OH MY GOSH IT'S BEEN TWO MONTHS!

EEEEEEEK!

Hahaha I'm sorry it's been so long, peeps!

It's short, but I hope you guys like it anyway!

Enjoy, and PLEASE REVIEW!

Sara sighed tiredly, motioning for her daughter to follow her into the darkness of the outside. The night was warm and sultry, and the woman breathed in deeply to better enjoy the fresh scent of the forest. It's going to rain soon, the woman mused, her golden eyes flickering up to the heavens before glancing back to settle on the teenage girl behind her.

Kinäe was scowling; her slender arms crossed indignantly as she reluctantly sat down on one of the numerous roots that grew out of the ground and served as a sort of bench. Her mismatched eyes glowed in the bioluminescence, and Sara felt a wave of tender affection swell up at the sight of her daughter's familiar stance – it was just like Kinak's. But unfortunately, Kinäe hadn't gained Kinak's self-control, instead having gained Sara's rather stubborn and unpredictable nature. That invoked feelings of both exasperation and pride within Sara; exasperation that her daughter was unable to control herself after so many years, and pride that Kinäe had inherited at least some of Sara's traits.

Sara slowly sat down beside her daughter, letting her arm come around to stroke Kinäe's hair. She smiled at the sight of the thanator beads – made from the bones of a hexapede – that Kinak had carved for her as a birthday present a year ago, and touched them gently before resuming her stroking of the delicate braids that fell to just below Kinäe's shoulders. The girl leaned into the touch, her eyes closing as she prepared herself for the lecture. Sara almost laughed at the sight of her daughter; hands tight, lips pursed, shoulders tensed, eyes scrunched tightly as if expecting Sara to start shouting. Had their relationship really become that predictable?

"Do you know what you did wrong, Kinäe?"

"Yes, Sa'nok…" the girl mumbled, ears lowered in guilt, hands fidgeting slowly with her decorated belt. Sara inwardly grimaced at the sight, hating to see her daughter so diminished, but also knowing that it was necessary. Kinäe had to learn that hitting her brother wasn't the way to solve things, no matter how annoying he could be.

Speaking of annoyances, Sara would have to speak to Tompa later about his behavior. Teasing when the boy in question – well, it was Tìrol, so there was no way that Kinäe would have feelings for him in the first place – wasn't within hearing distance was alright, but when he was right there…that was just tactless.

Sara nodded. "Then I won't bother with the lecture. You could probably recite it word-perfect to me by now…"

Kinäe's lips quirked in a small smile, and she leaned her head against her mother's shoulder. Sara felt another wave of affection, and hugged her daughter tightly. She loved her children so much, it was like a string had been attached to her soul the moment they had started growing inside of her, and once attached…the string tugged away all at of her defenses.

Kinäe sighed, and Sara looked over at the girl, who was scowling.

"What is it, 'evi?"

"That skxawng Tìrol…he broke his promise. He said that if I found Tompa, he'd play Truth or Dare with me. It's too late now, and he's leaving in the morning," she growled, leaning back so she was staring up at the starry sky.

Sara stared down at the face of her daughter, and smiled, leaning down to hug her close.

"I'm sure it will all work out, Kinäe. Our family and a few other Tipani are going to visit the Omaticaya the day after the Iknimaya…you'll be able to beat him at Truth or Dare then."

Kinäe grinned at that. "Yeah, he has a week to think that I've forgotten…and then I'll make him wish he had never heard the words Truth and Dare," she said, her eyes bright in the moonlight, full of glowing determination. Sara chuckled, and tugged playfully at the girl's hair.

"That's my girl."

The girl laughed, and hugged her mother tightly before dancing off toward the entrance of Kelutral, singing lightly under her breath as she did so. Sara couldn't sing to save her life, and so it was a nice surprise to find that Kinäe had an excellent singing voice. It was pure and soft, rising and falling like the sweet scent of the flowers during rainy season. The tune Kinäe currently sang was one that Sara was familiar with, and her eyes – as they always did when hearing that particularly melody – clouded over in remembrance.

It had been Norm's favorite Na'vi song. He hadn't had the best singing voice – she and Jake had spent many a day throwing objects at him in order to stop him from singing ancient hit songs (to this day, Sara couldn't think the words "buttercup" and "baby" without that god-awful song popping up in her head) – but whenever he sang that song…Sara didn't have the heart to tell him to stop.

Norm had loved the Na'vi so much.

Somehow, as Sara thought this, her feet turned her body on the spot, and began to travel down a well worn path. The path led through the glowing plants and moss, and she let her fingers brush against the pulsing light, her smile sad and beautiful as her memories swept her backwards in time.

"Yeah," Norm chuckled. "back at the Station, you could barely lift a box of root samples, let alone a microscope!"

It had been so long ago. Seventeen years, to be exact.

But in those long, timeless minutes that followed Sara as she made her way to the Life-Giving Tree…it seemed like just yesterday. In that moment, Sara's mind came close to believing that if she just closed her eyes…Norm would be reaching out to grab her hand, blushing as he always did, smiling that nerdy smile and saying her name in that warm way of his.

She missed him so much. He had been her best friend…he still was her best friend.

The tree, beautiful and tranquil, came into view then, and her eyes absorbed every detail. The water was, as always, smooth as glass, with small spirit seeds twirling over the surface, sending circles of pure pink-purple-pale light careening over the water. She had been here in the years since Norm's death, but even so…the tears always came to her eyes. And in the years Norm had been gone…Sara had not dared to make tsahaylu with the tree. She didn't know why…but now, that hesitation was gone.

Her throat tightened as she waded through the cool water, the sacred seeds brushing themselves against her legs and hands in a way that made the sorrow bubble even more profusely in her chest. They were whispering to her, the words indistinguishable, but still carrying the same comforting weight that always surrounded this place.

She reached the shore, and stood silently for a moment, staring up into the brightly glowing strands that waved gently in an invisible breeze. Her eyes were streaming tears now, and she slowly reached for a few of the thick strands. She connected them with her braid, and closed her eyes as the overwhelming wave of emotion filled her. There was a multitude of life and sadness and fear and happiness and love…all intermixed into one good feeling. It made her so sad.

Sara slowly began to sing Norm Spellman's favorite song, her voice cracking with the extent of her sorrow.

Tompayä kato, tsawkeyä kato,

Trrä sì txonä,

Sì ayzìsìtä kato,

Sì'ekong te'lanä,

Te'lanä le-Na'vi

Oeru teya si,

Oeru teya si...

Sara trailed off, her eyes wet and glassy. The tree was silent, and the whispering in her mind had gone strangely still. The Tipani woman laughed without humor, and stroked the strands softly, her voice filling the silence.

"I'm sorry to subject you to my awful singing, Norm. My daughter sings it much better, I should get her to come out here sometime, so you can hear it. I just…needed to do something to show that I haven't forgotten you. I'm sorry I haven't spoken to you since…since you left. It's been seventeen years," she said softly. The tree remained silent, and Sara went on hurriedly.

"I miss you, Norm. I miss your smile, I miss your laugh, I miss….I miss everything that we had. I wonder, would you be mated by now?" she asked, and then laughed. "I suppose you would…oh, I wish that you were here. You and my daughter – her name is Kinäe – would get along so well, she reminds me of you. She's so…interested in everything! When she was younger, she asked me questions about the plants constantly, and I immediately thought of you. I have a son, too, a troublemaker. His name's Tompa…you know, after your banshee? Jake named his second son Norm, so I couldn't name my son the same thing..." Her tears were coming less steadily now as she recounted the information. "Jake has another son named Tìrol, who's seventeen now. He's very much like Jake, you'd like him a lot. Or you'd want to constantly scold him. Either way, it'd be fun."

Sara felt a shiver that reminded her strongly of Norm, and her back straightened in shock.

"N-Norm?"

The shiver came again, stronger this time, and she smiled widely as it manifested into a feeling of amusement. Of course he would be laughing at her confusion; it was a favorite pastime of his.

"Well I'm sorry, but I'm not used to the tree talking back to me, mister!"

Another shiver of amusement, and a warm tingle ran down her spine, and she closed her eyes as a wave of expectancy shook through her skin.

"You want me to talk more?"

There was a feeling of affirmation, along with another wave of happiness. Sara felt tears falling down her cheeks again, and smiled widely as she wiped them away with shaking fingers.

"That's good, cuz I have seventeen years worth of news to tell you," she said, and took a deep breath before beginning her tale.

Tìrol was nearly back to the Omaticaya Kelutral when something inexplicable happened.

It was early afternoon, and the forest had been, until a few minutes ago, bustling and practically bursting with sounds and smells. Animals had been leaping too and fro, calling to one another and scooping up fallen fruit off of the earthy floor. Tìrol was relaxed, letting the pa'li go at its own pace, his brow smoothing out in contentment as he looked up at the looming Kelutral of his clan. Only a few more minutes at the most, and he would be home. Perhaps he would ask Sempul to help him with his meresh'ti cau'pla technique – he didn't want to get himself killed because of an inexcusable lack of skill.

Norm would want to watch, as he always did. Sa'nok would probably watch as well, offering advice and teasing Sempul for his lack of traditional technique. Tìrol wasn't concerned with tradition; he just wanted to get his ikran. That was all. And he would never tell Sa'nok this, but Tìrol secretly preferred Sempul's technique over Sa'nok's. It was less inhibited, and it made him feel a bit special…different from the other young clan members who would soon be joining him in the Iknimaya.

Tìrol smiled at the thought, and suddenly, his pa'li snorted, prancing around nervously. The young man attempted to sooth the creature, but its mind was roiling with fear. The only thing that kept it from bolting was Tìrol's dominance, and the boy glanced around hurriedly, silently drawing his bow and knocking an arrow.

It was then that Tìrol finally noticed the lack of sound. After years of living and breathing the forest, Tìrol instinctively knew – knew in the deep, gut-wrenching sense that could never be taught – that silence indicated that something more sinister was on the prowl. The steed beneath him pranced anxiously, snorting in fearful huffs as Tìrol struggled to find whatever it was that was frightening it. Was whatever it was nearby? Or was it a mile or so away? Tìrol couldn't tell, and that made him more nervous than anything.

Suddenly, a smell pervaded the air, a stench that was so awful that the light meal Tìrol had eaten a short while ago nearly came spewing painfully out of his mouth. The cloying, poisonous scent clung to his senses, paralyzing him in its intensity. It smelled…vaguely like the odor a palulukan released before feeding, and it was then that Tìrol's pa'li decided to rebel against Tìrol's superior mental presence. It bucked, nearly dislodging the boy from its back, and started galloping toward Kelutral, toward the familiar scent of the Omaticaya and within its primitive mind pounded the memories of food, comfort, and safety that accompanied that particular scent.

Tìrol, having lost control, was forced to cling to his steed's back, his mind overtaken by the beast's fear and his vision flashing before his eyes in brief images, tinted by the strange sharpness that was the pa'li's sight. His fear, doubled with the terror of the pa'li, made hot fire flow through his veins, and his breathing was coming so fast that white spots floated across his eyes, making him sway dangerously.

The steed and rider were suddenly in the clearing that held the other pa'li, some led by riders, others grazing contentedly. Tìrol felt the creature slide to an abrupt stop, and he was flung forward, his body so frozen by fear that his arms refused to move upwards to catch himself. Instead, his connection with the animal was violently jerked out of being, sending him flying into the ground. Where there should have been pain – he hit the ground hard, and he could feel the small pebbles scratching his skin, but his mind was disconnected somehow – there was only a blank dullness. He lay there, on his side, trying to reorient himself. Tìrol felt his vision flashing in that strange way again, the shock making him tremble and shake.

The fear – more tangible and terrifying in this very moment than it had ever been – was consuming him.

Light was shining behind him, he could see it glowing on the skin of his hands – bright lights flashing continuously before his eyes – panic pulsing through him as he felt the tremors overwhelming him – I've never been so afraid, he thought blindly – hands touching his shoulders, calling his name in a flurry of panic – "Tìrol? Tìrol, are you hurt? Tìrol!" – the blackness was suffocating him, surrounding him, not in the pleasant way that sleep did, but in a frightening and inexplicable way – it was all going dark – breathing too fast – feet pounding the earth beneath his head – voices blurring together…

Tìrol's eyes closed without warning, and the darkness sucked him under.