feigning innocence. “I am honoring Neteyam’s humble acts.”

Neteyam took a slow drink of water to hide the way his mouth threatened to curve. “It was a nothing,” he said evenly. “One basket was especially stubborn.”

Your ears flicked. Ro’kani first came to his mouth, in attempt to hide his ever growing grin. “Stubborn. Did you hear that, sister? Even your baskets take after you.” You set your spoon down carefully. “If you are finished speaking nonsense, eat before mother decides your mouth is too busy for food.”

Your father laughed openly this time. “She has your tongue when she wants it.”

Your mother gave him a pointed look. “She has mine. Yours only makes trouble.”

Ro’kani lifted both hands. “I am being spoken of here?”

Neteyam despite himself smiled. The easy warmth around the table settled something in his chest. He had known Ro’kani for years, had trained and hunted beside him, and had heard him boast about his family more times than he could count. But seeing all of you like this was different. Here, Ro’kani’s teasing was softer, and he didn’t hold that protectiveness here. Your father’s usual sternness broke into laughter easily. And your mother was the same with her quiet watchfulness, holding it all together.  

And you, right beside him with your spine straight and your expression controlled, looked less untouchable beneath their affection. Not soft but loved. Neteyam has realized family will do that to you.

“Neteyam,” your father said, pulling Neteyam eyes from you, and himself from his thoughts. He hoped he wasn’t staring.

“Sir?”

“You have been training the younger hunters with my daughter, yes?”

Neteyam felt you go still beside him.

“A few times,” he answered. “She teaches them well.”

Your father’s gaze moved to you, prideful. “She has always been precise.”

“More than precise,” Neteyam said before he could stop himself. The table went quiet. And Neteyam had realized too late what he had said as every pair of eyes fell on him, including yours. He cleared his throat but didn’t take the words back. “She teaches them to understand why they hold the bow. Not only how. She reminds them that skill without care becomes cruelty.”

For once, Ro’kani didn’t tease. Chewing at his food he nodded in agreement. Your mother held an all knowing expression. While your father studied Neteyam for a long moment, face unreadable before he nodded once, slow and approving.  “That is a good thing to notice.”

Neteyam dipped his head, suddenly wishing the floor would open enough for him to disappear into it. “It’s hard not to notice.”

Ro’kani hummed lowly to himself. “Hard not to notice,” he repeated under his breath.

You reached beneath the table and kicked his ankle. Ro’kani yelped at the assault. Your mother didn’t look at either of you as she ate. “Children.”

“She hit me,” Ro’kani protested, rubbing his ankle.

“With precision,” your father said tilting his cup of water in the air.

Neteyam choked on his water. You turned to him instantly, concern breaking your posture and composure before you could notice. “Are you alright?” Neteyam coughed once more, face warm, and pride wounded. “Yes. I am fine.” He swallowed voice muted. Unbeknownst to you, your hand had lifted slightly toward him. Once you had noticed, Neteyam also did. Faster than you and liked, you returned your hand to your lap.

Everyone saw. But no one said anything. Which to you felt worse.

Neteyam forced himself to breathe evenly, ignoring the way his heart jumped with delight upon seeing your concern for him. While you returned to your meal wishing you could disappear into it. Ro’kani gave you pity, for only a few moments.

“So, Neteyam.” Ro’kani leaned against the table eyes on his oldest friend.

Neteyam unconsciously braced himself. “Yes?”

“How long did you spend asking your father for permission to come here?”

Neteyam’s eyes narrowed. “Who told you I asked him?”

Ro’kani’s grin turned wicked. “No one. But now I know you did.”

Your father coughed into his hand to hide a laugh. Your mother shook her head. “Ro’kani, leave him be.”

“I am simply making conversation. Can I not talk to my friend?”

“You are making trouble,” you said gaze stern.

Ro’kani’s eyes slid to you. “For Neteyam, not you. You jump to defend him so fast.”

Your face went very still. Neteyam noticed, so he stepped in before Ro’kani could tease any more. “I asked my father because your mother offered me a meal, and I didn’t want duty to interrupt her kindness twice.”

The answer was respectful, honest and safe. And still, his gaze flicked to you for the briefest moment. As if to gauge your reaction, your approval of his response. He hoped no one would notice, but unfortunately this family noticed everything. So, he knew that was wishful thinking.

You stared very hard at your bowl. And Neteyam decided very wisely to do the same. But it did nothing to settle his mind. If anything, it made him more aware of the small space between your arm and his, of the way your family moved around you as if they knew where you had kept everything buried. Neteyam felt foreign to it still. He had been raised on reading people. Told that survival depended on noticing what everyone else missed. He had been good at it, good enough for his father's approval. Yet, as he saw the way your family behaved around you doing what he felt he was so good at so easily. He felt as if it was a new language. And in a way, you are.

Neteyam realized Ro’kani teasing came from years of knowing you would rather be irritated than openly exposed. Your mother watched you silently because she would always see that little girl who held so much gentleness like it was secret never meant to see the light. And your father, a known warrior who praised your precision so often that pride expectation had tangled together so tightly that even he seemed unsure where one ended and the other began.

And in all of it, you were in the middle. Accepting the different forms of love just as you accepted help.

Neteyam wondered how long you had lived that way. Letting people close enough to be polite, never close enough to touch what hurt, to even get a glimpse of it. He wondered if anyone had ever asked what you wanted before telling you what you were good at. The thought made something protective rise in him so quickly that his fingers tightened around his bowl to suppress it.

Not the kind of protection that would stand in front of you with a drawn bow. He knew better than that. You didn’t need him to make you look fragile. You would hate him for it, and he would deserve it. No, this was different. He wanted to protect the parts of you that slipped out by accident. The quick concern when he choked. The softened attention you gave children. The quiet way you looked away when praised for something gentler than skill. He wanted to stand near enough that if the world asked too much of you, you wouldn’t have to carry all of it alone.

The realization unsettled him. Because wanting to help is one thing. But wanting to be allowed to matter, to be close without reason. That was another.

Beside him, you shifted slightly. The movement was careful, yet your knee still brushed against his for a brief moment under the table. It was nothing. Still the contact brought Neteyam from his thoughts, his breath catching before he could stop it. He didn’t move closer; he knew better than to do that. But he didn’t move away either. He simply sat there, shoulders more relaxed than they have ever been today. Forcing himself to remain focused on his meal. He pretended the accidental touch didn’t send his heart into hyperdrive.

Across the table, Ro’kani’s eyes narrowed. Years of friendship would make his tales noticeable. In that moment Neteyam wished he had been less readable.

By the time dinner ended, the warmth in the hut had settled into something quieter. Bowls were empty and the cooking fire burned low. Your mother and you gathered the dishes together. Neteyam rose to help, but your mother waved him back down giving a look that left no room for argument. He now knew where you got the look from.

“You already helped enough,” she said. “Sit before you make me feel as if I invited you here to work.”

Neteyam lowered himself back to the table, though his hands stayed restless on his knees. Sitting idle in another family’s home felt strange, he is used to helping. Then Ro’kani stretched his arms above his head releasing a satisfied groan. “We should head back before it gets too late.”

Your father looked up from where he was tying off a bundle of spare cord. “Back to your hut, or back to trouble?”

“Those are often the same path,” your mother said without looking over.

Ro’kani placed a hand over his chest, offended. “I am your son.”

“That is why I know,” she replied smoothly.

Your father laughed under his breath and rose to his feet. You gathered the small basket your mother had packed with extra fruit and herbs, already knowing she wouldn’t let either you or Ro’kani leave empty-handed.

“Sa’nok,” you said quietly, “we have enough.”

“You have enough when I say you have enough.” Your mother tucked another wrapped portion into the basket before setting it firmly in your hands. “You and your brother both forget to eat properly when you are busy.”

Ro’kani opened his mouth.

Your mother pointed at him without turning. “Don’t argue with me.”

He closed his mouth.

Neteyam watched the exchange with quiet amusement, the warmth of it settling in his chest. He was reminded of his own mother, though her scolding’s were far more ruthless due to Neteyam skipping most of his meals. Lost in thought, Neteyam stilled when a basket was pressed firmly against his chest for him to take. Inside of it wrapped portions of food, extra roots, herbs and fruit. He held it instinctively.

“I can’t-

“You won’t argue with me either.” She pointed. “Neytiri complains a lot about you not eating properly too.”

Neteyam ears flushed at the tips. “Thank you.” Your mother gave his arm a gentle loving pat.

Your father stepped toward Ro’kani, clasping the back of his neck. “Walk safe,” he murmured. “And don’t take the high outer path in the dark. The wood is slick after the rain.”

Ro’kani’s grin softened. “I know, Father.”

“Knowing and listening are not the same thing.”

“That sounds like something Y/n would say.”

“Because she listens.”

You gave your brother a side glance to you as your father turned to you. He reached out, brushing his knuckles lightly beneath your chin the way he had when you were younger, tilting your face up just enough to look at you.

“And you,” he said, voice lower, “rest tonight. No late training.”

Your spine stiffened by instinct. “I wasn’t going to train.” Ro’kani chuckled. You ignored him. Your father held your gaze a moment longer, before nodding. “Good.”

He pressed his forehead briefly to yours. It was not long, but it was enough. A quiet goodnight. Your mother came from Neteyam, placing one hand against Ro’kani’s cheek and then yours, her touch lingering on you, gentle.

“Sleep,” she said. “Both of you.”

“Yes, Sa’nok,” Ro’kani said, voice suddenly softer.

You nodded. “I will.”

Your mother’s eyes narrowed slightly. “That is not the same as saying you will not train.”

Ro’kani grinned, nudging you with his arm. “Ha.” You looked away, exhaling lowly, almost a laugh. Neteyam caught it, smiling to himself at the sight.

Your mother turned to him then, her expression brightening with warmth. “Thank you for coming, Neteyam. You are welcome at our table again.” Neteyam bowed his head, touched by the statement. “Thank you for inviting me. The meal was very good.”

“Good enough to return?” your father asked, amused.

Neteyam’s gaze flicked, instinctively towards you. Then he looked back to your father. “Yes,” he said, steady despite the spike of his pulse. “Very good.”

Your father smiled in return. The four of you stepped out into the warm hut. The air outside was cooler. Your parents stopped at the entrance while you, Ro’kani, and Neteyam adjusted the baskets in hand.

Your mother lifted her hand in farewell. “Straight home.”

“Yes, Mother,” you and Ro’kani said at the same time. The unison response made your father laugh softly. Your mother smiled, satisfied, and leaned against him as the three of you began down the path.

Neteyam glanced back once. Your parents still stood in the doorway, wanting to assure you all walked safely until out of sight. Then your father raised two fingers to his brow in a final farewell. Neteyam returned the gesture with respect before turning back to the path beside you.

For a few breaths, the three of you walked in comfortable silence. Night and settled over Hometree, there were no busy chatter just distant murmurs or the soft rustle of leave whenever someone moved through the branches above.

The quiet, was unfortunately broken Ro’kani. “This is very touching.”

You kept your eyes forward. “What is?”

“This.” He gestured vaguely between you and Neteyam with two fingers. “The silent walk. The careful distance. And the way neither of you look at the other, yet somehow both of you know exactly where the other is.”

Neteyam almost tripped over a root. You didn’t look at him, but your ears twitched, alarmed. Ro’kani grinned, “See? Even her ears confess before she does.”

“Ro’kani,” you warned.

“What? I am only observing.” He looked at Neteyam, grin sharpening. “That is what we call it right?”

Neteyam eyes widened momentarily, his gaze flickering between you and Ro’kani. “Stop remembering.”

“I can’t it’s a gift.”

“No, you’re just loud,” you corrected.

“Also, true.” Ro’kani adjusted the basket on his hip and glanced between you again. “So, Neteyam, are you walking with us because the path is dangerous, or because you are still being respectful to my mother’s invitation?”

Neteyam’s gaze flicked briefly toward you before returning to the path. “It’s late.”

Ro’kani nodded solemnly. “Yes, it is late. It can get dangerous at night, hm? Especially for my sister, who has never walked this path before in her entire life. Even with her older brother an extra pair of hand will do huh?”

“I didn’t say she needed me,” Neteyam replied carefully. That made you glance at him. It was brief, but Neteyam still felt warm beneath your gaze.

“I know she can make it home,” he added, voice quieter. “I only thought I would walk this way too.”

“Also, you are plenty Ro’kani.” Neteyam shook his head amused. Ro’kani’s released a short chuckle.

Ignoring the two men, you look ahead again, your grip of the basket shifted. It wasn’t heavy, not really, Neteyam knew that. Yet, he didn’t offer to carry it this time. Not because he didn’t want to, he did. The want to offer rose when your mother first gave it to you at the hut. But he remembered at the stream, when you first told him no. How you only gave him that one basket after choosing to do so yourself. So, he just held onto his own basket, but he walked near just in case. Both you and Ro’kani noticed.

“You know, when we were small, she used to make me walk on the outside of every path.”

Your head turned. “That’s not true.”

“It is very true.” Ro’kani looked at Neteyam. “She said if a branch broke, I would fall first because I was older and had stronger bones.”

Neteyam turned to you, amused.

You looked ahead not meeting his gaze. “I was five.”

“A ruthless age,” Ro’kani said, yet felt reminiscent of your mentality back then. He smiled softly. Neteyam laughed under his breath. You looked at him. This laugh was different than his usual ones. It was quiet and warm, unguarded even. Nothing like the respectful controlled laugh he does around elders. No, this was softer, easier. And for some reason in hearing it your ears twitched towards him. As if wanting to hear more.

Ro’kani saw that too.

“Interesting,” he murmured.

“If you continue,” you said, “I will make you carry both baskets.”

“You already gave me the heavy one.”

“Mother gave you the heavy one.”

Ro’kani laughed. The path split a little farther ahead. One branch curved toward Ro’kani’s hut, tucked among the higher roots with the other young hunters. The other wounded toward your smaller hut, quieter and farther from the main gathering areas. Ro’kani slowed at the split, looking between the two paths before his gaze landed on Neteyam.

“Well,” he said, far too casually. “This is where I leave you both to be very respectful and very silent.”

Your head snapped toward him. “Ro’kani.”

He shrugged causally. “What? It’s true.”

Neteyam fought to keep his face composed, and it took a lot of effort. Ro’kani stepped closer to him, grin still present but his voice dropping so only Neteyam could hear. “Walk her home. Don’t make it weird.” Neteyam met his gaze, and he could see it. The warning, not threatening but it was there. An older brother’s warning, he knew it well.

Neteyam nodded once. “I won’t.” Ro’kani nodded holding his gaze a few seconds longer before backing away. His hand went to your head resting there. “Goodnight, prrnen tmuske (baby sister).”

“Night.” You replied.

Ro’kani looked at Neteyam. “Try not to trip over your own feet, brother.”

“I didn’t trip.”

Ro’kani looked down the path they had walked, directly at the root Neteyam had tripped over earlier. Neteyam ignored Ro’kani knowing gaze. With one last smile, Ro’kani turned down his own path, calling over his shoulder, “Goodnight, respectful future Olo’eyktan.”

“Goodnight,” Neteyam said, half sighing.

You watched your brother disappear into his hut, exhaling slowly through your nose. You looked away, staring down the path that led to your own. “He enjoys making things difficult,” you said.

Neteyam stood close, but not too close. “I think he enjoys making things easier.”

You turned your head toward him. And for a moment, the two of you stood on the split path, the night alive around you. Then Neteyam gestured lightly down the path. “May I walk you the rest of the way?”

You studied him. You knew how he was. Knew he wouldn’t push; knew he didn’t offer because he didn’t trust you. It was why you didn’t refuse. Because his offers never came with terms and conditions.

“If you want,” you said.

It was not permission, exactly. But it was something close. And Neteyam smiled all the same, falling into step beside you. From behind you, off in the distance Ro’kani carried loud enough for others to hear.

“Be respectful!”

You closed your eyes for one long second. Cursing him a thousand times over in your head. While Neteyam laughed lowly. You didn’t mention it, nor did you mind it.

Neteyam matched your pace. Walking directly beside you. He realized small things matter, like they did for everyone. But when it came to you, Neteyam was extra careful. If he walked too close you would retreat, forcing distance. If he was too far it would feel like another quiet walk before it could become more. So, he kept a careful distance, close enough to be known but far enough so you didn’t feel cornered.

For a moment, he wondered when he started measuring distance like this. With everyone else it was simple. A scolding hand on Lo’ak shoulder dragging him away from trouble. A warm hand around Tuk whenever she rushes him with a hug. Even with Ro’kani it was easy, teasing pushes and carefree laughter.

Yet with you, everything required different care. As it does with everyone. And despite how careful he had to be, how he had to move with caution. He didn’t mind; in fact, he wanted to get better at it. Neteyam looked ahead, watching the faint glow of moss along the roots. Beside him, you carried the basket your mother had forced into your hands. The wrapped food inside shifted softly with each step just as he did. The want to carry it rose again, but he pushed it down.

“You’re quiet,” you said.

Neteyam glanced at you, surprised you had spoken first. “I was thinking.”

Your eyes remained on the path ahead. “That can be dangerous.”

A smile tugged at his mouth. “So Ro’kani keeps telling me.”

Your ears twitched. A reaction, barely there but Neteyam saw it. He smiled to himself. Neteyam wondered if you knew how much your ears told. Telling what your face and mouth refuse too. He knew Ro’kani would always point it out, teasing you about it. But he also wondered if others saw enough to notice. To see that the silent huntress they boast about feels too. That she is more than her bow and skill. Then for a fleeting moment, he thought he didn’t want them to see. He wanted to stay one of the few to notice. To be able to see you tells, to read you better than others. He knew that sounded selfish, yet he didn’t care. The feeling had already taken root.

Then his father warning played back in his mind. Don't make promises with your eyes if you are not ready to keep them.

Neteyam’s fingers flexed around the basket. He was beginning to understand why he had warned him. Obviously, he is not subtle with his gaze. Your family’s teasing at dinner was a clear sign of that. Something unspoken passed between you two often. Whether either of you liked it or not. The same something he couldn’t name. Maybe a promise, maybe not. Neteyam didn’t know, but he did know he wanted to be worthy of whatever it was.

You stepped carefully over the roots twisting along the path, he watched you carefully. Without meaning to, Neteyam slowed down ready to catch you if your footing slipped. It didn’t, and he expected that. But he wanted to be sure. Noticing, you looked at him. “I can walk.”

“I know,” he said immediately. He answered quick, too quick. Neteyam held your gaze, forcing himself not to explain more under your studying gaze. I know you can walk. I know you can protect yourself. I only want to be there.

You gaze lingered on him seconds longer before nodding. “Good.”

Your hut came into view sooner than Neteyam wanted. It was among the quieter roots, a smaller hut than your parents. But big enough for you. Neteyam slowed when you did. For a moment, you stood at the edge of the small clearing with the basket held against your hip, looking anywhere except at him.

“This is me,” you said. Neteyam eyes went to your hut. Not prying but just looking over the shape of your home. “It suits you.”

You looked at him then, lips holding the faintest smile. “Small and out of the way?”

He shook his head softly, smiling gently at you. “Peaceful.”

That caught you off guard a bit. You picked this hut because it was quiet. And not many passed by these roots. Peaceful? You hadn’t thought of that, it wasn’t something you allowed yourself to feel often. And of course, your ears shifted betraying your neutral face. You adjusted the basket in your arms. “Thank you for walking with me.”

The words came out formal and polished. Not giving any more, even though in the back of your mind you thought of it.

“Thank you for letting me,” Neteyam replied.

You stared at him; you expected that answer. It was a Neteyam answer. And upon hearing, it still caught you off guard. Your shoulders lowered a little and your face softened, quickly you turned away before he could see.

“You should go before it gets later,” you said.

Neteyam huffed a quiet laugh. “Of course.”

He dipped his head respectfully, but his eyes stayed on yours a moment longer than necessary. “Goodnight, Y/n.”

Your name sounded different when he said it here. Outside the quiet of your hut, away from Ro’kani teasing. It was softer, like he was careful with it. Swallowing the strange pull in your chest you forced yourself to reply.

“Goodnight, Neteyam.”

He turned to leave, and you should have gone inside. Should’ve left it there, keeping the boundary you set in place. But instead, you stood their basket in hand, and you watched him walk down the glowing path. Neteyam didn’t look over his shoulder right away. And you were grateful for that; it gave you time to breathe. To calm your racing thoughts, to smooth over your face. To remind yourself that this was him honoring your mother and Ro’kani request. But you knew that was a lie.

Then Neteyam reached the turn in the path and paused. He looked back, and you were still standing there. Neither of you moved. Warmth spread beneath his chest, his tail flicked twice behind him. Your ears twitched, lifting in the air angling towards him. And you hated the fact that he could probably see them from there.

Then, Neteyam smiled. Small and quiet before walking down the path. Until he was hidden by the thicker roots. Finally, you step inside your hut. The quiet that greeted you was normal. You set the basket down on the woven floor, near the empty basket of food your mother had given you days ago. Then, slowly, you lifted your hand to your chest. Pressing firming into your chest as if to calm your heart. It did nothing. To make matters worse, your mind played over the way he spoke your name, as if it was a gift to say. The moment he looked over his shoulder to see if you still stood there. And then seeing his quiet smile when he realized you were watching him.

You felt stupid. These feelings felt stupid. It was just a walk home. A goodnight. A simple smile. Nothing so jurassic that your heart should be raging against your rib cage. And yet, despite yourself, when the quiet settled around you again. You thought, you hoped, that he would walk the path to your hut again.

“She feels sad for the creatures, because we hunt and eat them.” She explained, holding you knee as she rubbed her thumb in a soothing motion. Ro’kani’s face softened with sadness at his little sister's distress.

“Don’t cry,” he pleaded.

“The animals dying is good.” She wailed more, and Ro’kani winced.

“Wait, wait, listen.” He released a little giggle. “Eywa is like a mother. Like mom is for us.” He pointed to your mother as an example. “Mama wouldn’t hunt us.” You hiccuped little mind not having a memory of running from your loving mother.

Ro’kani smirked. “No. But she provides for us.” He explained, waiting for your reaction before continuing. “The animals are the way the great mother provides for us.”

“So, when we—um—kill the animals, it is a gift from Eywa. And we always thank her.” He glanced at his mother, who smiled fondly and nodded in encouragement.

“But they bleed, get hurt,” she sniffled. Ro’kani smiled with pride and continued, “Yes but no! We have the best hunters! You know what a clean kill is?” You shook your head, confusion clear on your face.

“It is when you hit a weak spot on the animal so that when they die, it feels less pain. The death is fast, so it’s a peaceful sendoff back to Eywa,” he explained.

“Go back to Eywa? Why?” You asked calmer than before. “So, they can be at peace and not hurt anymore. Get it?” You nodded slowly, your tears dry now, and Ro’kani smiled.

“Good. Oh! To make you feel even better, guess what your tsmukan (brother) did?” You blinked at him waiting for an answer.

“I got to say the prayer over sempul (father) clean kill! Sending it peacefully to the great mother.” He said. You smiled in return. Ro’kani rose from the ground, taking your hand. “Let’s go see father he’ll tell you.”

There near the edge of the clan were the surrounding hunters crowding the dead creatures, one of them was huge, six legs and black, his snout like fangs. It frightened you, causing you to yank at Rokani hand hiding behind him.

“It won’t harm you; father took care of it.”

At the sound of his eldest voice, your father left his conversation. “My boy, what brings you back?” His question was answered upon seeing his daughter behind him, whimpering at the sight of the animals. Understanding he took you into his larger arms, cradling you against his chest.

“There is nothing to fear, ma’ite. They can no longer harm you.”

“You killed them.” You whimper, quietly holding onto your father’s braids.

“We hunters and warriors have to, in order to protect and feed.” Your father pointed to the larger scary animal. “If that one had gotten any closer to home it would have harmed the clan members, you, Rokani and your mother. All who cannot protect themselves.” You stared at the creatures.

“I don’t want that.”

“Neither do I, so I do my duty and protect. In my hunt I cannot falter or hesitate. But be flawless and true so I can come back to you little one.” You father kissed your face over and over causing you to giggle and squeal laughter filling the air.

“I want to be like you papa.” You father giggled low, “And you will, you both will.” His hand moved to Rokani shoulder giving a squeeze.

“This clan has a bright future with such warriors as yourselves.”

“Do not linger behind.”

The young ones scrambled to follow your careful steps, walking as close as possible. Usually, you wouldn’t spend your time doing this, leading a pack of inexperience hunters. Teaching them the ways to track, hunt, and give thanks. Rather, you would find yourself training alone, in a secluded training area you’ve made for yourself, or aiding in your mother’s daily chores. Even shadowing after your father who took part in the war party. Not today, instead you are here filling in for your older brother who had been pulled away by the Olo’eyktan for other matters. He pleaded with you to take his place in training the younger hunters.

His exact words were, “They long to learn from the silent huntress.”

A dumb name.

Yet, it had been a title you’ve yet to shake with the many you’ve acquired throughout your life. Due to the name and reputation of the unapproachable huntress, all aspiring hunters looked to you, especially the clumsy ones who tripped over overgrown roots right now. Watching your back with eagerness, the urge to prove oozed off them. Despite the mask you have, their need to do well swells your heart. Coming from your wondering thoughts, you slowly stopped your trek down the path. Eyes scanning across the thick greenery, ears twitching to catch any sound suspicious or unwelcoming.

“This is the path you walk with Ro’kani.” You questioned, kneeling in the dirt, fingers moving over the moss. “Yes.” The oldest of the group, Vonll, answered. He always walked along Ro’kani when leading the group, a second in command. With every passing second you felt the shift, still crouched you moved over the grass, tracking. Holding out your hand that held your bow, in silent warning to stay back. Vonll understood, making sure everyone listened to the instructions. Their wide innocent eyes looked curious, fear slowly consuming them.

With one final brush of your hand over the grass, you saw it, footprints in the dirt, one set of six. Then two, three, with each one found you rose notching your arrow. “Go back down the path, now.” Immediately they listened, running back down the path, you followed close behind. Eyes scanning through the thick forest, pinpointing possible routes they could come from.

Rapid steps filled your ears, eye darting to the clearing on the far left, close to the path to the village. From behind the thick tree, one rounded with others following, snarls filled the air. The young ones gasped behind you while your stance was ready and quick, already releasing the notch arrow knocking one into the grass, dead.

“Run!”

Following behind your steps were quick, urging everyone to run faster. With any chance you got, you turned and swiftly dropped another. For seconds your eyes remained, watching as it dropped into pandoras soil unmoving. Biting the inside of your cheek you turned away and began running again. It was then you realized you would be leading these predators too close to home. Gritting your teeth your eyes darted up, “In the trees. Climb!” You assisted everyone in the climb, but one young male foot caught a weak branch, it gave under his weight. Vonll with another on his back reached for him, but he was out of his reach, he groaned in frustration watching as the boy fell down back beside you.

You cursed under your breath, the viperwolves drew closer. It was too late to have him climb up again, instead you covered him stance ready and arrow notch, it’s like breathing.

“Stay behind me.”

As they ran up you bared your teeth, hissing in warning. A warning they did not heed. The closest one met the same fate as the other two before. Another lunged at you, quickly you dropped your bow unsheathing your knife and dug into its thick flesh, right where it’s fatal. Throwing it from your body, you quickly grabbed your bow shooting one quickly. From the side one lunged at the young hunter behind you, whipping your head around, you swung at it with your bow knocking it down. Before it could scramble to attack, you rushed over knee at its neck, it clawed at your thigh digging into your flesh leaving being marks of its frustration. Groaning in pain, you aimed for the spot and stabbed at it, ending its struggle.

You watch as it stilled beneath you, slumping against the grass. Pulling your knife out, your hand trembled around the grip as you watched the soul drift from the creature. Gripping your knife, you sheathed it, turning to the young hunter who braced himself against the thick tree right where you told him. Fear and shock instilled in him as he froze where he stood. With quiet urgency, your hands went to his arm, resting against him in assurance. “It’s okay, you’re okay.” You comforted him.

Vonll climbed down, helping the others as well. One by one you saw to their possible wounds, checking their mental and physical. Nothing but scrapes and bruises but with practiced care you applied salves to each one using the medical supplies you always carried with you. Standing with Vonll, you wrapped his forearm, he had gotten a gnash from climbing up the tree so fast with extra weight.

“You did well.” You praised him.

His ears shot up, eyes widened at your words. Never did he expect a compliment from you, for a moment it felt unreal, until he felt the weight of your bandage on his forearm. Nodding, he gave a shy thanks.

After everyone was accounted for and their weapons returned to them. With silent reverence you knelt before the viper wolf closest to you, the one that had wounded you. The clawed mark throbbed painfully, yet it was dull comparison to the grief that weighs on your heart. Its death, along with its brothers and sisters were hasty and painful, nothing like you usually hunts. But the situation was dire, there was no choice. You purse your lips to prevent your bottom lip from trembling. Resting your hand against its body, just beside the trail of blood, you closed your eyes sitting with it. Everyone stood around, quietly watching.

“This is not how we hunt, nor how we kill the creatures Eywa provides us with.” You quietly said, but everyone heard. Leaning over the viper wolf, you spoke the prayer gently guiding the spirit back to the great mother. Releasing a low shaky breath, you rose from the dirt facing the young hunters.

“It is alright to be scared, to feel. Let those emotions be your driving force. These creatures, they are still a gift from Eywa, pray over them. With their deaths we will be feed, with their deaths we are safe.” With your guidance, you watched every young hunter pray over the viperwolves, teaching them the words and respect to give. Together, you carried what you could back home, leading the group like before. Unlike before, everyone stayed close, there was no need to instruct them to draw near no longer. Vonll head turn every so often, looking in every direction possible, on high alert still.

“We are fine Vonll.” You said. He stiffened under your voice facing forward. “Right, just being sure. But um your leg.” He nodded down. But you didn’t follow his gaze, you knew of the wound you had not treated, wrapped poorly with bandaged as you rushed. Though, you wanted to bear the wound, as silent punishment for yourself.

“I will tend to it when we are back home. The wrapping will have to do for now.” You said, Vonll looked as if he wanted to argue, dreading for when Ro’kani would see his precious sister injured.

“Sister.” The one walking beside you, spoke up voice shy and trembling the viper wolf he carried heavy against his shoulders, you gave him your attention.

“How did you do it? Your aim, it looked perfect.” He asked and others mumbled agreements hurdling closer to hear you better. Looking away, you remembered the grueling hours of training with your father and brother. The hours you spent away from the village training on your own.

“Thank you, but they weren’t perfect. My aim could’ve been far better, I need more practice it seems. It’s what I usually do. I never stop until my arrows land directly in the center. If I am even a centimeter off, I would continue on training another hour no matter how late or early.” You replied.

“Then I can do the same.” A girl behind you spoke up. But you shook your head. “Don’t. It’s not healthy.”

“You did it.” Another argued. you sighed.

You sighed, amused. “It wasn’t healthy for me either.”

“You can teach them.” Vonll finally joined in, causing you to look at him.

“No.”

Instantly, groans and complaints filled the air, clearly that wasn’t the reply they wanted to hear. The air filled, with possible scenarios of you teaching them, and them boasting about how nice it would be to be taught by the silent huntress who is unexpectedly kind. With each fabricated tale, you couldn’t help the small smile that came to your face, “Ro’kani is a great instructor he will continue to teach you.” They still mumbled small complaints along the way.

Walking along the path to home tree, making it to the cooking station. “Drop the kills here.” Everyone listened, piling the creatures together neatly. “All of you, to the healer's circle. Get check out.”

“What about you?” The same young boy who you had protected asked, his eye focused on your thigh. He pursed his lips; fist balled at his side. You knew that expression, disappointment. Your face softens at his gaze. “I will get treated but you go along first.” Reluctantly they went ahead guided by Vonll. Turning away, you avoided other clan members, walking the path to the lower roots. Golden eyes followed your figure.

The lower roots were cool and quiet, far from the loudness of the clan above. Sitting against the bark, you brought your leg up carefully. Wincing lowly, as you unwrapped the blood soaked bandage from your thigh. The wound was deep, and angry. The sight of your own blood made your stomach turn uncomfortably. A soft rustle of leaves cut through the quiet.

Instantly, your ears shot up, posture straightening. You moved your good leg over your injured one, hiding it from view. Masking slipping on easily, prepared to play the role of the name you found dumb. 

Neteyam stepped around the thick root. His eyes met yours instantly, his posture relaxed stopping a respectful feet away from you. He watched you from where he stood, eyes dropping to your hidden leg before returning to your eyes. "The young hunters are calling you a legend," Neteyam said softly, his voice low so no one would hear but you. "They say you took down eight viperwolves without blinking.”

“That’s an exaggeration. If you're looking for them, I sent them to the healer circle.” You kept your voice neutral, resisting the urge to move as the weight of your leg felt painful against your thigh.

"I know where they are. And I’m not here for them.” Neteyam said, taking a step closer holding his hands up shaking them slightly. His larges hands were full; in one a bundle of leaves that would help with stop the bleeding and in the other a clay bowel full of numbing salve. “I come baring gifts.” You eyed the supplies, your thigh throbbing angrily. "I have my own supplies."

"I know," Neteyam replied easily. He didn't push you, didn’t try to convince you to be tended to by a healer. Instead, he knelt down a few feet away, placing the leaves and the salve on a flat part of the root between you. Sliding them toward you a bit more, so you wouldn’t strain your wound trying to grab it. "Doesn’t hurt to have extra. Besides, if your brother sees this," He let out a small chuckle, " he will never let you leave hometree again."

For a moment your mask slipped. The thought of your older brother suffocating you, being overprotective was entirely accurate. Neteyam eyes dropped to your wound, then he noticed the slight, barely visible tremble of your fingers. He looked away purposefully, respectfully giving you privacy to breathe. "Clean it with the leaves first. It will sting, but it keeps the infection out." He said voice holding no judgement only warmth. Hesitant, you reached out and took the fresh leaves. Your hands still trembling.

"I will stay right here," Neteyam murmured, stepping back and turning away from you. Acting as a shield between you and anyone who walked the path. "If anyone comes, I will tell them we are discussing training exercises for the children." You held the leaves and clay bowl in your hands, staring at his broad shoulders, protecting you from any wondering gaze.

“Thank you Neteyam,” you whispered.

He didn’t turn around to look at you, but his ears twitched signally, he heard you. A genuine smile graced his face, something you couldn’t see. “Of course, anything for the silent huntress.”

The story of the viper wolf attack had spread to every corner of hometree. Clan members praised you in passing, the children parents thank you for your actions. And you were polite, and respectful under the praise but still kept your distance. Sitting near the cook fires, back straight you were crafting new arrows. The tips a glossy black, obsidian. Hearing of your feat, your father gifted you the rock knowing exactly what you would do with it. Fingers moving automatically, you pulled the fiber tight securing the sharp tip with ease before moving to the next.

"You got hurt."

Your brother's voice filled your ears, causing you to stiffen. He dropped down beside you, his sharp eyes instantly scanning your frame for injuries. Until they locked onto the bandages that hugged your right thigh. He frowned immediately, "That path was supposed to be the safest.” He murmured to himself, brimming with protectiveness. “Why didn’t you tell me? I had to hear from the children about the wound the beast gave you."

"I already treated it," you said calmly, blowing a shaving of wood off your arrow. Continuing your work, you didn't look up at him. "It was a superficial wound. I didn’t want to tell you because I handled it. Beside it was a small mishap.” You lied.

"A mishap? You could have-"

"I am fine," you interrupted gently, finally meeting his eyes with a firm, steady look that told him you didn’t want to speak about it anymore. "The children are safe. The threat is gone. It is dealt with. No need to stress over what is already done.”

Your brother exhaled heavily, defeated. He knew better than to push when you used that tone with him. "You are too stubborn for your own good," he muttered, hand moving to your shoulder giving it a gentle squeeze. “You are sure you’re alright?” He asked, yellow eyes full of concern and brotherly love. You knew what he meant to, knew he was referring to killing the creatures, to mending your own wound. Seeing your hands stained with blood. Eyes downcast you nodded; “I’m fine.”

“You shouldn’t patrol today. Rest, let your wound heal.” He suggested. But you pointily ignored him. He released a short chuckle, giving a finally gentle squeeze before standing up to greet someone approaching the fire. It was Neteyam. He approached with his usual effortless grace, nodding a greeting to your brother. "Good morning Ro’kani," Neteyam said, his voice smooth.

"Sup, Neteyam," your brother greeted warmly, clapping him on the arm. "My little sister here is trying to convince me she is made of stone. I think she should rest before patrol, but of course she thinks otherwise."

Neteyam's golden eyes flicked down to you. Lifting your head, you kept your gaze neutral, holding his eyes with the same cool, respectful distance you had maintained for years. Neither of you spoke of that moment beneath the lower roots. No fleeting glances nor secret smiles, no clear signs of weakness. Neteyam noticed the boundary you always kept, he expected it. Has been standing at if for years like everyone else, which is why he didn’t cower. Instead, he gave an easy shrug to Ro’kani.

"She is a warrior. If she says she is okay than it is so, I trust her judgment. But," he added, his voice dipping just a fraction as his eyes shifted to your hand, seeing the tight grip you had on your carving knife, "everyone has a limit. Even the best of us."

Ro’kani missing the subtle double meaning, laughed at Neteyam response before changing the topic to the days hunting and scouting route he is assigned to do. But you caught it. The two men talked while you went back to crafting your arrows. Their conversation white noise to you, but you could feel Neteyam gaze. His golden orbs shift over to you whenever Ro’kani looked away or gestured somewhere in the distance. He was just simply watching, observing you quietly. Watching your steady hands, the memory of your trembling hand visible in his mind. Then his eyes trailed to your face, your neutral mask, the soft twitch of your ears catching your brother words and the subtle flick of your tail. He knew you were aware of his heavy gaze yet still didn’t look away.

To you, it felt like he was trying to see your soul. Aiming for the walls you’ve built around your heart and mind. And for a moment, you assumed he could see through you. A small thought you knew was untrue because no one could truly see the soul expect through one way. And you and Neteyam weren’t connected like that. Pushing your aimless thoughts away. You remained focused, refusing to look back up. But your shoulders felt heavy with the sudden weight of his attention.

“I’ve already told you no.” You used that tone, the one that signaled the conversation was over. The tone usually worked, but it didn’t right now. Ro’kani has spent the afternoon trailing after you, wearing your defenses down to take over training the children for him—again.

“It would do them good. They want to learn from you. And,” Ro’kani stepped in front of you, stopping you trek down the path. “Neteyam will be there. You won’t be alone.” Huffing, you looked away bow tight in your grasp. “They want their hero. The one who defeated seven viperwolves alone and lives to tell the story.”

“I don’t tell the story.” You glared at him. Ro’kani didn’t falter, instead he held his clasp hands, pleading. “Please, sister. Just the basics, that’s nothing to you.”

So, here you were.

The sun filtered through the canopy, casting scattered light over the training grounds, where a dozen young Na'vi were gathered. You were kneeling in the dirt, completely focused. Your thigh wound throbbed with a dull ache, but your face remained unreadable.

"Precision is not about speed," you murmured to a young boy whose bow string was pulled back too far, his arm shaking with the strain. You gently reached out, your fingers pressing against his elbow to adjust his alignment, easing his hold a little. "If you rush the release, your breathing falters. If your breathing falters, the arrow is cruel, reckless. We don’t want the creature to suffer. We want a clean transition back to the Great Mother."

Under your soft voice, and gentle guidance, the boy relaxed, exhaling a quiet breath. He stilled standing in his fixed position. Then, he released the string. The arrow thwacked perfectly in the center of the target. The other children gasped in awe.

"Wow..." the boy exhaled, stunned he had gotten a perfect shot.

A sudden crunch of a heavy footstep made the children snap their heads around, including you. Standing at the edge of the clearing was Neteyam, a bundle of freshly strung training bows slung over his shoulder. He froze. His golden eyes went wide, dropping to your kneeling from among the kids, then up to the targets, and back to you. To say he was shocked would be a massive understatement. His mouth parted slightly, ready to speak before closing again, his usual calm and effortless confidence entirely derailed.

Neteyam had expected to lead this class alone today. He knew that Ro’kani schedule had a conflict. So, he never expected to find you here knelt in the dirt, surrounded by children who looked at her with pride, aiding them in their training. Meeting his stunned gaze, you weren’t surprised. You knew you would be training alongside him today, but it seems Ro’kani hadn’t pasted the message onto him. Rising smoothly to your feet, the dull ache of your thigh wound shot a hot pain up your spine. You suppressed the grimace, giving him a respectful nod. "Neteyam."

Neteyam recovered quickly, though his ears twitched with lingering surprise as he walked further into the clearing stopping before you.  "I... did not expect to see you here," he admitted, his voice low. "Ro'kani told me he wouldn’t be here. So, I expected to teach alone."

"Not today. My brother had a very busy afternoon of begging me to take his place," you replied, keeping your voice neutral and professional. "He believed the children would benefit more from my perspective. But, if I am disrupting your lesson, I can leave."

"No." Neteyam blurted out a bit too quickly. The children stared at him; you stood still a bit shocked at his response. Clearing his throat, Neteyam adjusted the bows on his shoulder as a rare, slightly flustered look crossed his face. He quickly smoothed his expression back into that of a leader. "No, not at all. Your perspective is exactly what they need. I was actually going to teach them stance stability today. It seems you have already started."

The young boy you had just helped piped up proudly, "Tsmuke showed us how to breathe with the bow, Neteyam! She says Eywa demands precision!" Neteyam's gaze flicked back to you. There was a sudden, intense warmth in his eyes, deep respect. He remembered the shaking hands, the hidden fear of blood, and suddenly it all clicked for him. Your precision wasn't just about being a deadly hunter; it was your way of being gentle to the world.

"Is that so?" Neteyam murmured, his eyes locking onto yours, holding your neutral gaze with a quiet intensity. You broke it first, deeming it went on for far too long for your liking. Neteyam lips twitched, smile faint as he stepped up right beside you, his shoulder nearly brushing yours. "Then I suppose the Silent Huntress and I will have to teach together. Let see if they can handle both of us." He teased, lighting the fire in the children's hearts. To them this was a dream come true. Being trained by the future Olo’eyktan, the second hand to the current and the silent huntress whose precision was deadly.

With Neteyam, you taught the children together instructing them the proper way to breathe before releasing an arrow, and the proper stance for stability.

"To shoot accurately from the high branches, your balance must come from your core, not your feet," Neteyam announced to the gathered children. “Focus solely on your feet and you will fall before you can even track your target.”  He unslung his bow; his eyes moved to you.

"Y/n and I will demonstrate the dual-guard stance. Watch how our weight shifts." Neteyam instructed, walking to you. You kept your face neutral, but inside, there was a soft swirl of panic. The dual-guard stance required two hunters to stand back to back or side by side, locking their frames together to create a steady anchor on uneven terrain. Hand twitching beside your right thigh, you willed yourself to fight through the pain.

Neteyam stepped into your personal space. The heat radiating from his skin was sudden and grounding. Making the small swirl of panic more profound. He didn't just stand near you; he positioned himself on your right side intentionally placing his sturdy frame against your wounded right thigh.

“Place your feet here," he said for the children's benefit, but as you shifted your weight, a sharp burning pain shot up from your stitches. Your breath hitched, a tiny, involuntary tremor traveling through your frame.

Before anyone else could notice, Neteyam closed the small distance between you. His broad shoulder pressed firmly against yours. He subtly angled his hip so that your weight was forced onto him, physically bracing you. To the children, it looked like a perfect, textbook demonstration of a synchronized hunting stance. To you, it was support.

"Steady," Neteyam whispered, his voice low, meant only for your ears. His head was turned slightly, eyes meeting yours, assuring. "I have you. Lean into me."

You looked straight ahead at the targets, keeping your face cool and neutral. Accepting his aid, you allowed yourself to lean a fraction of your weight against his solid frame. The pain in your leg eased, replaced by the overwhelming awareness of his skin against yours. Neteyam didn't move an inch feet planted firm into the dirt, holding you steady with quiet fierce protection. Fixing your stance using your good leg, you readied your bow, arrow notched. Neteyam followed. Together you released your arrows, both striking the intended targets for the children to see.

“This is one way to assure your stance is correct on uneven ground. It also assures you have your other clan members back.” Neteyam spoke smoothly, still unmoving providing his body as crotch to you. “You will not hit the target on the first try, nor will I allow you to attempt. Instead practicing the stance with a partner holding your bows ready as if you had arrows.” He instructed, and the children broke off into groups practicing the demonstration.

With the children distracted, you eased away from Neteyam, standing to your full height, your weight shifted back onto your injured leg. It trembled beneath your weight, your knee threatening to buckle, before it could his hand was there. At your elbow, steadying you. Before you could meet his gaze, or mention his quiet act, he released you. His attention turned to two boys arguing over their foot placement.

By the time the sky bled orange and gold through the canopy, the children had left the training grounds. Leaving you and Neteyam to clean up. Ignoring the dull pain in your thigh, you moved from target to target, wrenching arrows free from the moss dyed red. Neteyam moved, swiftly across the grounds, gathering bows and stray arrows and returning them to their respectable areas. The air was still and quiet, the silence wasn’t uncomfortable but present.

Finishing the only chore, Neteyam allowed you to do and after he had done everything else before you could get to it. You approached him, just to double check everything had been finished. He knelt in the dirt arranging spare targets, bonding them loosely with twine. He felt your presence before he looked, glancing over his shoulder once before returning to his task. “I can finish here,” he said. “You should go to dinner before Lo’ak finishes off the sturmbeest.” A short chuckle left him, remembering the one time that had happened and he was banned from the cooking stations after. You remembered it too. Ro’kani had laughed so hard that night your mother had nearly taken him to Mo’at.

You nodded once and turned to leave, walking just to the edge of the clearing, you came to a slow stop. Looking back, you watched Neteyam lift the targets onto the upper shelf. The shelter creaked under the weight, twigs and old moss fell from the shelf scattering on the ground around his feet.

“Thank you.”

A murmur. Barely a whisper, not truly for him to catch, instead meant to die in the air.  But you didn’t notice the way his ears were already turned toward you, or how he was never focused on his task. Neteyam caught the words anyway. For a moment, he went still, his gaze flicking over to find yours, but instead he was met with your back.

He watched you go. His eyes following the soft sway of your braids that brushed just above your tail. Your straight posture, stiff and perfect. The way Kiri sometimes said he always stood. Finally, his eyes trailed to your thigh, watching as you favored your left leg. He watched you walk along the path that led to the homes higher in the tree instead of the clan dinner.

Neteyam released a soft sigh, chest tight with something small and unfamiliar. Something quiet, something he couldn’t pin. Something that made him want to call out to you, to walk you to the clan dinner so you would eat. But he had no reason to, and it wasn’t his place to do so.

Lost in his thoughts, Neteyam grip loosened around the bound targets, slowly they slipped from his hands. The twine came loose completely; the bundle dropped, knocking against his head. He groaned, muttering a string of curses as his tail flicked sharply behind him. Rubbing at the painful throb on his head and trying to ease the pain. Neteyam eyes drifted to the path you had disappeared down.

a/n: I've realized I have over 100 followers and that is insane. I am insanely grateful for all who read my work leaving likes, comments and reblogs. I just write for the fun of it and it's crazy to think that there are people who enjoy it. So again, thank you so much, I am so blessed.🥹

From the day he came to your home, you held a quiet longing for him. Starting as curiosity before growing into the feelings you harbor in silence now. But, in all your time of always watching him from afar he always had eyes for Tsireya, the Olo'eyktan's daughter. Although, it was painful when you realized he would never look your way, you accepted it. And with every passing day you tried to move on. Funny, your efforts have done nothing.

“I need your help,” Lo'ak muttered, his ears pinning back in frustration. He finally looked at you, amber eyes conflicted. “It’s Tsireya. Every time I try to talk to her, try to court her she is being pulled away by someone else. And she’s so nice to everyone, I can't tell if she actually sees me. Like, really sees me.” He exhaled. “Lo'ak,” you began softly."You can't force these things.”

“I know. I know, but listen,” he leaned in closer, his shoulder brushing against yours. The sudden contact made your breath hitch, but you kept your body perfectly still, keeping your face neutral. "It’s like every time we talk; she is holding herself back. I don’t know if it’s because of her parents or because she feels unsure of her feelings. So, I’ve been thinking maybe she just needs a little push.” You frowned, hoping he was implying what you were thinking. “Push her how?” Lo'ak golden eyes locked onto yours, bright with a desperate idea.

“Help me make her look,” he whispered. “If she thinks I'm moving on, if she sees me spending all my time with someone else. She won't be able to just ignore it anymore, ignore me. She'll have to face whatever she feels.” He leaned back, grin hopeful and pleading. “Just for a little while. We act like we're together when people are watching. What do you think?”

The tide fell in, brushing against your ankles. As if Eywa is trying to sooth your broken heart, to coax you from crying in front of him. He was asking you to hold his hand, to look into his eyes, and to pretend to love him. So, he could win the heart of another. And the worst part was, you didn’t have to pretend. And you didn't know how to tell him no. “You want to use me to make her jealous,” you said, your voice terrifyingly steady fighting back the quiver that threaten to slip out.

“Not use you.” Lo'ak corrected, his expression softening. "You're one of my friends. I trust you. Please? Just until she notices?” He said, eyes wide, pleading. Meeting hid gaze, seeing him desperate and vulnerable with you, you sighed. Completely defenseless when it comes to him. Nodding slowly, you swallow your feelings, burying them. “Okay. I’ll help you.” You said, forcing a smile.

You’ve known Lo’ak for as long as he has been here, from when he arrived as a lanky teenager, oozing with recklessness and the need to prove. The boy who would race against skimwings on an ilu deeming his skill outshined his mount. At the time I didn’t. Now, he has mellowed out over the years. He still held that bravo and confidence but understood responsibility—to an extent. This idea was a prime example.

The moment you stepped from your mauri, he stood waiting for you, tail flicking behind him with nerves yet he grinned all the same. He talked your ear off about being overly affectionate when Tsireya was around, faking intimacy. You nodded in agreement listening to his every word, ignoring your racing heart.

So, whenever Tsireya drew near Lo’ak took your hand easily, his larger four fingered hand wrapped around your smaller one. His shoulder flesh against your own. At dinners or evening lunch, he sat beside you. His thigh pressed against your own, and his arm wrapped around you, hand resting against your waist. Like it belongs there, and you believe it did, for a fleeting moment.

His thumb brushed against your skin warm and absent, the sudden action caused your breath to hitched. You hoped he didn’t notice, so you snuck a glance at him to check. Lo’ak didn’t notice, in fact he was staring past you. Face heavily satisfied as he leaned down, close to your ear whispering. “It’s working.”

Your heart dropped, the small fantasy had shattered. You nodded along, smile picture perfect playing your part. Leaning close, to pretend to listen to whatever he said. Smiling shyly, painting the picture that you were shy under his attention and display of affection.

But the moment Tsireya looked away, feeling she had seen enough. Lo’ak would pull away, smooth and easy. Like holding you was a chore, something he was being forced to do. His warmth lingered on your skin, the absence of him palpable, yet he sat right beside you. Biting your bottom lip harshly, you blinked rapidly fighting back the tears.

And this continued, heartless display of affection on Lo’ak part. His eyes darting over your head into the distance to see Tsireya watching to make sure she did. Whenever she looked away, he would slip away again, boasting about the plan once again.

You on the other hand gave him nothing but affection, it wasn’t something you could fake. Your wiped sand from his eyebrows after he would play around with Roxto. Wiped at his mouth whenever he got messy or admired his hands idly playing with his pinky finger. But it was only when Tsireya was around. When she would disappear, you would pull away.

Each time it left a bitter taste in your mouth, but you continued to swallow your feelings. Playing your part, giving a fake perfect smile whenever he looked your way. Ignoring the chaotic spiral that raged in your heart. But, at night in the dark of your home, you would lay in your hammock eyes burning tears falling slowly down your face, soft hiccups filling their air.

Only a little longer, than you can try to move on.

A little longer went on for weeks, with each passing one there was a subtle shift. Not in you, but in Lo’ak. He became attentive, more than before. It was small things. Him mending your home when you complained about the creaking wind to Kiri. When you did chores, he lingered even after Tsireya had gone away, saying he had nothing to do. Sitting with you while your made leather bracelets with his sisters even when he didn’t take part in the activity.

Wirh each act, you heart raced against you rids. His lingering presence giving you hope. Even so, you still buried your feelings.

“Come on.” You groaned frustrated. The clan laughter and chatter carried through the wind, everyone settled to eat the food cooked. Yet here you were dragging in the fish nets after loosing a race on your ilu. Arms burning, dripping with sweat mixed with water, you released a frustrated huff.

Irritation bubbling, you mentally noted to never race against your friends again. Lost in your emotions you didn’t notice the soft brush of fiber around your ankle until it was too late. Tugging harshly at the net, you unknowingly tightened its hold on your ankle. Suddenly, your axis tipped, gravity dragging you down rapidly to the water. You gripped the net; arms tangled in it. Pulling it close to your body, arms against your chest. Your eyes were closed tight bracing yourself for the impact.

It never came, instead your felt a warm strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you flat against their chest with ease. Startled, you whipped your head around meeting his amber eyes, watching you intently. His chest rapidly raising and falling, “why are you dragging these nets alone?” He said breathless. Blinking, you were curious too curious not to ask. “Did you run here?” Lo’ak ignored your question shifting your weight in his arms making sure you were standing up right.

Once sure, Lo’ak began untangling your hands, while you blinked up at him. Face a steady flush purple without realizing. Then, he knelt in front of you in the cool water reaching for your calf. His warm hand cradle it softly began untangling the fibers from your ankle. You stared down at him, watching as he worked silently. Your pulse quickened beneath your skin. Stop, your scolded yourself. Finally getting your out of your entanglement, Lo’ak took it upon himself to draw the fish nets in refusing to let you do it yourself. When he finished, he took your hand leading you to the evening feast. There was barely anyone around, so you didn’t think you needed to hold hands.

“Lo’ak theres no need—

“Who knew you were such a gentleman?” Neteyam voice cut in, teasing. “Shut up.” Lo’ak shot, gently pulling you forward to walk ahead of him. Neteyam walked with you two as you got the food prepared by the cooks. Lo’ak took it upon himself to get both your food, despite your quiet protest. “He ran so fast to get to you.” Neteyam whispered, your face flushed with a familiar warmth despite your self scolding. Before you could suffer any more, Lo’ak arrived beside you, nudged his older brother. “Bro go away.” He snapped, kicking at Neyetam due to his full hands. Backing off, Neteyam grinned bidding you goodbye.

Handing you the food, the both of you sat down to eat a bit further from the others, just you two. “You didn’t answer my question.” Lo’ak voice broke the silence, pulling your attention from the children who ran around burning the last of their energy, amongst them was little Tuk. “What question?”

“Why were you pulling in the nets alone?” He repeated, eating at his food waiting for your reply. “I lost a race against my friends.” You huffed. Lo’ak raised an eyebrow, lips curling into a smirk. “You always lose races,” he teased biting back his chuckle. “I know, but they managed to convince me and I lost.” You groaned letting your food sit against your lap warm. “You need to get better at riding. I can teach you.” He shrugged causal. “Right, the boy who flew off on his first ride.” You giggled. Lo’ak rolled his eyes groaning, “No one lets me live that down.” Conversation flowed easy, his laughter bright and genuine, gold eyes kind ans focused on you. Smiling, you felt a tug at your heart, a reminder that he is still your friend. Despite the situation and your silent love, you valued your friendship with him.

Lo’ak looked at you, admiring the way the soft fire light highlighted the curve of your face. The swell of your cheeks as your smile widened, eyes shining with such tenderness he wondered if it was truly for him. Then his gaze flicked behind you at Tsireya, who sat with Aonung. Already staring in his direction, watching him sit and laugh with you. Lo’ak stared back. Watching as her face flushed looking away shyly, she pretended to speak with Aonung who looked at her confused. Lo’ak chewed slowly, then his eyes returned to you.

Not noticing his wandering gaze, you own returned to watching the kids run around. The faint firelight showing, a striking contrast of cool blue and warm, against your skin. The flickering flame reflected in your eyes, the small sparks the glided through the crisp air looked like dancing stars. Feeling his heavy gaze, you turned to him. Meeting his eyes, your smile never left instead it softened more holding the same tender light from before.

But this time, Lo’ak knew it was directed to him only. Upon the realization, Lo’ak heart spiked so hard it shocked him causing him to choke on his fish, he coughed desperately to clear the blockage. Worried, you moved closer knee brushing against his thigh, hand resting against his back warm and gentle. “Are you okay?” You asked, concerned.

Lo’ak nodded still coughing, ears flushed at the tip. Hyper aware of the brush of your knee and the caress of your hand. Not convinced you reached over to where your cup sat full of cool water and held it out for him to drink. Taking the cup, his fingers brushed against yours sending a shiver up your arm that you forced yourself to ignore.

Drinking the water in big gulps, Lo’ak cleared his throat one final time. “Thanks.” He said voice uncharacteristically gruff and muted, making you chuckle. “No problem. You can't go dying on me when your plan isn’t finish.” Lo’ak nodded quickly. The plan, right.

After dinner, Lo’ak walked you to your mauri, your hand in his. Even once out of sight of other clan members he hadn’t let go. So, to save yourself from further pain you slipped your hand away and he let you. His soft apologizes filled the still quiet air. Making it home, he gave a gentle “Goodnight.” And you returned it before quickly entering your home. Punishing your heart and mind for trying to make a big deal out of nothing. That night you laid in your hammock, the sway soft felt like a lullaby. Staring at your ceiling, the calm that surrounded you was a sharp contrast to the chaotic storm in your mind and heart. Constant battles of what ifs verses what is. Eyes closed tight, you pull the thin cover over your body. Repeating to yourself over and over that it’s not real. Telling yourself to hold out a little longer.

The village had begun preparations for the hunting trip, gathers moved in groups getting more fruits and herbs for the hunters to take on the trip. You were amongst them, working tirelessly to make sure they had enough for the days they would be away. Climbing trees and dropping fruit down or being the one to carry it back full baskets.

Lo’ak stood with other hunters, drowning out the brief as his eyes caught your figure. You stood in front of a stacked pile of full baskets of fruit. Your hands moved through your hair gathering most of it and pulling it into a bun. A few strands fell free, brushing against your shoulder and neck. Lo’ak unblinking watched as you lifted the heavy baskets, grip tight at the handles. The tense of your arms straining under the weight. Noticed the bruising forced you used resting the basket against your hip as you walked down the woven path.

His tail swayed behind him, ears twitching as he fought the urge to help you. Instead, he chose to stare, watching your every step to assure you don’t fall from the weight distribution. His gaze followed you until he couldn’t see you anymore. Neteyam looked over at Lo’ak, noticing he was distracted. Shaking his head, he reached for the back of Lo’ak neck gripping it firmly pulling him closer to him. Lo’ak released a low hiss slightly hunched over, “So what, you’re staring at Tsireya now?” Neteyam questioned. Lo’ak eyebrows furrowed, frown deep. “What? No.”

The moment his words settled into his mind, he was shocked. He didn’t mean to sound so offend; he shouldn’t even be. Glancing over his shoulder he hadn’t even noticed Tsireya also helping. Moving just as quickly, and carrying the same weight as you, but Lo’ak still failed to notice her. Because he was too focused on you. Neteyam released him, nudging him a clear sign for him to focus.

Later, the sun had calmed, you were crouched on the woven floor, the gathering tent left empty for you to work, making small kits for the hunters. Hair in the same bun, stray curls fell from the band, sticking to your neck and face. The call of your name got your attention; you looked up to find the source. Standing at the entrance, was Tonul, a hunter, one of many to go on the trip. “Hello Y/n.” He greeted walking into the shelter of the tent, he crouched beside you, smile charming. You returned the greeting, giving him a polite smile. “You’ve been working hard,” his gaze turned to the kits you were preparing.

“You all leave soon; I can't waste precious time.” You said, shifting your focused back to your work. He hummed lowly, “I will be quick then.” He moved his hand forward, the one he had hid behind his back when he first walked in. In his palm laid a shell, transparent and glistening. Every shift showed a different color, truly beautiful. “A gift for you.” He said eyes watching you carefully. Ears pinned back in sympathy, you opened your mouth to decline but a strained voice cut in.

“She doesn’t want it.”

Startled both you and Tonul turned to see Lo’ak standing there, features hard in a glare. Golden eyes darting between the two of you until landing on Tonul who opened his mouth to retaliate, but Lo’ak beat him to it. “She is with me. Or have you not heard.” Lo’ak taunted walking into the tent, shadow towering over Tonul. “Get out.”

Grumbling under his breath, Tonul left the tent leaving you two alone. Lo’ak watched him go, tail flicking behind him sharply, ears pinned to his hair. “Lo’ak, he is gone. You don’t have to act, nobody is here.” You softly said, watching his clenched fist. Exhaling slowly, he looked down at you. Face softening, he crouched beside you, taking one of your hands into his. He turned your palm over, noticing the scars and blisters that began to form. It was than you noticed the vial in his hand. “Lo’ak?”

Opening the vial, he began applying the cool soothing salve to both your hands, massaging it into your skin gently. Too gentle, too soft for this to be fake. You hated him a little for the softness he used with you. Not truly, you could never. You just hated how easy it was for him to be tender. “You don’t need to do this.”

“Your need a break. Form dragging those fish nets, to helping with gathering and now making these kits.” He cut in.

Your pulse jumped at the concern laced in his voice, but you bit back the feeling, frowning softly. “You should’ve saved it for her. Tsireya was working with me. She would’ve need this instead, that was you chance to be alone with her at least.” At the mention of her, his fingers stalled, you half wished you didn’t mention her. But you had too, your mind was tricking you, your heart was being swayed by this lie. So, you had to ground yourself in the reality that this won’t ever happen. The way he was treating you is too good to be true. The line is beginning to blur. “You need it. Your hands will bleed.”

“Everyone hands are nearly bleeding.” You replied. “I’m not looking at their hands.” He whispered, under his breath not meant for you to truly catch. But you did, and you wish you didn’t. Because this was supposed to fake, a lie. And right now, it didn’t feel like it.

He is getting too good at lying. You thought.

“It has to dry, so you can’t do anything.” Blinking you looked down at your work and then to your hands. “What? Lo’ak, I have to finish these.” You whined feeling the cooling sensation of the salve on your hands. He met your eyes, grinning at your small pout. “That’s why I’m here. I’ll help just tell me what to do.” He sat comfortably knee brushing yours, skin buzzing you shuffled away a little just for Lo’ak to move close again. Choosing to ignore that you began instructing him, the two of you finishing the kits in no time.

Children ran through the village, sand kicking up and laughter carefree in air. Smiling, you lifted the basket high in the air as Tuk and one of her friends ducked underneath chasing after their older brothers who prepared their skimwings. “Will you get me something from the market?” She pleaded, bouncing on the balls of her feet. Lo’ak groaned, “Tuk, Neteyam already agreed to get you something.” He looked at his little sister, tired of her constant pleading.

“That’s from teyam. Not you.” She clarified hands on her hips, attempting to mimic her mother stern glare that always worked. Lo’ak shook his head, smiling as he rose form his crouch hand going to Tuk hair ruffling her braids. “Fine. I’ll get you something.” Tuk grinned happily, showing her little fangs. Thanking Lo’ak she ran to her friend who had also convinced her older brother to get her something too.

Shaking his head, Lo’ak approached you, hovering near as he smoothly took the basket from you. Helping you hand out the kits to the other hunters. His own already strapped to his skimwing. “Still working.” He said shifting his weight to be closer to you. “This is it. I will rest after you all leave.”

Lo’ak chuckled, shoulders moving briefly as he stared at you, head tilted to catch your eyes as you grabbed the final kit handing it to the last hunter. “You want me gone that fast huh?” He teased. Rolling your eyes you took the basket from Lo’ak, “No, but this is perfect opportunity for you.” You said walking ahead. Lo’ak eyebrow quirked, confused. He followed after you, tying his hair in his woven band. “What is perfect?” He asked.

Sitting the basket with the other spares, you stood straight dusting your hands off before gasping his forearm, leading him a little further away to talk. His muscles tensed under your touch. “At the market, while you are getting something for Tuk,” you smiled thinking of the bossy girl. “Get something for Tsireya.” You stopped in front of him, pitching the idea. Lo’ak stared at you, face neutral as silence filled the air. “What?” You questioned, not expecting that reaction.

“Why now?”

“Why not now?” You countered. “She’s been looking, trying to catch your eye nonstop. She’s going to confess. You’ll get what you want.”  Lo’ak frowned, thinking of when he first came to you with this plan. When he felt it was one of his most desperate attempts to get Tsireya attention. But now, he didn’t even think of it. He opened and closed his mouth words failing him when your eyes shifted to behind him. You saw Tsireya approaching, you looked to Lo’ak. You smiled at him, strained and untrue. He knew that smile, it had been directed to him one too many times, and never did he notice the strain until now.

“Don’t mess this up skxwang.” You teased, nudging him pitifully as you stepped away. Lo’ak watched your back, ready to follow after you. To take your arm and pull you back to talk. Your name rested against his tongue ready to call out—

“Lo’ak.”

Her sweet voice fills his ears, tail twitching he faced Tsireya. Her smile shy and soft as she stared up at him, hands behind her back, doe eyes bright. “Do you have a moment?” She asked sweetly, and Lo’ak shoulders dropped nodding simply.

Watching from afar, you exhaled shakily realizing this was it. You played your part, did what you agreed to. And along the way, you enjoyed the fantasy you got to live in. Even if the moments were brief before reality came crashing down on you. You smiled, eyes full of pain and a soft tenderness.

You had to let him go.

Breaking the surface, he gripped the rope tightly urging his skimwing towards the nearby shore. Once there, with the other hunters they heaved the large kill to the shore. Together they worked skinning the creature harvesting the meat and bones. Throughout the entirety of the skinning, Lo’ak gripped his knife tightly, knuckles white. His lips curled into a deep frown, eyebrows furrowed. He remained silent the entire hunt and skinning which was unusual. Neteyam hovered but didn’t say anything, watching his little brother closely.

The group came across the market; the wind traders set up took up the neighboring village their big blue creatures floating in the sky. Neteyam walked the market, getting things for Tuk and Kiri, even for his mother. Lo’ak lingered behind, giving nods and mumbling responses. Sighing Neteyam drew him in, arm around his brother shoulders. Lo’ak head snapped towards him. “What?” He asked annoyed.

“You’ve been frowning for hours. What is wrong?” Lo’ak stayed under his brother arm mumbling a nothing. Neteyam clearly didn’t believe him but didn’t ask anymore. “I won’t push you. But lighten up, go buy something.” He gave Lo’ak guiding push watching as he walked away. “Don’t forget something for Tuk!” Neteyam yelled, Lo’ak raised his hand, in acknowledgment.

He walked the woven paths, finding something for his sisters easily. Walking around absentmindedly, his mind was adrift, remembering the woven necklace that sat in his bag gifted to him by Tsireya. His efforts had paid off; she had noticed him. Had gifted him a courting gift, to signal the beginning of something he has always dreamt of. Yet, he didn’t feel happy about it, just uneasy and frustrated. Still, he looked for a gift for her, because he felt like he had to. Something pretty enough, something good enough to be a token of courtship.

Just as you suggested.

Looking over the treasures, Lo’ak hadn’t found anything suitable for Tsireya. Then something caught his attention, a necklace piece. Woven through with a deep blue kelp, small pale shells and violet stones. A perfect mix of the night sky and deep blue ocean. His hand moved before he could think, fingers ghosting over the woven piece, before taking it between his fingers.

A trader noticed and walking over. “Made from the kelp and shells found deep dangerous waters of the akula, the dye from the trees that tower in the little forest that resides around the vast ocean. Rocks found amongst the Omatikaya, the forest you know well.” Lo’ak hummed. “She would love this.”

A hunter, Leiey, known for her sharp eye and quick mouth. Stopped beside him, looking for something of her own, when she heard Lo’ak and inspected the piece with her own eyes. “That won’t suit Tsireya,” she said hairless brows furrowed. Lo’ak hand tightened around the necklace, protective. No, it didn’t suit Tsireya. Not her smile, nor her dimples. Not her other jewelry nor any of her tops. But it would suit you. He thought of your strained smile, tired hands yet kind nature.

“This one is perfect for her.” Leiey held a different necklace. Threaded thoroughly with shells and peals big and small, the woven fabric the same color of her eyes. “For Tsireya.” He said slowly, as if to forced himself to accept it, be proud that one of his dumb plans worked. He has finally won her attention his gift being a clear sign of that. Yet, he still grasped the necklace that made him think of you. Forcing the necklace into his hand, Leiey left proud of herself arms full of items. Lo’ak stared at the piece jaw flexing.

This is wrong.

“Come on they come back today!” Tuk tugged at your arm while you sat on the woven docks, where it all started instead now you were making a new top. You chuckled dryly, symbolic.

“Tuk, I don’t have to greet your brothers. You are plenty.” You said softly, laying your top against your lap to use your other hand to hold her small ones. “How about this, you go and meet your brothers and come back to me. Show me everything they got you.” You said trying to convince her. After thinking she nodded, “Fine. But I’ll bring Lo’ak back too you.” She quickly ran off. “No Tuk-,” the little girl had already run off. “Crap,” you sighed. You considered leaving the spot but that would result in Tuk being upset with you. So, you decided to stay, to face the music.

Lo’ak let his skimwing go, gliding smooth and quick through the water, hopping onto the woven pathway. His destination clear, steps determined but before he could get far, he was stopped. Her doe eyes met his own. “You returned safely.” She exhaled, smile soft. Tsireya. Lo’ak shoulders slumped expecting another. “Tsireya.” He grimaced, eyes darting around trying to catch your figure, but he couldn’t find you.

“Are you hungry? Ive prepared something for you.” She held out her hands resting against it a meal made by herself. Lo’ak gaze dropped to it, before looking to Tsireya again, eyes apologetic. “I’m sorry.” He said quickly. Confused, Tsireya hands slowly dropped. “For what?” She asked uncertain, confusion dancing through her eyes.

“I can’t be with you. Can't let you court me, can't court you when I know my heart no longer belongs to you.” He admitted. Tsireya lips downturned, does eyes bigger with saddens. “I am really sorry. I thought I knew what I was getting into. I thought I knew what I wanted. But I didn’t, and now I do.”

Reaching into his pouch, Lo’ak retrieved the necklace she crafted for him. It was than she realized he hadn’t worn it and why. He held it out for her to take, and she did slowly. “I hope one of your suitors treat you well. Forgive me for leading you on. I don’t expect your forgiveness, that is up to you. But do know I am sorry.” He spoke truthfully, before walking past her. Dodging others, Lo’ak still couldn’t pin you down. Then he felt a tug at his tail. Whipping around, his eyebrows furrowed ready to yell at the one responsible, but his anger disappeared seeing his little sister.

“Tuk! Why did you do that?” He said moving his tail from her. “You were running so fast, I couldn’t keep up.” Lo’ak sighed, gaze returning to the crowd to look for you. “I want my gifts. I want to show Y/n.” Lo’ak ear twitched kneeling in front of her. “Y/n? Where is she?” He asked frantic.

“At the docks, her favorite spot to weave.” Grinning Lo’ak jumped up ready to go to you until his tail was tugged at again. “Ow! Tuk!” Lo’ak scolded this time.

“My gifts!” The young girl demanded. Lo’ak large hands rested against her shoulders turning her around. “Tell Neteyam to grab it for you. They’re in my bag, something for Kiri too.” He said fast leading Tuk to Neteyam before darting off. Heart hammering in his chest, loud and persistent your gift sat tucked away in his pouch. He hoped he’ll say the right words.

You heard his heavy, footsteps before you saw him. The rhythm matching your thumping heart, time for the music. His steps came to a slow halt a few feet away from you. His heavy breathing filled the quiet air, eyes falling on you.

 “There you are.” He exhaled approaching slowly. Not sitting beside you causally like before instead he stood uncertain shifting on his feet. “Are you going to sit? Or keep standing there like someone is tugging at your tail?” You said not meeting his gaze. Releasing a short chuckled, he sat beside you keeping a little space. His gaze stayed on you flickering between your work and your side profile.

“To be fair, Tuk tugged at it twice.” He mentioned, finally meeting his gaze he noticed how neutral your face was. “Where is little Tuk?” You asked, expected the youngest sully more than her brother.

“Sent her off to Neteyam. I wanted to talk to you.” He said, fingers tapping an uneasy rhythm on the side of his thigh. “What is there to talk about? I can assume everything you're going to say Lo’ak.” You responded, looking down at your work again.

Lo’ak highly doubted that but chose not to speak it.

“You didn’t want to greet me?” He questioned pushing past your response. “I don’t really need to. I know Tsireya was waiting for you. Besides, our charade is up.” You met his gaze. “She got you something, you got her something. Your love is blooming.” You swallowed looking away quickly. In the three days he had been gone, you told yourself you would face him with dignity, yet here you were close to crying again.

“It is,” he dug the knife into your heart, you chewed the soft skin of your bottom lip to stop it from quivering. “But… not with Tsireya.” He said slowly, watching you closely waiting for your reaction. Frowning, you looked up at him confused. “Is there someone else besides Tsireya?” You said in disbelief. Lo’ak fought his smirk, “I don’t know fall for every girl I see if that’s what you're trying to say.” He chuckled, but it didn’t last his tail swayed behind him, nervous.

“I…I don’t want Tsireya anymore.” He confessed. You stared at him, trying to understand. The tide kissed your ankles, the cool water grounding but not enough to stop the storm that brewed. You chuckled dryly, almost threatening. Lo’ak ears twitched against his head, hand reaching for your own. “I know—

 “No.” You snapped, swatting his hand away. Standing from the dock, your top slipped from your grasp onto the floor. Lo’ak followed. “You can't be serious Lo’ak.” You glared. “I am completely; trust me it’s been on my mind since I left. You have been on my mind.” You closed your eyes shaking your head.

“You,” you voice quivered hand in air willing yourself not to cry, not to take him by his tail and a tie a knot in it like Jake always threaten. “You don’t know how it felt holding your hand while your glanced over me looking for her. You didn’t feel the way the lump formed in my throat whenever you whispered to me ‘it’s working’. Don’t know what its like to be treated so tenderly, that you forget it’s a lie until I see you staring at her, standing with her. Looking at her in away I wished you looked at me.” Your eyes blurred, tears you’ve held back for so long, words you’ve never spoke to anyone spilling from your lips. Lo’ak flinched at every word, his heart clenching at your tear stained face.

“Y/n—

You shook your head violently, hiccuping. You hated that you were crying like this in front of him. But it was too late the pain had taken over, along with anger. “After all of that, you come to me to confess? To say you love me? That you see me?” You spoke in disbelief. Lo’ak shoulders slumped, defeated and hopeless before you.

“I do. I do see you, I do love you. Y/n please.” He begged trying to take a step forward, but you took one back.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered. “I…I didn’t know you…I’m stupid, an idiot. Please, you have to believe me.”

“I can’t Lo’ak.” Your eyes met his, tears still falling pain evident. All the words hidden behind your smiles plain as day. Lo’ak has never felt so blind, so stupid more than now.

“You are cruel Lo’ak Sully.” You spat turning on your heel leaving him alone standing their chest fallen.

Fuck.

Lo’ak, had a weird sense of déjà vu. As he returned from hunting, his kills heavy in his net, he saw you off in the distance. With your friends, sat on the sandy shore watching as they taught a class of kids. He stalled, admiring you from where he stood. Your face not strained, nor contoured into a frown like whenever you saw him past by. No hurt nor flicker of disappointment, instead you look relaxed. Longingly, he stared, heart aching in his ribs until Roxto nudged his side. “Bro, you good?” He asked concerned following Lo’ak line of sight until it fell on you.

“Yeah.” He said, distantly. Pulling the net higher resting the hold over his shoulder, the wet kills drenching his back. Lo’ak welcomed the sharp sting as the fiber pulled taunt at his skin. He deserved it.

At dinner, it was the same distance, and same cold shoulder. Instead of sitting beside you like he had for weeks on end, he sat with his family. He didn’t have an appetite, just sipping at his cup of water to avoid a scolding from his mother. Every second, his gaze would drift over to you. Watching as your sat quiet amongst your friends, not talking like you usually would. You picked at your food, not truly eating but pushing it around. It was then; you looked up your eyes locking with his. Lo’ak froze under your stare, his heart dropped to his stomach at being caught. But he didn’t look away it was the first time in a week you’ve looked at him without looking away seconds later.

Finally, you looked away telling you friends something than leaving. Lo’ak watched you go, heart screaming for him to follow. But his body didn’t move, he feared the same rejection from before. Feared making you cry again, he couldn’t live with himself if he did it again.

Unexpectedly, he was pushed catching himself he looked back to see Neteyam chewing normally as he grinned at him. “Go little bro. Before she makes it home and shuts you out more.” He encouraged. Chuckling Lo’ak rose quickly, thanking Neteyam under his breath as he ran after you.

Déjà vu returned to him. Third times the charm right, turning the corner on the woven path. Lo’ak saw you drawing nearer to your home. “Crap.” He whispered, his long stride carried him quickly along the path until he came to a halt in front of you. Startling you, eyes wide and lips parted slightly. “Lo’ak?” His name left your lips in one breath.

He exhaled, staring at you gaze tender. Tilting his head softly, he stood straight focused on you only. “I love you.” You frowned, looking away from him. “Don’t.”

“I love you.” He repeated, quieter yet still holding the same truth and determination. “It’s true. And I know I deserve the cold shoulder. I deserve your anger; I am completely undeserving of your forgiveness.” You gaze returned to him, noticing his clenched fist at his side as if he wanted to reach for you but knew better. “I asked you to help me. And you did, like the kind and loving person you are. Despite the pain you went through with each time we faked it, and I never noticed. Because I was selfish, and dumb still am. But I want to keep trying.” He said catching his breath quickly.

Silence followed thick between you, Lo’ak moved quickly hand trembling as he displayed the necklace he bought for you. “If I have to keep running after you I will.” He declared chest heaving, eyes waiting. You stood there, eyes darting between the necklace and his eyes. Shaking your head you let out a short laugh. Lo’ak didn’t smile, nor move. It felt like he was facing an akula all over again.

“Aren’t you tired of running?” You said. Lo’ak shook his head.

“Not when it comes to you.”

Staring up at him, the feelings you still hadn’t been able to escape held you captive. Reaching for the necklace, you held it in your hands carefully.

“I’m still mad.”

“I know.”

“I still love you, no matter how hard I try. These feelings have never left me. But I don’t now how to trust this, not yet.”

Lo’ak swallowed. “Don’t than. Let me earn it. I’ll work to fix what I messed up.” Heart clenching, the pain you hid for so long, felt bearable, fixable. Taking a step closer, Lo’ak froze where he stood eyes watching your every move. Hands raising to holding his cheek, warm and gentle. On your tip toes, you planted a soft brief kiss to his cheek, inches from the corner of his mouth. Pulling back, you meet his blown golden gaze.

“That’s all you get, for now.” You whispered. Lo’ak grinned. “For now.” He muttered, his hand coming up to his cheek where yours rested. Placing his larger one over it he leaned into your touch. “For now.” He repeated. A promise, precious and true. He won’t mess up this time.

Smile soft Neteyam knelt beside you planting a gentle lingering kiss to your temple. “Hi paskalin. Sorry for being late.(berry)” He moved back, hand brushing away stray hairs from your face. You mumbled a quick its fine, eyes opening completely to look at him. Neteyam hummed, “Go back to sleep, ok? I still have stuff to do. I’ll take you to the hammock.” He moved to wrap his arm beneath your knees, but you stopped him, hand at his chest.

“No, I will stay here until you finish.”

Neteyam opened his mouth to protest but stopped upon seeing your stubborn expression, he exhaled, amused.

 “Ok baby.”

He moved to the table laying out papers lined with war plans and perimeters he was commander of. Shuffling closer, you lay close to the table, as close as you could get to Neteyam. From below you simply stared at him, admiring his soft features under the dim glow of the lamps.

“Eat, Teyam.”

You softly scolded pulling the blanket higher covering your shoulders. He hummed in response, accidentally forgetting about the meal. Reaching for it, he unwrapped the food you had prepared for him. Savoring the taste of it, you seasoned to his liking. “Thank you yawne. (beloved)” He moved towards you, bending low lips meeting yours in a soft lingering kiss. Finishing his food, Neteyam continued working fingers moving across the papers marking them.

Your hand moved from beneath the cover slowly against the floor, palm up and open. You wanted to hold his hand, want to feel him, and you felt selfish for it.

He was working and wanted to get it done as soon as possible so he could lie with you. Yet here you were being impatient and greedy. Sighing softly, your hand twitched in the air eyelids heavy with sleep, but you forced them open each time they threatened to close.

Catching your quiet sigh, Neteyam gaze flicked over to you and your tired state, then to your open palm. Getting the memo, his tail moved slowly to your hand, the ends of his tail brush against your palm ticking before moving along curling securely around your forearm. Your hand closed around it, feeing the warmth of him, and the firm grip he had on you—your heart jump for joy. You mumbled a quiet thank you, Neteyam smiled faintly, “Your welcome love.”

Eyes falling shut you asked voice thick with sleep and love, “Tell me about your day tiyawn.” Neteyam looked over at you, noticing your closed eyes, he smiled hands still at work as he told you about his day.

You listened, and replied when needed, and Neteyam also asked about your day. In your tired state you told him what you could, words often coming out slurred or late. Each time Neteyam face softens, finding your drowsiness adorable. The soft conversation filled the kelku—domestic. The low rumble of Neteyam chuckles mixed with his soothing voice, coaxed you further into sleep. His hand moved to rest on top of your head, leaning to kiss your forehead, he whispered “Sleep baby, I will join you soon.” He promised, thumb brushing softly over your forehead before pulling away. He watched you struggle to fight your sleep before finally giving in.

Thirty minutes later, Neteyam cleaned the table, blew out the lamp and finally joined you on the mat. Pulling you close to his chest he rested his cheek against your head, feeling him you nuzzled closer nose brushing against his chest. Neteyam chuckled lowly, “Goodnight baby.” You mumbled a sleepy reply in return, closing his eyes, Neteyam smiled to himself. The two of you found slumber and solace in each other’s arms.

Neteyam was respectful and sweet when it came to you. Gifts laid at you kelku every morning, after every hunt he gave you the choice cuts prepared by himself. In passing he would help you with whatever you needed, and almost every day he added new crafts to your growing collection.

As sweet Neteyam was, you also noticed certain things.

Like when you asked him to tie your necklace around your neck, he hesitated causing you to look at him confused before he complied. At dinners when you sat with him, he kept space between you two, never touching but near enough that you were aware.

Or when he would graze your hand accidentally, he would pull away, face flushing gold eyes looking anywhere but at you. Struggling to remain neutral, he would mumble a quick sorry and create more space between the two of you.

And whenever you caught him staring at you, whether it was beside you or from afar he would turn away. As if he was caught looking at something he shouldn’t have, as if you weren’t already his.

A thought circled your mind, but your suspicions weren’t confirmed until a certain communal dinner.

You sat beside Neteyam, that same space between you two as you ate the food Neteyam had given you moments prior. His gaze lingered on you longer than usual. Feeling the weight of it, you turned your head to ask what was wrong. But the question died on your tongue, as you watched Neteyam reach out thumb brush lightly against the corner of your lips, wiping away the excess grease from the meat you had eaten. Stilling under his touch, you stared at him, noticing the way his amber eyes linger on your lips.

You were silent under his attention, not wanting to scare him off. Then Neteyam realized, and yanked his hand back quickly, muttering rapid apologies and excuses to get you more water and food. His long stride carried him away from you, across the communal fire his golden gaze avoiding yours at all costs. Instead of feeling offended or overthinking the reaction you grinned to yourself.

He is shy.

You took this newfound information and ran with it.

“Teyam!” The nickname slipped from your lips easily, Neteyam straightening at the call of his name turning away from the other warriors who smirked and nudged at each other. In your hand was a meal prepared by Neytiri.

“Your mother asked me to bring this to you.” His eyes flickered to the wrapped meal before returning to you. “Thank you.” He said quietly, reaching for the meal completely missing the mischievous glint in your eyes and the bite of your bottom lip.

Quickly, your hand shot out to his bicep. Pulling him down easily, your lips meet his cheek in a lingering peck. Staying there against him you muttered a soft welcome before pulling away. Neteyam froze in shock, his friends cheered behind him while he noticed your teasing smile. Finally, he saw the mischief that radiated off you, tail swaying happily as you skipped away.

From then on you pushed his buttons trying to get him to see past his shyness.

When he created distance, you close it.

When his hand grazed your own, you were quick to take it.

Whenever he sat beside you busy, your hands would find his braids scratching his scalp softly behind dragging your hand through them. Each act caused the same reaction; his flushed ear tips—and you loved it.

It was late, the two of you were walking back after a late gathering session before heading home. Walking along the path, you noticed how Neteyam lagged just half a step behind—his protective nature.

“You know,”

Your voice filled the quiet, already having Neteyam attention from your first inhale. “You can touch me.”

Neteyam foot caught on an overgrown root, stumbling forward he was quick to catch himself. Hand tightened around the basket check the materials.

“What?”

You stopped walking facing him, hands clasped behind your back.

“You keep a distance, I notice it.”

“I am being respectful.” He stood tall still keeping a safe distance from you.

“It is really respectful if you go against my wishes?” Neteyam opened his mouth to reply.

“You like me do you not?” You cut in, taking a step closer.

“I—

“Because if you do, wouldn’t you want to be close to me.”

Neteyam mouth closed ears twitching against his braids. He mumbled something you couldn’t catch. Closing the space completely, you stood in front of him staring up, eyes telling him to speak again. Sighing he looked away from you, face growing steadily purple at your proximity.

“I do not want to be clingy.”

“What?” You chuckled in disbelief.

“I have to keep up my reputation. I can’t act on my every need to touch you.” He turned to you, golden eyes sincere and honest. “And if I did, I wouldn’t want to be rid of your presence at all.”

You giggled, forehead leaning against his chest ears catching his rapid heartbeat. “So, you refrained from touching me in general?” You said against him, feeling the way his chest stuttered as your breath fanned against his skin.

“Yes.”

Looking up, your hand moved to his neck holding him while your other moved to his free hand guiding it to your waist. His hand twitched instinctively, holding you before releasing, you kept him there, grip firm against his wrist.

“You are allowed to indulge Teyam.”

He swallowed, finally holding you more firmly, hyper focused on how it felt to have you in his hands. He wanted to toss the basket from his hip and hold you closer to his body, to feel you. Shaking his head, he attempted to clear his running thoughts.

“Even if I want this all the time?” He asked. Rolling your eyes, you got on your tip toes, planting a quick kiss to his lips sending his brain in a spiral.

“Whatever you want of me you can take.” Returning to moss floor, you noticed the bioluminescence glow of the forest burning brighter signaling how late it was. Intertwining your hand with his, you led Neteyam to the village.

“Can I have another?”

“Another what?” You tease, the urge to toy with him seemed to never go away. “You have to be clear Teyam.” He groaned, squeezing your hand.

“You know what I want.”

Giggling, you replied, “Did I not say you can take whatever you want of me?” Neteyam grinned, tail wagged behind him without control, excited for the endless things he could ask of.

—

“Come on bro, don’t you want to go out or something?” Lo’ak groaned standing at the entrance of your kelku.

Neteyam sighed against your shoulder. He sat in his usual place behind you, his face buried in the crook of your neck, chest pressed against your back. Strong arms encircled around your waist drawing shapes against your skin, while you worked on repairing his armband that had been worn down over the past few months.

“No, I do not. Now, leave me to be with my mate skxwang.”

Shaking his head, Lo’ak muttered under his breath something about Neteyam being clingy, he ignored it completely. Body relaxing against you, his tail now wrapped securely around your thigh.

Well at least he wasn’t shy anymore.

“Oh, the festivals coming up. We will see you there.” Lo’ak asked standing beside Neteyam, who nudged his brother at the mention of the event.

His gaze returned to you, “You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” Neteyam assured, he knew you were probably hesitant as everyone would be there, you probably weren’t ready for that, not yet. You nodded slowly. “I’ll think about it.”

“Neteyam.”

Jake had exited the tent waiting for his eldest son, to pass on information. Neteyam released a sigh, right now he didn’t want to tend to his duties. Didn’t want to trail after his father like he has done for so many years. The urge to tell his father to wait just a moment lingered on his tongue, but he saw the way you looked at him. Understanding and promising of later. Neteyam gave a faint smile tail swishing behind him, “I’ll talk to you later, okay?” Neteyam assured speaking the promise aloud.

“Okay.” You smiled; his gold eyes stayed on you until he turned away to his father. Staring at his back longer than necessary, Lo’ak cleared his throat tearing your eyes away you noticed his lips curled in that all so familiar teasing smirk. You rolled your eyes at him.

Kiri giggled, “Come I’ll keep you company until Neteyam can.” She squeezed your hands softly, tugging you along.

“We will keep her company.” Lo’ak rephrase falling into step beside you. Spider followed along, walking backwards as he cupped his hands over his mouth calling out to Neteyam.

“We got her bro!”

Neteyam looked over his shoulder his smile soft as he shook his head at his sibling's antics, you glancing over you met his soft gaze giving him a side smile.

Jake stood silently watching as Neteyam gaze linger on until you turned a corner behind a tent, once out of sigh and remembering who he was talking to.

Neteyam turned away clearing his throat. “Sorry Sir.”

Jake released a short chuckle. Choosing not to speak on it.

—

You were coming back, returning to your former self. Neteyam saw you more around the village, your life you brought basked the clan in the afterglow. Like before his eyes followed you wherever you went, instead of starving off the crumbs you were willing to give like before. You caught his gaze every single time. Each time his heart jumped in his chest, as if to leave his body just to be held by you.

But Neteyam wasn’t the only one who eyes trailed after you, Nahìl also noticed you had decided to leave your kelku. To show yourself to the clan like before.

He also noticed you no longer wore his armband.

Yet at dinners you were nervous, surrounded by the clan who knew your courtship had fell through. Imagining them talking about you, staring at you and prodding for question or mocking you. The fear had begun to root deep as you stood at the edge resolve weakening with each passing thought until finally you shook your head.

“I can’t do this.”

Taking a step back to began to walk the path home, until you ran into a board firm chest, startling you. You stepped back apologizes ready to spill until you looked up, and his gentle amber eyes stared back at you. A ghost of a smirk on his lips as his eyes danced across your face in the moonlight, admiring the way your tanhì (bioluminescent freckles) shined against the dark.

“Where are you going?” His voice was low as if his words were only meant for you to hear. Your heart leaped in your chest the reaction foreign.

Pursing your lips, the laughter of the clan filled your ears instilling nerves into your system once again. “I can’t do this Neteyam.” Your eyes pleaded for him to understand as you brought your hand to your top, dancing a chosen bead between your pointer and thumb. Neteyam noticed the anxious gesture and his gaze softened, seeing this coming.

“I’ll get you some food, and we can eat somewhere else.” He said as he began to walk away. You grabbed his wrist stopping him. “No, you don’t have to come with me.”

“Why would I leave you alone?” Your heart skipped once again.

“Don’t you want to eat with your family and friends?” You tried to argue.

“Are you not both?” He retorted.

Opening your mouth to respond, you stopped seeing the determination in his eyes. And what you’ve learn from years of knowing Neteyam is that he was not one to quit easily.

“Fine,” you agreed reluctantly, your face slowly growing hot due to his heavy gaze. He smiled in triumph, “I’ll be back.”

Neteyam was quick to get you both food, leaves full and steaming. He moved swiftly to avoid other clan members; not wanting to keep you waiting. His strides were quick as he walked back to you handing you the food, “ready?” He asked, and you nodded taking a small bite of the meal. You walked beside Neteyam, on the path itched into the soil of pandora from your ancestors. Eyes followed your retreating figures—Nahìl eyes lingered on you.

Neteyam brought you to a small place, sheltered by the twisting of the towering trees of pandora providing a shelter for the two of you. Both sat at the thick log covered in moss serving as a cushion from the rough bark.

Conversation flowed easily while the two of you ate. Asking Neteyam of how he has been while you were rooting away in your kelku. He gave a causal shrug, “I was getting by.” He said trying to convince you he wasn’t an absolute wreck.

“Aren’t we all.” You sighed chewing at the meat the heat of it burning your fingertips, urging you to lick at your fingertips to soothe the pain. Neteyam eyes fell to your lips, watching the way they poured as you sucked at your finger. Swallowing he forcing himself to look away. Focusing on his own food. Light talk filled the silence until you brought up a topic he avoided.

“You know he told me to reconsider his courting.”

Neteyam head shot up, eyes darting across your face trying to pinpoint what you felt. You nodded absentmindedly to his silence. “He said my heart lies with another. Which is ridiculous because I swear I loved him.” You face scrunched with emotions.

“And it felt like he was just spitting my feelings back in my face.” You gritted, saddens replaced by anger. Neteyam ears flicked back, hesitant to ask the question yet needing an answer, a flicker of hope.

“Do you still?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with fear, and feelings unspoken. “Love him?” You questioned and Neteyam nodded, waiting for response patiently. Your gaze left the scenery of forest to fall on Neteyam. Watching the way his gold eyes lingered on you, the soft twitch of his tail uncertain behind him and the way his throat bobbed with every swallow.

Hand twitched beside you; your fingers reached for his side pinching at the soft bundle of nerves. A habit that seemed to never leave you. His eyes brightened not a flicker of pain crossing his face, but at the familiar gesture you’ve only done to him.

“I don’t believe so. Maybe it was not the will of the great mother.” You admitted and Neteyam shoulders relaxed his smile faint, until your pinched a little harder at his side causing his tail to flick harder the ends of it brushing against your wrist as if you rid himself of your painful touch. Though he would never want that. Instead, he looked at you accusingly until your laughter filled the quiet of the forest.

He had a chance.

With it, Neteyam made it clear everyday he wanted more, wanted to be your mate. He was always beside you wherever you went if he didn’t have anything to do. If he caught even a glimpse of you, he would be quick to follow after you ready to tend to your every need. Carrying anything your needed huge or small. Each time Lo’ak and Spider caught Neteyam beside you listening to your every word they would poke fun at him, Neteyam didn’t mind, he was over the moon to be of help to you.

He still brought gifts to your kelku for both you and your mother. Even crafted your gifts with the advice of his mother and sisters. He would present them to you, and every time he did, he saw the uncertainty in your eyes whenever you took it. You knew what he was doing, knew his intention yet never stopped him nor said no. Even in your uncertainty you wore his gifts plan for the village to see. Neteyam would smile proudly his chest puffed out whenever a male eye caught glimpse his gifts adoring your body—especially Nahìl.

On days Neteyam couldn’t slip away from his duties, under the stern supervision of his father and the elders he would sigh like child who had been banned of its favorite treat. Usually, if he could he would take you along with him on his duties just to be around you. But on these days when he sees you in passing, he would call for you, his voice carrying through the air.

“Yawne! (Beloved)”

Stilling you turned to see Neteyam surrounded by his father and warriors despite that, he waved to you his lips pulled into a charming grin showing his canines. You blinked noticing the way everyone stood still and silent. Realizing what the what the future Olo’eyktan had called you. Face flushing a steady purple you waved at him quickly before continuing on with your chores. Neteyam grinned proudly at the display, even when he got scolded by his father.

At dinners, when you finally had the courage to attended you were beside him always. Thighs pressed together as you two laughed and ate with your friends and family. The necklace he crafted for you glistened in the clan fire, the armband sat comfortably at the swell of your bicep. His touch was soft and respectful lingering at the small of your back. Your own found its place on his thigh, softly tapping when you wanted his attention of squeezing when you laughed at something.

Each time you did Neteyam heart swelled, it was as had nothing had changed. Before it was ruined, and he was tested. But this time, he wouldn’t fail. He wouldn’t be weakened by his resolve to find a mate suited for him nor one he didn’t truly love. For once he was going to be selfish and get what he wanted.

Neteyam leaned closer, his thumb coming to the corner of your lips wiping away juice the fruit you before. Turning you smiled at him, “thank you ma’teyam.”

Neteyam, wanted you.

“Seems she has chosen brother.” Nahìl friend stated, as Nahìl watched you beside Neteyam natural and easy, his fist tightened.

—

Today the two of you were to be hunting, you had asked Neteyam earlier in the week and he immediately agreed, setting a specific day alone for you two. While today was the day of the festival you and Neteyam where smart raising before the sun had awoken to finish what you were assigned.

Sprinting through the village smile across your face and bow in hand. At the edge of the clan, you saw Neteyam standing their bow over his shoulders and arrows in hand. His eyes found you quickly, tail swaying behind him happily.

Approaching him, you slowly came to a stop watching as his ears twitch up and towards you as he caught the way your lips moved. “We should go, before someone tries to guilt trip us into helping with preparations.” Neteyam giggled, hands moving to your brushing stray hairs away from your face. “I agree.” His golden gaze left yours briefly feeling eyes on him.

In the distance stood Nahìl, his eyes darting between you and Neteyam. Neteyam meet his gaze, not welcoming nor a glare just guarded. “What is it?” You asked, but before you could turn and see what had caught his attention. Before you could slip into the sadness you climbed your way out of. Neteyam hand moved to yours holding it softly, pulling you gently closer to him. “Nothing important. Let’s go.” He walked beside you into the forest, leaving Nahìl to swim in his growing rage and bitterness.

Running through the forest, Neteyam let you get ahead finding happiness in your laughter. “Come on Neteyam! I know you're letting me win!” You yelled; he shook his head his strides longer now as he easily caught up with you. “Can I not be a gentleman?”

You blinked at him, not understanding the word. “It’s means to be honorable, especially to a woman, tìyawn (love).” Once knowing the meaning, you rolled your eyes stopping on a thick branch, a small pond glistening below as Neteyam stopped beside you. “Your no fun.” You whined, ignoring the way you heart sped up at the name he had called you. Neteyam raised a hairless brow, “No fun huh?”

His hand rested on your shoulder, you gaze fell to it confused, until he pushed you gently. Yelping in surprise you swung your arms around helplessly as you fell into the pond below. Resurfacing you gasped for air, “Neteyam!” You scolded throwing water at him, but it didn’t reach him. His laughter was loud and carefree, “See I am fun.” He teased. You released a scoff laugh tossing your bow to the soil before swimming to get out, but Neteyam was quick to discard his bow beside yours jumping from the branch. His shadow covered you frighten; you swam away quickly as he splashing beside you.

“Do you intend to kill me?!” You gasped splashing Neteyam without mercy giving him no time to clear his vision. “Y/n!” He gasped. You laughed as he struggled to speak, every intake was filled with water, along with every blink. Having enough, Neteyam dove under the water tugging at your ankle to drag you down. Once under you kicked hopelessly at him, breaking the surface, you tried to swim away but Neteyam tugging at you tail causing you to squeal and splash at him again. The two of your continued to splash and fight in the water, laughter echoing through the air of pandora.

Exhausted and bodies humming with excitement the two of you left the pond wringing out your clothes and hair. Neteyam sat on a nearby boulder originally checking your bows to see if they were fine. But now, he was fixated on the way the water droplets that cling to your skin glistened against the sunlight.

“Yíkí told me Ty’sol asked her to be his date to the festival.” You bubbled with excitement.

“Really?” Neteyam replied, your voice pulling him form admiring you. He wasn’t shocked Ty’sol manage to confess his affections before he had told you of his own. He was very much knowing for risk taking like his baby brother.

You hummed deeming your hair dry enough as you ran your fingers through it. “Yeah, all anyone can talk about is having a date to the festival.” You said walked towards Neteyam sitting beside him. His eyes followed you, while yours remained on the mossy floor of pandora. “I imagine you already have one, right? Your mate to be will be on your arm tonight.” You smiled softly looking up at Neteyam. Who stared at you as if you had hung the stars.

“Yes, if she’ll have me.” His voice laced with such devotion that you stiffened at the sound of it, and his gaze. Those eyes seem to stare into your soul. You swallowed giggling nervously; eyes now locked on the smooth surface of the boulder.

“I didn’t believe Kiri when she told me you were having trouble finding a mate.” Neteyam remained quiet eyes studying you carefully, noticing the way you danced around his words. Your voice wavering, as you glided your hand over the smooth boulder.

“Why is that so hard for you to believe?” He asked humoring you. You giggling to yourself, “Girls fall over for you Neteyam.”

He groaned, “Did Lo’ak tell you that story?” You nodded smile bright and teasing. “It was funny watching him play it out with Spider.”

Neteyam shook his head still admiring you, “Well they can keep falling over. I’ve chosen who I want beside me.”

Your ears twitched in his direction, still refusing to meet his gaze, unconsciously your hand moved to the armband he had gifted you weeks ago. “Sevin (pretty).” Your breath hitched, as his voice filled your ears. Neteyam shifted beside you moving closer, the heat of him hitting you like a wave.

“I’ve been foolish to wait so long to tell you. To allow you the pain you felt prior. I’ve shown you I want you, and I’ve always wanted you. There is no one I want beside me expect you.” Neteyam poured out, words didn’t seem enough he couldn’t properly express his overwhelming love for you, yet those would have to do for now. Just until he could form the bond with you, then you would understand.

Silence filled the air between you before you swallowed body growing rapidly hot, the chill from your dip earlier long gone. You shook your head softly, “No.”

Neteyam ears twitched down against his braids, his heart sinking to the depths of his stomach at your response. “No. Neteyam you don’t want someone whose courtship failed.” You tugged at the armband as if to rid yourself of it, Neteyam noticed. "And to be your date to the festival? That would be bad for you, worse for your reputation.” Your fingers tightened around the craft, and Neteyam hand shot out to stop you.

“Look at me.”

His said voice soft and coaxing, slowly you pulled your gaze from the boulder to his gold gaze. Seeing his patience and determination. His hands moved to yours pulling them into his lap. “I don’t care about that. Nothing will stop the love I have for you; it flows as easy as the blood in my veins. Nahìl wasn’t for you. I want to be for you. Eywa, I want you for forever.” He confessed bring your hands flat against his chest; you inhaled sharply feeling his heated skin and beneath it the rapid beating of his heart. Your own mirrored it.

“Neteyam.”

Slowly, his hand moved to your face, cradling it gently. “I know you are hesitant. I’ve seen it, yet you’ve never stopped me. Not now, not before.” He was right, never have you told him to stop with his affections because you couldn’t bring yourself to do so. Deep down you never wanted him to, but you’ve never voiced that either. “I will wait for you. Trust I will not take another. For my heart is only for you, and you only.” Neteyam edged closer, his golden gaze asking silently for permission. Closing your eyes, your nod was subtle as you leaned forward meeting him halfway, forehead resting against each other.

The contact caused your breath to stutter, Neteyam shoulders relax, as he leaned more against you. The two of shared a shaky breath. “No matter you answer, I will be okay, will learn to. I just want to hear it from you mouth if you’ll have me or not.” He sighed against you, without a thought your hands softly clenched around his chest. “I want to think about.” You uttered quietly. He nodded against you, “Of course.” Neteyam didn’t want to move away from you, didn’t want to this to end so quickly. But there were things to be done; and the sooner he got you back the more time you had to think.

“We should head back.” You nodded against him, unmoving. Neteyam giggled lowly shift his forehead to your cheek nuzzling against you firmly. “Now tìyawn(love).”

Realizing you hadn’t pulled away, your face flushed as you moved abruptly removing your hands from his chest. Neteyam watched as you moved frantic and embarrassed, you tail lashing behind you, he smiled to himself proud he could invoke the reaction. Grabbing your bows you walked through the forest in silence. The rush of excitement from earlier was replaced by heavy tension, not uncomfortable but noticeable. Neteyam walked beside you, his gaze shifting over to you evey few minutes just to find you looking ahead. It was your short chuckle that broke the silence, calling for Neteyam attention.

“We didn’t catch anything.” You turned meeting his eyes, Neteyam blinked before laughing.

“Not much of a hunting trip huh?” He joked as his pushed a low handing leaf out of your way.

“Even so, it was nice.” You quietly muttered but Neteyam caught it. Stilling at the comment, his tail wagged happily behind him. Lost in his feelings his grip on the branch loosened causing the leaf to whack him in the face.

Turning you saw Neteyam standing there perplexed as he blinked at you. Laughing you walked back to him taking him by the wrist, “Come along.” You crooned, tugging him along behind you. Neteyam smiled like a lovesick puppy, smoothing slipping his hand into yours. He watched for your reaction, seeing if this was too much to ask for. As if he didn’t spend several minutes nuzzling against your forehead. Instead of pulling away, you tighten your grip around his hand.

The two of you walked close together, with light conversation just enjoying the quiet before the arriving home. The village came into view people scrambling around preparing for the festival. Your smile faltered before completely dropping away, steps coming to a halt as you exited the forest. Neteyam gaze fell to you concerned, noticing your expression of shock mixed with hurt. Following your line of sight, he found what changed your mood.

Nahìl.

You saw the swirl of emotions in his eyes anger, betrayal and knowing. Seeing Nahìl state Neteyam moved to stand before you, to shield you from what could happen and take whatever came. But you gripped tightened around his hand keeping him beside you.

“What is this?” Nahìl asked, eyes falling to your joined hands before settling on you. Biting the inside of your check, you ignored the bubbling emotions. Because you understood Nahìl anger, remembering that one conversation before it all came crashing down.

“We have returned from hunting—

“With him?” Nahìl interrupted, gaze shifting to your joined hands again. Hunting? While holding his hand, Nahìl fist tightened, tail lashing behind him.

“It was only a hunting—

Neteyam started but Nahìl letting his emotions cloud his mind and overtake him hissed angrily at Neteyam. Immediately Neteyam hissed back, taking a step forward teeth bared in a snarl at Nahìl. Both of them inch closer ready for anything, until you positioned yourself between the two of them. Stopping anything from happening progressing. Your hand left Neteyam’s to rest against his chest firmly.

“Mawey Neteyam (be calm).” You scolded gaze stern. Neteyam grumbled, turning his head away ears twitching down at your tone towards him.

Turning to Nahìl weeks of emotions resurfaced. “You called off the courting. You have nothing to do with me remember.”

Nahìl face flattered at the words he uttered carelessly at Neteyam that night. “Because of this.” His motioned between you and Neteyam.

“I don’t know where I stand—if you truly chose me.”

“I did choose you.” You uttered ears flattened against your head. “I chose you with all my heart, and you let your own emotions cloud your mind.” He took a step back arms hanging defeated beside him.

“But I was right, wasn’t I?” He muttered. You didn’t say anything, instead swallowed willing yourself not to look at Neteyam.

“You have chosen then.”

His voice wavered and you nodded, “There will always be lingering doubt. Anger and resentment beneath it all if we continued courting each other.”

Nahìl exhaled, nodding slowly. His eyes came to yours, regret in his gaze and in your own understanding and sympathy. “It wasn’t my path to walk as your mate.” You uttered, voice thick with emotion. Nahìl eyes went to your bicep, his court gift no longer there instead the one Neteyam had given you. He pursed his lips tearing his gaze away to look at you once more.

“Irayo (thank you). For the memories.” He murmured, meaning every word. “Thank you as well.” You nodded as he turned to walk away, not sparing Neteyam a glance.

Once he had gotten far enough, you exhaled shakily, not expecting the confrontation. Neteyam moved to stand in front of you, his ears pinned to his head. “I’m sorry.” He apologized, for his behavior yet he wasn’t sorry for defending you nor himself. You shook your head softly gaze falling to the ground. “You don’t have to apologize.” Your mumbled, voice small. Neteyam moved closer his hand resting on your elbow gentle and grounding.

“I’m going to head home.” You whispered. “I’ll walk you.” He said, readying to do as he had said but your hand moved to the one at your elbow, squeezing softly. “It’s okay. I’ll see you later.”

Neteyam tail stilled dropping low, “Yeah, okay.” You gave a faint smile, before walking past Neteyam heading home. He eyes followed you watching as your tail sat still, and ears against your hair. He sighed, shoulders dropping in defeat and worry. For you, and where this set back will lead for the both of you. Lo’ak and spider came over smiles on there faces ready to tease Neteyam.

“How it go?” Lo’ak slung his arm over his older brother shoulders, while Spider smile up at him waiting. Neteyam shook his head, “I told her.” Spider nodded.

“And?” He questioned dragging out the word. “It went well. She said she’ll think about it.” Neteyam mind drifted, remembering his forehead against yours, his breath mixing with yours, holding your hand. His own flexed remembering the feeling.

“Then Nahìl showed up and—

Neteyam released a huff dreading for when you did give him an answer. “I don’t know what will happened know.” Spider glanced at Lo’ak before looking back at Neteyam. “Well, that’s just one set back. But you just need to trust Y/n.” Spider assured confident. Neteyam simply nodded, not having the energy to speak.

“Come on, mom is preparing food and she said we could taste test.” He urged Neteyam along.

“Bro, didn’t she kick you out for eating most of it.” Spider reminded. Lo’ak tsked, “Neteyam didn’t, he’ll get me more.” Lo’ak grinned. Neteyam gave a small smile his head shaking softly.

—

Keep faith.

A mantra Neteyam has been telling himself since he left the tree of souls that night. He continued it even now, as he needed it more than ever.

The clan danced around the intensity of drums vibrates through the air. Yelling and hooting in celebration rang through the forest, Navi danced around others stuffed their faces and kids ran around laugher light, toys in hand. Neteyam stood lingering at the edge of the celebration away from the crowds, away from the elders who sought him. Seeking comfort in his siblings and close friends. Nursing his cup of fermented fruits, he had long forgotten about it as his eyes scanned through the crowd looking for you.

Neteyam wore his best loin cloth crafted by himself with Kiri and Tuk small critics in his ear, the smooth teal striking against his deep blue skin. His hair freshly braided decorated with his usual beads, with two feathers, one of his own and another you had given him when you were teenagers.  

His best accessories adored his body, wearing them with honor, body painted in swirls of colors of yellow, white and green in celebration. He caught every stare of females; almost all tried to speak to him and he was polite in dismissing them and walking away. Giving them the only hope of watching him from afar. Only one plague his mind, and he still couldn’t find you.

Lo’ak leaned over so Neteyam could hear him over the loud drums. “She’ll come bro.” Lo’ak eyes fell to the full cup he had given Neteyam an hour ago. “Until than, loosen up. You don’t want to be stiff when she arrives.” Lo’ak nudged Neteyam cup with his own, sighing he took a sip swallowing the liquid easily. “I’m not stiff.”

“Right.” Lo’ak dragged out, laughing loud as he continued poking fun at his older brother. Neteyam got into the swing of the event stilling holding onto the hope that you will show up.

The festivities hummed in the distance; you sat in dim lit kelku with your mother, her hands moved expertly through your hair decorating it. Your top swirled around you body beads hanging loosely around your waist protecting what was needed. Your loin cloth held a striking green vibrant and bright sparkling in the fire light. Blue, white and yellow paint dance across your skin. Breathing deep and slow, your fingers trembled slightly as your nerves continued to grow.

“Be calm ma’ite (my daughter). There is nothing to fear.” You wanted to believe her, so badly but your mind betrayed you. “Do you not believe him?” Your mother inquired and you sighed, “I do.”

You believed him without a doubt. Neteyam was never one to lie to you in all your years of knowing him. “Then there is nothing to worry about, speak what is in your heart.” Your mother hands left your hair, letting the braids flow down your back gracefully, feathers and flowers scattered throughout your hair. She moved around you brushing a stray strand behind your ear showing the earrings that adored them. “Nga tìng nari yuey ma’ite. (You look beautiful my daughter)”

Smiling softly, you mumbled thanks to your mother. The both of you left your home quickly already missing so much of the festival due to your nerves. Even though the festivities had been raging for an hour, the ground rumbled and the air hummed with excitement and celebration. You eased your way into the crowd, your mother leaving you side with a gentle pat to your forearm.

You were so turned around you were shocked to see Yìkì, “You look so pretty Tsmuke(sister)!” She smiled brightly eyes moving over you. You gave a smile, “Thank you, as do you sister.” Yìkì was quick to pull you along to the others, her rambling deaf on you ears due to the chatter of the clan.

It was an only a moment, a silver of scent had Neteyam looking around— he smelt you but did not see you. “Bro, come on!” Spider tugged him along, in the opposite direction of where you had gone.

Sitting with your friends laughing and talking, enjoying the festival but even nothing could distract you from him. Every now and than, your eyes scanned over the crowd looking for Neteyam, but you failed to catch a glimpse of him. “Looking for someone?” Ty’sol teased beside you. You rolled your eyes at him, “Wouldn’t you like to know.” You spoke into the cup, drinking a little to distract yourself but not to get drunk. “I already know. I mean the two of you are basically wearing each other paints.” You frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

“He wears your green and you wear his blue, not subtle at all.” Ty’sol smirked chuckling at the flush of your face, Yìkì tucked beside him nudged his side. “Leave her be.” Now you really wanted to find Neteyam. Before you could ask where he was and if you they seen him you heard the usual taunting and teasing voice.

“Well, well, well, look who finally graced us with their presence.” Lo’ak crouched down dramatically almost losing his footing. “Hello to you to Lo’ak.” You giggled, opening your mouth to ask.

“Have I seen my older brother?” He got out before you could. Nodding, Lo’ak laughed at your eagerness.

“I have, been trying to get him to loosen up, he’s been looking for you all night.” Your ears perked up.

“Could you take me to him?” You asked already sitting down the cup, “Of course!” Lo’ak sang hand out for you to take, and you did. Once up Lo’ak arm draped around your shoulder guiding you through the crowd so you wouldn’t get lost in it.

Your eyes trailed past all who surrounded you, peers, kids and elders alike. As Lo’ak lead you to Neteyam you grew increasingly nervous but excited you wanted to see him. Wanted to tell him everything, pour it all out as he did hours ago. It was then Lo’ak stopped and patted your back gently, “There is your mate to be.” He sang in your ear; you flushed turning and hitting at him. “Thank you and go away!”

Lo’ak laughed at your reaction, raising his hands up in surrender as he backed away. Neteyam head turned at the sound of your voice and he saw you. Standing there your braids freshly braided hair adorned with decorations, your top beautiful beaded two strands hung loosely encircling your slim waist, and your signature green loincloth beautiful completed your look. His pulse spiked when he noticed your body paint, realizing you whore his colors and he wore yours, ontop of that—you still wore the necklace and armband.

He couldn’t help the low laugh as he watched you playfully hit at his younger brother, shooing him away. As Lo’ak eased away, your eyes finally met Neteyam’s. Seeing him smile at you, fangs and all made your heart leap—and his appearance did nothing but worsen your state.

Your steps were light as you approached, Neteyam slipped past others meeting you halfway. His eyes danced across your face trying to take all of you in. “You look beautiful.” He spoke truthfully; you smile soft and easy at the compliment. “Hm, says the most handsome suitor here tonight.” Your gaze lingered his tone adorned body, especially on the body paints. Before realizing you pulled you gaze away returning to his face, you noticed the feather beside his usual one. Eyes widened slight, Neteyam realized you had finally noticed.

“I dressed for you alone.” He flirted, his statement having a double meaning. Embarrassed shoved him lightly fingers linger near his chest seconds longer, “ok stop hanging around Lo’ak.” Neteyam grinned, catching your hand intertwining it with his own.

“Have you eaten?” He asked, noticing your lack of drink and food. Shaking your head softly your eyes took in your surroundings. “No, my mind was a bit preoccupied.” You hinted. “Of me I assume.” Neteyam gloated.

“Confident of that?” You quirked a hairless brow.

Neteyam smirked. “I am.”

He tugged you closer to his body out of the way of another who walked past. “Let me get you food, my mother helped cook.” He said pulling you along before you could protest. Maneuvering through the crowd, Neteyam kept you close behind him, squeezing your hand every now and than.

Assuming you were going to where they cooks served the food, your eyes widened when you realized he was bringing you to his parents. “Mother, Father.” He greeted smiling proudly as he brought you beside him, your fingers came to your forehead in formal greeting to both Jake and Neytiri. Jake waved you off, “No need for that.” He smiled warmly at you while Neytiri without a word began preparing the food for both you and Neteyam. “You’ve been well?” She asked. Holding it out for you to take, Neteyam set down his cup handing you the leaf and taking his own. “I have, thanks to Neteyam.”

There eldest smiled proudly, “I had to bring her to eat your food Mother. Y/n has always had a taste for it.” Neteyam teased as you already began eating the food, bashfully you swallow quickly mumbling thanks. Neteyam chuckle as his hand came to the small of your back. “Do not choke.” He taunts prompting you to pinch at his side. “Hush.” You said still eating.

“Any news for us?” Jake asked, watching the close proximity of you and his eldest. Neytiri knowingly waited for the news as well, which was long overdue. “Not yet, but soon. Speak of I have to take her away.” Frowning confused you bided Jake and Neytiri farewell, and they giggle amongst themselves as Neteyam led you away hand still at your back.

“What news?” You asked licking at your fingers.

“Come with me.” He replied, avoiding your question.

“Where? Don’t start being mysterious again Neteyam.” You rolled your eyes. Neteyam grinned, “Not anymore yawne (beloved).”

“We need to talk do we not?” Your eyes widen slightly at the mention of the topic subtly. “Right.” You murmured to yourself, willing your heart to calm.

Once at the edge of the gathering, about to walk the path to that same spot Neteyam had taken you many times before. Yours ears caught, hooting and hollering. Turning, both you and Neteyam saw your friends and family cheering you on, cheering him on. Grinning proudly Neteyam waved them off, hand returning to you as you two disappeared into the forest.

As you drew closer to the shelter, Neteyam was quick to stand in front of you blocking your path. “Ok, close your eyes.” He asked eyes huge with excitement. Raising your hairless eyebrow, you questioning him. “You’ve brought me here before. What’s there to hide?” You said.

“I know, just trust me.” He pleaded; you closed your eyes. Neteyam took his time admiring your face, the way your tanhi (bioluminescent freckles) scattered across your face. Blinking he brought himself from his haze, hand finding yours guiding you down the path you’ve walked before. Once he had you standing where he wanted, he moved quickly taking your empty leaf and his full one sitting it down before returning to you.

Moving behind you, Neteyam released a shaky breath, you noticed. “Nervous?” You turned your head slightly behind you where he stood, he released a quick chuckle, “That noticeable?” You didn’t respond instead your hand moved behind you reaching for his, realizing what you were doing Neteyam hand found yours. Liking his lips his other hand rested at your forearm, thumb brushing over your skin to ease his own nerves.

Leaning near your ear, he whispered “open your eyes.” Ears twitching at the heat of his breath, you obediently opened your eyes. The familiar shelter overtook your eyes but this time it was decorated with small things, woven mats and fur blankets, baskets of fruit and food from the festival. Flowers hung against the thick trees, and scattered across the forest floor, it shined under the bioluminescent glow of the forest.

“Wow.” You exhaled, walking slowly toward the area admiring Neteyam work. He followed close behind, still holding your hand, closely watching your reaction. Turning to him, you smiled, “You are so secretive.” You teased. He grinned, “this is the only secret I kept, everything else you know.” Biting the inside of your cheek, you tugged him along to the woven mat as you sat down.

Beside each other the two of you continued eating and talking, pandora lived around you as you basked in each other presence. Neteyam laugh echoed through the area catching you attention and you admired him in all he is glory. The curved of his jaw, the grin on his lips, he was completely relaxed in your presence. He dropped his head smile still on his face, as his decoration braids shifted, sheltering his charming grin from your view.

Prompting you to reach out, moving his hair away from obstructing your view. Neteyam stilled at your touch, turning his head in your direction. Amber eyes meeting you own, your hand moved to cradle his face, thumb brushing over his cheek.

“Thank you, Neteyam.” You whispered. Neteyam sat patiently, waiting for you to continue. “For everything, Eywa has truly blessed me with you. I’m sorry for being too blind to see, slow to realize.” You confessed, mentally kicking yourself for making him wait so long. “I would’ve waited as long as it takes.” He declared with the same heavy conviction he always held for you. “You and your patience.” You giggled. Neteyam smiled, “It hasn’t failed me yet.”

You moved closer to him, thighs together. Neteyam hand moved to rest on your knee, the other rested behind you supporting his weight as he leaned closer. So, close the two of you shared a breath as before.

“I will be yours, if you’ll have me.”

You finally, admitted. Declaring to Neteyam that you want what he wants, to be with him. When your words sunk in, his golden eyes dilated, tail wagging behind him as his mind reeled to all the moments, he stood under the tree of souls praying to Eywa for this moment. For you to say these words to him, he was so overwhelmed, but he wanted nothing more for the feeling to completely overtake him now.

Quiet too long for his own liking, Neteyam scrambled his last working brain cells to answer you. “Y-Yes. I’ll have you, all of you.” He stuttered, hands moving to your back pulling you closer to him, your legs were basically in his lap. Both of you moved in sync, foreheads meeting together.

Unlike before, Neteyam was in no rush to move, nor break contact with you. Relishing in the feeling of you, knowing you are his and him yours, his mind repeated the same gnawing thought, something he could finally ask.

“Can I kiss you?”

His asked, shifted only an inch away, eyes dilated, as his chest heaved waiting for your reply. Nodding, Neteyam tail curled forward entangled with you own, buzzing with excitement and eagerness. But he moved slow not wanting rush even though there was no space between the two of you. Lips meeting his, the kiss gentle and slow. Neteyam savored the taste of you, something he has only dreamt of for years. Always believing you would taste of yovo fruit, yet you were even sweeter than that.

Tilting his head, Neteyam hand moved to cradle your face holding you in place as he deepened the kiss leaning in more, your own shifted to his neck in attempt to ground yourself. It felt as if you were floating, yet your gripped tightened beside his neck in attempt to ground yourself in the moment in his presence.

He needed air, you needed air but neither wanted to part, nothing felt more perfect than him claiming your lips exploring your mouth with curiosity and the determination to know you throughly. He couldn’t stop; finally having what he wanted so desperately—you.

“EYWA, BREATHE!”

The outburst startled before you and Neteyam apart, lips glistening and slightly swollen, both of you turned to see what had disrupted you. Hiding poorly in some bushes were Lo’ak, Ty’sol, Kiri, Spider and Yìkì. Neteyam huffed, chest raising rapidly as he greedily took in the air he didn’t want previously.

“Do you plan on suffocating?!” Lo’ak slurred clearly the drinks had gotten to him, but not enough for him not to tease his older brother.

“I never knew you would be like this Y/n. So greedy.” Yìkì tease, while Ty’sol whispered loudly learning it from Lo’ak. Feeling your face heat up, you hid away in Neteyam’s neck groaning softly for it them to stop.

“Go away.” Neteyam groaned his hand moving to your hip resting there. Lo’ak, Spider and Ty’sol still cheered and teased not nearly satisfied with just your embarrassment. Kiri and Yiki feeling sympathetic, ushered the troublesome trio away.  

“I’ll tell mom and dad you’ve found your mate!” Lo’ak yelled over his shoulder while Kiri pushed him along. Neteyam gaze returned to you, plant a kiss in your hair. “Mother and father will be happy to hear that at least.” Neteyam spoke against your head, inhaling your scent greedily. Still resting against him, your ears turned up as your realized.

“Was that the news?”

Neteyam hummed looking at you, still in a daze from the taste of you that lingered on his lips. “What your parents asked about before, and you said not yet?” You continued trying to jog his memory. Neteyam grinned, “Maybe.” Face flushed once again, you hand came to your face in exasperation at your obliviousness. “Did everyone know expect me?”

He gave a downturned smile. “It doesn’t matter.” He said, holding your wrist pulling your hand away from your face. He kissed your palm holding it there before moving it to his chest. “You know now. And soon all will, and we will be mated before Eywa. You’ll be my forever, tìyawn (love).” Smiling you moved to press a quick kiss against his lips, Neteyam chased after you craving another, and who were you to deny him. “I love you, Neteyam.” You whispered against his lips. Kissing your firmly again, Neteyam pulled you into his lap, arms holding you around your waist. “I love you, yawne (beloved).”

—

The fated day had come.

The clan and his family and yours surrounded him and you, as both you knelt before Eywa. Mo’at stood before giving her blessing over you and Neteyam. 

Neteyam amber eyes remained on you, the afterglow of the tree of souls kissed your skin so well it had him mesmerized. Meeting his gaze, you smiled eyes holding that resevered look of love only for him. Skin buzzing with anticipation, Neteyam held his kuru out, you reached behind you pulling yours to his. Slowly, the tendrils danced around each other before bonding together.

Air left your lungs at the overwhelming sensation, you felt it—his years of love and longing for you. How he felt words couldn’t describe it, so he showed it to you, in how he thought about you and how he saw you as the light at the end of his tunnel. One of his greatest motivators to keep going. His heart, you were always the center of it.

Neteyam felt your feelings, buried, uncertain and unnamed. The pain you experienced with Nahìl who you thought was the one for you. The way you mind slowly began to change as he showed up for you, always there quiet and steady. Yet his proclamation of love was always clear. He felt your love, no longer hiding but clear not only for him to see but all. He felt your excitement for the future with him, a family and the rest of your forever, Neteyam was in the center of it.

Opening his eyes, Neteyam felt the brush of your thumb against his cheek. Wiping the tear he didn’t know he had shedded, he noticed your own unshed ones as you giggled happily, foreheads touching.

“The bond has been made!” Mo’at declared to everyone, chants filled your ears. Praises of a great future for both you and Neteyam. Happiness, you didn’t the feeling could be so pure and overwhelming—it was so Neteyam.

He nuzzled against you. His prayers had been answered. What was his did come, you were finally with him, forever and he is eternally grateful.

Thank you, great mother.

a/n: thatsss a wrap now I absoulute loved Mine Will Come and Im glad everyone else did as well. Thank you for all the love and support and now I gotta decide on what to write next I have on toooo many WIP