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Chapter Text

  Jake had never really registered the reality that his children could actually die. But, he had Lo'ak for a son, so the possibility would always stay above zero so long as that boy continued to deliberately disobey orders.   And, when his comm went off with his boy's panicked voice to come get them, he hadn't hesitated to hunt his kids down. He pressed his fingers to his ear, sweat slowly dripping down his brow.  

  "Son, listen to me very carefully. Pull back right now. Do not make a sound. Get out of there. Move!"

  "Copy. Pulling back now."

  Why were his children so stupid?

  Neteyam cuts off his train of thought, devising a half-baked plan. "Dad, I know a short-cut!" And, before Jake can stop him, protest, he dove his Ikran away from their initial location as his wife went straight after him. So much for being smart about it, he supposed. Sully turned his ikran at the last second, following after his son and wife. They'd deal with the plan as they traveled,  

for now, he just needed his kids safe.

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1 month ago  

  Dawoud shoved against the bars of the cell as best as he could. It was difficult to do, however, with the leg he had to deal with as he wobbled. His vocal chords ached as he screamed, whining and groaning for the men, and the older woman, to let him go. The last thing he had remembered? Singing with his family in the pews, on the day of 'Sha'anini'. He'd been holding the little thing in his arms before the bang went off. And, by some miracle, he had lived, hiding under the seat.  

  It had been 6 years ago.  

  As his left ear gave out, ringing continuously with blood dripping out of the canal, his right rang with screams of the men and women. Screams of children. Crying. 

And blood. So much blood.

  Splattered onto the walls. Splattered onto the Icons.  

  Just like the night they had taken his sister, brother and him. But, somehow, this had been worse. And then he'd felt a hand on his leg, as it dragged him out from under the seat with the thing in his arms. His voice was hoarse with soot trapped in the slits of his esophagus, yet still he attempted to scream. Protests weakly rang out as the person took him.

  "ELIAN! E-ELIAN? Akh! Akhi! Mama?... Baba?"

  And as he called for his family, refusing to acknowledge their deaths, a sudden, harsh, yank on his body cut him off as he slid. The person, a man, he'd assumed, turned him over, and, with all the voice he could muster, let out a blood-curdling, deep, scream.  

  The blue skinned man—was it an animal? smacked him in the face, and he clutched the thing to his chest tighter as he quietly whined in pain. The hand was abnormally large, and he couldn't understand a word it had said, besides the ones he'd barely learned in his mandatory english classes.  

  "...-your mouth...-for you!"

  It yanked him up by the collar of his dress shirt, a maroon color, with his bag on his back, and walked him into a vehicle. Not a car. Not a truck. No. A giant, circular, dome. He thought it was a vehicle. It looked like it could move, he had assumed. The creature shoved him inside, and he would have face planted onto the steel floor had he not instinctively flipped over, keeping the thing close to him.  

  "Found one."  

  And after? You know what they had done to him? They did not kill him. Not yet. They shoved him into a tube. A very cold tube, as they yanked the thing out of his arms. And as soon as he had been torn away from it, he screamed. Louder than a toddler throwing a tantrum, louder than when he was a child, as he tried reaching for it before they held him down, locked him in, and shut the door.  

He just wanted it back.

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  Present Day

  "You're his aren't you?"  

  Lo'ak hissed at the ugly, scarred man masking as their people. What a geriatric sack of-  

  The man, Miles, laughed in mocking. Prat.

  "Yeahhh, you're his alright. Where is he?"

And, because he has a mouth on him, because Lo'ak is his father's son, he hisses out, in Na'vi,  

"Sorry, I don't speak English,--to buttholes." He cries out as Quaritch yanks at his queue, feeling a splitting headache coming on. Yet, he stands his ground. Because his dad stood his ground, and so he must as well. Lo'ak maintains eye contact with the man wearing his people's skin like a costume. 

  The man spits out a command in his language, and the boy hates the way he butchered the dialect he grew up with.

  "Where is your father?" Lo'ak's eyes unknowingly well up with tears at the hold he has of his queue, yet still he does not speak up. Do not give in. He must have taken that as a challenge, because before he can blink, Quaritch had grabbed Kiri by her hair, pulling out a knife.  

  "That's how you wanna play it?" The tip of the weapon pricks slightly at the girl's throat, and she whimpered in fear, attempting to break free of his grip. A flash of panic washes over her brother, racking his brain for a plan. Anything. Any piece of information he could pull out and form into some kind of rescue.  

  "NO! Leave her alone!" Spider cuts in, skidding to a stop in between Lo'ak and the man unknown as his father. All three heads turn to the only human boy in this conversation—at least, that was what Lo'ak could see, for he could not see the other one, the one with the dark and frizzy medium length curls, the boy with the girlish lashes accustomed to Middle Easterns and North Africans.  

  He could not see the boy who was clutched in the arms of another imposter Na'vi, his grip tight, as he held the thing in his arms once again. Lo'ak did not notice the boy whose head was lowered in fear, turned away, afraid of the ongoing confrontation.   He did not notice him, and so he kept his focus on his sister in the hands of that demon, and his friend, who had thrown himself into danger for her. What a skxawng.

  "...What's your name, kid?"  

  A beat of silence. Spider's thin eyes go wide, fear in his body language, as though recognizing him.                    

"..Uh, S-Spider. Socorro."

  "...Javier?"

  "Nobody calls me that." Spider's tone drips with teenage attitude, the one they had beaten out of the boy, at least, what they had thought was attitude. Quaritch keeps his eyes on the human boy—the pale one, as he roughly tosses over Kiri to an avatar. He twists her arm back, keeping her still as she struggles.

"Quiet!"  

  The company watch as Quaritch bends down to match Spider's height amongst the Na'vi. He stares into his blue eyes for a moment, thin and almond shaped;the ones he gave him, if nothing else.  

  "Well. I'll be damned. I thought they sent you back to earth."  

  "They can't put five year olds in cryo, deuche."  

  Quaritch allows himself to smirk. Oh, if only he knew.  

  He backs himself away from the boy, and Lo'ak steadies himself as he stands, forming into a fighting stance. He felt foolish for following them even after being told explicitly not even to go near the area. But what was done is done.  

  "Iron Sky, Blue One, we’re ready to extract. We are bringin’ out high value prisoners."

  Quaritch turns his head toward the human boy, his son, grinning freakishly. To Wainfleet, he switches to english fluently, and Lo'ak breathes a sigh of relief. His butchering of their language was haunting.  

  "Sully’s not the lone wolf any more. His weakness is his family."  

  It is then that they move, taking them all hostage deeper into the forest as the woman talks in his ear, that they bring the boy. He is last to follow, being dragged this way and that. The man holding him, the avatar, lets go of his arm, choosing instead to grasp at his tangled curls, shushing him as he whines.

  Lo'ak does not notice, as Wainfleet snaps his head back every time he attempts to move it backwards. So, no, he does not yet see the boy, not until Quaritch stops, finding a piece of machinery, a screen, with a female Na'vi's face on it, his mother,

  that he finds the squirming boy with a bunched up,...something, in his arms.  

  Not a little Na'vi boy. Not an avatar. No.

A bronze-skinned, short, human, boy.  

"What the-!"

----------------------------------------------------------

"No, boy, stay with the ikran."  

  Sully pushes Neteyam back slightly, firmness kept in his voice. He was not risking losing another child. He still had 3 to find, and their friend.  

  He watched as Neteyam deflated, "I mean it, alright?", 

"Yes, sir."

  and, satisfied with his son's compliance, he and Neytiri run off into the forest. Jake keeps his gun cocked, his wife following with her bow pulled.  

  Their movement together is fluid, as one, the glow of the forest illuminating Jake's eyesight. 

  "Eagle eye, devil dog, say your status, over."

  A haunting wave of silence rushes over the  chirping sounds of the forest, and he looks over at his wife as his eyes widen.

  "Eagle eye, how copy?"

  One moment goes by before the voice that is not Lo'ak's comes up.

  "Jake Sully! You hear me, Corporal? I’ve got your kids! How you copy that?"

  He slows to a stop, Neytiri's brows furrows. That was not his son.  

 "Who is this?"

  "It's your past catchin' up to you, son."

Crap. Shoot. Shoot. Shoot. That was him? He was alive? Neytiri quietly gasps, the blue collar voice forever engraved into her brain, the man who would always be known as the one who killed her father. Who killed Tsu'tey. Quaritch went off the mic, and he could briefly hear him yelling, "talk to him!", before he'd heard his boy's shaky, apologetic tone in his ear.

  "Dad, uh -- we’re all here -- Kiri, Spider and Tuk. I’m sorry, Dad, I --, and there's this-!" His kid cuts off at the last sentence as Quaritch yanks the mic from him. Jake holds himself from begging the man to let him hear his son's voice once more.  

  "Now listen up, Corporal. I’m gonna give you coordinates and you’re going to show your face or you’re gonna have a real short Christmas list." And, as he feels his wife's arm grasp onto his biceps for support in her shock, his jaw clenches, eyes narrowing in anger at his disgusting audacity to threaten his children. What a weak, feeble, man.

  "I took you under my wing, Jake -- and you betrayed me. You killed your own kind. Good men. I will NOT hesitate to execute your kids."

  And then he took off, Neytiri following him throughout the trees, bow extended.  

  "Give me the coordinates."

----------------------------------------------------------  

Lo'ak stared at the human boy, unashamed that it may be considered rude to scrutinize him as he shrank in shame from everyone's gaze. Wainfleet yanked on his queue and he hissed, turning away from him.  

  What scared him the most, however, was that unlike Max and Norm, who needed oxygen masks and inhalers to survive on Pandora air, the boy stood, manhandled by the fake Na'vi man, no mask over his face, no inhaler, no cannula.    

Strange.

  The demon was breathing like them, and yet he was still a demon. He narrowed his eyes at him, no use, seeing as the boy hadn't looked at anyone or anything since he'd seen him. What, had he, perhaps, stolen the lungs of a Na'vi? Is that why he could breathe their air? Had he harvested their organs? The human boy was with the enemy, and so of course Lo'ak had thought the worst of him.

Blood-sucking grifter.

  Wainfleet turned his head away once more, and he looked at his sisters and Spider, reassuring them silently with his expression.

  Kiri yips a high pitched tune, one he knows all too well, and, even as the man holding her attempts to hush her, she persists. Now, they just had to wait for their mother. The silence is horrificly stiff, and Lo'ak feels sweat drip off his back in the worst uncomfortable position.

  He cannot for the life of him focus with the bronze-skinned boy in sight. Part of him was disgusted with him, at what he could have possibly done alongside Quaritch and his meatheaded goons;the other part of him, however, The embarrassed part, had to admit he was fascinated.  

  The Na'vi he had grown up with all twisted their hair in various styles of braids, beaded and done. Spider had his in nicely done locs. Kiri had done it for him. But Spider's hair was of golden stature. And pin straight, however slightly thick it may have been.  

  The boy's curls had him curious for only a moment. He was sweaty, that was obvious. But the puffiness of each coil surprised him, they were not done in tight ringlets. They spread out into funny little twists at the end of each strand, reaching just barely below the nape of his neck. And his skin was of lightly brushed bronze. Even in the dark, with the bioluminescence illuminating off him, Lo'ak could tell Spider was significantly paler than he was. He was not exposed to demon media. Nor these demons in general.  

  He hadn't known they could look like that.

  His thoughts of the little rat cut off as he heard a female's vocals yip. Him and his sisters looked at each other. Their mother was here. But the demons did not know that.

  And so they waited for her chaos.  

  Another yip. All Na'vi ears stand alert now, waiting quietly for what is to come. Spider quietly unsheathes a knife.  

  The man holding Kiri moves the slightest inch, and an arrow pierces through his chest, disposing of him in an instant.

  The war was here.

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  Neytiri watches the arrow fly into the demon that had a hold on her daughter, readying another. She is proud as her children injure their captives, getting away.  

  And she shoots at the man who had attempted to take her oldest daughter, the arrow ripping through his throat. She zips past the trunk she'd hid behind, his voice tearing into the night.    

  "That you, Missus Sully?"  

  Her footsteps are light against the dirt floor as she slides her body around the barks of trees, bow strung and pointed. She would kill him. She would tear him apart.  

  "Demon! I will kill you as many times as I need."  

  His laugh rings out into the cool night air, and she is disgusted by it. Disgusted by his carefree attitude, as though he hadn't just threatened to kill her children. Let him try, if he is able, for she will shed his blood happily. She will watch the blood pool out of his body, and she will not mourn. She will not guilt over a man, a demon, like this.

  It goes silent for a moment, and she quietly exhales, wondering if he had planned on attacking her quietly. She walks back, pointing her bow at every corner her eyes could manage to see. She had not heard his voice yet.

Strange.

----------------------------------------------------------     Dawoud pants as the man wraps his arm around his throat, slamming them into the back of the tree, as he protects it with his body. His eyes widen with fear.   

  "Listen here, N*srani boy, if I find you running away with these little freaks, I'll drag you back by your filthy hair and cut his heart out. And then I will FEED IT TO YOU. Understand me, Davey boy?"  

  No, actually, the boy hadn't understood a word besides the slur he'd just called him, albeit horrendously in a southern twang, and the threats he'd made against him. But he understood not to make himself seen, at the very least, so he shakily nodded as best he could with the man's arm against his throat. At least he'd remembered to say it into his right ear.

  "Good. Glad you've learned to listen, runt." He pat his cheek, a smirk on his face as Dawoud looked away from him. Looked anywhere but into his eyes. Because the man reminded him of his fear of snakes;they could smell fear, and the boy was riddled with it.  

It was no wonder the world had fallen due to one.  

'Arhamni, ya Adonai.'

----------------------------------------------------------  

  Jake held onto his older daughter as she reached for him, and he brought her and his other two children close to him.  

They were safe. For now.  

  At least, he had believed them to be, before turning, finding Spider being dragged away by Quaritch. Kiri yelled out to him in protest, and he had attempted to run onto the ship. Every fake Na'vi jumped on, and he grabbed his gun, shooting one in the chest.  

  Another ran at him, jumping onto him, and they quarreled for a moment before Sully kicked his chest, shoving the man off. A bullet lodged into his throat, and as he began to chase after Quaritch with his grip on the boy, he stopped in shock.  

  A human boy, one without an oxygen mask, being manhandled by one of the retcoms.

  And so, assuming the human was with them, he shot at the man holding him, watching as he fell to the ground, the boy gasping in shock as he pushed himself away, before Jake gripped his bicep, yanking him away from his chance at going on the ship. If he was Na'vi boy, perhaps Jake would have treated him with less distaste. But his emotions clouded his mind, and he made the decision that the kid was one of them.

   Quaritch wanted Spider? Fine.

  But he was going to take a souvenir while he was at it.  

  He would soon register the cooing noise coming from the bundle in the human's arms.   

  A baby.

.

.

.

.

.

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Chapter Text

The boy struggled against the grips of the men as they sat him in a chair. They shoved against his body as he attempted to escape, slamming his arms into noses and frail limbs, which soon deemed useless.

With every breath he could muster, as much as his vocal chords struggled, he yelled.

Not just yelled, however. He screamed, groaned, whined and all the likes.

The retcom found his crying most troublesome however, as his body began to rack with sobs. His hands pushed at the men grabbing him.

Wainfleet slammed his shoulders back into the chair, and the boy's left foot drew back and kicked him in the gut.

More screeching.

"Haht tifli! Tifli! TIF-LI! HAHT TIFLI!"

Zayhn groaned silently at the kid's whines and struggles. That was the worst part of it;the boy hadn't spoken a lick of english. His thick arabic accent rolled off his tongue, and he'd wished he listened to his captain's order of being bilingual.

Why did he keep screaming about a 'tifli'?

Zayhn turned to a comrad of his, Wyatt Taynwhithers, whispering, 

"Shoulda never gotten a foreign boy." Wyatt rolled his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose at the headache forming from his loud voice.

  The loud smack ringing throughout the room quieted his screaming, simmering into whines of anger annoyance. The kid's right cheek stung red. General Ardmore stood over him, eyes practically popping out of her wrinkled face.

  Oh, he was in for it now. Good riddance.

He watched as she grabbed each of his wrists, strapping them down as he wiggled slightly. But no resistance, so the men in the room quietly breathed a sigh of relief. The runt kept his head down as Ardmore exhaled frustratingly.

  It had been barely a few hours when Quaritch had defrosted; and Zayhn wondered who had reacted worse, him or the boy.

General walked across the room to a cool, steel framed table, a roll of bread sat on top. She took it, approached him, and stuck it to his mouth. 

"Eat! Comm'on, we don't got time for your toddler tantrums."

She stood at his left as she stuck her face in his own, and he turned away, filthy curls falling into his face. The saliva dribbled out of the corner of his mouth, slobbering the bread. He silently refused. Well, Ardmore didn't like being told no, and so she snatched his jaw, turning him towards her, tilting his head to look at her.

"Eat. Or I'll shove it down your throat. I'd gladly watch as you choke, boy."

So as the boy's hair stayed draping his face, he nibbled at the front of the bread, not yet used to being able to chew again.

The doors slammed open, and everyone but the boy stopped all movement, watching as Quaritch entered, newly built, new body, a disgustingly smug smirk on his face. Dawoud's face stayed hidden from his sight, and the man turned his way.

"Why, hello there. Who's our new little friend?"

He could feel the man's presence slithering around his back, and he hunched over further, before he, with the blue skin, snaked his hand around the back of his neck, whispering into his left ear.

"What's your name, kid?"

Silence.

He stayed unanswering, holding back a shiver from Quaritch. He supposed the terrifying man hadn't liked that he turned away from him.

It's not like he'd known the man asked him a question.

  "...Ya'll serious? This is the kid with the prophetic dreams? The idiot can't even speak!" And he smacked his left eardrum, earning a short, shocked, deep-pitched cry as he began his quiet sobbing for the 5th time since they dragged him here.

Quaritch quieted for a moment, brow raised curiously. He slid over to the right side of the kid as he kept his head down, and brought his mouth close to the right ear, yelling out,

"SEMPER FI SOLDIER!"

His laughter rang in the air as the boy let out a surprised screech, hand clasping over the right of his face. Quaritch turned to his left ear, noticing a chunk of the earlobe missing, as though it were torn off. So. His suspicions were confirmed.

The boy was partially deaf.

"You idiots. He's not stupid. Just deaf."

A deaf 'prophet'. Well, it would have been more poetic had he been blind, instead, but he assumed the boy wasn't hearing voices in that sense. How disappointing.

  "Where'd you get this runt from?"

"Found him wussing around hiding under a bench after we blew up his-"

"You what? Well, no wonder he went deaf! You've been standing around trying to get him to listen and you couldn't even put two and two together? I taught you better than that, Ardmore."

"With all due respect, colonel, that's not the only problem at hand."

"Oh yeah? What'd you do, blind him? Cut out his tongue?"

"He doesn't speak english. All we can decipher is his arabic whining. And, apparently, none of your goonheaded soldiers speak another language."

"You must not remember me much, General. I'm fluent in 12 languages."

"And you butcher all of them."

"How would you know? Give me a shot."

She sighed, rubbing her forehead, before shooing him over back to the boy.

The man came and stood at his right, and he laughed at the kid's frightened demeanor. Good. He knew who to listen to. He tried, in english first, lowering himself down to his height.

"Your name kid, now."

A pause. Three seconds go by with no answer, but, his eyes slowly lift up to the man's animal-like pupils.

The boy had only recognized one word—name. What he had asked for, however, he did not know. Did he want his name? Was he telling him his name? Did he want the name of something? He didn't know. Still, the man's patience seemed to be wearing thin, and he took the risk of saying his own, slowly pointing to his chest, whispering with a hoarse voice,

"Da—woud."

"Day-wood?"

"Daaa-wuuud. Dawoud."

"Alright, Day—wood, stupid name but it's progress."

The boy lifted his eyes further—was he calling his name stupid? He stared dead into the man's own, annoyance burning into him. It was not like he named himself at birth.

And besides, he liked David. He was a nice, brave, shepherd.

He clenched his teeth in anger, and the man seemed to had noticed, baring his fangs as he gripped his jaw with one hand and forcing the tension apart.

He switched to arabic.

"Don't give me attitude, boy. I will snap your spine in half."

Dawoud had never wanted to cringe internally than he did now. Who spoke his language like that? Is that what he sounded like trying to speak english?

"Tell me where you're from." A drop of silence as he registers the poorly spoken arabic, quietly speaking,

"Aleksandria." So the boy was from Egypt. He knew of them, briefly. A bunch of religious zealots who thought asking some God living up in the clouds for a job was better than getting off their arses and working. Schizos is what they were.

"So you one of them muslims? Ya know, allah and all that, or whatever."

Again with the attitude. The boy's eyes popped out of his head as he burned holes into him. His teeth clenched once more, and Quaritch harshly clutched his jaw, pulling them apart. Before he could speak, however, he'd noticed a thin piece of silver outlining the boy's neck. A necklace of some sort.

He ripped it from his collarbone as the kid protested, finding a weird looking t-shape attached in the middle, with curves at each end. A man was carved onto it, arms hung on the right and left end as his legs stuck to the long edge. A jagged piercing ran along the thin man's rib

"What the he-?"

"If I may? Colonel, I think I might know what that is." Wainfleet interjected his surprise, and he raised an eyebrow, handing it over. He watched his friend turn it to the back, feeling the engraving on it.

"That's a cross."

"A what?"

"A cross. Kid's not a muslim."

Wainfleet smirked.

"Looks like we found ourselves a little N*srani boy."

The boy lunged at him, and Quaritch dug his fingers into his hair, pulling him away from his friend. His head bashed into the back of the chair as he began yelling in arabic once more.

"Matkalemneesh keda! Haram-!"

"Awww, would you look at that, baby boy doesn't want you calling him a meanie word?"

"He's only mad cus they think it's a slur against them. Ain't a slur if it's true."

"What's it even mean?"

"You said you were fluent!"

"I never said I was an expert." Wainfleet groaned.

"'Of Nazarene'. For the one they follow."

"Dooooon't care. Let's just get this over with."

Quaritch threw the necklace back at him, watching as the kid whined in defeat with his hands bound.

They'd use him as much as they wanted if it meant going after Sully. Even if they had to beat it out of him.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Dawoud's bicep hurt as he was pulled further by the tall creature. Not in a slow manner. Not at walking pace, no. He felt his anger at him, and perhaps he could not blame him.

Quaritch was mean.

  His hand steadied Mephi in his hold, taking care not to drop him at the speed they were moving. Other creatures, one who looked similar to the man, followed closely, circling him. Four of them looked like children—well, not compared to him, but children nonetheless. He could only assume that the man dragging him was angry at Quaritch because he'd tried to hurt his babies?

  If anyone had hurt Mephi, he would have never forgiven himself for it. They skidded to a stop, and he slammed into the back of the man, before he turned to him, eyes filled to the brim with anger and exhaustion.

He threw the boy to the ground, and landed on his knees, wrapping his arms around the baby. Dawoud looked up to find a woman, the one with the man earlier, standing above him.

Her lips moved, an arrow pointed at him. And he would have delighted in answering her. Except that her words were muffled and quiet. He'd only caught whisps of syllables as the woman seemed to have slowly been losing her patience.

"-...sent you?!"

Oh. She was speaking english.

He stared at her owlishly, and he hadn't realized that she'd been slightly taken aback by the youth of his eyes, before masking it and continuing to yell at him. He wished he could answer her, he really did. But he didn't understand anything.

He felt fingers in his hair before registering what had happened, being yanked up and pulled into a traditional looking tent. Was it a custom here to drag people they didn't know around? The hands grabbed at him, and he attempted to move back with the bundle in his arms, but one of the children, a boy, siezed his right arm, leaving only one to hold Mephi.

  They took the bag off his back, and he tilted his head curiously, wondering what they were doing.

Mephi cooed sadly, and he hushed him, patting his back.

"Ssshhh, ya habibi, mafeesh mishkila."

-----‐------------------------------------------------------------------

  All heads turned the boy's way as they watched him whisper to the demon baby in his arms. Lo'ak raised an eyebrow in confusion, turning to his dad.

"Uh, dad, am I tired or was that gibberish coming out of his mouth?"

His dad quieted him, whispering,

"Probably why he didn't answer Neytiri. He's not speaking gibberish, kid. He just doesn't know english."

Lo'ak "ohhhh"'ed quietly, watching the boy rock the baby gently. He knew humans had things like mates and stuff;he just didn't know they had them this young. The boy looked no older than Neteyam.

Jake zipped open the bag, searching for any weapons or supplies, anything that could be used to harm them. The kid was weird;and suspicious.

As he dumped the bag on the floor, however, he'd gotten even more confused.

2 baby bottles full of milk, a few pieces of cloth, to wrap on the baby's bottom, probably, the thickest book he'd ever seen, a small blanket, a water bottle, and—the weirdest of all the other ones,

A long chord rope, with a darker pouch carved into it, frizzles on each end,

And a strange, rectangular looking instrument with a gold trim on the edges.

So he was right. The kid was an absolute weirdo. A demon, sure, but a weirdo nonetheless.

Lo'ak looked to the boy, who'd stayed quiet as he clutched the little parasite to his body. He hadn't said anything, hadn't protested, but the look in his eyes told him he was annoyed.

  Lo'ak scoffed. What was he gonna do, beat them with the instrument? He could snap him in half if he wanted.

  His dad turned to the boy, attempting to decipher what language it was he had spoken. He walked over to him, bending all the way down as he stared at him, and the boy's hold on the baby tightened, eyes slightly widening.

"What'd you say your name was?"

He blinked. His eyes squinted. And Lo'ak, offended by the look he gave his father, as though he wasn't worth his time, marched over to him, snatched the collar of his shirt, and twisted it in his hands as he got in his face.

"He asked you a question, sawtute. Answer it."

His dad put his hand on his shoulder, pushing him away,

"Let him go. I got this."

Another blink from the boy.

"Naam?"

An eyebrow raise from Lo'ak, and a look of recognition from his father.

"I recognize that accent. I think he's Arab."

His father looked at him, brushing his tongue against his teeth, racking his brain for a phrase to remember.

"Esmak eh?"

The boy squinted once more as they kneeled at his left. Lo'ak rolled his eyes, groaning slightly.

His eyes brightened as though he had an idea. He turned his back to them, the baby still securely clutched in his arms.

Neytiri hissed, grabbing a knife from her waist as she approached him. Her son, Neteyam, backed her away, and Jake tried again, worried that maybe he had said something offensive.

"Esmak eh?"

One moment went by,and he could see the boy's head nod, before he turned back to look at him. He smiled, and Lo'ak was briefly taken aback by the gumminess of it.

He pointed to himself,

"Dawoud!"

Pointed to the baby,

"Mephi! Mephibosheth."

He stuck his hand out, and Lo'ak stared at it in disgust. 

"What, you got ears on the back of your head or somethin'. Why you gotta turn all the way around-"

Another empty-headed blink.

"Alright, Lo'ak, that's enough. Neteyam, bind his hands, we'll figure out what to do with him when we get out of here."

"I vote we leave him for the viperwolves-"

"Lo'ak."

He rolled his eyes, turning away. 

Neteyam walked over with a thick, netted rope, and as he went to grab the boy's arms, he moved away from him, clutching the baby tightly.

"Dad? The baby."

Jake paused for a moment, then, looking at the pile of things he'd taken out of his bag, snatched up a thick, fluffy wrap, tossing it to the boy. He gestured with his arms as he spoke.

"Wrap it around you."

As though his words had not even registered to the boy besides the arm movements, he unfolded the baby out of the blanket, laying him down for a second as he tied the wrap around his body to make a makeshift holder. He stuffed a leg in each opening, one of them, unmoving and limp, arms sticking out. And then he held out his wrists to Neteyam, looking down, hair falling into his eyes.

Neteyam bound his hands, then dragged Lo'ak out of the tent by his bare bicep.

"Bro? What now? I've got a demon to take care of."

"You're not doing anything, Lo'ak. Leave him alone."

He huffed. His brother's moral conscience annoyed him sometimes.

"I'm not going to kill him. Come onnnn. It'd be fun to, like, scare him a little. I mean, look at him."

"We have a bigger problem at hand, if you couldn't notice. Spider is missing, and dad is thinking of leaving!"

"Who is?"

 They turned to find their father staring at them, arms crossed, military stare drilling into them.

  "Uh..-nothing."

  "You're not going near the sky person."

He neared his children, cupping the back of their heads with both hands.

  "But, dad—he was with them what's the big deal!"

"That's the point, boy. For all we know that baby could be one big distraction;he'll look all cutesy to us, and then the second we let our guards down;boom, we're all dead because we couldn't resist a coupla cute kids."

He gave their heads a light smack, warning them. "We leave tomorrow, we can't stay here with this kinda target on our backs. Please, just—listen to me." His eyebrow raised, and Lo'ak knew the conversation was over. He was already in enough trouble.

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  Jake readied his family as he talked with Tarsem, a young, yet fierce warrior.

  He handed over the knife, trying desperately to ignore the tears forming at the corners of his eyes as his wife and children stood and watched. Tarsem slashed at his chest, and they nodded together, understanding each other. 

  He entered his family's home, finding the human tied up in the corner, baby wrapped to his chest. Jake would have let his guard down if he had the chance, because, well, just look at him. Anyone with a set of eyes could assume he wouldn't hurt a fly, even if it deliberately targeted him. Those stupid, deer-shaped eyes of his, combined with the long lashes, had Jake feeling slightly guilty everytime he looked at his small frame against the "wall" of the tent. The baby wasn't really helping, either.

  But then he reminded himself that he was with them.

  No matter how innocent he may have looked, he was still a witness to what those monsters had done. What they did to his family. What they planned on doing to Spider.

  And then all the guilt he'd felt, all the paternal instincts that had began to form, dissipated, and he neared him, Dawoud he called himself, yanked him up by the binding around his wrists, and took him with their family.

  He may have trusted Tarsem as chief, but he did not trust the human.

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Chapter Text

  Dawoud had begged his captives to give his stuff back, the pile in its original spot since the tall one had dumped it on the floor. He crossed his arms, towering over him, and the boy shrank in on himself, chin resting on Mephi's head.

  He just needed the milk.

  His boy hadn't drank any for a good few hours, and his fear crept up on him that he would die of starvation if he didn't feed him soon.

  He didn't know how long. Zerina had not gotten the chance to tell him.

  So as he stood in front of the tall, scary man, he desperately pointed at the baby, pinching at his cheeks softly.

  "Laban."

  And then, looking at the bottles laying on the floor behind the man, he pointed to the corner. His face seemed to have recognized what he was asking, because, reluctantly, he brought one of his sons over to watch Dawoud as he gathered the things he dropped into the boy's bag. He took the milk bottles, which had, surprisingly, not frozen, and walked over, handing the bag and bottles over to him.

  They were only a few hours old. He didn't think they would have gone bad already. He made himself a reminder to kiss the book, asking to be forgiven for the man dropping it face first on the floor.

  It didn't deserve that.

  It was hard to get the bag on him with bound hands, and so the other boy, the younger, angry one, snatched it out of his father's hand with annoyance. The man had relented, eventually, to cut his hands free for only a little so he could feed the baby. 

  And so Dawoud had watched as they packed the dragon looking creatures with supplies;clothes, food, water skins and weapons. He slowly unraveled his baby, balancing himself on his good leg, tipping him over on his back with his neck resting on his arm, and placed the tip of the bottle in his mouth. The boy hummed, a pretty psalm he had sung to his mother and father. He smiled a little at Mephi hungrily grasping at the sides of his bottle, sucking as quickly as possible. 

  His leg wiggled, toes moving in his onesie, and Dawoud couldn't help the little childish giggle coming out of him as he watched his baby. 

"Ala mahlak, ya habibi, ala mahlak! 'Ashan matetkhanneqsh."

  He whispered as Mephi paid no mind to his words, and Dawoud didn't mind his carefree attitude;he deserved it. He was only a child.

  As soon as Dawoud had stuffed the bottle in his mouth, he had finished, not leaving a single drop behind. The boy who had bound his hands walked toward him, a new corded rope in his hands as Dawoud began putting the child back into his wrap. He bound him, and then Dawoud rested his chin once more on top of Mephi, rubbing against his thin curls in comfort.

  He let himself be dragged away to one of the dragon looking creatures, and all the blue skinned people stared at each other as he stood there awkwardly.

  "Who's going to...?"

  The taller man took him by the rope around his hands, and he slid him onto the creature first, before getting on behind him. Dawoud prayed that his baby would be safe. It's not like he could hold on to him at the moment.

  They took off, and the boy quietly gasped, unconsciously, unnoticeabley, slamming his body back into the heat of the man's, deer-shaped eyes widening.

  He did not notice the man stiffen.

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Jake had to hold himself back from sliding an arm around the kid's waist to comfort him.

 Damn it, his frame was so small.

  Still, he continued flying his ikran, Bob, watching as his family surrounded him. His two sons maneuvered back and forth as they playfully argued, and he rolled his eyes, pointing at them.

"You two better stop that."

  "Sorry, dad!"They yelled in unison. He was surprised at the boy's lack of movement from the noise. His wife flew in at his right, turned away from them.

  Jake dove his ikran, and the sudden drive caused the kid to slide down, as he screamed in fear before Sully, without realizing it, wrapped his arm around his body, yanking him to his chest to keep him steady.

  He hadn't said anything about the notion that his arm still laid there, squeezing harder around the boy's abdomen to pull him closer as his head slammed back into him.

  He was only doing it so the idiot wouldn't die.

  Kiri, who'd been riding with her mother, turned to look at him, and he awkwardly grimaced as she slightly smiled at him, nodding her head.

  As the trees that were a part of their home began to disappear into the horizon, they slowly formed into flat sandy dunes, a large body of water to their right. Instead of large forests, they were swapped with palm trees, and the cool air felt less like a breeze against their faces, and more like humidity dripping down their backs.

  The boy, slightly less afraid, tilted his head away from Jake's chest, looking down at the clear turquoise waters. Everything here was green. And blue.

  It wasn't until a few minutes later that they started seeing Na'vi. But not Na'vi like them, no.

  These ones were more green than they were blue, and, if Jake squinted hard enough, they had tinier ears.

  Jake readied his family to land, and, this time, he pulled at his ikran, slowing him as they flew closer to the floor as the boy quietly panicked. He waited for everyone else to land, ignoring the feeling of his wife's eyes on him.

  He needed to learn to stop feeling this way.

  And so, as he hopped off the creature, to prove that he did not care what happened to the human boy whatsoever, he turned away from him, not caring how he got off. It didn't matter. They weren't going to keep him with them anyways.

  He heard a thud.

  His head snapped back to the boy's elbows squeezing the baby to him as he struggled to stand from his place on his knees.

  The green Na'vi gathered around them, women clutching their children, children the same height as the boy, close to them, men backing their mates away, and he realized then how awful this looked.

  His children flocked to him, and he went and snatched up the struggling human, dragging him over as he put him in the middle of the bunch, hidden from everyone else. He went back to the pose he'd been in before;head bowed low, chin on the baby's head, his thick hair hiding away his eyes and cheekbones.

  The leader, and a woman—his mate, most likely, made their way to the front, and Jake approached the man, arms open.

"I see you."

  His hand briefly touched his forehead before extending outward, and the chief nodded in acknowledgement. Tonowari, he was called. Jake turned his head to the woman, Ronal.

"I see you, Ronal, Tsahik of the Metkayina."

 She narrows her eyes.

  "Why do you come to us, Jakesuully?"

  "We seek uturu."

Ronal scoffs, raising an eyebrow as she circles them.

  "Uturu!"

  "Yes—sanctuary for my family."She laughed in mockery as Tonowari gazed at them curiously.

  "We are Reef people, you are forest people. Your skills will mean nothing here."

  "We will learn your ways."Another scoff, and Jake internally winces at each of her snips.

  She walks around the group, eyeing each of them, not yet noticing the boy hid in the midst of his family as they all tower over him. She grabs at Kiri's tail, then flicks it aside carelessly as Neytiri stares daggers into her.

  "Your tails are weak. You will be slow in the water."A few laughs ring out amongst the Metkayina, and Jake's heart punctures at his children's downward look of embarrassment.

  Ronal snatches Kiri's hand, noticing her extra finger. She turns to Lo'ak, who shoves his own behind his back. He slowly takes them out as she hisses at him.

  She snatches one, sticking it out for all to see as he lowers his head in shame,

  "These children are not even true Na'vi! They have demon blood!"Everyone gasps at the extra finger, and Neytiri's eyes widen in anger at the humiliation Ronal brings to her family. She has half a mind to grab the human and shove him to the front to be ridiculed, but holds herself.

  Jake intervenes, shoving his 5-fingered hands into their faces, "Hey, look, look at mine. I was of the sky people, but I learned their ways. We can adapt."

  Neytiri glares at her as she walks up, standing tall.

  "My husband was Toruk Makto. He led the clans to victory against the sky people. You will gain honor."

  Ronal stuck her arms out, her pregnant belly balancing her as she spoke. "This you call victory? Hiding among strangers?" She turns to Jake,

  "It seems Eywa has turned its back on you, chosen one."

A hiss out of Neytiri as both mates stare each other down, and both Jake and Tonowari awkwardly stare at each other as they wince. "I apologize for my mate, she-"

  "Do not apologize for-!"He grips her arm,

  "She is exhausted. We have flown long." He sends the chief a begging look, wanting to try anything, anything at all.

  Even if it meant bargaining the boy.

  Tonowari laid his hand on his shoulder, a look of respect.

  "Toruk Makto is a great war leader. All Na’vi people know his story." A pause, a flicker of hope lingering inside of Jake, before the Metkayina chief crushes it.

  "But we Metkayina are not at war. Death follows you wherever you go, Jakesuully. I can not let you bring your war here."

  One more shot. Just one more.

  "I'm done with war. I just want my family safe. Please."

Tonowari eyes him and his family once more—boy not yet discovered, and Neytiri answers, desperately

  "Uturu has been asked! You must shelter us—it is the Na’vi Way."

  "I know the Na'vi way!"It is silent amongst them, and as Jake picks up his youngest daughter, Tuk,

  he makes the brave, stupid decision to reveal the boy, Dawoud, to them.

  He'll use him as leverage. Anything to get them to agree. He didn't care, he didn't. Because he was still with the people who had hurt his family.

  He lightly pushed aside his children and wife as they watched him in panic, and he grasped the boy's binds as he dragged him to the front. The kid let out a quiet whine, and Jake forced himself to ignore it. Ignore the urge to wrap his arms around them both, hide them away from the very people who could quite possibly kill them for who they were.

  He tossed the boy over to the chief and his mate, watching as he landed on his knees, and everyone around them gasped, a few children screaming. 

  Tonowari's brows furrowed in anger, as men, warriors, pointed their spears at the bound boy, who was currently hunched over in fear. Ronal hissed, taking out a knife from the belt loops around her waist.

  "What is this that you have brought into our home!?"

  "Give me a moment, Tonowari. Please, can we speak alone in this matter?"They looked at each other, before the man raised his hand and signaled,

  "Everyone but my family, disperse. Safely!" 

  The child stayed bent, his elbows locking over the bundle on his chest, and Jake had noticed them shaking. In fear.

  It did not matter anymore. He wanted nothing to do with him. Not if it meant his family would be in danger for the rest of their lives.

  All that was left were Tonowari's two children, his mate, and Jake's group. Tonowari looked down at the small frame, and he spoke, with a growling voice,

"Explain. Now."

 "The sky people. They have come back-"

 "And so you decide to take one and keep it in our home?"

  "No. No I would never want you in danger. They came back. They harmed my children. They took my sons' friend. I tried to fight them off, but they are like me now. All of them. Only he was human. And I don't even know how he is able to breathe like us, I don't know what he's done, but I took him when they took their friend."

  Tonowari notices the boy inhale and exhale. So. He does breathe like them. What he could have done to achieve this, he did not know.

  "And? What do you want us to do?"

  "If you...if you house us, if you let us stay with you, keep my family here, you can do what you want with him. Anything. Whatever anger you have against the sky people, deal with him. He can be your prisoner, I don't know, just-...we want nothing to do with him. However you want to handle the human, I don't care, please, I just want my family safe."

  He exhaled, turning away as he rocked Tuk back and forth. He could see the gears in Tonowari's head turn. He hadn't said a word yet. His mate, Ronal, however, glared in anger at the boy. Her grip on the knife tightened, and one of their children, the male, smirked.

  "...Alright. My son Aon’ung and my daughter Tsireya will show you what to do."

  "Father, why do I-!"

  "It is decided. Now," as his children reluctantly leave to show them the village, only the adults are left. The boy does not move. Tonowari scoffs.

  "For a species that has evolved so far ahead, who think themselves as superior, this one is quite dumb, no?"

  He pulls him up off the ground by the rope around his wrists, inspecting him as he keeps his head lowered. Jake crosses his arms, ignoring the moral guilt pulling at his heart.

  Tonowari, in all kindness to his people and outsider Na'vi, cannot bring himself to feel for the comically small boy. He bends down all the way, looking him up and down, turning him this way and that. He looks at the bundle, the wrap around his chest, curious at the bulkiness. Curious as to why the boy's elbows tighten on the sides of it.

  Instead of slightly pulling it away, or perhaps peeking at what was inside, because a sky person did not deserve his softness, he rips at it, ignoring the boy's sudden scream of protest as the object drops to the ground.

  The baby had been sleeping when he fell from the safety of his chest.

  And Dawoud, with bound hands, just barely catches him by the collar of his onesie, hooking a finger from his other hand around it again.

  The sudden wailing out of the child shocks all of them as the human attempts to rock it with swollen wrists.

  "Two?"

  "Tonowari, it's a baby. It can't even walk."

  "It is his?"

  "Well, I assume so." The chief yanks him up again as he stays bent down, and Jake, reluctantly, takes the child out of his struggling hands, even as he whines, attempting to reach for it.

  He turns him, patting him for weapons, anything that could be used to harm his people. And when there isnt anything besides the bag dropped on the floor, his large hand clutches the boy's jaw, ignoring the gasp of pain. Even then he refuses to face him. Everytime Tonowari tries to fully get a look at his face, he turns it away.

  And that stupid, strange looking hair of his isn't helping him either.

  He tilts his face with his hand, and the other brushes away the lengthy curls caressing at his cheek bones. His eyes, Tonowari notices, are unnaturally large for a human. Not thin, or wrinkly, or unhealthy, either. A perfect mask of innocence.

  "I assume you are proud of those eyes, demon."

He digs a clawed finger just beneath his eye, watching him squirm,

"It would be a shame if anything were to happen to them." He squeezed the boy's jaw tightly, pulling him down to where he kneeled, and, in assumption that all of his people spoke the same language, with his limited knowledge,

  "Do not expect my kindness, not after the damage you and your kind have caused us. May you and your cursed child rot."

  The boy remained unblinking, with only watery tears at the corner of his eyes from the stinging pain of his claws digging into his cheeks. He pulled at him, growling,

  "Is this your way of defiance? Answer me! What is it you have done to deserve my hospitality?"

  And, because Dawoud, the child, had never really been taught to mask his tears, to mask his sadness, as a boy, because all he had ever known was the Psalm of lament, of that man's tears being kept in a bottle by Elohi, the story of each tear dripping from the Stealer of Hearts being delivered as prayers to Him,

he wept.

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  Tonowari could not, at the moment, grasp the feeling of shock at the water dripping onto his hand from the demon's eyes. 

  He supposed raising his voice would be enough to scare any child, but it showed how truly weak this one was.

  Here he lay, crying and whimpering like a baby, when, possibly hours ago, he relished in the murder and destruction of his people.

  How pitiful. 

  He felt a hand on his shoulder, finding Jake at his side.

  "Uhm..., Tonowari? I should have mentioned that he does not understand that language. He is from a different region."

He paused.

  "How do I ask him his name?"

  "His name is-"

  "No. I want him to say it. How do I ask?"

"Say, 'esmak eh'. He should be able to understand." Tonowari moved his head around, feeling the words on his tongue. 

  "Esmak eh?"

  Nothing. No answer, no pause, just more weeping, the sobs becoming more desperate. He smacked his face a few times, because he wanted to humiliate him. He deserved to be humiliated.

  His mate, seething at the disrespect and childish tantrum he had shown the chief, stormed over to them, grabbing him by the ear.

  "How dare you? He is showing you more kindness than you deserve. Answer him!"She pulled, twisting it as she scrunched it into her hands, albeit more aggressively than when she would scold her children, which, instead of causing the boy to quiet, to relent, only earned them more tears, and a painful, high pitched yell.

  He pulled away from Tonowari's grip, thrashing as he whined loudly, crying out while Ronal pulled harder.

  Were they all this dramatic?

  He lifted his bound hands, attempting to pull the hand gripping his left ear off of him, the tears never ending. The boy dragged and dragged, no use to a woman three feet taller than him with hands the size of his face. For the more he pulled, the more pain it produced.

  The demon, acting like a rabid animal, twisted, shoving at her hands, before she squeezed harder, causing his screaming to increase.

  "Bi-yewgaa! Please, bi yewgaa!"

  And Tonowari, exhausted with his whining, exhaled,

  "Ronal."

  Jake interjected, his hand on her arm lightly,

  "Wait! Okay, look, can I check him? I think something's wrong." He looked pleading, but Ronal kept the boy's ear in her grasp as he begged her in a language neither understood.

  "Please."

  Reluctantly, she let go, and he dropped to the ground with a smack to the head, as Jake lowered himself to inspect the ear she'd grabbed. The skin was turning red and angry with pressure. But it seemed Toruk Makto had found something else.

"Look."

  He picked the boy up, baby still in his grasp, gently sticking out his left ear, and Tonawari found that the end of it was missing. It looked torn completely, the scarring ugly and poorly healed. There was a small hole on the side of it.

  "Crap. That must be why he couldn't hear us in the forest."

  "...what do you mean?"

  "We tried asking for his name, and when he wouldn't answer us I thought he was just offended when he turned around. Turns out the kid's partially deaf. He just can't hear you when you speak on the left side of him."

  Tonowari stared at the boy, who had taken to shoving himself against Jake, hiding his face away. Ronal scoffed, rolling her eyes. Neytiri stayed in her place, a few feet away from her husband.

  "Are you sympathizing with this demon? They have made many of our people worse than deaf. Much worse."

  "I know. Look, just, do what you want with him. But he will answer you. If you need me to translate for you, I can."

  The boy curled further against Jake's chest as he held the baby in his arm, and he paid no mind as he spoke directly to the Metkayina chief and Tsahik. 

  Tonowari turned to his mate,

  "Get me the Warrior, Tso'hari. He'll take him."

  She left, a bitter look at the boy as she went and summoned for the warrior.

  The chief stood, and Jake, with a struggle as the boy shoved his face deeper into him, did the same, prying him off as gently as he was able.

  "I owe you my life from now on, Tonowari."

  They looked at each other, a deep understanding. The man in question looked to the boy, a deep hatred settling within him.

  "May he bring no trouble to you, Jakesuully."

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Chapter Text

"...Tifli."

  Jake paused for a moment as they waited for the warrior to make himself known, and he looked down to find the boy whispering over and over again.

  "Tifli?"

  The boy pointed to the baby in his arms, who had taken to whining and cooing angrily as Jake had attempted to console him. Oh. So that's what that word meant. He let the boy go for a moment, picking up the wrap Tonowari had torn off him, and doing his best to tie it back around the boy.

  He bent down all the way, placing the baby on the floor, hoping it wouldn't fall. And, though he had been a father for seventeen years, awkwardly tied the wrap in the way he had assumed the kid had it as before. He shoved the baby inside, Mephi, Dawoud called him, poking out the limbs, and the bound boy immediately locked his elbows around it.

  Tso'hari came into view, and Jake had noticed that, unlike many of their own skilled warriors, this man somehow managed to tower over even him. He had to slightly tilt his head up to look at him, and he wondered, briefly, if he should pity the boy.

  Tonowari motioned to him, and, as though he was nothing more than supplies to be carried, Tso'hari snatched the kid by the rope around his wrists, ignoring the cry of surprise he let out, dragging him deeper into the village.

  'You better not do anything stupid, kid.'

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  Dawoud had never felt more afraid as the extremely tall man—taller than all the other tall men, took him by the rope around his hands, for Mephi had not been perfectly secure. And so he lagged behind as he attempted to fight against his grip, simultaneously steadying his baby.

  "Tifnu!"

  These people spoke a different language, not english, even, so it's not like he was familiar with the wording whatsoever. It was a wonder how he managed this far without a breakdown—oh wait.

  The village, he assumed, was beautiful. The people in it were as well. Men and women, well, females and males, walked around bare clothed, with nothing more than beaded covers and loin cloths protecting them. And, because Dawoud was raised to never disrespect a woman, he had learned to keep his head down the moment he had met the fierce female in that forest, Neytiri.

  And so he did so, here, as well. But, he felt safer as he hid his face, he felt less fear than if he were to look up and find all eyes directed at him. And his child. Mephi had never deserved any of this. He had never deserved to be put in that cold tube alongside with him. He hadn't deserved to be thrown out to punish the boy, hadn't deserve to suffocate in the open air, as Dawoud, was forced to watch his skin turn pale blue, before they pulled him in mere seconds from death.

  It wasn't fair.

  It wasn't fair that Dawoud had hoped the gift given to him by Řąpĥ‐---meant they could be free, only to be taken multiple steps back to the beginning. It wasn't fair that Mephi now had to suffer permanently for what they did to him with the cold tube.

  He would never be able to walk again. Not ever. And Dawoud mourned the day that he found out.

  He would never be able to celebrate his first steps. They made sure to take that away from him.

  His thoughts diminished as he felt a harsh yank against his binds, feeling the burn on his wrists, and he looked up to the tall man standing in front of a strange looking hut. It seemed like one of their homes at first, before he was pulled towards it. He was dragged inside, thrown onto the floor as he landed on his back, shushing his baby before he could start crying, and the creature went in after him.

  The man took out a knife, and for a moment Dawoud panicked, fearing what they would have done to him. What they could have done to Mephi. As he closed his eyes, however, he felt the binds being cut free, and he opened them, finding dark, purplish bruises and irritated skin around the skin. Instead of massaging them, he immediately took to cradling the child tied to him, rubbing his back.

  Before he could comfort Mephi, however, the man gripped his wrist, specifically the bruise, and Dawoud hissed as he was dragged on the floor and tossed into a corner. He pointed at him, then pointed at the spot he'd been thrown in, before turning to the entrance, slamming the strange looking door shut, and he heard banging on it. And then there was nothing more than silence.

  Dawoud waited only a few moments, then, standing as best he could with a wobbly right leg, he took himself to the entrance, wondering if it would open. He pushed at it. 

  Nothing.

  At least his hands were free. At least they would stop dragging him to and fro.

  He unraveled the wrap around the boy, picking him up and balancing him on his arm as he calmed him. Mephi gurgled, cooing angrily as his leg hit Dawoud's elbow over and over. He pushed him, bouncing him in an attempt to calm him down.

  There was only one bottle left. If he gave it to him now, Mephi would wake in the night, and Dawoud would have to deal with his crying throughout the evening hours with no sleep. However, if he gave it to him a few hours later when they were supposed to be asleep, Dawoud could fit in a few hours of rest before having to deal with him.

  It was a worse thing, now, however, that the hut began to reek as he bounced him. Dawoud looked at Mephi, and his angry little face, before switching to a brief realization that he needed to be changed.

  "Oh."

  His bag laid on the floor, and, being careful where he put his hand as he carried Mephi with him, zipped it open and found a wrap to put around his bottom, before opening his onesie and getting him changed.

  That a few hours later, as the night began to show, and no one had arrived to explain anything to him, not even to bring the boy food, had Dawoud realized he had not eaten for over a day. He could deal with that. He worried most for Mephi, however.

  He would rest his eyes for only a few moments, he told himself. And then he would figure out what to do later.

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"Mephi!"

  He winced at the twist in his arm as 2 men held him back. No matter how hard he would try, it was no use in trying to save his baby, who was currently laid outside in the strange forest they were brought to. He was just there. On the ground. Like a corpse. The fear in his heart overtook him, and he pulled and pulled at the restraining arms grabbing him. They all laughed as they watched him struggle, laughed as they watched the baby slowly suffocate out in the poisonous air.

  It was his fault. He should have never talked back to them. Should have never gotten so angry.

  He turned to one of the men, the one who spoke poor Arabic, begging him,

  "A'shan khaat'ri! Seebni arooh ma'a el nono beta'i!"

  "Please. Please."

  The man laughed, walking over to him as he gripped his chin,

  "You really wanna go?"

  And the boy, having been near him with his right side, nodded frantically.

  "Shoulda learned to listen, kid. Now, I'm asking you one more time:where can you see Jake Sully?"

  They'd been over this for days, as it turned out. Dawoud did not know who that man was, and every time they had forced him to "see" him. But he just could not understand what they wanted from him. And so, in his native language, he cried out for the hundredth time,

  "I don't know who that is I told you!" His chin was gripped harder as he began to hyperventilate, because his baby was going to DIE if he didn't go out right now.

  The man bunched his hair, his eyes becoming visible, and he yelled out,

  "Liar. You wanna go out and die with that little parasite? Fine."

  And he motioned to the ones holding him, before they opened the door to the strange dome, tossing him out as he landed a few feet away from the boy, who, at the moment, began to match the color of the blue creatures. Dawoud dragged himself to Mephi, cradling him in his arms as he lightly pat his cheek, panicking.

  "M-mephi?... Mephi! Mephi, a'shan khaat'ri, ya habibi! Khod nafas, Mephi!"

  The boy shook the limp baby's body in his arms, and, such that he could not for the life of him control his emotions, began screaming.

  Sobs wracked his body as he rested his head against the child, clutching him close to his chest. 

  "Yalla, Mephi! Yalla!"

  He kissed his cheek, not caring for the tears dripping down his own and onto his boy, his lips feeling the cold skin.

"Choneni, Adonai. Choneni!" 

  And, before Dawoud could beg Mephi any longer, he released a cough, choking on his breath. He began to hyperventilate as he felt his airways cut off, and he panicked, wondering if he would end up dead alongside his child.

  As he hunched over with the baby pulled close to his chest, he felt a hand in his hair as he flinched.

A haunting voice spoke before him.

  "Why do you fear, keshah? Is not Elohi with you?"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Dawoud awoke to a child's scream approximately two hours into his rest, and he rolled off the makeshift cot, finding Mephi wiggling a foot away from him as he wailed.

  Oh. Right.

  He must have fallen asleep and forgotten, because Dawoud could see no daylight peaking out of the little, barely there, cracks of the hut he was thrown into.

  Rubbing his face and running a hand through his tangled curls, Dawoud stood, picking the baby up off the ground and rocking him with his head rested onto his shoulders. 

  "Hush, Mephi, hush." The boy was concerned for him, but he was even more distraught of being found out, of disturbing those in their village. He had no idea how far his cries went, and so he began walking around the open space in circles, bouncing him on his arm.

  As the baby wailed throughout the night, it was then that Dawoud remembered the last bottle, and he rummaged through his back as he attempted to quiet Mephi's cries. He uncapped the top, discarding the worry that it may not have been fresh;it was still food. 

  To Dawoud, he prayed it wouldn't make him sick, he'd had to deal with his fevers before. Before they were taken.

  As he tilted him back, shoving the tip into his mouth as he bounced him once more, Dawoud whispered sweet words of encouragement in attempts to calm him.

  "Mafeesh haga, ya ibni, mafeesh haga. Yalla."

  He allowed himself a small smile, watching the boy with the chubby cheeks gurgle happily, kicking his leg out in excitement. Dawoud tickled at his face, whispering with a goofy little giggle,

  "Enta 'aabelha, mish kidda? Ya SooSoo, ya habibi enta!"

  As they rocked back and forth, Dawoud humming a psalm, his worries began to creep in. It was the boy's last bottle, and he doubted the people here were going to feed them. He had no understanding of their language, but he didn't think they liked him or Mephi.

  He looked to the door of the hut, wondering if he would be able to get it open. He feared for only a second of getting caught by them. It may have very well meant death for him and his baby. But he needed to try. He would not escape, would not ask for help, but he would at least try and find any animal that could provide milk, if they had that thing here.

  Dawoud looked to his bag, the corded shepherd's sling sticking out;he would not kill any of the animals, but if he could get milk out of them, that was all he needed.

  His thoughts cut off as he felt something hit his shoulder, and he found the boy holding his empty bottle, banging it against him as he squirmed in annoyance. 

  "Ana a'arf, ya habibi, ana a'arf."

  He hushed him briefly, making up his mind as he picked up the sling, approaching the door. He peaked through the little cracks, grateful it was still night.

  Dawoud pushed at it once more as it stayed put. He huffed, spinning around, looking for an exit. Any opening.

  It was a short 5 minutes before his hope began to diminish, and then he had looked up at the top of the hut, quietly gasping.

  In the far corner of the top, light peeked through. A hole, just about able to fit Mephi. It could be bigger if Dawoud could bend it, if only a little.

  Before he had formed a plan, however, Dawoud had changed out of his clothes;his bag had the ones from before he was taken. They were six years old, and every time he looked at them he felt like he wanted to cry, but he held himself, changing as he set the boy down.

  He'd only had them so he could change into something more comfortable after-

  The light tunic felt horrifyingly familiar, the green stitching around the collar reminding him of his mother. He had not grown an inch since he was taken, and he'd become thinner so now the clothing was barely filled out. He took the green cloth garment he would regularly wear in the fields, wrapping it loosely around his waist, before picking up Mephi, tying him to his chest. He grabbed the shepherd sling, hooking it around his waist.

  Now he just needed to get up.

  This would have been easier if he were one of them.

  The walls of the hut were made of mud, grooves in each layer, and so, as a once skilled sheep keeper, and a good tree climber if he had to say so, he braced the boy around him as he clutched the bricks.

  His bare feet dragged across the material, but he paid no mind to the burning in his skin while he climbed. Mephi cooed, and he shushed him, sweat dripping down his back even in the coolness of the night. 

  Dawoud had spent 15 minutes dragging himself up before he eventually made it to the hole in the roof. And, in a stupid moment of adrenaline, worry for his baby, and his own hunger, he bashed his head against the top of the hole.

  Once with his head. Another with his elbow as he dangled, his nimble leg screaming out with phantom pain. Then once more with his fist.

  A piece of it, barely a few inches tall, broke off, and he gasped in excitement as he tore it off.

  "Ya Adonai!"

  Dawoud continued, grasping the sharp edge with the piece had originally been attached, and he yanked as hard as he could, feeling shards tear off, a few sticking into the skin of his palm.

  In a split second of fear and anxiousness he tore at it desperately, for even a few more minutes as the baby stared in curiosity. Until the hole could fit his waist through.

  He shouted quietly in excitement, giggling as he kissed at Mephi's curls, before grasping the ends of the hole, lifting his body weight as legs stuck out in the air, sliding in.

  Catching himself before he could fall off and get them both killed, Dawoud looked down, bracing himself. He'd never been afraid of heights, really, but it was never like he had a reason to. Whispering reassurance, he grasped the edge of the roof, before catching his leg on the groove of the walls, clawing at the mud. One step and then multiple after.

  It was the worst pain, then, as he stood a few feet from the ground before falling off as he landed on his left ankle, hissing at the sting. It would swell later, but for now, with two bad legs, he staggered around, searching for any isolated areas that would carry animals.

  The sand was wet and cold against his skin as he snuck, arms wrapping tightly around the boy as he shielded him from the cool air. It would be thirty minutes before he came across a creature, and he gasped, hiding behind a palm tree—or, what he assumed was one.

  Its feline-like body scared him, but he saw, on its chest, that it may have been some sort of mammal, and so, clenching his shaking hands, he took up a stone, waiting for it to slow its walk, before he spun it, the whoosh or the chord grating against his ears as he launched it into the air, directing it at the neck of the animal.

  And, because he had spend nine years of his life guarding his baba's sheep, the stone lodged itself into the neck of the animal, and he panicked, running towards it as it fell to the ground with a growl.

  Now what. 

  The teat of the animal stuck out as he bent on his knees, and, with the bottles he had remembered to bring thankfully, he pet its fur, feeling guilty in the slightest for being so harsh with her.

  "Forgive me. Sorry, friend."

  Dawoud didn't know if these animals were milked the same way the ones back at home were. He remembered being nine, horrified as his father stood with him pinching the teat of the sheep as he held a bucket.

  But this was not a sheep. This was not even an animal he had ever seen in his life.

  Yet still, he attempted, grabbing the teat with his fingers, the open bottle right under it as she lay on her side with a heavy breathe. And squeezed.

  Dawoud did not know how long he had kept pinching at her skin, but he was beginning to feel frustrated. The harder he squeezed, the more hope he lost in ever finding his baby any food, and he began to mourn for him. He ignored the tightness in his throat, refusing to cry.

  "Ya-LLA! Ashan khatri, arhamni ya Allah!"

  He shook at the animal gently, letting go as he clenched his fist.

"La-ah. La-ah."

  He rubbed at his face with both hands as he slid his fingers into his hair, eyes burning. He exhaled, before relenting to try once more, and then he would give up.

  He pinched at it, harsh and grating as he stared into the eyes of the tired animal, brushing at her fur gently, pinched harder than he could imagine as he whispered pleading words. 

  A few droplets fell out, and his eyes widened, tears welling up in relief.

  He pushed the bottle up against the body of the animal, squeezing as hard as he could, watching the milk dribble into it, and he let himself feel, let the sobs of relief release from him quietly as the bottle, very, painfully, began to fill up.

  Mephi cooed loudly, an exclamation of annoyance, and Dawoud hushed him kindly as he rested his chin against his curls briefly, kissing at them for comfort.

  He did not care, nor would he ever, that filling up both of the bottles took two full hours of his time, and sleep, watching Mephi close his eyes in rest. He did not let any of the bottle go to waste, filling it to the very top, careful not to let any dribble out. 

  The sun, he assumed, began to peak through, and he stuffed the bottles securely into the wrap Mephi currently took refuge in as he slept. 

  The animal had somehow managed to live with the stone just barely sticking out of her neck, and, feeling guilty and horrible for using her, he gently began pulling it out, petting through her fur to calm her.

  He was lucky it was not deep to the point of death, nothing more than a horrible graze. Yet still, the blood, though not frequent, shown through. The wrap Mephi was in was quite thick, and so he tore a small strip from his tunic, patting at her wound.

  He had only dealt with wounds on his sheep, but he tried. Dawoud took the strip, wrapping it around her neck, not tight that she would choke, but not loose that she would bleed out and die. Or become infected.

  And when he had finished, he scratched her chin, nuzzled her face as he kissed it in apology, and ran.

  It was worse getting back in than it was getting out, the burn of his left ankle and the uselessness of his right did not help. But he was so very afraid of being caught that he could not care as he slid back into the hole, his fall easier with the deeper grooves on the inside.

  As he rested against the wall, however, Dawoud noticed how strange the roof looked with a large hole in it. He began to stress, worried their tall stature would allow them to see it, and so, grabbed another wrap, climbed back up and shoved it out in attempts to lay it flat and cover up the hole.

  It would have to do, for now.

  Dawoud laid on the floor, exhausted with sleep. He would have to do this every night. Had Mephi been any younger, he would have been dead without a third bottle.

  Dawoud could not wait until he was older.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Chapter Text

  Jake stood on the Ilu with Tonowari, attempting as best as possible to pay attention to his instructions of riding. 

  He knew now how big of a mistake it was to have let them do whatever with the boy. He had not seen him, had not even seen any Metkayina go into where they kept him to, at the very least, bring him food.

  And now there was a twinge of pain in his chest. Of guilt, maybe, at leaving him in the lion's den to be ruined.

  And perhaps it had to do with the kid's stupidly innocent face. And it wasn't like the baby attached to him made it any damn better.

"-...do not pull at its fin, it is better to-are you even listening?" He pulled himself out of his thoughts as he felt Tonowari's stare burn into him, and he attempted to mask his surprise, snapping back into focus.

  "Yeah, yeah, I apologize, Tonowari."

  They looked at each other for a few moments, Tonowari's gaze scrutinizing as Jake's eyes wandered everywhere but at him, uncomfortable as he resisted squirming around.

  The Metkayina chief hummed, "You have not been talkative much since that demon was restrained. Would you like to say anything?"

  "No. Everything is fine. You-..you, did the right thing."

  Tonowari stared at it him once more, before dismissing the conversation.

  "Good. Now, this Ilu is not like your Ikran, Jakesuully. You cannot simply grab at its fin and twist it this way and that for your travel. The key is balance. And one hand."

  He zipped through the water, and Jake, feeling the boost of confidence, connected his queue to the Ilu, watching as Tonowari spun back to him.

  "You sure you got it? Be careful."

  "Yeah, 'course I do. Come on, come on."

  He had made it a few feet forward before being launched up into the water, groaning as he heard Tonowari's laughter.

  "The great Toruk Makto cannot even ride an Ilu?"As he came up to him, helping Jake balance himself, he playfully shoved Tonowari, turning back and jumping onto the body of the Ilu.

  "I'll show you Toruk Makto."

  It was then a few hours later, as the sun began to dim, that Jake gathered with the villagers, grouping with his family around a fire. It had been 2 days since they had taken the boy, and he tried not to let his worry of them starving brim to the surface.

  Neytiri sat beside him, a bowl in her hands as she ate. Tuk sat in between his legs, chewing loudly as she excitedly rambled on to Neteyam and Lo'ak, the latter rolling his eyes and mocking her every chance he got.

  Jake looked at Kiri, isolated from the rest of their family, and he stood, handing Tuk off to her mom, seating himself besides her.

  He felt horrificly awkward at the silence between them, her face turned away from him in annoyance.

  "What's wrong, hon?"He watched as her eyes lifted up to him, staring daggers into him.

  "Nothing."Jake playfully knocked his shoulder against hers, pinching her cheek as she huffed.

  "Those googly eyes say otherwise, ya know."

  "Whatever."He caressed her hair, tucking one of her braids behind her ear, and she loosened the stiffness in her shoulders a little, and she eased into him as she laid her head onto his shoulder.

  "Everything is going to be okay, I promise you."And Kiri hummed, eyes fluttering open and closed.

  Jake's throat clogged as the sky began to dim, but it was too late.

  Tonowari would most likely have kicked them all out had he known of Jake's concern for the boy. It didn't matter anymore. They were as good as dead.

  Yes. It didn't matter.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

  "...and he arose and came to his father. But when he was still a great way off, his father saw him and had compassion, and ran and fell on his neck, and kissed him..."

  Dawoud read from the book in his hands, his light voice a quiet whisper amongst the darkness of the hut as he rocked his baby with his knee, the hum of his vocals bringing him to sleep.

  They rested together against the wall, while Dawoud attempted to bring them both warmth with his body. Mephi shivered from the cool air, and he shook him, and he continued reading. It was dark out, but he had heard voices and laughter coming from outside the door, and so he had occupied himself by reading to Mephi.

  He wondered, briefly, what they were laughing about. If they were all having fun, goofing with each other, or play fighting like him and his brothers used to do.

  That is the past now, he thought to himself.

  Even still, it was not a wrong thing for a boy, a man, albeit a very young one, to mourn for what he would no longer have.

  Mephi hit his wrist against Dawoud's chest, and he coughed in surprise, rubbing at the boy's skin in an attempt to warm him.

  The day they had come here, he had never felt such humidity. And now, it had felt as though they were in the northern regions. Mephi's skin was cold to the touch, and he squeezed him tightly, breathing onto the boy. Dawoud knew he would need more milk. He also knew, however, that the boy would need more than 2 bottles a day. He could not handle hearing him cry throughout midday in his hunger, and so he waited 1 more hour.

  Until everyone's voices had quieted down, the light of the fires leaving. Dawoud slid his arms out of his tunic, pulling it down just enough that the boy's body was against his skin, hoping the heat of his own could transfer onto him;he'd remembered watching Zerina, in her exhaustion, lay Mephi as a newborn on her bare skin, because it was 'important' for a mother, she had said.

  He did not know if it were the same for men, but he tried anyway, tying the boy to his bare skin, and stuffing the bottles into his tunic. He grabbed a few of the wraps he would use as a makeshift diaper, hoping to make some kind of bottle, or at the very least thick enough to hold more milk, and then he climbed.

  His foot burned much less, finding the fall easier than his last.

  And he traced his steps back to where he'd last found the animal. Did they travel in packs, perhaps?

  He wandered around like a lost creature, occasionally bouncing his baby, who was currently snuggled in his fallen tunic, against his skin.

  Before he could wander any further, however, Dawoud paused, a surge of pain exploding throughout his head, colors appearing in the air. He wobbled, catching himself as he held in his nausea. He had not eaten for a few days, after all. Yet still, he persisted, determined to feed Mephi no matter what.

  The boy carried on, the occasional piercing headache shocking him as he searched for another of the felines. He deemed her milk safe, for as soon as he had gotten back, he drank about a spoonful;he did not know if everything edible here would poison them, and so he tested it on himself before giving it to Mephi.

  It was absolutely disgusting, but 3 hours later and it still had no effect on him, and Mephi was okay, and so he continued on, hoping to find another. The baby curled against his skin released a whine, on the verge of a cry, and Dawoud shushed him for a moment, rocking him as he went.

"Estanna shwaya kamaan, ya ruhi."

  He heard a growl, turning as he hid against a tree. As he readied his sling, he found a feline, just like the one he had struck the night before, sighing in relief.

  The wrap around her neck was familiar. The same one from yesterday? His eyes widened, dropping the sling, and he watched, sitting still, as she came up to him, staring into him. Dawoud wondered if she came to kill him for harming her. He wouldn't blame the feline.

  Instead however, she neared his face, licking him as a paw dug into his shoulder, and he gasped at the contact, grasping the baby close so as to not harm him.

  He squirmed under her at the wetness of her tongue, before she stopped, looked around, and then promptly flopped onto his legs, turning herself over with her belly facing the sky. Dawoud froze, confused. Did she know?

  And, careful not to startle her, he slid his legs from under her body, then took out the wraps he'd planned on forming some sort of milk carrier out of.

  His mother had taught him how to weave, but he wasn't sure how to go about this situation. He held up a cloth, feeling the material.

  Not quite thick, but not thin either. Stretching it, Dawoud heard a slight tear;this was Mephi's diaper?

  Weaving was made with multiple pieces, tall, wide or thin, but not short.

  If he could-

  Yes. That would work.

  He tore at it, trying his best to make it as rectangular as possible. The first wrap formed into 6 strips of cloth. As the feline growled quietly, he scratched at her belly for a few seconds before beginning to work each strip into the other.

  The memory of his mami's hands on his own hurt his throat, and he pushed it away, weaving the straps together. It was then a little smaller than its original form, yet its thickness proved useful, and Dawoud cheered quietly as he folded it in on itself, forming a pocket like shape.

  The ground was filled with dead palms from the trees, and he took a thin one, hooking it through the edges of the makeshift pack. He took another one, just to make sure.

  One made, a few more to go.

  It was an hour into weaving that he had finished six of them, and satisfied with the amount, he turned to the feline, slowly petting her belly as she purred. He took out a bottle first, pinching her teat once more, knowing how much longer it would take to get 6 more. One hour and the first bottle had filled. One more as he got the 2nd bottle. The six had taken thirty minutes each, and he took breaks in between, slapping at his cheeks in an attempt to keep himself awake.

  If it meant keeping Mephi alive, Dawoud would lose all his sleep if he had to.

  Six hours into his work, and Dawoud had just been about ready to collapse of hunger and exhaustion. The makeshift bottles barely dripped, and he shoved them all into his tunic to prevent more leakage, the lukewarmth pressing against Mephi's leg. Luckily the boy was asleep, and as the sun began rising once more, Dawoud thanked the animal, and began running back to the hut. 

"Goodbye, friend."

  His legs burned as he fell through the roof, covering it back with the cloth.

  It was just in time, in fact, seeing as Mephi had awoken, screaming and wailing as Dawoud bounced him, shoving a bottle into his mouth.

  "Hush, Mephi, hush."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Lo'ak stood in the water alongside his siblings, watching as Tsi'reya and Ao'nung began their lesson.

  Tsi'reya, the pretty girl, motioned with her arms to breathe, inhaling and exhaling, and he blinked as his brother mimicked her. Tuk giggled as she drew a breathe, huffing. Kiri, however, stood off to the side, rolling her eyes. Lo'ak felt a hand on his chest,

  "When you are ready, fill your lungs, stay calm, and dive-"

  Tuk dives into the water, followed by Lo'ak and Neteyam. He tries for as long as he can to hold his breathe, watching Tuk cause chaos as she flows through. Kiri swims by, barely struggling as she dives deeper. He watches Tsireya join them, Aonung close by with a smug look on his face. What a twat. 

  Her hands signal, and he squints, his airways slowly closing in on itself. Aonung rolls his eyes as he signs, and she smacks him in the arm, turning to the forest siblings.

  Rotxo leads them along reefs, bioluminescence and plants as Tuk passes through excitedly. They feel strange against his skin.

  It is a few more seconds before Lo'ak begins to struggle, legs wobbling as he climbs back up to the surface. He takes a deep breath of air, Tuk and Neteyam's heads popping up, Tsireya and Aonung coming up a few moments later.

  They begin to swim back to land, and Loak ignores the condescending remarks the boy makes at him;he couldn't find himself around in their forest if he tried.

  It is ten minutes later when they all sit around in a circle, Tsireya calmly instructing their lungs.

  He inhales too quickly, coughing as he feels her hand against his diaphragm, ignoring Neteyam's teasing look.

  "The way of water has no beginning, and no end."

  Exhale.

  She soon drops a shell into the water, and she gestures to him, watching as he dives in.

  Even as his breathe began to slow, he pushed out his legs further as he dove deeper in, finding the shell at the bottom. It took him 1 minute to dive in and out.

  At least he cut the timing in half from his last attempt.

  Loak sat by Neteyam that night as they ate. Their family were isolated a good space away from the Metkayina. The silence between them was horrifically awkward.

  "Soo...anyone been catching your eye, lately?"

  Loak, caught off guard by the suddeness of his question, choked on his food as he coughed.

  "What? No, why would you think that? Weirdo."

  "I never insinuated anything. How do you know what I meant by it?"

  "Shut up."Loak shoved at his shoulders, turning away from him as he began to laugh. He shoveled food into his mouth, paying no mind to his brother's laughter ringing in the air.

  "Do you think that sky person is still alive? We have not seen him since we got here."

  "Why does it matter? He's as good as dead, and good riddance."

  Loak believed he was right;that human was with them when they took Spider. It was him that ruined his home, his family. He destroyed their peace.

  It was he that deserved to be called a demon, not him.

  "...I suppose, yeah. But, don't you think he's sorta, well...ya know?"

  "No. Are you okay?" He dodged his brother's hand that had been an inch away from the back of his head, chewing.

  "He looked so sad all the time. And he's kind of adorable, don't you think?"Loak released a noise of disgust, glaring at Neteyam.

  "Dude. Seriously? No!"

  "Oh come on. You can't deny it, just look at him! The poor boy looked like a kicked baby viperwolf-"

  "-viperwolves are ugly!"

  "No they're not! You seriously don't see it?"

  "He's a little demon, and his parasite."

  "The baby? Bro, that's what makes it cuter! Just look at his chubby little face-"

  "That blood sucking vermon looks like it eats Na'vi kids for breakfast-"

  "Are you kidding me right now? That little guy? Just look at his eyes. They're huge!"

  "Awww you think I'm cute? My eyes are big and pretty as well-"

  "Yours are bug-eyed and crusty. At least his make him look all sad and innocent. They remind me of hers."

  "Tsi'reya's?"

  It was quiet for a moment, before Loak cupped a hand to his mouth turning away from him. His brother hooked his arm around his neck, laughing.

  "I never said anything about Tsireya-"

  "Shut up!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------

 5 days later

  Tonoawari weaved through the palms as his wife sat a few feet away from him with her medicinal concoctions.

  The woman stressed herself beyond belief, making sure her work for the day was perfection down to the bone. It did not matter what her husband protested, that it was bad for the baby, bad for her.

  "Have things been settled with the Suully family?"

  He looked up at his wife, weaving in the next palm.

  "They have been...fast learners. Most of them."She hummed, shaking a vial as she grabbed a bottle of palm leaves.

  "They disappoint me."

  "Ronal-"

  She snapped her head around, beady eyes drilling into him as she slammed the vial down.

  "Look what they have brought into our home. They have endangered us, they have endangered our family."

  Tonowari sighed, because, he knew that they were indirectly in danger;as soon as they had brought that demon here everyone was as good as dead.

  They had no idea what he would do, what he could do.

  "And that is why the boy is not with us. He has been isolated. There is no possible way he could even get out. Just look at him."He had barely noticed, but the human was well built, and not in a good way. He smelled so horrendous, his clothes were stained in blood, and his wrists were unbelievably dainty and thin compared to his biceps. The clothing he wore hung off him, and his collarbone was indented, like cradles.

  He was tinier than them, that was for sure, but even so he managed to look as sick as he were healthy.

  And his hair was abysmal;the sky people he had once rarely interacted with were of certain stature, but their hair was always wet with gel like consistencies. 

  So were they all this filthy?

  "I do not trust him. His whining frustrates me, and his face makes me want to hurt him."

  "I know, Ronal, I know. He is not pleasing, that is for sure."The boy's crying were of the uttermost annoyance for him, this week was a peace compared to that day.

  He had not heard from the boy, and Tso'hari did not report to him;he was not checked up on. It wasn't like he wanted to feed him.

  Let them both rot. Tonowari would watch on with pleasure.

  He continued his weaving. The sons of Jake were very impatient, at least, the younger ones.

  "Lo'ak does not like to listen. Kiri wanders off and seems to hate everything, Tuk plays too much, and Neteyam is...he is okay. He simply takes too much responsibility for their mistakes."

  "I pay them no mind. They are of demon blood-"

  "But they are still Na'vi."

  It was quiet for the rest of the night, and as he finished up, and his mate got up steadily to go eat, the curtain burst open to their son, Aonung, panting heavily as he leaned against the wall.

  "Aonung?"

  "It is... it is... Tso'hari!"

  "What? What is wrong? Has something happened?"

  "That...that boy! The demon...-he, he was found wandering outside! An animal-"

  Their son did not finish his sentence before his parents pushed past him, running into the village as he followed after them. He led the way, and they watched the villagers gather around as speculation, while others ran the opposite direction.

  Tonowari pushed past men and women who held onto their children, the Sullys nearby watching on. He found the boy, a few feet away, being dragged over by the beginnings of his curls as Tso'hari tightened his grip on them, his hold securely hugging the baby. The boy kicked, screamed, and cried as he attempted to push against the man.

  "What is the meaning of this? How did he get out?"

  "Why don't you ask the little parasite himself?"And, with his large hands, he threw the boy to the floor, ignoring the sounds of the wailing coming from the child as he slammed his head into the sand.

  And, with his other hand, he tossed a Viper, a feline animal, right beside him, her neck bloodied and poorly wrapped as she hissed.

  Ronal gasped beside him.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Dawoud's head pounded as he clutched his ear, Mephi's cries and screams becoming louder as the night went on.

  There was half a bottle of milk left, and Mephi had begun teething.

  Dawoud was hungry, tired, and hot. And the boy's cries of pain as he sucked on his skin to cool his mouth from the growth of his teeth had not done much to help.

  He could still hear their laughter outside but he could not deal with his baby any longer.

  More wailing.

  Dawoud groaned, breathing heavily to distract himself from the heat of the night. No matter how much he read to him, nor shushed him nor rocked him, he just would not shut up.

  And so, he had made up his mind, praying he wouldn't be noticed.

  With all the bottles he had, he slid down the roof, almost tripping on his fake leg as he wobbled. For a moment he shoved his hand against the boy's mouth to quiet him, beginning his route.

  It was then as he bent by the feline, preparing the bottle as he rocked the boy, that everything had went wrong. He did not hear the footsteps behind him. He did not notice the man with a knife pointed at his back.

  No. He did not notice a thing until he felt long fingers threading into his hair as they pulled.

  He hissed, his headache becoming worse and more aggressive as his hair was bunched. He was grabbed, turned around, coming face to face with the man that had stuck him in to the hut.

  "...have you done?!"

  He inspected the feline with the old, bloody, wrap around her neck, took her, and dragged them both along as Dawoud struggled in his grip.

It was a terrible day for his teething.

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Chapter Text

1 Hour Earlier

  Dawoud kneeled above a pond of water, staring at his reflection. He was so utterly filthy, his cheeks caked in dirt. His unruly hair was knotted, and Dawoud regretted not keeping a comb on him when he was younger. His fingers lifted, touching his right cheekbone. 

  His hair, though tangled, had him smiling as he clutched Mephi close to him.

  He still looked just like his baba.

  He ran his hand through it, the memory of his teasing promise to his father running through his mind.

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  Dawoud ran around their kitchen as his father laughed. He giggled, his seventeen year old strength causing him to run quicker than the older man.

  "You started it, you know!"

  "I was only joking-!"

  He felt his father's arm hook around his waist, and he yelled out, kicking as he was carried with his legs dangled;he was tall for his age, but his dad was of a stronger build than him. His mama, Diana, stood in the doorway with her arms crossed, rolling her eyes at the two men.

  "Must you always act like children?"Dawoud nodded as he laughed, heaving in breaths. Mikhail, the boy's dad, hooked his other arm around his son's waist, dragging him outside into the sheep fields as Dawoud burst into infectious laughter once more.

  His mother blew him a kiss, and he waved at her, before he was yanked back by his dad, who lifted him in the air as they walked into the sheep's pen. He childishly giggled;he could act like a man any time he wanted, just not with his parents.

  He groaned as his father dropped him, back hitting the ground, and Mikhail sat next to him, pulling the boy in, one leg on the man's lap, arms wrapped around his dad's waist as he laid his head on his chest.

  Mikhail laughed as he poked his fingers into his son's ribs, enjoying his squirming at being tickled.

  "You know, your brothers never let me do anything with them at your age."Dawoud wondered for a moment, humming as he shoved his hand away from his rib. 

  "Well, they never let me do anything with them anyway." He huffed, annoyed. He looked fit, he was a good height, but his brothers were simply just, better. They were stronger, they were better at work, better talkers. Better men.

  Dawoud was more sensitive than they were. He felt too much. His heart hurt too much for people.

  "Ya, habibi, you and your siblings are all precious to me. Have I not told you to ignore them?"

  "It is very hard when there are 8 of my brothers teasing me like this."His father ran a hand through his hair, twisting at a curl.

  "You know, you look so much like me. Especially with that hair of yours!"

  "I know, baba, you only tell it every 5 times a day."He giggled as his father pinched his cheek, clinging to his waist.

  "Promise me something then."His father laughed softly.

  "Yes?"

  "Leave your hair this length. Don't change it. Please. That way your mother will have to deal with two of me."Dawoud raised an eyebrow at the weird request; he liked to tease his mother a lot.

  "She already gets annoyed with the both of us, I see no reason why-!"Mikhail tickled his son's rib and he laughed.

  "Stop that!"

  "Then promise me! She finds you cuter anyway, so you can get away with whatever you want. If you look like me she'll get even more annoyed."

  "You are very strange you know that—ack! Alright, alright! I promise! Stop poking me!"He burst into a fit of childish laughter as his father pulled him over to sit between his legs on his lap, wrapping his arms around the boy's flimsy waist. Mikhail shoved his nose against his curls, kissing his cheek over and over as his son attempted to get ahold of himself before he laughed once more.

  "And besides, you look lovely with your hair here. It shows you are my son. My flimsy, sensitive, beautiful, son."He kissed the top of his curls, alongside his cheekbone once more, before he collapsed onto the ground, his son laid on his lap, head rested on his chest.

  "How blessed I am, to have you all as my sons, and my daughters."

  He felt Dawoud smile against him, listening to the beat of his heart.

  "How blessed I am to have you as a father. And her as a mother."

  There was a man, who loved his sons more than he loved himself, and loved his daughters more than he loved his sons.

  There was a man who loved Adon more than he loved his sons, and his daughters, just as he loved his wife.

  There was a Father, who Loved the Son.

  There was a Son, who Loved the Father.

  He kissed his head.

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Present Day

  Dawoud groaned quietly as the tall man tightly gripped his hair, knees bowed low. His face reddened as hundreds of eyes stared back at him in fear and hatred.

  "What is the meaning of this?"

  "I found the boy wandering out with her. He was squeezing her skin."

  "There is blood on her?"

  "Yes. The hut—its roof is damaged. He must have found his way out there."

    Dawoud could not understand a word that was spoken, but he felt the glare of the man, the leader, he assumed, as he knelt there in pain.

  He watched as the man lifted his hand, flicking his fingers back and forth as though dismissing those around him. One by one they began to leave, but he motioned to the man, the blue one who had taken him here, watching as he walked forward.

  "Translate for me."

  He nodded his head slowly, and all who were left was the boy, the tall man holding onto his hair, the one who had brought him here, and the chief and his wife.

  The man walked over to him, standing by his right, and Dawoud began to very lightly shake with fear as the one who wringed his hair back gripped his shoulder.

  "What is this you have done? We have done no harm to you, have let you reside here without bringing harm to our people, and yet this is how you repay us? By taking from our home and damaging our resources?"

  He stared at the leader as he talked, and when he was finished, the man next to him bent down, speaking in his language without turning to him. He took in the words, and he looked down;they had thought he did it on purpose? He didn't mean to hurt the animal. He didn't want to damage their roof.

  He hissed as the man yanked his head up, and he paused for a moment. His voice needed to be known, needed to let them know that this was just a misunderstanding that looked terrible.

  "Forgive me. I did not want to cause any trouble in your lands. But my baby has not eaten. If I had waited any longer he would have starved! I don't care what happens to me, I just didn't want him to die. Please understand he needed that milk!"

  "And what concern does that have to do with us? Have we given you permission to take from us in this way? Your parasite is not of our problem."

  "But it is of my concern. He is my child. I am not going to watch as he starves in this way. I can handle it. He can't. I truly did not mean to impose and hurt you like this, but you have to understand-!"

  "We have no care for you or it! We have not harmed you, we have done nothing! What business did you think yourself to have to impose your ruins upon our home!?"

  "My baby was going to die-!"

  Dawoud hissed in pain at the ache in the back of his head as the man holding him hit him. He watched as the woman walked up to her husband, interrupting them.

  "What has this got to do with us? What gives you the right, the authority, to prey on our sacred animals and destroy our homes? Your needs, once again, are not of our concern."

  "And I emphasize, again, I did not want him to die-"

  "Demon! You and your child! You have been nothing but a plague upon our home. You take and take, with no care for those around you."

  Dawoud had at that point felt kind of hurt, and confused, by her use of the word demon. Mephi was not a demon! He was a child.

  "He is not a demon! He is a child. He is innocent, and pure in the eyes of-"

  "Do you think I care to know? What makes you and that parasite any different from the sky people who have imposed themselves upon our lands."

  "He is a child!"

  "He is a demon! Do not think we will take pity upon him simply because he is young. I have seen your people wreak havoc upon us. The blood of our children are all that has washed away our tears! Their bodies lay decaying. Our people have been torn apart. Because of you!"

  "If I saw one of your children, or any child, any young, I would not hesitate to help them. They are children. They have done nothing wrong-!"

  "You are a liar! You and your parasite are nothing more than demons and you have stolen from us!"

  "I am not a liar! I will do it! I will. Because it is what  is expected of me. That is what is right-!"

  "What makes you so special from the others, hm? Don't act like you are any different?"

  "There are good people and there are bad. Good men. And bad men. I have known many bad men. Many. Many many bad men. But I hold no hatred against them. It is not my job to. I should not. I have known many good men. I am sorry, for what they have done unto you. I am sorry, that you have been hurt.

 "I am sorry that your people's children have been hurt. I am sorry for taking from you. I just wanted my child to live. Do whatever you want with me, I just want him to be okay. Please-"

  "Do not try to deceive us with your sweet words. We have no business in dealing with your child."

  As Dawoud heard her words, he began to feel very frustrated. None of them would listen. None of them wanted to understand why he did what he did. He slowly fell into his guilt.

  What he did was wrong. He stole from them. He destroyed part of their home. Because he wanted to feed his boy. Yet, he still did it. And his heart, one swollen with pain and sensitivity, felt for them. He had committed a great sin in their eyes, and so, custom in their culture, as best as he could with the man's hold on his hair,

  He clasped his hands together, and bent low with his head touching the floor.

  "Please, have mercy on him. Have mercy. Do with me what you will. Whatever you want. But please, I beg you here, leave Mephi be. He has done nothing but starve. He is only a boy. I will never teach him to have hate in his heart. I just...I just...I don't hate you. I don't. Please. If you must do something, leave him out of this. Forgive me for my sin, I did not know it would hurt you so gravely." He kept his head bowed to the floor, and he felt the man's fingers release from his hair slowly as he pressed his foot into the back of his head, digging it further into the ground as Dawoud groaned. He kept his hold on the baby tightly as he began to whine quietly.

  The man next to him slowly translated, his brows furrowed in guilt, and reluctant sympathy.

  The woman let out a laugh, loud, grating against Dawoud's ear, piercing his headache.

  "This is your argument? These things are not so easily forgotten, demon. You are nothing short of pathetic. You and your child deserve to starve. Your parasite will grow up, if it even lives long enough, to be nothing short of a thief!"

  And, because the boy was tired, annoyed, and starving, and in pain, as he gasped at her words, he abruptly lifted his head, voice as firm as possible, attempting to keep the tremble from his soft voice, spoke,

  "If that is what you think, ma'am, of a boy not even old enough to speak yet, of a child, then, forgive me for speaking in such a manner, but I care nothing for you, or your damn laws!"

  He cared nothing for the sharp sting against his cheek from the woman's abnormally large hand, and he felt blood dripping down and out his left ear, a tear in his skin making its way from the left cheek.

  The man had been hesitant to translate, but a glare from the leader had him speaking. He felt the fingers thread back into his hair, pulling as hard as he could, and the baby wrapped against him began to wail.

  Dawoud did not care that he wished to have done it as well. His stomach gurgled in hunger, and he ignored it.

  The leader, hatred burning in his eyes, spoke, grabbing his wife away from the boy as she had tried pulling out a knife.

  "You have done it now, boy. Do you know what we do to thieves, those who have broken our laws?"

  He stayed silent, attempting to hush the crying baby.

  "We cut off their queues. They will never have the privilege of a connection anymore. They have lost it."

  He watched as the man lifted a part of his hair, strange tentacles coming out the end, and he internally cringed.

  "But, seeing as you are nothing more than a human, I suppose you will not mind a bout of humiliation."Dawoud raised an eyebrow, were they going to cut off his limbs?

  "Cut off his hair. Separate him and that baby."

  Dawoud could admit, later, that he could have been just a little dramatic in his reaction.

  As the man picked him up, he turned to the one translating, asking,

  "What are they saying?"He furrowed his brows, looking back and forth between them.

  "They're just going to cut your hair off. And...they're taking the kid."

  Alright. Maybe the screaming was a bit too much.

  Maybe the hitting, and the kicking, was too much. Maybe.

"TIFLI! Tifli! Haht tifli! Haht. Tif-LI!"

  It could have hurt even more then, that, as the man tore the wrap off him, taking the baby and handing it off to the leader as Dawoud kicked with his good leg, and screamed, that the taller man dug his foot into the fake foot, ultimately causing it to bend, slipping off.

  Jake yelped at the plastic foot laying in the sand, backing away. Tonowari and Ronal, for a brief moment, upturned their faces in disgust at the stump of his right leg. The man dragging him away, however, cared no mind, kicking it away as he took him to the middle of the village. 

  As his leg twinged in phantom pain, he cried, begging for the boy to be brought back. It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair.

  It took a moment to register that they were going to cut his hair. They were going to get rid of it.

  A few hours ago he had been smiling at the prospect of still seeing his father in him. His face was the only memory he had of how his father looked like.

  And now? They were going to take that away from him? His baba was going to leave him?

  So, yes. So what if he cried? Who cared? His baba barely showed in his memory. He could not even remember what he looked like beyond his own face. And that was going to be gone in seconds, because he could not keep his mouth shut in a boust of anger.

  Dawoud could have no one to blame for but himself.

  It was his fault Mephi was taken from him, and it was his fault he was going to lose his father once more.

  The villagers gathered around him, and the leader spoke with a loud voice. Dawoud could not bring himself to care as the tears dripped silently down his cheek.

  The boy felt fingers thread into his curls, curls that were not too well kept at the moment, but the curls that his father had given him. They were soft, and nice looking when taken care of. 

  But as he felt a knife at the back of his head taken to his hair, he broke into hiccuping cries, attempting to pull away. He struggled against him, yelling.

  He was still loud as he heard the shlink of the knife against his curls, pieces falling into his face. A chunk landed by his side.

  "Baba. Baba, ana aasef. Baba..."

It was fine. Everything was fine.

  His father was dead. His mother was dead. His sister was dead. His brother was dead. His foot was gone. He'd gone deaf. He was taken from his home, taken from what was left of his family, as his baby was almost killed. Mephi was taken. And he could no longer remember what his family looked like.

  But everything was fine.

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Chapter Text

  Tsi'reya had never felt the urge to cry harder than she did at this point as she watched the fragile little human sob.

  That poor boy.

  Ao'nung had been eavesdropping on their parents' confrontation with him, and she had forced him to recount the conversation, batting her large, baby eyes at him to get him to confess. As soon as he had finished, they'd both ran to the village, hoping to get a look at what they were going to do to him.

  Her father had deemed it necessary punishment for his crime.

  Tsi'reya had thought it nothing more than a humiliation ritual as the boy's frame racked with cries and protests. She had heard him yell as he struggled against Tso'hari, something about "baba". His daddy?

  He was a human. He was a sky person. And she knew that they caused nothing but chaos in their home. She knew they had invaded and killed na'vi. But this boy.

  Oh, he just looked so sweet and innocent, and her heart began to hurt for him. Tsi'reya had seen him, with that adorable baby of his, and she was curious about him. He looked so sad.

  And, to be honest, she had never really seen a boy cry as much as him right now. The men in her clan were all so grumpy. And rude. Lo'ak was nice. Sometimes. But he was nice to her.

  She turned away at the loud crying as they cut his hair. And she briefly wondered why his hair was so important that it made him react like this. Was it something sky people valued that much?

  "Are they really this dramatic about stuff like this?"She looked up at her brother as her arm wrapped around his own. She rolled her eyes, shushing him.

  "There's no need to be mean! He already looked sad when I met him. Maybe there's something wrong?"

  He scoffed at her, looking at the boy.

  "He took a viper, you know. He harmed it."

  "And was he fed for the 9 days he was in there?"

  "Does it matter?"

  She glared at him, and he turned away. The boy seemed so defeated as they cut his hair to the top of his scalp, leaving nothing more than choppy, short ends on the back with barely a twist on each jacked up curl, and nothing more than a few on the top, one floppy hair strand falling into his eyes. There were random patches missing, and some shorter than others.

  His hair looked awful. 

  Tsi'reya looked around for Neytali. She was nowhere to be found, of course, probably working herself to exhaustion. She was only briefly glad the girl wasn't there. She could never have taken pity on him, her father was the one holding the knife against his hair, after all.

  Her father turned to their people, yelling out,

  "Let this be a lesson to all of you. We do not tolerate such insolence."

  She loved her father. She loved her father in every instance. And her father spoiled her, did whatever she wanted as soon as he looked into her eyes. But right now? Right now, she was furious.

  And, so, as the people of their clan awkwardly shuffled away, and she watched as the boy was dragged to who knows where by Tso'hari, she followed her father, who had began making his way home alongside her mother. 

  Aonung came along with her, and she shoved open the beads to the entrance of their hut, storming in.

  "Tsi'reya? Do you need something?"

  "Daddy!"

  He turned his head to face her, and her mother froze, raising an eyebrow.

  "Mama, can I talk with daddy alone? Please?"

  Ronal remained, unwavering as her daughter stood their patiently.

  Tonowari sighed, nodding to her. And so, the woman left, shoving angrily out the entrance.

  "Well? What is it? It has been a terribly long night-"

  "I'm sure it was. And I am sure it was even longer for that poor boy you humiliated!"Her father glared at her, pinning her down with his eyes, and she shrunk slightly at his stern look. But, taking a deep breath, she rolled her shoulders back, standing firm.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Daddy, did you even give him anything to survive off of? What did he do that was so wrong that you had to do that to him?"

  "He stole from us. He destroyed the roof of our hut. It is a right punishment for that criminal."

  "And what did he steal? Did he kill the viper?"

  "...no. He was taking her milk. There was a wound on her neck. He hit her, you know. She very well could have died."

  "But, why did he just take the milk-?"

  And then she gasped, coming to the realization.

  "No!"

  The poor boy was trying to feed his baby.

  "Daddy. He didn't do anything wrong! He was just trying to-"

  "Oh don't give me this talk. I have already heard it from him. It is not of my concern if that child lives or dies. He broke the rules. He pays the consequences."

  She huffed, crossing her arms as she faced her father, beady eyes staring at him. He glared back, squinting, and she widened her own. If he didn't listen through reasoning, she could always just guilt trip him.

  "Daddy, can I ask you something?"

  "What do you want?"

  "If I were to have had the unfortunate circumstance of being on his planet, taken from my home, and I had my little sister with me, and then they punished me for stealing their supplies so I wouldn't die, how angry would you be?"

  He thought for a moment as Tsi'reya stared at him innocently, tilting her head. She knew what she was doing. And she knew that he knew it was unfair. Completely unfair.

  "That's...different-"

  "How! How is it any different than what he's went through-"

  "And how would you know he's here by force! For all we know this was completely his decision. It is his own fault for participating."

  "He has a baby. A child. Do you really think he'd be walking around with it in the open if he enjoyed what his people were doing?"

  Her father huffed once more, running a hand down his face. Their argument of back and forth had gone on for about thirty minutes now. Tsi'reya walked closer to him, and then, as she usually did, squinted her eyes as best she can, drawing out tears.

  "Daddy...please. Just look at him. Look at his face. His eyes are so sad, and he looks so tired."

"You can't just expect me to let him roam free among us, Tsi'reya."

  "Pleaseee?"

  "Tsi'reya-"

  "Please."

  "Tsi're-"

  "Please pleaseee?"

  "Tsi'-"

  "Please!"

  "Ts-"

  "Please please please please please pleaseeeeeee!"

  "Alright! Just stop crying!"

  "Really?!"

  "No."

  She groaned, turning away from him as she crossed her arms, sitting down. Not even her tears worked. She attempted to guilt trip him once more. Just one more time, and she would at least try and add in more crying.

  "Why not! I just don't understand what's so wrong about what he did?"

  "No you don't understand! I cannot let him go, Tsi'reya. End of discussion."

  "So you're telling me that he was in there for nine days. And he managed to break out, what, maybe a few days in, probably earlier because of the child, and, instead of escaping, or, I don't know, exacting his revenge on us, he just goes back in?"

  Tonowari looked up, glaring at her. She smiled to herself. Because at that point, how could any of this make sense? If this boy was so dangerous, he wouldn't exactly keep coming back to his captivity. Unless he had done nothing wrong. And he was an innocent sweet boy.

  "Oh would you just-"

  And then she began to quietly sob, attempting to make it sound as realistic as possible. Her father paused, worry in bis expression.

  "Tsi'reya...you know I can't-"

  "You don't understand, daddy! I saw the way he looked. He looked so sweet and hurt. And desperate. He wouldn't have hurt the viper if he didn't have to, don't you get it?"She began to hiccup, and at this point she couldn't tell if they were truly fake or not. But still the girl drove into her hysterics.

  "And I guess I'll just have to think about how you don't love me. If I was in his situation you'd let me stay there and be punished, wouldn't you!"

  "Tsi'reya...baby-"

  "No you don't love me enough! How could you daddy?"

  She broke into full on sobs at this point, hoping it would convince him. Tsi'reya knew her father, and she knew she had him wrapped around her finger, and she knew he did love her. So why not give it a chance?

  "Tsi'reya, I do love you. I love you. I just-"Her sob cut him off, and he groaned as he looked into her large, tear filled eyes, turning away for a few seconds before looking back.

  He sighed in defeat, shoulders hunched down.

  "Alright. Look. He won't be able to roam free, but...we'll feed him. And we put him to work while someone supervises him. And...we'll feed his child."

  She stopped her crying, sniffling slowly so as to not show her excitement, looking up ar her father as he wiped the tears from her cheeks.

  "...really?"

  "Yes. I promise."She wrapped her arms around him, squeezing tightly as he held her.

  "Thank you, daddy!"And, as she squealed, he said,

  "Do not make me regret this."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

  Dawoud had gone insane as he sat in the confined hut. This one was smaller, tighter, more suffocating.

  He hated it. And he hated not having Mephi with him even more.

  It was only a day of him screaming his voice out, crying for his baby, that he laid defeated, huddled in a corner with his arms around him. He didn't like not knowing how Mephi was doing. For all he knew, the boy was dead. The sweat dripped down the nape of his now bare neck, and he sucked in the tears at the prospect of his lost hair.

  It was no use crying over anymore. There were no more tears left in him. As the day went on, and, no matter how much he wanted to despise them for what they had done, because he did not have his lyre on him, nor his book, nor his sling, he repeated to himself in sanity,

  "You have heard it said..."

  He hated it here. He hated himself. Dawoud just wanted to go home. He just wanted his mama. He just wanted his daddy, and his brothers and his little sister.

  "...love your neighbor, and hate your enemy..."

  He could not even see if it was day or night out. Not a single hole shone, and it was horrifically difficult to maintain his breathing in such an enclosure. 

  His stomach ate in on itself in hunger, and every breath he took was painful enough to have him curl in on himself further. Dawoud wrapped his arms near to his stomach, squeezing lightly. He had not even gone to the bathroom since he was dragged here, and it was beginning to have its effect on him.

  Nausea clenched his throat, and he coughed, feeling the dryness of it. The last time he had drank water was before he was caught, scooping as much as he could into his cupped hands from the pond. He assumed it was safe considering no effects had gotten to him.

  He looked up from his pathetic position, staring hard and long at the walls of the hut. He supposed, if anything came down to it and he could no longer keep his hunger to himself, he could always just start gnawing at the walls.

  "But I tell you,..."

  Dawoud had never felt more helpless in his life. He was starving, in pain, horrifically constipated, and in need of his child.

  His vision began to blur, eyes swelling from lack of sleep.

  "Love your enemies,..."

  He coughed, feeling acid travel up to his throat as he made an attempt to swallow it down.

  Dawoud desperately wanted something to hate. Someone to blame for all of this because he just wanted his family.

  But he knew he couldn't.

  No matter how hard he wanted to wallow in his anger, he knew he couldn't.

  For the first time in over a day, the door to the hut opened in an aggressive manner. If this were any other day before the one right now, Dawoud would have jumped up, nervous and ready.

  But, instead, he let out a pitiful moan in question, small bits of saliva dripping out of his mouth.

  "Boy. Get up."

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