chapter twenty-six
Chapter Twenty-Six
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You watched, fascinated, as Ronal rubbed a gooey, green paste on your stomach. It was supposed to minimize the pain from the baby wiggling—pushing your skin out with their feet and hands as far as it would go. The baby you carried was a squirmy one, and your sleep was starting to be bothered by it.
“He never sleeps,” you complained.
Ronal studied your stomach for a moment, a small grin on her face as she said, “It is a girl.”
“How do you know?” you asked playfully.
“You carry her high,” she said. “And you were very sick.”
“I can’t believe Na’vi have old wives tales too,” you muttered.
Ronal grinned at your annoyed face. “She is a girl. I know this. I have seen many babies born.”
You gave her a flat look. “And all the mothers carried their boys low?”
“Yes,” she said seriously. “You are Na’vi. Our baby is a girl.”
“If this baby is a girl, I’ll eat my hat—you are gonna feel silly when he’s a boy!” you teased.
“Girl,” she said simply.
“Well, how do I get her to let me sleep?” you whined.
Ronal considered this. “Sing to her, sleep when she sleeps.”
“Easy for you to say,” you grumbled. Ronal caressed your face gently.
You sighed slowly, running a hand over your braids. “Will you redo my hair?”
Ronal’s smile was lovely, and she gestured for you to turn, sitting behind you. She tugged loose the braids gently, fingers threading between the strands as she unwound your hair.
“How do you want them?” she asked.
You’d had them pulled back against your head, half of it loose. You liked keeping your hair out of your eyes in the water, but disliked the tension of having them so tight against your scalp. You also tended to tangle your loose hair.
“Maybe just some larger braids throughout my hair,” you said, a little vaguely. “I want it away from my eyes when I swim.”
Ronal nodded slowly, sectioning your hair with her fingers after a few moments of thought. She worked gently, her touch softer then Tsonu’e’s.
“Tonowari is pushing himself too hard,” said Ronal suddenly. Her voice came out in a whoosh, and she almost tripped over her sentence in her haste.
Your shoulders tensed. “I know.”
“I am worried for him.” she said.
You were too. Tonowari had hardly been around at all lately. It felt like a stranger at times, or a ghost. He came in late and left early. You missed him. The Sky People had become more active, pushing boundaries they shouldn’t. Tonowari had started leading the People against this. You had told them the weak points of the boats, their weaknesses and how to most efficiently stop the Sky People and their weapons.
It wasn’t much, it was hardly enough at times—but Tonowari was strong and brave, and he was a good leader and a better commander.
In a lot of ways, the Metkayina were winning. The RDA had significantly backed off. You didn’t exactly have the inside scoop, but you could tell that Tonowari’s efforts were succeeding. You missed him like you missed a limb or a sense.
“I am too,” you told her. “I think he feels like he needs to do this.”
Ronal paused. “This is not your fault.”
“It feels like it might be,” you said. You had been very good. You stayed within the reef, always with someone. Ìweii had become a more consistent companion, and when she was busy—you spent your time shadowing Ronal, helping her with injuries and illness. It didn’t change what happened with Keyr’ìi.
“No,” disagreed Ronal. “Tonowari is doing what he believes is right. He is protecting the People.”
“What happened with Keyr’ìi—“
“You did what I would have done,” she said. “Tonowari… he is not like us.”
You turned, the movement forcing Ronal to stop. You grabbed her hand gently, stroking her skin gently. “He is a good man.”
“The best,” she agreed. “I try not to think about him out there.”
You wanted to reassure her, to tell her he would be fine. That Tonowari would live a long full life with you and her and your children. But you couldn’t. The words fizzled and died in your throat, and you sat there silently with her. Finally, you said, “Me too.”
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Ìweii hissed in frustration, throwing the tangled mess in front of her. She threw her hands up, scowling fiercely. “How do you do this?”
Tsonu’e laughed, and told her kindly, “Practice.”
Ìweii gave you a dry look. “Hana,” she whined. “Help me.”
You rolled your eyes, bring a hand down as the baby shifted, wincing slightly. “You are on your own. She said the same thing to me.”
“I was making it for the baby,” she grumbled. Tsonu’e smiled, and snagged the project before Ìweii could continue.
Her face softened. “You were making a fil.”
You didn’t recognize that word. You frowned, tilting your head. “What is a fil?”
Tsonu’e glanced up, a little surprised. It had been a while since she’d had to define a word for you. “It is a plaything. For children.”
You brightened, looking over. Tsonu’e held it up. “This you hang.”
Held up, it was infinitely more clear what you were looking at. A wooden tulkun hung in the middle, surrounded by little white shells. Your heart warmed.
Haolìp made a sound of approval. “It is lovely.”
“Is it Tslli?” asked Lehu.
Ìweii brightened at their words. “Yes! It got tangled though.”
“I love it,” you said. “It’s beautiful. Thank you.”
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Tonowari was bleeding. Your heart was pounding so loud in your chest you couldn’t hear anything but that—his face was tight with pain, and your stomach had dropped so low you felt like it might fall out of you completely. Your veins felt like ice, your breath caught in your throat and you wanted to scream.
Ronal moved quickly, her face pinched as she studied his wounds. You wanted to vomit. Fear overwhelmed you, and you found yourself uselessly grabbing at Tonowari’s hand, pulling it toward your chest. His gaze fell on you, and you comforted him quietly.
“Hana,” said Ronal. “Get that jar over there—yes, that one.”
You passed it to her quickly, returning to your position beside Tonowari, smoothing his hair back as he winced in pain.
“You will be fine,” you told him.
He was breathing quickly, pained as Ronal pressed into his side. “I am sorry.”
“Shut up,” you told him, eyes misty. “You are fine. You are not dying.”
You glanced at Ronal, who met your eyes. You nearly suffocated under her state, the intensity in your gaze making you want to scream. You gasped, shaking your head.
“No,” you told her harshly. “No. I will not allow this.”
“He is bleeding inside, I can not stop this.” Ronal choked on her son. You stood, turning to run for your items.
“No,” she said. “They will kill us all!”
“Are you willing to let him die?” you demanded, finding the comm quickly. Ronal cried, and you made the call.
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Felix came quickly, with him, Grace Augustine in her Avatar form, and another Avatar you had never met before. He resembled the Omaticaya, his skin darker and eyes yellow. His tail thin. He and Grace looked odd, and you spent a little longer then possibly polite watching them with interest. You met them, frown heavy and shoulders tense. “Leave your boat,” you told them, helping them into the canoe. Grace eyed your belly in fascination, sharing a glance with Felix. Felix swallowed, but didn’t say anything as you directed the canoe onward to Awa’altu.
“What happened?” Grace asked.
“Tonowari was shot,” you said. “Ronal removed the bullet and patched the wound, but he’s bleeding internally.”
The stranger asked, “Is he conscious?”
You nodded, pulling the canoe to a stop in front of your marui. The People watched anxiously, Tsonu’e coming to assist you onto the path.
“He is in much pain,” you said, leading them into the marui. You knelt down beside Ronal immediately, her fingers winding around your arm. Uäloä was murmuring quietly. Tonowari had fallen into a restless sleep, whimpering. Your heart ached, and you turned to the avatars.
“Help him,” you begged.
They got to work quickly, carefully locating the source and patching it quickly. Once her terror started the situation had alleviated, Ronal watched in morbid interest as they worked on your mate. You didn’t want to watch, and after a little, Grace directed you both outside the marui while Uäloä watched over the humans.
You sat beside Tsonu’e, resting your head on her shoulder. Grace stood behind you, Ronal pacing anxiously. “He will live,” said Grace. “Mason is one of the best.”
“You trust him?” you asked, a little warily. Grace sighed.
“As much as I can trust anyone. Hana, what happened with Felix, he wasn’t—“
“We do not speak of this,” Ronal interrupted, gaze sharp as she glanced between Grace and Tsonu’e. Grace followed her look, amber eyes falling on Tsonu’e.
“This is Tsonu’e,” you said finally. “Sa’nok, this is Grace Augustine. She was a friend of the Omaticaya. Of the Na’vi.”
“You trust her?” Tsonu’e asked, standing as she moved to an anxious Ronal, placing a hand on her shoulder.
“She is the reason I am here with you at all,” you told her truthfully. You lapsed into a silence at that, and Ronal claimed the spot beside you. Her fingers picked at a loose threat on her loin cloth, and you didn’t have the heart to scold her. You watched her fingers twist and turn, the only sound the beeping from inside the marui and the crashing of waves.
“How far along are you?” Grace asked suddenly.
You blinked, sharing a glance with Ronal, who hissed, “This is not your concern.”
Grace looked a little taken back, and offered gently, “I’m sorry. I was only curious. We don’t know much about Na’vi reproduction.”
“It’s okay,” you said before anyone else could speak, well aware of Grace’s intent to distract you. The RDA knew a good amount about Na’vi reproduction. Grace wasn’t your best friend, but you knew her respect for the Na’vi, for their way of life—you knew how close she had been to the Omaticaya. “I am not sure. Around 6 months, but it is hard to say for sure.”
Tsonu’e came to your support, Ronal tense beside you. “The baby keeps her awake now.”
You placed a hand on Ronal’s thigh, allowing her to grab your hand and intertwine your fingers tightly. She clung to you, her face tense. You tried to focus on the awkward conversation between Tsonu’e and Grace, but found it impossible to focus on anything beyond your thoughts of Tonowari.
“I’m going to check on him,” you mumbled quietly, standing.
“Please don’t go,” Ronal’s hand shot out, her fingers curling around yours. Your face crimped at the look in her eye, the fear.
You knelt beside her, cupping her face in your hands. “I would not bring anyone here if I thought they would not help.”
“I know,” she assured you. “I feel… useless.”
You kissed her forehead, hugging her to you. “No. Never. Sky People did this, it is something they must fix. You are Tsahìk, you fix Na’vi illnesses and injuries.”
She sniffled. “I don’t want him to die.”
“He won’t,” you insisted, just as much to her as to yourself. A life without Tonowari wasn’t one you wanted to imagine.
As if summoned, Mason exited. You and Ronal turned toward him.
“He’ll live,” said Mason in clumsy Na’vi. It was the most beautiful sentence you had ever heard. You clutched Ronal, crying in relief. She pulled you to a stand, all but carrying you into the marui. Tonowari was still, his face pale and his eyes screwed shut tightly. You kneeled on the opposite side of Ronal, grabbing his limp hand. His fingers tightened around yours, and you brought it up to your mouth, kissing it gently.
He opened his eyes slowly, looking between you and Ronal, who was sobbing rather earnestly now. “If this is half of the fear you felt when I went for Keyr’ìi, I will never leave Awa’altu ever again.”
Tonowari gave a breathy laugh, his face screwing up in pain almost immediately after. Uäloä reached forward, offering a piece of root to chew on. You recognized that, though you couldn’t recall the name. It was a type of painkiller, an effective one when chewed on. Tonowari chewed on it slowly.
“Never do this again,” said Ronal assertively.
“I will try,” he managed slowly. Your brow furrowed at his pain, and you squeezed his hand a little tighter, pulling it a little closer. You did not dare think about how close you had come to losing him.
“You are not allowed to die,” you told him. “The Sky People do not know where we are. We do not have to do this.”
He looked tired. “Yes I do.”
You wanted to protest, to tell him no. That you’d been wrong. Fighting wasn’t the answer—not if it continued to put him, to put the People at risk.
You would not be the same if you lost him. Within Tonowari laid a third of yourself, something integral to your being. The same was true for Ronal.
You held his hand close, sitting as close to him as you dared. You left only when Yitì came, a fierce scowl on his face, his eyes more intense then you had ever seen. You paused as you followed him, grabbing his arm once you were out of earshot of anyone.
“What has happened?” you asked him.
He looked away, ears pinned back. Finally, he said, “Felix.”
You deflated, glancing at the Avatar. He was with Mason and Grace, both enthralled by shell Felix was showing them. “I should not have called him.”
“No,” said Yitì. “You were right, our olo’eyktan lives because of them.”
“He almost died because of the Sky People in the first place,” you shot back.
“It is not them, not him saving Tonowari. It is,” Yitì hesitated. “I can not forgive him.”
“I’m struggling too,” you admitted freely. You were struck, abruptly, how similar the conversation was to all those people coming to you for advice. It seems the influence had finally reached the male population. “He did a terrible thing.”
Yitì exhaled slowly. “I do not want him here. He did not even tell me he told them.”
“He didn’t tell me either,” you said.
“It is different,” Yitì said in a rush. “You are only friends and he—“
Yitì cut himself off, refusing to look at you. You heart dropped as realization crept in. You took a step back in shock, raising a hand to your mouth. You glanced at Felix, and then to Yitì again. You grabbed his hand. “Is this true? You mated with him?”
“Nobody else knows,” he said instead.
You didn’t know what to say to that. You mind whirled, and without thinking you asked, “If you are mates, why did you approach me with Tonowari?”
That had been eating at you for a while, you’d nearly forgotten about it until Ìweii had confirmed your suspicions, and right now, as Yitì solidified your theory in one fell swoop.
He had the grace to look embarrassed. He shifted in place, and finally said, “Wayì insisted.”
That explained literally everything. You nearly laughed. Yitì huffed, looking a little flustered. “Do not laugh, he wouldn’t shut up about it. I knew you would say no.”
You smiled reassuringly. “I won’t say anything,” you promised. “But I think you should tell others.”
He didn’t look remotely convinced, but he was scowling a little less as he marched over to the Avatars to usher them into the canoe.
“Take care of yourself,” said Grace. “If it’s worth anything, the RDA doesn’t know shit about this place.”
It was. “Thanks,” you said. “That’s good to know.”
Mason said, “He should be on his feet in about a week, but don’t let him push too hard. It’ll be good for him to move around, but don’t let him do anything strenuous.”
“Got it,” you confirmed. You’d probably have to beat him off with a stick to keep him from doing chores. Ronal would gladly help.
Felix said, “If you need anything ever—“
“—Call you. Got it.” you hesitated, and finally addressed the group as a whole. “Eventually, everyone will have to chose a side in this.”
Grace’s eyes were a little wide as she shared a glance with Mason, who looked equally as nervous. Felix looked a little resigned. You continued, “When you go back to the Omaticaya, when you speak with them, tell them that we will answer the call when it comes.”
Yitì straightened a little, realizing just what you were promising. When it came time to force the humans from this planet, the Metkayina would join in that battle.
You did not stay to watch them leave, trusting Yitì to see them out. Tonowari was waiting for you.