Chapter Text
Dreams of a future
Once Teylan had gathered himself, Ke’lin wiped the remaining tears from his cheeks. The Na’vi excused himself, and promptly left the scene of the crash. Ke’lin moved on, finding Ri’nela. She stood watching a couple of zakru caretakers.
The bodies of the fallen animals were being tended to by the Zeswa. Clothed in burial drapes, and their tusks and legs painted with mourning colors. Ke’lin felt a great pain tug at her heart, but was somewhat comforted by the fact that death probably had been instant for them. The ones who lived, who she had seen rear off into the wild in panic, those were the zakru Ke’lin worried about.
“Tread softly, tsmuke. The Zeswa are in mourning. We all are.” Ri’nela addressed her, gesturing to the dusted carcasses. “Even in death, the Sky People’s metal swam at their feet. The ruins and scraps of them taint everything.”
“Harding targeted the games. She did this, and she will pay for it with her life.”
“By your hands.” Ri’nela recounted the words Ke’lin had once used when discussing Mercer.
She nodded. “By my hands.”
“Harding lost the Plains before.” Ri’nela said, gaze switching from her friend to the zakru behind her. “It was her greatest defeat, and perhaps her greatest shame as well.”
“You speak just like a tsahik.”
“And sometimes you speak just like an olo’eyukte.”
Ke’lin excused herself shortly after Ri’nela had given her some errands to run down. She claimed to not be able to stand the wallows of the Zeswa, but in reality, the two women knew exactly why. She saw how Ri’nela wanted to take back her words, to leave them unsaid. Ke’lin knew that it didn't matter if she or anyone else expressed them or not, she knew that they were thinking it.
The sun was grazing the horizon, just about to go into dusk. A Na’vi child held a stick in her small hands, poking at the leaves floating in a murky puddle. The child looked into the water, seeing herself look back at her. The beads in her hair glowed in the sunlight. She put down the stick and began to poke and prod at the strange mark under her eye, as she usually did. It was a source of wonder. The girl laughed as she leapt to her feet. She stomped into the puddle, sending water droplets flying.
The Na’vi who sat behind the child put her craft down. “’Eveng!” The Na’vi said, sighing. “What have I said about playing in puddles with those clothes on? You’ll ruin them.”
The child sheepishly looked at her feet, not wanting to meet her aunt’s gaze. ”Sorry.”
The Na’vi sighed again, and gestured for the child to come closer. The tiny girl moved cautiously forwards, expecting an ear-full. When she was in reach, she swooped the child into her lap. ”You can get how dirty your little heart desires, you little Tsiki, just not in your pretty outfit.” She said as she wiped the girl down with a rag.
”Don't call her a tsiki. You know that only I am allowed to do that.” Another Na’vi said from behind the child’s back. She felt a smile grow on her as she recognized the voice.
”Sempu!” The child giggled, raising her arms to be easily picked up. The man put her on his hip, and the child started playing with the straps and feathers that hung from his chestguard. The child’s aunt gestured to her weaving that she had tossed to the ground.
”If this child is not born before I finish this weaving, then Eywa help me.” The Na’vi complained. She rose from her seat and put the weaving down on her stool. ”I’ve waited long now to see my sister’s second child.” She walked over to the man with his child on his hip. She pinched the girl’s cheek playfully, a smile and a giggle erupting from her. ”I’ve seen more than enough of this one already.”
”The child has been born, and Kataru is doing well.” The man spoke, cradling his first born. The girl felt her father’s large hands hold her with ease. His big arms, which are said to be able to stop a rampaging ‘angtsik in its path, wrap her ever so gently.
“Thank you Eywa.” The other girl’s aunt said, sitting back down on her stool
The man gazed down at the girl, his girl, love thick in his gaze.
”Come, let's meet your baby sister.”
The man moved inside the camp, climbing the wooden staircase up to the tent that rested inside a leaning tree. The sun had set, only candles and a firepit lighting his way. The girl was still on his hip, swaying with his steps. The girl felt anticipation grow in her. She had watched her mother’s belly grow more and more with time, being told over and over again that she was going to be a big sister. What that entailed. She didn't understand much of it yet.
Inside, in the far back, a Na’vi sat on a thick mat made of colorful hide. In her arms, she held something wrapped in a grey cloth. The man sat down his daughter, and the girl ran up to her mother.
“Ke’ke.” Kataru said, one hand cradling the child’s face. “This is Aha’ri.”
Ke’lin peeked into the bundle of cloth, and was met with a blue face. Her face turned into a grimace. “What is that?” The face was so small, and Aha’ri’s eyes weren't open. “Is she dead?”
Kataru giggled, shaking her head. Ke’lin felt her father’s hands on each of her shoulders. “That is your sister. She’s small and weak right now, but one day, she will be big and strong, maybe even stronger than you. She needs you, you have to protect her. No matter what.”
Her gaze didn't leave her sister. She stared at her for a long time.
Tali’s hands squeezed her shoulders. “One day, Ke’lin, when I’m gone, you may be the one to lead our clan.” He whispered. “And if you do, Aha’ri will always be right by your side.”