Chapter 6
The Tree of Voices was still a scar on the ground and its recovery time would be measured in generations. But a close relation to it was the Utral 'Okä, the Tree of Memories, and it was there that Jake and Neytiri approached. Not with the heady anticipation and courtship dance they had enjoyed at the Utral Aymokriyä, but with trepidation and hesitation. Their daughter Ni'awtu was left in the charge of the mothers of the tribe. This was not for a four year-old to witness.
"Of course, nothing may happen," whispered Neytiri, out of automatic respect for the ancestors in ethereal form around them. "Nothing at all."
"That's not why we're here," returned Jake, whispering only because Neytiri was doing so. "We want this to work."
"This is where the sick in mind come for healing," said Neytiri. "Eywa knows, you are not sick."
"To the tribe, I might as well be," said Jake bitterly. "I am a stranger."
"Not to me. Not through tsaheylu."
Jake took his beloved's hands. "If you were the only one I had to win over..."
The die had already been cast; their conversation was an outlet for their ambivalence and fear. They sat at the base of the tree next to a thick luminous strand. This was how Na'vi with head injuries regained damaged memories. It was not a common procedure.
Jake made the bond between his queue and the strand. So did Neytiri. No words were spoken, but there was a conversation, of sorts, that followed:
Eywa, hear us! All those who have passed before us, hear us! This is Jake, strong of deed, pure of heart. Grant him a vision of the People, we pray. A vision of the soul of the Omaticaya, that he may be one with them in memory as well as in spirit. Restore to him that which belongs to all of your people.
The rest of the exchange was beyond words.