A/N: Thanks for the reviews, guys! Keep them coming! I have all but the last chapter written, so how quickly I update depends on how many reviews I get.
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"You're going to eat that, right?" Norm asked pointedly a month later.
"Of course I am," Shawn said, trying to sound indignant when in reality she had been trying to think of an excuse that Norm would buy.
"Shawny, please tell me you're eating when I'm not around to make you," Norm said with a frown. "You're starting to scare me. I feel like I'm going to break you in half every time I touch you."
"You worry too much," she said with a smile, poking unenthusiastically at the synthetic Soy Something-Or-Other that was supposed to be her dinner.
"Maybe," Norm conceded. "But in this particular case I have this awful feeling I'm not worrying enough."
"I'm fine Norm," she said uncomfortably. "It's just not particularly appetizing."
"Eat it anyway," Norm insisted. "Here, put some hot sauce on it."
Shawny sighed and took a bite of the now-spicy soy concoction. Far from making it more tempting, the hot sauce merely burned her mouth and made her stomach clench in a way that Shawn was sure couldn't mean anything good. For Norm's sake, however, she managed a fairly credible attempt at a smile and placed another forkful of the horrible stuff in her mouth. Norm smiled back encouragingly and shoveled his own mystery product into his mouth with every indication of enjoyment.
Norm meant well, Shawn reminded herself. And he had been a great help in keeping the Gremlin under control—at least for the first week or two. After the first flush of infatuation—with him or with his infatuation for her, Shawn felt guiltily unsure—faded, the Gremlin elbowed its way back to the forefront of her brain once more. That first night, waking up with Norm's arms securely around her had made Shawn feel more safe and blissfully peaceful than anything she had ever experienced. Of late, however, it had begun to feel like just another cage.
"I can't eat this," Shawn said, giving up and pushing her tray away. "I'll have a protein bar or something before bed."
"Have a bar now," Norm suggested. "And another before bed."
"I'm not hungry," Shawny said, shaking her head.
"Shawny-"
"I said I'm not hungry, Norm!" Shawn snapped, throwing off the hand Norm placed on her arm. "God, just lay off!"
Norm recoiled from her outburst, looking like he'd been slapped. The others at the table went abruptly silent. Shawn clumsily rose from the table. She could feel the blood rush to her face and her heart start to pound. The need to flee the staring faces was intense.
"I'm just trying to help," Norm said softly.
"I don't need your help," she muttered, grabbed her tray, and turned her back on him.
As soon as Shawn was out of the mess hall, she broke into a run for the observation deck. At least there she could see the sky. She hadn't gone more than the length of the hallway, however, before her legs gave out and she slumped against the wall, gasping, her heart beating a crazy tattoo against her chest, her head swimming .
I'm dying, she thought, feeling oddly relieved. That didn't seem quite right, she thought in a corner of her mind that wasn't protesting the lack of oxygen. Surely that isn't the appropriate reaction to one's imminent demise. No, it isn't right, another corner answered. Nothing about this is right. What are you going to do about it?
What am I going to do about it? She wondered as, at last, her heart slowed and her breathing steadied. What can I do about it? Don't think, the other part of her argued. Just do it. Do what? She argued back. Back where? Who was arguing—and with whom? Shawn sighed, giving it up as a bad job. She needed to lie down.
Dimly she heard footsteps approaching and tried to look as if she were merely sitting down because she was dejected and depressed rather than recovering from a near fatal incident. The footsteps stopped and her hands were enveloped in warmth. She looked up, hoping that the expression on her face looked like contrition rather than Death.
"I'm sorry I snapped at you," she said softly. "It's just-"
"It's okay," Norm said, squeezing her hands. "I don't mean to smother you—I'm just worried. I'll back off, I promise."
"Thank you," she said sincerely. "I do know what I'm doing, Norm."
Norm, bless him, swallowed this big fat lie and contented himself with walking her back to her quarters. Although Shawn could tell he wanted to linger, she firmly turned him away and collapsed onto her bunk. She lay there for some time before sleep claimed her, dreading what she knew would come as much as she yearned for it. She was not disappointed. The dream was stronger than ever, an insistent drag on her consciousness.
"Wait," she whispered, reaching for the light.
That time is over, something inside told her firmly. You've waited long enough. I'm coming, Shawn thought, desperately trying to reach her goal. Just wait—I'm coming—Shawn stretched out her hands and lunged forward...and her hands met metal with an uncomfortable cracking of knuckles as she jerked into wakefulness. Shawn rubbed her hands absently as she looked around. She was standing outside the linkroom.
Moving as if she were still sleepwalking, Shawn raised her hand and pressed it against the access panel. Funny, she thought, you'd think there would be more security. But then, only avatar drivers and senior lab personnel were allowed access and they were all assumed to be trustworthy. Certainly they were all too invested in the work to risk any funny business. Till now, it seemed.
Shawn drifted to her link console and powered it up as she had done a thousand times before, but this time was different—it could be her last. God only knew what she would face when she had to come out of the link, but a future as an avatar driver was unlikely to be on the menu. Don't think about that, the little voice in the corner said firmly. Just do it.
I'm doing it, she thought grimly. Doing something, anyway. She fell through the familiar tunnel of light and snapped into wakefulness. She lay still for a moment while the enormity of what she was doing washed over her. What exactly, she was doing, she still didn't know for sure, but she was beginning to have an inkling and she wasn't altogether sure she liked it.
"Oh, my God," she whimpered. "What am I doing? Shit...what the hell am I doing?"
Mumbling variations on this theme over and over to herself, she stumbled out of her bunk and knocked someone's head with her foot as she dropped to the floor. Whatever, the voice in the corner said callously. It's not like she's going to wake up. Still moving as if she were the avatar and someone else was driving, Shawn crossed to the opposite side of the bunker and scrambled through the window. Someone was sure to notice the huge barn doors opening, she acknowledged dimly. Sensible.
Crouched in the shadows, she swiveled her head gently from side to side and listened intently for the sound of heavy combat boots and the wheeze of exopacks. Once she—or whoever was running the show—was sure it was safe, she slipped through the field of crops, making for the watch tower. Was anyone actually watching from the watch tower? Very probably not—the base was shorthanded after giving the RDA and their rabid dogs "the Big Toe," as a rather eccentric uncle of Shawn's used to say. Would there be rappelling equipment? Again, probably not. Oh well, the voice in the corner sighed. You can't have everything. Easy for you to say, Shawn retorted furiously. I'm the one who has to get down the other side. Don't be stupid, the voice in the corner chided. I am you.
"At least I can plead insanity in good faith," Shawn muttered to herself, stifling a hysterical giggle as she cracked open the watchtower door.
Stealthily, she flowed up the stairs like a cat, listening for any sign of human occupation. To her relief, she heard nothing. She didn't know what she would have done if there had been a guard. Tied him up? Killed him? Thrown him out the window? At least she could safely rule that last one out—much too noisy. At the top, Shawn cast around for something with which to lower herself from the deck and found a rope coiled neatly among other generically useful items that didn't seem to have any immediate purpose. Semper paratus, the voice in the corner crowed gleefully. Gotta love those marines. That's Boy Scouts, Shawn corrected herself snidely, and set about finding something to use as an anchor.
"This isn't happening," Shawn assured herself as she lowered herself over the edge with her feet braced against the side of the guard tower. "I'm hallucinating and this isn't real."
Whatever helps you sleep at night, the voice in the corner sneered. Just go.
With a deep breath, Shawn transferred her grip to the rope and lowered herself slowly down the tower, wincing as the thin rope slid through her grip and burned her hands. Trying for a happy medium between going slowly enough that the rope didn't burn too much and fast enough that she could get far enough to jump before the strength in her hands gave out, Shawn wondered what a patrolman would think if he were to witness such an inexplicable act of stupidity. Doesn't matter, the voice in the corner said. Keep going.
Some time later, she lay wheezing on the ground, distantly wondering if her assumption that Navi bones could handle the drop had been faulty. Slowly, she moved her limbs, relieved to find that nothing seemed to be broken. But oh, man, did it hurt. Biting her lip, she pushed herself to her feet and wobbled into the forest. Unfortunately, it was impossible to favor any one limb since her entire body felt like—well, like she had fallen fifty feet and landed on hard, unforgiving packed earth.
In a haze of pain, Shawn moved through the forest as quickly and quietly as she could. The part of her that didn't seem to be in control noted disinterestedly that she was moving oddly purposefully and in a straight line. Which was curious, since she had no idea what she was doing out here in the first place. Not that it mattered, of course, since she could apparently do nothing about it.
She was several miles from Hell's Gate when she began to notice the soft luminescence emanating from the plants around her. It hadn't been present in the forest immediately surrounding Hell's Gate, she was sure. As she went on, the light grew stronger and more distinct. Perhaps the all the machinery around the compound had somehow damaged the plant life? Or perhaps it was a defense mechanism, like the wildlife going quiet when danger approached, that distant part of her mused. Whatever the cause, she was sorry for it. Surely knowing such beauty existed on Pandora would have made some difference even in soulless bloodsuckers like Selfridge.
Shawn traveled well into the pre-dawn hours, pulled by the same force that had haunted her dreams. It seemed that the long weeks of obsessive physical training to keep the Gremlin at bay were finally being put to good use. Eventually, however, even her superbly conditioned avatar body failed her and she could go no further. She lay beneath some ferns, panting in the gloom of the pre-dawn forest. I'll just rest for a few minutes, she thought as she closed her eyes. Just a little while...No! Shawn struggled to hold onto her link. If she fell asleep, she would end up in her link console faced with some very angry scientists and some very uncomfortable questions to answer.
Shawn struggled with herself for some time, insensible to her surroundings. She finally mastered herself and opened her eyes to a sight that, were she in anything approaching a normal state of mind, would have induced heart failure and killed her then and there. A thanator—a young female, she thought dimly—peered at her curiously under the ferns. Wincing, she crawled out from her shelter and returned its scrutiny calmly. She put a hand out, remarkably unconcerned by the possibility of dismemberment and death, and was allowed to lay it on the thanator's snout. The female huffed in what could only be described as amusement and knelt so that Shawn could climb onto her back. Without thinking, she connected her queue to the thanator's antenna-like appendage and gasped in wonder. It was the first time she had ever made tsaheylu.
Through the link, Shawn knew that the young female's mate carried a two-legger on occasion. The thanator would see for herself what the attraction was. Or she might eat the two legger; she hadn't quite decided yet. To steer her mount away from this line of thinking, Shawn produced an image from her Glowing Dream and the unlikely pair set off at a terrifying speed through the forest. No doubt when it was over Shawn would be free to remember all this and indulge in a well-deserved nervous breakdown—but not now.
The thanator carried her through the day and into dusk. Shawn desperately wished she would stop so that she could rest her trembling legs and find some water to ease the dry ache in her throat. The avatar had gone more than eighteen hours with nothing to eat or drink and little sleep, all the while under heavy physical exertion. Her mind drifted, limiting its activity to what was strictly necessary to keep her on the thanator's back; she became aware of alarmed cries more through the thanator's agitation than her own senses. When the thanator stopped abruptly, however, sending her tumbling to the ground, she sensed that just fine. With a roar, the thanator wheeled around and plunged into the forest, leaving her alone and wheezing on the ground yet again.
Hands pulled her to her feet, asking her urgent questions that she didn't completely understand. Her Na'vi was certainly a little rusty, to say the least. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision, and focused on a sight as familiar—rather more familiar—to her than her own reflection. With a desperate, inarticulate cry, she pushed through the small crowd gathered around her and raced toward the light. She could hear the angry shouts behind her and used the last of her strength to beat them to her goal—whatever it was. She burst into a clearing and sprinted for the huge, glowing, willow-like tree, knocking over several startled bystanders in her haste. Finally, she threw herself down at the base of the tree and sighed as the tendrils of her queue embraced those of the tree. Now it was done, and she could rest.
Or so she thought. Instead of oblivion, it was a thousand voices that enveloped her consciousness. She felt as if she were in a vast space, empty but for the voices crowding her ears—her mind? It was overwhelming—terrifying. Eventually the voices faded to the background until only one was left. It was dimly familiar.
"Dr. Augustine?" she asked incredulously.
"In the flesh, sort of," she answered with a sardonic laugh. "You're Cooper, aren't you? The squirt."
"Yeah," Shawn replied, and would have rolled her eyes if she had corporeal form. "What's happening?"
"You're with Eywa," Dr. Augustine informed her. "Yes, she is quite real."
"Does that mean I'm-"
"Dead? No—or not really, I should say," Dr. Augustine said, sounding unconcerned by this qualification. "I expect your human body will die of the strain. Your brain can't handle a three-point link at this point. You obviously haven't been taking care of your other body properly."
"And the avatar...?"
"Will probably be fine," Grace assured her. "Provided you can pass back through the eye of Eywa to find it again."
"How do I know I'm not dreaming?" Shawn demanded. "How do I know you're real?"
"You can't," Dr. Augustine said simply, and Shawn could practically hear a shrug in her voice. "You'll just have to have a little faith—you're going to need it, from what I understand. You should go back now. They're waiting for you."
"How?" Shawn asked desperately as Dr. Augustine's presence started to fade. "Don't go—how do I get back?"
"Follow your heart," Dr. Augustine told her in a faraway voice. Upon Shawn's protest at this unhelpful cliche, her voice became clearer and she snapped, "No, I mean literally. Listen for your heartbeat. Geez."
Shawn tried to do as she asked and wandered for some time through the darkness. Once or twice she was waylaid by curious spirits who, until Dr. Augustine, had never encountered one of the Sky People so deep within Eywa. She didn't know how long she wandered until she came across one who felt different—more solid.
"Come, child," the spirit said. "Come with me, and I will guide you back."
"Who are you?" Shawn asked warily.
"I am called Mo'at," the spirit replied. "Tsahik of the Omaticaya."
"Oh, good," Shawn said, mildly surprised. "Norm said I should talk to you. "
"Come," Mo'at repeated. "Normspellman was correct—we have much to talk about."
"Alright," Shawn said equably, and followed.
"Come," Mo'at urged when Shawn began to flag.
"It's hard," Shawn said in surprise. It was like moving through pudding. "What's happening?"
"Listen for your heart beat," Mo'at counseled her. "Make the link."
"Like tsaheylu?" Shawn asked.
"Yes, precisely," Mo'at replied, sounding pleased. "Reconnect your spirit and your body."
"I can do that," Shawn said firmly, and opened her eyes with effort. They felt as if they had been glued shut. Through the blur, she thought she saw fairy lights floating away from her. After a few tries, she croaked, "Water. Pay. Rutxe."
A flask was pressed gently to her lips and she gulped as much as she was able without choking. She tried to steady it herself, but found she was too weak even to raise a hand. When the flask was pulled away, she made a small, pathetic sound of protest.
"Too much will harm you," Mo'at said firmly. "You are very weak, child."
"How—how long?" Shawn coughed.
"Three nights," Mo'at replied. "How are you called, Dream Child?"
"Shawny," she sighed, too tired to bother with her full name.
"Sha'ni," Mo'at repeated. "You are welcome here. You are chosen—for what, I do not know. Rest now. I must think."
"Mm," Shawny agreed, drifting into true sleep for the first time in what seemed like an eternity.
When she awoke, it was to several faces hovering above hers, looking her over curiously. She recognized two of them as Jake Sully and Neytiri. With their help, she struggled to a seated position and accepted a small bowl of some kind of broth, which she drank greedily. She held out the empty bowl hopefully, and sighed when Neytiri shook her head.
"Soon," Neytiri assured her with a pat on the hand. "Not yet. Nìk'ong. Slowly always. We give water through the skin while you sleep, to stop your burning. You are lucky to live, Sha'ni."
Well, that was news. Shawn looked down and realized that her body was indeed covered in wet cloths. She'd had a fever, then. Dimly she recalled that fever was one of the signs of severe dehydration.
"So," Jake said, settling next to her. "Norm Spellman contacted me a couple of days ago in tears asking if I could keep an eye out for a dead avatar. It seems his girlfriend ran off in the night and died while in link."
"I know," Shawn nodded. "I know I'm dead, I mean. Sort of. Dr. Augustine—Dr. Augustine..."
"You spoke with Grace?" Neytiri asked, grasping her hand.
"Was it real?" Shawn asked, frowning. "It seemed to be at the time, but now..."
"She dream," one of the bystanders said dismissively. "She tawtute—not Tsahik, to speak with spirits."
Neytiri whirled and snapped something at him, sending the whole lot scurrying away.
"Tell me," Neytiri urged.
"She said my brain couldn't handle a three-point link, and that my human body would die," Shawn said. "But how am I here if I died? When humans die, the avatar is...empty."
"The will of Eywa," Jake said with a shrug. "Don't dwell on it—it will only give you a headache."
"But—but that means..." Shawn's eyes widened. "What the hell do I do now?"
"That is the question, isn't it?" Jake said cryptically. "Tsahik will want to talk to you. I'll go get her."
"What did he mean?" Shawn asked Neytiri. "What's going to happen to me?"
Neytiri looked troubled. "Before I met my Jake, I would not have believed. Such a thing...but now, perhaps..."
"What are you saying?"
"You have done a...a miracle," Neytiri told her. "You have not passed, only, through the eye of Eywa, but journeyed to the heart. I will do this thing, but not yet...only when I am ready to be accepted by Eywa as Tsahik."
"You mean..."
"I do not know," Neytiri said hastily. "Sa'nok and other clan Tsahiks will decide."
"Well, Norm did say Eywa was calling me," Shawn said, attempting to smile.
"Why would Normspellman say this?" Neytiri asked, puzzled.
Shawn briefly explained what had led her to take such drastic action, hesitating when Neytiri's eyes went wide in her lovely face. When she finished, Neytiri rocked back on her heels and gazed at her intently.
"Sa'nok must know this," she said. "You must tell her all. All, and more. You understand?"
"Yes," Shawn meekly. "But—Neytiri, I can't be...it's ridiculous. I never even-"
"You must follow whatever path Eywa lays before you," Neytiri said kindly.
"And if my path is not...you know?" Shawn asked fearfully.
"You will stay, and become one with the People," Neytiri said, surprised at the question. "You do not belong with the Sky People; this is clear."
"But...I never..."
"That place is not for you," Neytiri said firmly. "Your tawtute body is dead, Sha'ni. What is there for you?"
"Norm..."
"Ah," Neytiri said, her tone softening. "Normspellman was your mate."
"No, no," Shawny said hastily. "Not exactly. We were...he is a very good friend."
"He was very sad," Neytiri said. "He will be happy that you live...but sad, again, because you will not return. I sorrow for his pain."
"I didn't mean to cause so many problems," Shawny said helplessly. "I never wanted to hurt him. I just..."
"No one can fight Eywa's will, once it is known. Put it from your mind," Neytiri advised. "You are Na'vi now. It is new, and different. I know this. But I see already that you love the forest. In time, you will love us also. All will be well, Sha'ni."
Unable to speak, Shawn nodded and looked at the ground. Neytiri patted her shoulder comfortingly and went to get her more water. Shawn lay back and waited for Mo'at, trying to make sense of tangled thoughts and feelings. Now she longed for the shroud that had deadened her thoughts on her flight from Hell's Gate. She had acted without thought for the future or even the present. She wished she could have that back. She didn't know what to think or how to feel about any of it. At least the Gremlin was gone, she thought, and realized that this made her feel much better.
Tsahik came to her together with Neytiri, bringing water and this time a sweet juice. Shawn drank both-slowly-and wearily recounted her story again for Tsahik. She had a feeling she would be telling it repeatedly until her fate was decided. Tsahik listened gravely and without interruption, waiting until Shawn was finished until she asked her questions. Shawn answered them as best she could, unsure of what Tsahik wanted from her. What did her menstrual cycle, for instance, have to do with anything? Especially since Na'vi females didn't menstruate—how did Mo'at even know about that, anyway?
"I will gather the other Tsahiks, and we will try to determine the correct path," Mo'at said. "Do not fear, Sha'ni. You belong with us, no matter what the Circle decides. Rest now."
While ordinarily she might have protested having to remain lying down, the thought of leaving her little sanctuary and going out among the people stilled her tongue. Perhaps a little more rest was in order. As it turned out, she needn't have bothered. The People were too curious to let her hide. She met many of her new clan mates that day, including Ninat and Peyral, two of Neytiri's friends. Ninat was very sweet, but Shawn found Peyral to be slightly intimidating.
Among those who came to meet her was a man named Rai'uk. He was a powerful looking Na'vi male in his prime, covered with scars and an air of controlled violence that made Shawn shiver. She only found out his name later, from Ninat, because he never introduced himself. He just stared at her expressionlessly for several minutes while she stared back, at a loss, and then left. Ninat said that he was the only one, aside from Shawn—and, apparently, Neytiri-who was known to have ridden a thanator. He was the only one anyone knew of to do it more than once. The thanator was the totem of his clan, Ninat told her, so it was perhaps understandable. At least, that's what Shawn thought she said. She truly regretted not taking her language courses more seriously. Her blithe rationale-that Pandoran wildlife didn't speak Na'vi—was starting to seem more juvenile by the minute.
So he was the one, Shawn thought curiously, watching him move through the camp like a restless tiger. Well, if anyone could, it'd be him. Although he was certainly impressive, Shawn rather hoped she wouldn't bump into him anytime soon. There was an argument for staying in bed if she ever heard one.
But, alas, this was not to be, for the next morning Ninat came for her, informing her that she was to start learning the ways of the People. Because she was still recovering, they merely drifted from hearth to hearth, meeting new people and letting Shawn practice her Na'vi. Thus did Shawn learn that the Omaticaya and some other clans with depleted numbers were based at the Tree of Souls until they could find new homes. Some would join the Omaticaya or Tipani, and the others would perhaps join together to make a new clan. It was rumored that those who wished to would band together under Rai'uk, the last of the Anurai clan. Further probing revealed that the scary man had quite a history complete with murder, darkness, redemption, and even an epic quest and an arch nemesis.
More fascinating to Shawn was the freedom and eloquence with which her new acquaintances regaled her with tales of his exploits. Clearly they thought nothing of laying out a person's history for all to see. The tale was admittedly thrilling, and told with the skill of born storytellers. Which they were, Shawn reflected. Theirs was an oral history. No doubt Jake Sully would become a mythical, god-like hero in time—if he wasn't already.
In return, she found herself telling her story yet again, as she had predicted. Her audience listened eagerly to her halted speech as she tried to describe what had happened to her and confessed her apprehension for the future. At this, many hands reached out to pat her face and shoulders as the People assured her that Eywa had led her to them for a reason. What that reason was, no one could say just yet, but surely it would not lead her to a poor end. It did seem like an awful lot of trouble to go through just to screw with one of the aliens, Shawn acknowledged privately. Of course, that meant that she might actually have been called here to become a Tsahik, a thought which was as ridiculous as it was terrifying.
The most nerve-wracking thing about it was the waiting, Shawn decided. Tsahiks from other clans were still trickling in several days after she got out of bed, and no one seemed to be able to give her even a rough estimate on how long this council might take. Neytiri and Jake and indeed most of the hunters of the clans were out searching for a new home, leaving only a few behind to protect the children and elders. Shawn was glad that Ninat stayed as well. It was to help her, Ninat said, but Shawn wondered if there was perhaps something more. Every once in a while, Ninat seemed to withdraw into herself, staring at nothing with blank eyes. She always snapped out of it fairly quickly, returning to her usual, cheerful self, but it only made the contrast more striking.
Shawn finally found out what it was from a group of nursing mothers gathered around a campfire. Shawn was fidgeting somewhat uncomfortably in the presence of several suckling babies and looking for a topic of conversation that didn't involve milk, or nappies, or placenta...Shawn was really quite uneasy with the subject of Babies. Which she didn't think was so unreasonable, considering how open the Na'vi seemed to be about placenta and the ritual eating thereof.
Shawn was gazing thoughtfully after Ninat as she left on some errand or other, trying to ignore the rather graphic discussion being conducted by the other women. One of them followed her gaze and leaned forward, eager to share gossip. Shawn felt a brief twinge of guilt at the thought of talking behind her friend's back, but, as far as she could tell, an individual's business seemed to be public domain.
"Ninat is very brave," the woman told her. "But very sad."
"I have seen this," Shawny replied. "But not the...the why for her sadness."
"Ninat lost her her family," the woman said sadly. "Her mother and sisters died in the destruction of Hometree, and her father in battle. She bears her pain with rare courage."
"I sorrow for her," Shawn said softly, wondering if she was a bad person for being glad that she hadn't known her parents well.
"You are brave too," the woman—Titxantslusam, that was her name—added. "You must miss your family a great deal."
"I have no family. Mother and father died—I very young," Shawn said, still struggling slightly with the language even after being totally immersed for several days. "I do not have many memories."
"This is very sad," Titxantslusam said, patting her hand.
"More sad for Ninat," Shawn disagreed.
"What do you remember about your family? They should not be forgotten."
"I remember Mother's name is like your name," Shawn said, smiling at the other woman's surprise. "Sophie. It mean wisdom."
"So'fi," Titxantslusam said slowly. "Sha'nikupe te Uniltu So'fi'ite."
Shawn smiled and blinked, fighting the lump that suddenly lodged itself in her throat. "Thank you, my sister, for my name."
"It is a good name," Titxantslusam replied, looking pleased with herself.
Shawn's smile steadied. It was a good name: Shawny Cooper the Dreamer, Daughter of Sophie.
"Now I have both Mother and Father names," Shawny said.
"You did not before?" her new friend asked curiously. "How do people know who your family is, then?"
"Most Sky People have only Father's name," Shawn explained. "Father's family name."
"Family name? All the men are named Kupe?"
"No, no," Shawn said, shaking her head. "Father name is John Cooper, so my name is Shawny Cooper. Other child is Tsmuk Cooper. You see?"
"That seems confusing," another woman commented, and Shawn realized that the others had fallen silent to listen to their conversation.
"Not so confusing," another said, smiling in understanding. "So Zheyksuli's father would be Sempul Suli."
"Srane," Shawn said, nodding enthusiastically.
"Abe Suli, actually," a dry voice said.
The women all looked up in surprise before dissolving into nervous chatter. It sounded like nothing so much as a flock of hens, Shawn thought with amusement.
"I see you, Toruk Makto," Titxantslusam said respectfully. "Does your return mean you have found us a new home?"
"It does," Jake said with a broad grin. "Now we have two clan sites."
"Is it true Rai'uk will rebuild the Anurai clan?" another woman asked shyly.
"That was our hope, yes," Jake said. "Now that hope can become a reality."
"Eywa will provide," Titxantslusam murmured.
"Yes," Jake said simply. "Now we must go. Mo'at is asking for you, Sha'ni."
Shawn wondered if he realized that he automatically pronounced her name after the fashion of the Na'vi. This will be me soon, Shawn realized as she followed Jake toward the Tree of Souls. She wasn't sure if the thought of becoming so completely Na'vi was comforting or scary. In any case, it wasn't as immediately scary as the gaggle of Tsahiks waiting for her among the glowing fronds of the Tree of Souls.
"Good luck," he said in English. "I'd root for you, but I'm not sure what I should be rooting for."
"Me neither," Shawn said with a nervous laugh.
"Well, whatever it is—go get 'em, squirt," he said, and squeezed her shoulder.
Why did everyone call her that, she thought irritably, and took a deep breath. It was time.