chapter thirty-six
Chapter Thirty-Six
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Ronal’s belly grew, the baby inside wiggly and always on the move. She was much more graceful in her nausea then you had been, but you thought it hit her worse. She was careful to avoid any smells that triggered her stomach, and you and Tonowari did the same for her. Ko’oä learned to roll over, and had become more proficient in the water—enough that you were able to take her with you when you went diving. She smiled now too, giggling at funny faces and tickles.
Tonowari liked that, spending a lot of early mornings puffing out his cheeks and blowing raspberries on her tummy to make her laugh. He spent most of the day with the clan, assisting in rebuilding—his presence necessary for the People, healing in a lot of ways.
You fell back into your routine, spending majority of your days with Tsonu’e. Weaving, and diving—but too you had also more consistently started tailing Ronal, acting as tsakarem for the time being.
The recovery of the People was a slow, gradual thing. The wounds healed, but the scars remained. Claire was careful to carve herself a niche, always hyper aware of overstepping. She and Ava roomed in a small base just off the coast. They weren’t fully welcomed yet, and maybe they would never be—but they were tolerated. Claire brought news, the same as the voyagers often did. She gave us updates on the Omaticaya, other tribes too. Jake Sully was the olo’eyktan, his mate Neytiri was pregnant.
Life was slowly becoming easy again.
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It was Felix’s birthday.
You missed him in the way you missed the sunsets and the life on Earth. You missed him that way. You hated that you couldn’t fix your friendship anymore, that it had been ripped away from you, and that you didn’t even know what happened. It felt desperately unfair, like you’d been cheated out of something. The longer time went on, the more clear it because you wouldn’t be seeing Felix again.
With thoughts of Felix, came Yitì. It made it worse. They’d never been able to fix their relationship—and now Yitì was dead. Felix couldn’t even visit him, his avatar body dead.
You wondered if death was different for you then it was for the Na’vi. If it was realer or less real.
Yitì greeted you, his face kind and expression happy. Felix remained out of reach.
“Hana,” greeted Yitì. Eri popped up from behind him, her little face bright and happy as she saw you.
“Hana!” she said happily.
You grinned, kneeling down to be eye level with her. “Hello, little sister.”
You had this, at least—and the irony that the dead were the ones you could hear with the most clarity was not lost on you.
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Ko’oä’s body wiggled forward, her hands reach out toward Ame. Ame shifted slightly, allowing the baby better access to her. Ko’oä grabbed her fin, using it to push her head over water. You beamed, signing, She’s gotten faster.
Your baby was a small, precocious little thing. Ame’s eyes were gentle, and her voice was soft as she cooed at the baby.
Come here, sweet Ko’oä, she called gently. The baby flopped forward, little hands reaching out. You swam forward, scooping up your baby and climbing onto Ame’s back. You leaned back, Ko’oä resting on your thighs. You tickled her tummy, laughing as she giggle, kicking her legs.
You’ve convinced me, Ame sighed, resigned. You laughed, laying back and patting her side. Ko’oä squealed as you lifted her above your head, angling her head up to look out at the ocean.
“Convinced you to do what?”
Have a child—your Ko’oä will need a spirit sibling. Your heart swelled, and you sat up, setting Ko’oä down. You moved to your knees, sliding into the water while Ko’oä crawled on zane’s back.
“Truly?” you asked softly, overwhelmed by the moment.
Of course, said Ame. I have always loved children, and I want to share this joy with you.
You hugged her, or tried. Your arms could not reach around her, but you loved Ame so much you could not stop yourself. She leaned into you a little, and you squished your face against her side.
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The tattoo was on your hands—a sort of poetic thing. You’d begin to rely on the sign language used among the clan more frequently in your day to day life. Ko’oä’s laughter was fizzling from your mind like tears in the rain. You hated that eventually, you’d stop being able to remember what Ronal’s singing sounded like.
Tsonu’e’s fingers threaded together a particular tight knot, one you’d been unable to do because of the sting of a fresh tattoo. She passed it back to you with a kind smile. Ko’oä sat in your crossed legs, leaning back against your chest. You showed her the basket, her eyes wide as she reached forward with chubby fingers.
Beside you, Taweäng sat. He looked horrendously out of place, and you sympathized with him—having been a stranger once yourself. He didn’t know sign, and as a result, you found it difficult to speak with him as you once had.
Taweäng made it a point to linger. The days fizzled into weeks, the weeks into months—and as Ronal’s stomach swelled, it became more and more clear that the tribe didn’t just have one new addition.
Ìweii was a lot less confident in this pursuit, but you thought it was a much more reasonable match—one with a partner much more interested.
You were happy for her—she’d started to laugh like herself again.
You didn’t think it was easy, and it shouldn’t be. But you were glad that things were starting to ease into a new routine. Tsonu’e wiggled her fingers at Ko’oä, the baby’s face cheerful.
That night, Tsonu’e ate dinner beside you, Ko’oä in her arms while Ìweii explained in ridiculous detail how Taweäng was finding diving, and her fascination with his Ikran. You sat against Tonowari, his hand resting on your leg. You relaxed, enjoying the sweetness of the fruit.
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Claire wormed her way into the clan easily, in a simple, earnest way that left you bewildered at the simple acceptance. She still collected data and took samples, unable to leave that part of her life behind. You understood, spending most of your time with Ko’oä carefully describing the diverse and beautiful biology of Pandora.
You didn’t miss it though—the urgency behind it. You were allowed to marvel at the algae and appreciate the coral and sea life without any fear linked to it. Claire took it all in with wide eyes, wary as Tsonu’e was kind enough to reach her to weave, and as Ìweii hammered sign in her head.
“All of use need to sign,” Ìweii explained, her fingers moving with her words. You were half paying attention, observing Tonowari and Ko’oä as he let her observe the akula teeth on his necklace. “We communicate in the water—and if you truly wish to experience our way of life, this you must learn.”
Claire sucked at sign. You corrected her when she swapped mother and father, and when she told you Ko’oä was an ilu. Ìweii was a lot harsher in her criticism, swatting Claire’s hands—and Taweäng when he joined the lessons. Her cheeks burned when she touched his skin, but she wasn’t any easier on him despite the affection.
Ko’oä had started to babble, both in Na’vi and in sign. Her little hands moving in gestures that seemed almost familiar, her lips curving in imitation of the sounds she heard most.
Soon, she would start signing actual words—and speaking them. You were glad that you still had time like this though, with Ko’oä so small. You tickled her, enjoying the way her face contorted as she giggled, even though you couldn’t hear it.