We Overcome the Wind — Chapter IX
Ayram Alusìng — Morning
The night of yesterday was chased away by the dawn of tomorrow, whose warm radiance stretches beyond the boundless Pandoran sky, melting away the evening coolness and crowning the rocky pillars of the floating mountains with a soft, ember glow.
And from this newfound warmth flows the empyrean winds, their movements governed by the harmonious rhythms of nature that is neither perfect nor flawed but like a stream cutting through the forest, it moves with the precision of an invisible hand.
The wind breathes across the cascading waterfalls of some mountains, singing beneath the water, and erupting into a crescendo of rainbow quartz that glitters across the sky, bringing forth a refreshing mist that partially obscures them from the air.
From here, the cool mist wistfully travels along the crepuscular rays before lingering with enough ease as to stir the mountain banshees from their slumber. Yawning, they stretch their wings, cooling off the tremendous heat collected through the night, while snapping their mouths at one another, signaling to the lesser ikrans to make space for their early morning stretches. The echoes of their playful squabbles resonate through the valleys of the floating mountains, but today is not a day for fighting, as their grumbling stomachs eagerly await nourishment.
They waddle to the edge of their roost, peering over the precipice in search of food. Situated on either side of their elongated-dragon-and-bird-like heads are keen dual-eyes. The larger of the two eyes is able to see like a human does, while the smaller, goat-like eye, detects movement in the infrared spectrum. And combined, they search through a busy morning in Ayram Alusìng, eager to catch sight of a gratifying meal that will pacify their restless, rumbling stomachs.
Their shrieking continues unabated, tested by the annoyance that they are unable to find anything that could satisfy them until one of the ikrans spots a flock of fkio or tetrapteron as the humans call them, flying just out of sight of their roost. In response, the ikran makes a shrieking call, summoning the others to see what he sees, and soon, they chatter with excitement.
At this great height, they feel the tumultuous wind billowing beneath their wings and the radiant sun warming their backs—a concoction of sensations that encourages them to take a leap of faith over the precipice of their roost. Diving like a warrior's arrowhead hurtling toward the earth at frightening speeds that could prove fatal, the ikrans spread their wings, revealing the eloquent colors of soft greens beneath their underbellies as they slow their descent. Altering their course, they veer right into the fractured sunlight where the breeze curls beneath their wings, propelling them back to the mountains.
Ascending to the altitude of the floating mountains, they contort their bodies in extraordinary maneuvers, revealing an unseen and unheard connection in their flight. However, as much as it is skill to conduct this display of awesome aerial acrobatics, it was with no pleasure they do this as this was nothing more than an exhaustive ritual of their hierarchy—to choose who will lead them into the hunt. After engaging in bickering matches and exchanging howls with their razor-sharp teeth, one is chosen: a blue-bodied ikran adorned with yellow stripes and red patterns. With powerful flaps, he surges ahead of the formation, his keen vision spotting the flock of flying fkio.
It was time.
Anticipation fuels his wings to fold in, turning him into a projectile that guides the other ikrans to follow. A beastly shriek shatters the air as he aims for the backline of the fkio with open jaws. He snatches one, instantly killing it. Others have also managed to snap some out of the air, but the rest of the fkio disperse in a frantic escape that drives them to circle towards a webbing of vine. The remaining, unfed ikrans give chase, their powerful wings outpacing the smaller, weaker fkio.
This hunt would have ended sooner if it were not for the fact that the fkio chose to fly directly beneath a waterfall. As each ikran passes through the curtain of water, they momentarily lose their bearings as the chilly shower pummels their eyes. Flicking their heads of the droplets, they realign their vision but found the fkio had escaped them. Turning around, they fly south, retracing their flight pattern to see if the fkio had evaded them elsewhere.
And amidst this hunt, they let out a cry as they soar past a series of woven vines that cling to the floating mountain above, creating a turbulent disturbance that jostles the very roots of the vines. Startled by the ikrans, a trio of Na'vi hunters, who had been diligently scaling the lengthy way up since morning broke, turn to face their unexpected adversaries with fierce determination in their eyes. Raising their fists, the Na'vi respond in kind, unleashing their own defiant shouts, seeking to match cry for cry before continuing their laborious climb towards the lone rocky mountain.
Laughter unexpectedly erupts among the three, realizing that the ikrans were not the sole disrupters of their ascent but also the exhaustion that grips their calf and biceps with each pull-and-push along the path of the mossy vines. Accompanying them on this daunting journey are the rhythmic breathing of their strained lungs, striving to replenish their aching muscles as swiftly as possible while tsawke beats down upon them from above, scorching their skin and further sapping their strength.
Regret, akin to a stone sinking in water, settles within their thoughts, rebuking their ill-fated decision to forgo flying into the forest with their ikrans. Yet, it was their elder brother, Tsmupxa, who advocated climbing the vines, informing his younger sister, Kxeyìn, that it would aid their youngest brother, Srìlo, on his journey to Iknimaya. A treacherous feat that often witnessed the downfall of many young Na'vi or their demise at the talons of the ikrans they endeavored to tame. Whether this climb will prove beneficial to Srìlo or not rests solely on Srìlo himself.
After all, he is the youngest among the Olo'eykte Amanti's children. Their mother, a woman who had faced down many fngap vrrtep—metal demons—with nothing but her trusted spear, instilled certain qualities that were expected in her offspring. Tsmupxa himself was a successful hunter, and before the exodus to High Camp, he was being groomed to be the trusted leader of their People. Kxeyìn on the other hand, chose her own path, a healer with the penchant for hunting.
But Srìlo? He loved hunting, loved training as a warrior of the People. And despite how much effort has gone to train him in these areas of life, he insists on remaining in the shadows of his siblings. An attachment born from trauma of his father dying during the return of the Sky Demons. The only hope that the family has for him is that he completes Iknimaya. If he does, then he becomes One with the People. If he does not, then Eywa will take care of him.
For now, as Tsmupxa lunges his hand to another vine, he could feel the weight of fatigue seeping into his arms. Perhaps Kxeyìn was right about using their ikrans.
No matter. They are almost there.
Casting a curious glance downward, he notices his sister, Kxeyìn, lagging behind him, with Srìlo right below her. There was no time to slow down! With ears folding back and his arm hooking around the sturdy vine, Tsmupxa leans out and drops a stinging taunt, hoping to ignite a sense of urgency in their limbs to climb faster.
"Aha!" Tsmupxa laughs, his voice carried by the breeze of the sky. "The two slow hunters! Oh, Great Mother, forgive them. You blessed them with hands but should have also bestowed them with strength and speed!"
His face bears a sly smirk that seems to end, but despite this perpetual expression and his speed for climbing, he neither boasts about his exceptional abilities nor lacks the common decency to wait for them. Because protecting the family that is what a son of Nosasney Latxe does. Besides, he only wanted the best out of Kxeyìn and Srìlo. They were Tipani, and Tipani were fearsome warriors of the forest!
Now if only they understood that too.
Dodging his words, Kxeyìn shot a look up to her big brother, itching to retaliate with her own fiery remarks. "I can smell the foul stench of your feet from here, brother. Have you been tracking yourself over the feces of your kill, lately?"
Tsmupxa grins. "Can you not tell?" He wiggles his toes mockingly to her.
Kxeyìn clenches her teeth, gnawing at the fact he was the only member of their family to get a kill, not once, twice, but three times!
She was left picking fruits and nuts each of those times. A task more suitable to Srìlo.
Srìlo meanwhile sniffed the air, innocent of her cruel remarks to his brother. "I smell nothing, sister."
Kxeyìn withheld her chuckle, "then maybe you have not climbed fast enough, Srìlo. Come! We must defeat our foe, Tsmupxa—"
"Hah!" Tsmupxa turns over, his hands and feet scurrying as a syaksyuk along the length of the vine.
Groaning, she leaped up, reaching for an enticingly thicker vine. Clutching it with both hands and wrapping her legs around it, she looked back below to find a grunting Srìlo, struggling to keep up with her pace.
"—before he reaches the top and boasts of his triumph to mother," she urged, her voice laced with determination. "Or we'll be the ones stuck finishing his chores for the day. Is that what you want?"
Srìlo's head shook. Of course not! But, he felt tired of their games.
"Good, then let us keep climbing!" She shouted, rallying the sagging morale that hung over Srìlo's doomed expression.
Srìlo sighed.
Smirking from above, Tsmupxa seized another vine, effortlessly pulling himself and his prized kill upward. Victory was within reach, and he was determined to be the one to tell mother with the tale of defeating his younger siblings.
However, Kxeyìn was unexpectedly closing the gap, but she also knew she couldn't catch up to Tsmupxa in time to stop him from winning. Her only hope now lay in the fate of Eywa. As she scanned her surroundings, strategizing a way to quickly ascend, she felt something kick her from behind, knocking her wandering thoughts away and offering an unexpected opportunity.
Turning to see what it was that hit her, Kxeyìn watched as the green, moss-covered vine swept past her vision, settling in the breeze, and swaying languidly beneath a rock that was interconnected with other rocks above it.
She traced the connection to the top where the vine hung from, showing her the opportunity she needed to defeat Tsmupxa. But in order to reach it, she needed to make a daring and dangerous leap across.
But there was a problem.
With the burdened of fruits carried on her back, she couldn't risk Srìlo joining her, as the combined weight could potentially snap the vine, plunging them both to the ground below.
They had to make the climb, one at a time.
As for the jumping part, she could do it. Maybe.
"Srìlo!" She yelled out below. "I will climb this vine. When you see me on the rock, you will follow me up to this very same vine! Do you understand?"
Wiping off the sweat stinging his eyes, Srìlo balanced himself then coordinated his vision to look up at Kxeyìn who pointed to him of the mentioning vine across the gap.
"I understand, sister. Please, be careful!" He shouted while his tail flicked by the growing dread of this new stunt of hers.
Nodding to him, Kxeyìn looked back to the vine and began the countdown within her head as she engineered her weight to lurch slightly forward, testing the strength of the floating rock beneath her feet. If she slipped, it was over. If she over compensated, she was going fall to her death. She only had one chance to get this right and that chance was now!
Taking in her last breath, she leaned back and, with one swift motion, jumped, faster than a Toruk!
"Sister!" Srìlo cried out, fearing that he had almost lost her to the relentless force of the unseen hand.
In the instant that the very pads of her fingers grazed the fiber of the vine, Kxeyìn instinctively closed her hands, refusing to let go. The momentum of the jump unexpectedly swung her from beneath the floating boulder and into the sky as she held onto the vine with all of her strength.
Emerging from below the rock, she felt the warm touch of sunlight bathing her body. At the same time, she felt an electrifying surge of energy, pulsating through her, making her feel… not alive, but, reborn. As though she was a mere water droplet of rain, suspended in the air.
Within the skies, she could see the Great Mother's face stretch out and beyond the soaring clouds and across the green forest of the world. She could sense the Great Eye above looking down upon her, its swirling clouds of gases and colors appreciating her presences among the ethereal skies. A wonderous sense of love immediately enraptured her body, by two spirits who told her to close her eyes and imagine herself as an ikran, free and weightless. The beads of her hair flew past her, clattering in a floating dance that was carried on by the gentle breeze. Her tail grazing along the edge of her thigh. The pit of her stomach floating within her, and her knees naturally bending towards her chest.
She knew that if she let go, she could fly back home. Back to a life where her father stood by their home, waiting for her. To see his smile again, to feel his warm hug wrapping around her soul. A life where her mother's laughter filled the air, and her kisses were endless. A world where the People sang and danced until the break of day. Where peace resounded, and life carried on.
But that reality was not to be.
Inhaling deeply, she knew she had to return to her real world, a world where her father was no longer with her, where only memories of his smile and warm hug remained. To a world where the People carried on, but their sadness echoed their grief.
Her heart panged to linger in this moment, to transcend the boundaries of her present reality and dwell in the realm of her past. Yet, as the force of gravity grew stronger, rising in her throat, she clung tightly to the vine, her expression stoic, unwavering in her determination to protect her People, her family, and her brothers.
Swaying in the breeze, she looked down and caught sight of Srìlo's worried gaze fixed upon her. Kxeyìn waved to her younger brother, assuring him that everything was fine and that she would continue climbing to defeat Tsmupxa.
"Irayo, Great Mother," she whispered.
Motivated by a renewed sense to win this race, she moves hand over hand, quickly making her way up to the rock.
Blinking out of astonishment for his sister, the stunned Srìlo rests his sweaty forehead against his trembling arm, refueling the exasperated lungs and cycling through the many thoughts of fear for her sister's life.
She is well, he assured himself. If she can do it. So can I!
Up above Kxeyìn, Tsmupxa makes another leap, this time to a boulder that now floated directly beneath the mountain, and where their ikrans wait for their riders to return. Scratching at an itch, Tsmupxa believes he might have been too fast for his siblings. Turning around, he leans out and looks to see if Kxeyìn and Srìlo had made any progress to their climb.
He could see Srìlo but not Kxeyìn. Walking around the boulder and leaning about, his searches and searches but finds that his sister is nowhere to be seen. Dreading for his sister's life, he cups his hands around his mouth and shouts: "Kxeyìn!"
Her name echoes and reverberates throughout the mountains. But there was no response.
"Kxeyìn!" He shouts again, his tail lashing with bitter fear.
No answer.
Tsmupxa turns around, looking across the from where he had made his climb, wondering if she had chosen a similar path upward.
At the same time, Srìlo hears the echo of Kxeyìn's name being shouted by his big brother. Peeking between his arms, he noticed Kxeyìn right beneath the same rock that Tsmupxa is crouching on. Her hunting skills were being put to good use, both fooling Tsmupxa that she was gone and forcing him to worry for her that he moved out of her path long enough for her hands to grip the rocky edge of the boulder. Pulling herself up, she pushes Tsmupxa out of the way, exhaling the exhausted air from her mouth.
"I see you, brother!" She managed to say between breaths.
Wearing a triumphant smirk, she brushes past the bewildered hunter, and secures her rightful spot to the next pair of awaiting vines. Tsmupxa, frightened that he had lost his dear sister, was now standing aloof, his stunned expression following after her in a mix of astonishment and confusion as the huntress waved farewell. Leaping onto the vines, she continues, this time with the intent of winning.
How does she have the energy? Tsmupxa thought.
Stirred with passion, Tsmupxa tightens the leather bonds, securing the yerik on his back before giving himself enough room to run and jump onto the same vines as the one Kxeyìn was using.
Feeling the vines shake, Kxeyìn glances between her legs, finding the mischievous grin on her older brother's face.
"Tsmupxa!" She yells to him.
"Sister!"
"You are quick! But I am speed!"
"Keep telling yourself that!"
She let out a laugh, but he was right. He was gaining on her and fast. Turning her attention back to the skies, she continues.
And together, the brother and sister duel brought them ever closer to the summit, but at a risk of forgetting about young Srìlo whose arm was now hooked through a webbing of vine, securing himself in place while he tried to encourage himself to make this jump.
Calculating the trajectory he needs to follow, Srìlo hopes to avoid the perilous mistake of missing the vine and plunging to his death. The thought of dying, as much as he refuses to think about, starts to linger in his mind. Like a poison, he resists it, but eventually, it infects his thoughts, compelling him to look down below. Hanging from his current position, Srìlo now realizes the immense distance they have covered from the forest below. A daunting height with a promise of an instant death if he failed to catch the vine.
He quickly shoots his eyes back up, wondering where his brother and sister are. He could use his brother's big ikran right about now to get him out of this tight spot.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he knew the only way out was to make the daring jump. His sister did. Why couldn't he?
Tail swishing, Srìlo forcefully expelled thoughts of his impending demise and prepared to make the jump.
With his tail lashing anxiously, Srìlo forcefully pushes thoughts of his impending demise aside and prepares to make the jump. He balances himself on a small steppingstone, no wider than his foot, but hisses in pain as a stabbing sensation shoots up from his left calf muscle to his hip. If he stays in this position much longer, he will succumb to the pain and fall to his death. It's now or never!
He rallies his weary limbs, secures his footing, and keeps himself parallel to the vine. He steadies his body and leans forward, shifting his weight but in the last moment, he withdraws. The height and the jump suddenly grew too wide for his liking and like an illness, apprehension took over, arresting his hands to his side and preventing his legs from contracting.
"I cannot—" he told himself. "I cannot do this!"
At the summit, Kxeyìn heaved her body up and over the biting edge of the rocky plateau, where she unslung her bow to settle next to her and gack of fruit to be tossed alongside her feet. The ikrans, seeing Kxeyìn return, shrieked happily while Kxeyìn herself tumbled onto the ground, absolutely exhausted from the climb.
Rolling over the mossy surface, she settled on her back, savoring the relief of the victory as her labored breaths filled her parched lungs. Behind her weary eyes, Kxeyìn's mind wandered freely, drifting with the passing clouds that floated overhead.
"I give thanks to you, Great Mother, for blessing me with strength to make this climb."
Soon after saying this, another set of fingers belonging to Tsmupxa, clutched the edge of the same plateau, followed by the emergence of a straining body that hoisted itself over. Gasping for breath, Tsmupxa flung himself beside his sister, his chest pressed against the ground and the kill, bouncing almost comically as he drew breaths in. Tilting his chin toward her, he allowed himself to bask in the warmth of the radiant sunlight before conceding:
"You... you win, sister."
A hint of admiration weaved with his voice as he closed his eyes, hoping to catch a brisk rest.
Flipping over onto her stomach, Kxeyìn propped up on her elbows, allowing her eyes to gaze upon the face of a defeated brother. But she wouldn't be here if it were not for him.
"I owe a part of this victory to you and the training you provided," she said, affectionately nuzzling his sweaty head.
"You did win," Tsmupxa coughed, "and I will accept defeat by taking on the chores assigned to you by mother." With a smile, he acknowledged her triumph.
As they lied beside one another, their energy replenishing in the invigorating daylight, a more pressing concern invaded their tranquil thoughts. Turning his head upward, Tsmupxa looked to his sister and said, "where is Srìlo?"
Kxeyìn glanced over Tsmupxa's head and said, "I thought he was right behind you?"
Kneeling beside the edge of the plateau, Kxeyìn and Tsmupxa peered over, their eyes searching below for Srìlo.
They couldn't see him through the haze of the billowing fog that was blowing in from the south. Looking at one another, they felt that pit of their stomach again, the same anxiety spear that gutted them after their father had passed.
There was no time. Tsmupxa, with quick movements, descended down the vine, praying in silent measure to find Srìlo hidden beneath the massive boulder, like how Kxeyìn managed to do. As he looked about beneath the rocky plateau, he found that Srìlo was not even close to where Kxeyìn and Tsmupxa had been previously.
"He is not here!" Tsmupxa called out to Kxeyìn, his voice tinged with worry.
Kxeyìn's heart sank as she hurled Srìlo's name into the vast expanse of Ayram Alusìng, desperate to hear even the faintest response with her attuned hunter's ears.
Hidden beneath the boulder, Srìlo held on desperately to a vine, his mind a battlefield of which doubt, fear, and anxiety were winning. In a strange recollection, Srìlo was transported back to his first hunt with Nosasney Latxe, his father.
The imposing silhouette of his father remained still as he motioned for Srìlo to stay low. The young boy did not see it but a lanay'ka was stalking them since they crossed the stream. His father knew that if Srìlo moved an inch more from where he stood, the lanay'ka would shoot its sharpened dart-head right for Srìlo.
Srìlo remembered the acidic fear coursing through his veins, stunning him in such a cold fright that he knew he would see his ancestors before the time of his end. But his father, ever brave, simply looked down the lanay'ka, his expression, Srìlo remember, was one without fear. He raised his bow, pulled the bowstring back, and loosen the arrow directly for the center-mass of the lanay'ka, killing the frightening beast.
His father's words echoed in Srìlo's mind: 'Never hesitate, or you will die.'
Bringing his thoughts back to his current situation, Srìlo felt his pulse quicken as fear, like the stalking lanay'ka, squeezed around him. But as the words of his father flooded back from the faint trickle of memory, he knew what he needed to do. And just before he could, he heard his name echo from above.
They are looking for me. Am I truly this slow?
Unable to move and prove to his siblings that he was alive, he insisted on showing his arm and waving. But as he attempted to do so, the weight of the gack of fruit, with its leather strap biting into the muscle of his shoulder, held back his arm, rendering his attempts to signal to them futile.
Frustrated, Srìlo finally shouted out: "I am here!"
Kxeyìn and Tsmupxa picked up their younger brother's cry, and as the older brother among the trio, Tsmupxa swiftly reacted. He hurried himself down with such speed that even Kxeyìn was left in awe.
"Srìlo!" Tsmupxa shouted back, his voice echoing through the mountainous floating valley.
Srìlo's ears folded backwards as his eyes widen by the sudden jerk of the vine. It was loosening and the weight of the gack was encouraging this factor.
"Kxeyìn! Tsmupxa!" Srìlo shouted, his voice suddenly caving with intensified fear.
Picking up Srìlo's voice through the wailing winds, Tsmupxa caught a glimpse of Srìlo's blue tail lashing out from beneath the rock and without wasting another moment, he continued his descent, carefully navigating each step and maintaining a firm grip to balance himself out. The last thing he wanted was to have two brothers lose their lives this day.
Landing on the very rock that Kxeyìn used to climb up with, Tsmupxa looked across and found his younger brother right below, with hands holding onto a vine as he struggled to keep himself stable while his knees wobbled with strain, threatening to break Srìlo's balance.
"You need to climb!" Tsmupxa instructed.
Srìlo tried, his hand tickled for the very edge of the rock he was under but immediately felt the weight of the gack pulling his arm back down.
Seeing this, Tsmupxa tossed him an advice, "lose the gack!"
Srìlo rebuked this idea, "no!"
"Lose it, or you will lose your life!"
Srìlo shook his head and seethed at the pain that seared into his biceps.
Tsmupxa hissed at his brother, "remove the gack now or I will personally remove it for you!"
Stubborn at the idea of losing the harvested fruit, Srìlo let his arm dangle, hoping that his muscles would regain their necessary energy before making another attempt at the rock's edge.
However, the vine had formulated a new plan as it slacken more at the behest of Srìlo's jumping heart.
"Brother!" He shouted out to him now, his stubbornness vanishing away.
Clenching his teeth, Tsmupxa leaped across and landed on the rock that Srìlo was situated beneath.
Feeling the rock bounce to Tsmupxa's weight, Srìlo panicked in response.
"No! Brother! I'm going to die!"
Drawing a blade from his chest sheath, Tsmupxa positioned himself flat over the rock and began cutting away at the straps of the gack with swift and determined movements.
"Get ready to grab onto my neck," he instructed Srìlo, his eyes focused on the straps.
Srìlo's eyes flared at such a suggestion. He couldn't be this lekye'ung!
"Yes, you will, brother!" Tsmupxa shouted. "You need to trust me."
Srìlo slowly took in the cool air, trying not to imagine what was going to happen if he dared. But as Srìlo stared into his brother's resolute eyes, he knew he was in good hands or, as he was about to find out, a good neck.
With a decisive expression, Srìlo nodded. "I will, brother."
"Do it now!" Tsmupxa howled as the blade tip sawed away the last remaining fiber of the leather.
There was a resounding snap as the gack plummeted into the abyss, and Srìlo quickly wrapped his arms around Tsmupxa's neck. Simultaneously, the force of the falling gack caused the blade to slip from Tsmupxa's grasp, forcing him to grip the rock tightly to prevent both Srìlo and himself from toppling over.
"I got you, brother," Tsmupxa said. "And I am not going to let go!"
Biting down, he sucked in the air as he heaved and dragged Srìlo over the rock. And just as Srìlo's body was halfway over the rock, the rock started to tip over.
"No-no-no!" Tsmupxa exclaimed, his free hand desperately clawing for the opposite end of the rock.
At the last moment, as Tsmupxa believed this was their end, he felt warm fingers clutching around his torso, digging into his ribs. Kxeyìn grunted above his head, stabilizing herself on the rock, ready for Tsmupxa to pull Srìlo over onto their precarious perch.
Summoning his remaining strength, Tsmupxa pushed himself up onto his hands and knees. Once he felt stable, he began lifting Srìlo with him, while the young teen held onto Tsmupxa's hands. With limited space available, Kxeyìn reached out for a network of vines, providing her brothers a platform to gather themselves on.
As the fleeting traces of panic subsided, Srìlo expressed his gratitude to Tsmupxa, his voice filled with shame. "Forgive me for losing the gack," he confessed, closing his eyes in remorse.
Tsmupxa affectionately rubbed his head, assuring him, "Brother, I would never forgive myself if I lost you over a mere gack."
"But... I am meant to become a hunter. I should be stronger than this," Srìlo lamented, his self-doubt evident in his voice.
Tsmupxa shook his head in response. "You are already strong, Srìlo. The true lesson to learn is when to prioritize your life and the lives of others over trivial things like a gack."
"But... Mother—"
"—Mother will be proud to see that you have fulfilled your duty. And so would Father," Tsmupxa stated lovingly.
Smiling to one another, they both looked up to Kxeyìn, finding her wiping away a tear, as a sense of lingering fear faded away and joyous smile overtook her expression.
Their father would have been pleased to see them working as a family again with no sorrow to steal their hearts. Reaching to the top together, they stood as one and looked across to another mountain, a jewel that floated aloft in a sea of grey mist and glittering sunlight that bounced unevenly beyond the horizon and to High Camp.
It was the Omatikaya home, a haven for the lost and a sanctuary for the living.
They could hardly wait to get back home, to tell their mother of the story (perhaps slightly altered so she would not fret over young Srìlo) and hear of the news about a new guest this day.
High Camp — Fourteen Minutes Later
Jake knew he had made a mistake by bringing the avatar to High Camp. The moment he saw Mo'at approaching him from beneath the dwelling of the cave, he knew it was over. It was already unimaginably difficult hauling a heavy, lifeless body around, partially wrapped in a reflective metal blanket, like some cartoonish circus troupe trying to dispose of a body, and then somehow believing they could get away with it, simply because Jake assumed most of the People would be asleep by the time they returned. The only one he managed to fool was himself. His only wish, if there could be one granted, was that neither Mo'at or Neytiri saw the body. Not until he had enough time to gather his thoughts and his words to explain his reasonings with the both of them, that made sense to and without causing a fracas. But, as he was about to see, that was too late when Jake sealed the science shack door and turned around to see Mo'at, wearing her typical translucent tunic, walking to him with fire in her steps and that stern-pissy expression she wore when trouble brewed within the clan.
"Does ma Neytiri know?" Mo'at inquired, her gaze shifting to one of predatory intensity as Jake stood outside of the science shack.
He almost wanted to ask how she knew, but there was no use. She knew and possibly the entire clan knew as well.
"No tsahìk," he answered, attempting to maintain a façade of coolness that was about as convincing as melted ice.
Mo'at tilted her head, then rolled it in a way as to determine whether she should have him punished or pushed out of the way to see this demon for herself. But there was still a manner of decorum and respect to the title that young Tsyeyk held, and that Mo'at respected.
Out of nowhere, she raised her finger with Jake watching curiously as she directed her attention to his forehead, gently pressing the tip of her finger against it. "Your sickness still lingers, does it not, Tsyeyk?"
His tail lashed the moment he felt the pad of her finger touch his forehead, and like a child, she reprimanded his sanity.
The question also managed to tug at some faint memories, pulling Jake back to the earliest moments when Neytiri had brought him before the Omatikaya as a captive. Mo'at's striking stare right now mirrored the skepticism that day and expressed the same level of doubt he had faced back then. Even her presence at the moment carried the same aura of scrutiny then, as if she could see right through him.
But Jake remained confident in the calculated considerations he had made for his decision. He rationalized it because he understood the potential threat that the avatar posed to the Omatikaya, and he believed that by bringing it to High Camp, he could gain the advantage over the RDA and protect the People. It was a strategic move, a way to level the playing field and exploit any potential weaknesses the enemy might have. Right out of the First Recon playbook.
Besides, Jake thought, if the RDA or the UNE were genuinely concerned about the avatar being in his possession, he would have the upper hand at the negotiation table. Not that the RDA seemed inclined to negotiate with him at all, but it was there, and Jake was keen on keeping the avatar for as long as possible.
And if they showed no concern, he could eliminate the avatar and effectively neutralize the RDA's advantage.
These were aspects that Mo'at failed to comprehend because she never lived among the humans. Barring the scientists and drivers who currently lived among them, but they were far too cooperative with the Na'vi for Mo'at to grasp human behavior.
There was also no point in explaining it to her either. She would wave her hand, dismiss his opinion, and act as though she knew more than he did — despite Jake being once a demon before.
Inhaling the cool air, Jake returned her stare with one of confidence, or perhaps, foolishness as he finally answered, "no. It does not, tsahìk."
She made that 'humph' sound whenever she did not believe him.
"Then," she said softly. "Let me see the demon."
His tail did that whirl with his heart leaping into his throat, almost making him cough unexpectedly to her request.
"See? You want to see the demon?"
Please tell me I misheard you!
She nodded. "I desire to see the demon before my daughter does. And if she comes as I am inspecting the demon, then you will have to talk to her."
Jake sighed, but his breath hitched in his throat as he felt her firm grip on his arm, compelling him to meet her gaze directly.
She was dead serious.
"This is, Tsyeyk, the fault of your insanity or…" her gaze drifted to the ground, her lips pursing as the new thought gave way to another idea that sent chills down Jake's back and out through his tail.
"…the fault of being an Olo'eyktan."
He clenched and stiffen all at the same time as he felt her hand release from his arm. Swallowing his parched throat, he nodded.
"Yes, tsahìk. Follow me, I'll show you to the demon."
Bad idea, Jake.