chapter eight
Chapter Eight
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Ronal was not hard to find. And as a result, you had an easy time avoiding her. You knew the right thing to do was to apologize, but you couldn’t bring yourself to yet. Disappointment clouded your thoughts, and you wanted to scream. In the process of avoiding her, you clung to Tsonu’e like clung film—and the change in behavior was odd enough that she commented on it.
“What is wrong?” she finally asked, blue eyes intense on your face.
You broke almost immediately, dropping the basket you were forcing together and telling her, “I was rude to Ronal and now I’m avoiding her.”
Tsonu’e looked at you as though you had declared your intention to start a new religion. “What happened?”
“I met with her on the way to the ilu, and she said Ìewii was going, so I left.” you said, your ears dropping and you head bowed slightly.
Tsonu’e sighed. “That is it? Ìewii? Hana, Ìewii is only rude because she is jealous.”
You looked up so fast you thought you might have given yourself whiplash for a moment. “What? Truly? Why?”
“Yitì has said you are very beautiful,” said Tsonu’e casually.
“Who’s that?” you demanded, flabbergasted. You had never met a Na’vi by that name—much less heard of anyone finding you attractive. You were intrigued.
Tsonu’e smiled at you, her eyes crinkling as she looked at you fondly. “He is a young warrior, Ìewii is very fond of him.”
You leaned forward. “But he likes me? I’ve never even met him!”
“You are pretty, and sister to tulkun,” she said, as if that explained everything. In some ways, it kind of did.
“Well, she can keep him,” you groused.
Tsonu’e laughed. “It may not be so simple. Yitì may not even like her.”
“I’ve never even met him,” you complained.
“You do not have to mate with him,” said Tsonu’e. “You may change your mind, he is a good warrior. Young, but he would be a good mate to you. Ìweii too.”
Your mind couldn’t even begin to unpack that statement—you didn’t even know you were allowed to mate with anyone, much less two people, if Tsonu’e had intended to insinuate that. You didn’t think you should—being human and all in your spare time.
“I can do that?” you wondered.
Tsonu’e nodded slightly. “You are sister with tulkun. You may not be a warrior, but you are a woman. You will earn your tattoos, and be allowed to choose.”
“Oh,” you said, cheeks burning. A little flustered, you ask her, “Did you choose a mate?”
The temperature seemed to drop slightly, Tsonu’e’s shoulders tensed as her lips pursed. “Yes,” she said shortly.
You did not say anything else, watching her with wide eyes. After several minutes of agonizing silence, you stood awkwardly, mumbling something about Ronal and apologies before making your escape from the suddenly tense marui.
You were really on a mission it felt, like you were trying to win a record for ruining all your relationships in one fell swoop. You missed Ame. She’d have good advice for you—she knew everyone you did for the most part, and you trusted her to be honest about your behavior.
You sighed. Ronal was probably the first person you should talk too—and if Tsonu’e’s words held any kernel of truth, you should probably try and make peace with Ìewii too.
Ronal was easy to find, sitting in her marui by the fire—and maybe you’d spent a little too long avoiding her. She didn’t so much as look up as you approached, her gaze intense as she ground up some type of plant into powder.
You sat next to her silently, watching her work. “Do you leave it a powder, or turn it into a paste?” you finally asked. Ronal clearly was not planning on speaking first, and it was you who’d soured things.
She looked up, her eyes intense. She frowned, opening her mouth to say something before she abruptly snapped her mouth closed, her cheeks tinged red.
Your hand drifted up to your ear unconsciously, to the earring in it. The one she’d given you.
“Thank you,” you told her. “I really like them.”
Ronal didn’t say anything for a moment, but finally, almost like an olive branch, said, “It has different purposes as a paste.”
“Oh,” you said, intrigued. “I wonder if it undergoes a chemical reaction.”
She looked at you out of the corner of her eye, something like a grin tugging at her lips. You lapsed into a silence again, the only sound the grinding of stones.
“I don’t know how to talk to you,” you admitted finally. Ronal remained silent, and you’d thought that you’d finally messed up whatever was happening here.
“I do not either,” she admitted.
You laughed, a little startled at how fast she had said that. It was the right move apparently, because she smiled back at you.
“I’m sorry about yesterday. Ìewii doesn’t really like me,” you admitted. “I was upset and I took it out on you. I won’t do it again.”
Ronal’s smile dropped a little, before she set down her tools, placing a gentle hand on your knee. Your heart picked up speed, the warmth of her hand stirring something in your chest. “I am sorry too. I knew Ìewii has been upset, but I did not think it would be an issue.”
Her hands were really soft.
“Do you need any help?” you squeaked.
Ronal smiled, grabbing a bowl and handing it to you. “Mix this into a powder.”
“Got it,” you said, taking the bowl. “How did you learn all this, anyway?”
“Uäloä taught me,” she said simply. “One day, I will teach my daughter too.”
“With Tonowari?” you asked, nearly stumbling over his name. You’d never met him, but everything you’d heard was that he was kind and brave.
“Yes,” she said, her eyes soft. “He is a good man. Do you want children?”
You sighed wistfully. “I love children,” you confessed. “I doubt I’ll ever have any though.”
Ronal’s face dropped. “Why?”
“It’s not fair,” you finally said. “Earth can’t support the people it has. I wouldn’t do that to a person.”
Ronal didn’t say anything to that, but her gaze burned you—her face thoughtful. You locked eyes with her, and this time, she looked away first.
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Tsonu’e was home when you got back, your steps light as yog practically skipped home. Your afternoon with Ronal was amazing, and you got butterflies when you thought of her laugh.
You hesitated at the entrance of the marui, pausing as Tsonu’e looked up at you. Her eyes were rimmed red, and instantly, your good mood vanished.
“Come sit,” she said quietly. Your stomach swooped, nerves making your hands shake slightly as you sat down beside her.
Tsonu’e hands found yours, pulling them into her lap as she held them. “You asked if I had picked a mate this morning.”
“Tsonu’e—“ you began, apology on the top of your tongue.
“Hush,” she interrupted. “You did nothing wrong. I did have a mate… and a child.”
Your stomach plummeted, your heart sank. Your grip tightened around her fingers, yours eyes wide as you looked at her.
“A little girl,” she continued softly. “She would have been your age. I called her Eri.”
“What happened?” you whispered.
“She and my mate, they were killed. I thought, when you came—I could take my revenge.”
Your blood ran cold, and you grew tense. Tsonu’e’s eyes found yours, and gently, she touched your face.
“I likes you more then I planned,” she admitted. “You were kind. I thought, tomorrow. I will do it tomorrow. Then you made a blanket for a mother you had never met, and…”
“Ame,” you finished.
She nodded. “I could not, after. I could not before, but I was not ready to see.”
Quietly, you asked her, “Do you now?”
Her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her voice cracked as she swore, “I see you.”
“I see you too,” you said. Tsonu’e drew you into a swift hug, crying into your shoulder as she promised she would not let anyone hurt you. You found yourself crying back, promising her the same thing.
“I will protect you,” Tsonu’e promised. “You are my family. You, Äa, her calf, Ame. This is my family now. I will treasure you.”
Your throat felt raw, your eyes burned and you let yourself be held by her. Guilt burned in your chest, and you cried, “This isn’t me.”
“No,” she disagreed. “You are Hana. That is what matters. You are mine.”
You are reminded, abruptly, of the feelings you had had after you and Ame bonded. The naked feeling of being seen, of being known. It was terrifying. It was exhilarating.
You let Tsonu’e braid your hair, combing it out with her fingers while she hummed you a song—the lyrics were soft, and gentle, and when she occasionally said the words, you knew it was a song about motherhood.
The next morning, she gave you a bead for your songchord, and added a matching one to hers.