chapter twenty-two
Chapter Twenty-Two
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You woke in a cold sweat, your heart hammering in your chest and tears in your eyes. Beside you, Ronal remained undisturbed, her eyelids fluttering slightly as she sighed deeply. You exhaled slowly, trying to calm yourself.
Tonowari shifted, waking up. Blearily, he asked barely above a whisper, “Are you well?”
You weren’t. That nightmare had felt so real. You could still see Ronal’s lifeless eyes, Ame’s still body and feel the pain of the bullet in your chest. You whimpered slightly, shaking your head as a few tears rolled down your cheeks. Tonowari sat up immediately, pulling you toward him. He wrapped an arm around you, resting his face next to yours.
“What happened?” he asked quietly.
“Ronal died,” you began. “Ame. You were surrounded, and when I ran to you, I was shot. The RDA found us and were attacking Awa’altu. It was a massacre.”
He shushed you gently, stroking your hair. “We are safe. The People are safe. Ame is with the pod. Ronal is here, she is safe. You are safe.”
You cried into his chest, falling into a fitful sleep. When you woke on the morning, your eyes were red and crusty, and Tonowari still held you close. You sat up slowly, and he released you. Ronal looked at you, worry clear on her face.
“I’m okay,” you said quietly. You’d slept poorly the rest of the night, strange, fragmented dreaming of Felix and being stuck in a cryo chamber as you were sent back to Earth.”
Ronal stood, coming to sit beside you. Her arm rested on your shoulder, her fingers petting your arm comfortingly.
“Seriously,” you insisted, not wanting them to worry. “I’m okay. I’m going to go diving with Tsonu’e today.”
Ronal and Tonowari exchanged a glance, before Ronal nodded in agreement.
“You will find us if you need anything,” she said pointedly, her gaze sharp.
.
You ran into Ìweii on your way to the ilu pen. She matched your pace easily, letting out a long sigh.
You rolled your eyes, still exhausted from your crappy night. “What?” you asked.
“I need advice,” she said, like it physically hurt to say it. You laughed outright.
“Unless it involves weaving, I doubt I’ll be much help.”
“It’s about Yitì,” she explained. At your bewildered look, she clarified. “You are mated, you are mate to olo’eyktan and tsakarem—you are the perfect person to ask.”
You gave her a look. “I’m still not sure how I pulled that one off,” you confessed, fighting a laugh.
Ìweii was asking you for advice. You were a weaver! You collected clams and fruit, you didn’t shell out advice.
Ìweii gave you an annoyed look. “Please.”
You huffed. “Fine, what’s going on?”
She grinned smugly, her smile grew brittle as she started speaking. “Yitì won’t even look at me—he’s started mooning over another girl since he can’t have you.”
“Have you spoken to him?” you asked.
“Yes!” she hissed in frustration. “I have given him gifts and worn my hair nice and I have made it so clear that I am interested and he does not even see me!”
Your heart sunk. “Ìweii—“ you started.
“No,” she said angrily. “Do not say it.”
You sighed, slowly to a stop. You place a hand on her arm, her eyes began to water. “You know as well as I do that Yitì is not interested. Have you considered that it is not you? This woman he likes, who is she?”
Her face soured. “Lehu,” she replied, tone tense.
You frowned. Lehu was one of the weavers, she was skilled at making clothes, and really enjoyed making them. The top you wore now had been crafted by her.
Lehu was also rather vocal in her declaration that she would never take a mate, and had no interest in any males. Or females, for that matter.
“Lehu does not like anyone,” you said. “Is Yitì always picking the most unsuitable partner?”
Ìweii’s scowl deepened. “Yitì is happiest around his friends. He and Felix were very close.”
Felix’s name pierced your heart with a stab of guilt. It hurt to breathe for a moment. You’d done your best to avoid thinking about him; about your human life. You couldn’t go back to it, and it was unlikely you’d ever see any of them ever again. But you’d made your choice long ago.
Something about her sentence ate at you a little, and you thought back to when Felix had first met with the clan. Yitì had been a little too eager to volunteer. A little too eager to spend time with him.
Realization dawned, and you giggled slightly, bringing a hand to cover your mouth. Ìweii’s frown was intense, and she opened her mouth to scold you.
You cut her off easily, “Does Yitì like men?”
“He likes women,” hissed Ìweii. “He liked you—Lehu!”
You raised an eyebrow. “Or is he picking the most unattainable women to like?”
Her mouth dropped open in shock, stopping in her tracks completely as she stared at you. She sprinted forward, grabbing your arm, “Do you really think that is it?”
You shrugged, but offered gently, “I see no other reason. I was not even Metkayina, and then I was… unavailable. Lehu is not emotionally available. And you, you are smart and loyal, and Yitì would be a fool to not see that. But you’ll have to ask him yourself.”
She exhaled slowly. “You really think so?”
“Yes,” you said. “You’ll find someone that thinks you are wonderful.”
Ìweii smiled, but it was a little sad. “Thank you, eykyu.”
.
You did not make it to Tsonu’e, you were stopped by a rather breathless Haolìp. Puango was snoring against her chest. She looked frazzled, exhausted as she stopped you.
“Will you watch him?” she asked, looking about ready to cry.
You held your arms out wordlessly, getting passed the baby. “Thank you,” she said, explaining, “His sister is sick.”
“Oh,” you said. “I will care for him as long as you need.”
“Thank you,” she said, grateful. “He is fed. When he gets hungry, I have been trying to introduce fruit. If he does not eat, I will feed him.”
“Got it,” you said. “How long has he been asleep.”
“Not long,” she said sheepishly. “I spent most of the night awake with his sister.”
“That’s okay,” you said. “Tsonu’e will understand.”
Haolìp thanked you again, quickly turning to go back to her marui. You sighed, picking up pace to the ilu pens before anyone could stop you again. Tsonu’e was waiting there for you.
“Can we hold off for a little?” you asked. You could dive with the baby, but it was better if he was awake for it.
Tsonu’e’s eyes fell on the baby slung on your chest, and smiled. “Of course.”
Puango slept for an hour, stirring quietly and looking up at toy with big eyes. You removed him from the sling carefully, holding him in your arms as you clicked to grab an ilu’s attention. Tsonu’e followed in suit, and quickly led the way to her preferred diving spot. You took a little longer, carefully adjusting the baby in your grip. He kicked his feet in the water, looking up at you with wide eyes as you instructed the ilu to dive.
Puango’s cheeks puffed out sweetly, and he turned his head to look around as you followed after Tsonu’e. You surfaced once you arrived, dismounting carefully as Puango flopped himself forward into the water, giggling happily.
When you’d first seen a Metkayina baby in the water, you’d felt an overwhelming sense of fear until you’d realized most of them were as good of a swimmer as you were, and had the benefit of being born in the water. From their first breath to their last, the Metkayina spent their lives in the water. Babies included. At nearly 9 months old, Puango was quick in the water, like a little tadpole or guppy.
You dove first, swimming slowly as the baby stuck close to your side. You grabbed his arm a few times, dragging him forward so he wouldn’t lag behind. You picked out clams carefully, eyeing them for imperfections. When Puango turned to start swimming toward the surface, you grabbed him around his waist and propelled him upwards quicker then he could have done on his own. He sputtered when you broke the surface, making a face as he floated there. You reached into your bag, pulling out a smooth rock your found. It was a grey color, but it was smooth and too big for him to stick in his mouth completely.
“You are being a good boy, huh?” you said to him, peppering his face with kisses while he gummed on the rock. “Sweet baby.”
“Hana!” called a familiar voice. You turned, seeing Tonowari approaching on his tsurak.
You smiled in greeting. “What are you doing here?” you asked. “I thought you were visiting the barrier to check the nets.”
He shrugged, offering a hand to you. You rolled your eyes, scooping Puango up as he pulled you to sit in front of him.
“Who is this?” he asked.
“Puango is Haolìp’s baby. Her daughter is sick, so she asked me to watch him. We are having fun with Tsonu’e, aren’t we?” you tickled him, causing him to squeal with laughter and drop the rock. He pushed off you, chasing after it quickly. He surfaced a few moments later, reaching out for you to pick him up.
You obliged, cradling him in your arms as he waved the rock around, babbling. You glanced at Tonowari, who was watching you with a peculiar expression on his face.
“You are good with him,” he acknowledged.
“I’ve always loved kids,” you confessed, like it was a secret. Something he didn’t already know.
“Liking something does not have to mean you are good at it,” he said wisely.
“Sometimes,” you agreed. “But usually it just means you learn to be good at it.”
He sighed. “I suppose.”
You looked at him out of the corner of your eye. “What’s wrong?”
He pursed his lips. “There was an incident—Ìweii was injured by the Sky People.”
Your stomach dropped. “What?” you demanded. “I just saw her this morning!”
“She went to see Yitì, they were arguing, and accidentally ran into a Sky Person. Ìweii was hit by one of those machines,” he explained.
Guilt clawed at your chest. Tsonu’e surfaced then, the smile on her face dropping as she saw your expression. “A gun,” you told him. “She was shot.”
Puango squealed. To Tsonu’e you said, “I need to go check on her. I told her she should speak with Yitì.”
Tonowari’s hand around your waist tightened a little as he pulled you toward him, your back hitting his chest. “This is not your fault,” he advised. “Ìweii and Yitì had needed to speak for many days.”
“I know,” you said. “I still need to see her.”
“Go,” said Tsonu’e. “I will see you before eclipse.”
“Yes,” you promised. To Tonowari, you said, “Will you take me to her?”
He agreed. “She is with Ronal, she will appreciate your help.”
He took off quickly, getting airborne fast. You were glad that you were not a warrior, you did not enjoy the height, no matter how many times you had ridden with Tonowari and Ronal, you never got used to it. Puango shrieked with joy, giggling as the tsurak landed and splashed water in his face. You hopped off quickly, not giving the baby time to get away from you before you pulled yourself up the netted path and made your way to Ìweii’s marui.
You entered slowly, your eyes falling on Ìweii’s prone form. You squatted, holding a struggling Puango to your chest.
“Where was she hit?” you asked.
Ronal looked up, she lifted the bandage, showing the wound. It was her leg. You cried in relief, bringing a hand to your mouth as you processed.
Ìweii was pale, and it was clear to you that she was had lost a lot of blood. But you were not a medical doctor—you studied ocean plants, and even that you had forsaken to live a simple life as a weaver, so you were in no position to make any assessment.
“She has lost a lot of blood,” said Ronal. “She will be very weak while she heals.”
Ìweii looked at you then, her eyes fluttering open.
“You,” she said weakly, voice quiet. “Were right.”
You laughed through your tears, relieved to hear her talking. “Was I?”
Her head inclined slightly. “He was scared.”
You smoothed her hair back, away from her sweaty face. “I knew it could not be you,” you said.
She looked at you, her eyes tired. “I am…”
Her voice faded, trailing off as she passed out. You wondered if you should have ever given Ìweii advice at all.
“She will live,” Ronal reassured Ìweii’s mother. “She will be in a lot of pain, but she will live.”
You never thought you would be so happy to know that Ìweii would be her usual annoying self in no time.