chapter forty-two
Chapter Forty-Two
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“Mom,” Ao’nung scowled, pulling away. You ignored him, gesturing for him to sit.
He looked at you pointedly, you gestured. His eyes went from the Sully kids back to you. You rolled your eyes. Ao’nung sat. Carefully, you fixed his hair.
Can I go? Ao’nung asked.
Yes, you told him, rolling your eyes. You shooed him a way, sliding your gaze over to Tsireya.
Her eyes widened a little, and quickly she signed, Tonight please! I am reaching the Sulis how to sign.
You pouted. Rulì waved a hand in front of your face, grabbing your attention. Sweetly, he signed, You can do my hair please!
Thank you, sweet boy, you patted the ground in front of you. Rulì scooted around patiently, grabbing the bag of beads to rummage though while you undid his hair.
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“What’s with your mom?” Lo’ak asked casually. Tsireya blinked at him, a little confused.
Ao’nung shrugged, pushing off the rock he was leaning against to stand in front of the Sully kids.
“She got caught in an explosion during the war,” he said. “She used to wear hearing aids when we were younger, but she stopped a while ago.”
Lo’ak blinked. Neteyam said, “I didn’t think she was a warrior.”
“She’s not,” said Tsireya. “She is a voyager—like Ko’oä.”
“Ko’oä?” asked Kiri, frowning a little. “Who’s that?”
“Our older sister,” explained Tsireya. “She’s the same age as Spider. They were good friends.”
The group fell silent, awkward. Spider and Claire were still gone.
“You have another sister?” Neteyam finally asked, breaking the silence.
“Yeah,” said Ao’nung said. “She‘s a voyager. They protect the tulkun now, mostly.”
“Our grandmother’s spirit sister was killed in the first war,” Tsireya explained, voice a little sad. “We try to look after them, the tulkun are very peaceful.”
“My father said that the Metkayina joined the war against the Sky People because of the tulkun,” said Neteyam.
Tsireya bobbed her head, but it was Ao’nung who explained, “Our mom destroyed their villages. The old Rig is—“
“Ao’nung,” hissed Tsireya swatting him on the shoulder. “They don’t need to know about that place.” Lo’ak had perked up slightly.
“The Rig?” he asked.
Ao’nung smirked. “I can show you. Ko’oä and I used to go all the time.”
“Ao’nung,” said Tsireya. “Dad will kill you.”
Ao’nung rolled his eyes, pushing himself to a stand. “Come on,” he said to Lo’ak. “I’ll show you.”
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Your toes wiggled in the sand. Tonowari was sitting beside you, one of his arms next to your hip as he peered down at your lap, at the basket you were making.
For Neytiri, you explained. They don’t have any.
And you were good at weaving baskets—you’d had sixteen years of practice. Tonowari hummed, and you leaned against him, enjoying the way his chest vibrates. His head turned suddenly, his ears flicking. You followed his gaze, spotting Rulì dashing madly up the beach, Tuk hot on his heels.
You and Tonowari exchanged a glance.
“Mom!” shouted Rulì, loud enough you could nearly hear him. Tonowari winced at the volume.
“Do not yell,” he scolded, grabbing his son’s shoulder. Rulì didn’t look even slightly put out, his lips twisting as his hands moved in a halfhearted apology.
“I’m teaching Tuk to sign!” he said, he gestured at Tuk, who looked a little wide eyed.
You turned your attention to her, signing slowly, Hello, Tuk.
Her face brightened immediately as she recognized the greeting. Her fingers moved clumsily, slowly, but you were able to follow the stilted words easy enough.
The two stayed with you and Tonowari until eclipse was nearly upon everyone. You’d finished the basket, and kissed Tonowari’s cheek goodbye. You’d drop off Tuk and the basket. Rulì skipped along beside you, his grin wide and braids bouncing.
Jake saw you first, nudging Neytiri with his knee as he stood. She inclined her head slightly, and Tuk darted forward.
Jake said something, but the light was low. You glanced at Rulì, who dutifully translated for you, “My mom made this basket for you.”
He held it out, his face earnest. Something warmed in Neytiri’s eyes, and she smiled gently as she took the basket.
“They say thank you,” Rulì told you dutifully.
“Tomorrow, I will come to them. I will reach them how to sign,” you told Rulì. His face lit up.
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Ronal was home when you got there. She sat beside the fire, her eyes distant. Rulì’s hand slipped from yours, and he darted forward to sit beside her. Ronal’s hand came up, her eyes falling on him. She smiled gently. You may have given birth to him, but Rulì was all Ronal. The seriousness of his features, the kind smiles, Rulì was all her.
You came to sit on the opposite side of them, grabbing hold of a pair of bottoms you had started to make for Rulì a few weeks back. He was growing quickly.
Where are the children? you asked, glancing around. Tsireya and Ao’nung were usually back before you. Rulì usually came in with Tonowari—but it was rare that the other two weren’t here by the time you got home.
Ronal’s brow furrowed slightly.
Something curled in your chest. Uneasy, you thought back to Jake and Neytiri—their children hadn’t been home either. Something must have shown on your features, because Ronal stood when you did, Rulì’s hand in hers.
You moved quickly, to your mother’s marui. Ronal made a beeline to the center of the village, for Tonowari. Tsonu’e smiled when she saw you, but at the look on your face, her smile slipped away quickly.
“What is it?” she asked, moving to comfort you.
You leaned into her touch. Ao’nung and Tsireya are not home.
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You would murder him, at least if Dad didn’t get there first. Ao’nung knew this the way he knew Tsireya would be murdered with him. You were fairly relaxed, but Ao’nung still remembered how you’d reacted when Ko’oä and Puango had gotten caught here.
“This is a bad idea,” said Tsireya anxiously. Lo’ak had moved forward, eagerly poking his head through the open doorway.
“Relax,” said Ao’nung. “We’ll be back before anyone realizes.”
“Before mom—“ Tsireya started.
He rolled his eyes. “It’s fine Tsireya.”
Kiri interrupted. “Is everything okay?”
Tsireya swallowed, forcing a smile. “Yes, it’s fine.”
She moved forward, looping her arm with Kiri’s. She smiled, but it didn’t quite meet her eyes. “Come on, I’ll show you the lab. They have some old videos.”
Ao’nung ended up taking the lead, a slight skip in his step. They hadn’t been here in a long time—not since Ko’oä and Puango had dragged him along. Tsireya had only been the once too. They’d both been a lot younger, closer to Rulì’s age now.
When Ko’oä had brought them, she’d gone straight to a specific desk, one with all too familiar pictures on it. Ao’nung picked one up, holding it out to his sister.
“Look,” he said. Tsireya’s face brightened, and she stepped away from Kiri to take it from him.
“It’s our mom and Claire,” she said, voice soft. “Spider’s mom.”
Her finger landed on the paper, pointing out Claire’s avatar self. You stood beside her, a few other avatars in the picture as well. Claire was smiling, brightly, and you looked a little nervous, unsure.
“Is that Felix?” asked Neteyam after a moment. Ao’nung blinked. He’d heard of Felix, but it was always in the same breath as people who’d died in the war.
Tsireya shrugged, passing it to him. Neteyam flipped it over, looking at the back, he said, “Just a date. This was at Hell’s Gate.”
“They must have just gotten here,” mused Kiri.
“Does your dad ever talk about it?” asked Ao’nung casually.
Lo’ak answered, shrugging, “Kind of. I think Earth must have sucked.”
Tsireya looked down. “Mom doesn’t like to talk about it.”
“What are your parents like?” Kiri asked.
“You’ve met them,” said Ao’nung, rolling his eyes. “They let us do our own thing.”
Tsireya looked at him rather pointedly. You would not be happy about this little excursion.