Zhake'soolly had been right. The tree was dangerous.
It loomed above the main trail from Hometree to the east, the early morning sunlight catching its impressive crown. Fingers used the blunt head of his axe to strike the main trunk, listening for the soundness of the timber. It was clear the main heartwood of the massive tree was rotten and decaying. He suspected the damage had been done some years ago by a lightning strike.
"What do you think?" asked the olo'eyktan.
Fingers bit his lower lip, and shook his head. "The tree could fall at any moment," he said finally. "It will be dangerous to bring down, very dangerous."
"Can you do this?" asked his mate. Fingers had heard the stories of how she had won the heart of the Toruk Makto, though her courage and beauty. All Na'vi of the world knew the name of Neytiri te Tskaha Mo'at'ite. She seemed to him very much of a handful, not like his sweet-tempered Se'ayl at all, but it was obvious that their mating was a true joining of souls.
After several seconds' consideration, Fingers replied slowly, "Yes. You will need to keep the clan well back, for their safety. I will show you where they must wait."
They walked back about eighty metres towards Hometree.
"Here," said Fingers. "If the clan watch from here, they will be safe."
Fingers smiled when he saw Neytiri open her mouth, only to be stopped speaking by Zhake'soolly stepping on her foot, and saying, "We will do as you say."
As he walked back to the tree, Fingers heard Neytiri complain, "I was only going to ask if he was sure."
Zhake'soolly scolded gently, "Ayzekwä knows what he is doing. What would you say if I questioned your stalking of a yerik..."
He did not hear the rest of the argument.
At the base of the tree, Fingers talked. Talked to the tree, telling it that it had a grand old life, but it was now time to die. In dying, it would be a gift to the Omaticaya if it did not kill or injure any of the clan, and that in return the clan would take its timber, and use it to make many things of use to the Omaticaya. In essence, it would become as one with the clan.
This is how Se'ayl would have talked to the tree, and Fingers did so to honour her memory.
He told the tree where he was going to cut, how deep the cuts would go and in what order, and when they were done which way the tree would fall. He assured the tree that in falling, it would not kill or injure other trees, but fall cleanly to the ground, its honour intact. Fingers told the tree where he would stand, and the path he would take to be safe.
All this took time, but at the end of it he was sure exactly what to do.
Fingers looked to the safety line, and was pleased to see Zhake'soolly had control of his people, keeping them exactly where he had said. He checked the edge of his axe, and satisfied that it was sharp enough, began to cut.
The steady ringing of steel biting into timber sounded through the forest, as Fingers worked slowly and methodically through his plan. He did not rush – more loggers had been killed by haste and carelessness than any other cause – but took his time.
Every now and then he would pause, and listen to the sound of the tree, making sure that the cut was going to plan. Sweat poured from his body – no-one ever said that felling trees was easy work, especially doing it the right way, without machines.
The trunk of the tree creaked slightly. Fingers paused, and wiped his hands on a cloth hanging from his belt. It would not do for the axe to slip in his hands – not now. He resumed the axe-strokes, listening for the crack...after three blows, there it was. It was almost there.
One more blow, and he felt the tremble of the ground under his bare feet. It was time to go.
Calmly, he shifted the grip on his axe and walked to his chosen safe point.
There was a barrage of cracks, like volleyed rifle fire. The tree groaned deeply, and then shook. With a roar, the tree rotated about fifteen degrees, tilted.
The death of a tree was compelling, even beautiful in a strange way. No-one could ever look away. The strange thing was that Fingers never heard them fall. The sadness in his heart overwhelmed his ability to hear.
Se'ayl had fallen the same way.
The clan gathered around the fallen forest giant. Many of the elder Omaticaya were weeping, no doubt remembering the fall of Old Kelutrel.
Zhake'soolly came to Fingers, and gripped his forearm in acknowledgement. The emotion on his face was strong, but unreadable. "A task well-completed," said the Toruk Makto.
"Irayo," responded Fingers awkwardly. It seemed the right thing to say
"I would know the name of your father," said Zhake.
Fingers half-shrugged. It seemed a reasonable request. "Tom."
Now he knew what emotion gripped Zhake'soolly. It was sadness.
The olo'eyktan lifted up his voice. "This man has completed a difficult task with grace, and honour." There was a murmur of agreement from the surrounding clans-people. "It is only fitting that the Omaticaya acknowledge his skill and integrity with a gift."
Many of the adults nodded, in concurrence with the words of their olo'eyktan.
"I was born tawtute," said the olo'eyktan. "So I know that the clan names of the tawtute have little or no meaning. For this man, this Unìltiranyu, such a name is not fitting."
There were cries of agreement from the gathered clan, and Fingers felt even more awkward.
"Therefore, the Omaticaya will give this man a new clan name," announced Zhake'soolly. "He will now be known by all Na'vi as Ayzekwä te Utralzup Tom'itan." He gripped Fingers in a warm embrace, to the cries of acclamation from the people of the Omaticaya.
Fingers was strangely affected by the gift. He knew how much names meant to the Na'vi, and how much respect he had just been granted.
All he could think was how proud Se'ayl would have been.
There was a muted celebration after the felling of the tree. A petite woman, easily the shortest of any Omaticaya adult, came up to him. It had been years since they had talked, ever since they were comrades on the assault of the starships.
"Na'dia," he acknowledged cautiously. This woman, despite her size and compelling beauty, was probably the most dangerous individual on the planet. He amended the thought, remembering watching a 'friendly' combat between Na'dia and his friend Sharon. There was another who was just as deadly.
"Fingers," said the woman, her voice warm and gracious. "It has been too long."
What the hell? This bitch had the coldest heart he had ever encountered. He looked closer, seeing the mask of the palulukan had been stripped away. The underlying savagery was still there, but now he could see the woman, not just the predator. He made an inconsequential noise of agreement.
"I was sorry to hear of the death of your mate," she said. "Se'ayl was a friend."
He made another inarticulate sound, gesturing helplessly with one hand.
Na'dia laughed, the richness of her voice surprising. "You are so very male, Fingers," she said in English.
"Se'ayl always said the same thing," replied Fingers, finding his voice.
She touched his arm in sympathy, and then looked to one side. He followed her gaze, seeing a handsome male holding the hand of a woman. "I could not imagine losing my mates..." She started, and then shook her head. "This is not why I came to speak to you."
"Oh?" he commented, falling back into inarticulate male mode.
She laughed again, before a serious expression settled on her face. "Your search for the missing tawtute woman," she stated. "I fear it may be in vain. I have not felt the presence of a tawtute in this range in the last six months." She tactfully did not call him a tawtute.
His fingers spread briefly in a gesture of acceptance of Na'dia's news. "Uluta may not have come this way," he said calmly. "The forest is large, and I expect the search will take time."
Na'dia hesitated. "Uluta. That is a Ukrainian name."
"Yes," agreed Fingers. "She was from Kiev, before the bomb."
He was surprised when Na'dia shivered, but not after what he heard next. "I, too, was in Kiev, when the bomb..." She did not finish her sentence, moving to leave his side, but paused to say, "Give her time to heal."
Fingers was not given opportunity to say anything else. Na'dia just seemed to vanish into thin air, and he did not see her again.
The following morning, when it was time to leave, a youth came to him. "Ayzekwä," he said. "I may have news for you."
Suddenly, Fingers was all ears.
"Some months ago, where the Omaticaya hunting grounds march against the land of the Tipani, I saw something." He hesitated for a moment. "Or perhaps it would be better to say, I did not see something."
Fingers tried to restrain his impatience. "What was it that you didn't see?"
The youth made an uncertain gesture. "It was not tawtute, and not nantang," said the young man. "My impression was it was like both, or neither. What I didn't see was...something else."
He had to ask. "How come is it that you know this, and the palulukan woman knows nothing?"
"Even the palulukan do not see what isn't there," replied the youth cryptically. He nodded, "Eywa ngahu."
As the youth moved away, Fingers called out, "Wait! What is your name?"
"Stxeli'tstal te Pesuholpxaype Tsawlontu'itan."
The woman stirred. Something was holding her against the ground, many fine tendrils that were dry and brittle. As she sat up, the tendrils crackled when they shifted and tore.
Her two nantang were there, bounding and playing, as though she had been gone many days. "'Rrno, Kizlun," she called them by name. "What is the matter with you?"
By their yelping and barking, the woman understood she had indeed been gone for a long while. It did not strike her to wonder where she had been. She looked at the thing she was holding in her hand. The woman somehow knew the thing was important, or rather had been important, but did not understand why this was so, or what it was. She shrugged to herself. When the time came, she would understand.
She embraced first Kizlun, and then 'Rrno, before retrieving her pack. She needed her bow and quiver, but needed to do something with the thing. It was probably still important, so she would keep it. A quick motion placed it securely inside, where it would be safe. There was plenty of room, and it wasn't heavy. The woman smiled. She was looking forward to running with her friends through the forest, before they hunted.
It did not seem strange to her that she had no name.