The River Tree (Neteyam x Metkayina OC)

Chapter 12: The Band-aid

I was a decently normal kid. Before I was of apprentice age, I spent my days helping father with blade making, the only activity he was able to complete after the accident.

Father wasn't keen on letting me stay inside all day though. When the sun was high and bright, he sent me outside to entertain myself.

I spent most afternoons bored out of my mind, floating in the tides and gazing up at the sky. I liked watching the sky change color and the moon begin to cover the sun in a slow burn snuff. The shape was intricate and full of life. Almost like Eywa herself was peeking through the light.

I wanted to describe how I felt about that particular sight when he returned. I was never good at presenting ideas, much less such abstract ones. Sensing my struggles, Father merely smiled and said

"Draw it."

He took a piece of rice paper and a wet ended stick. He said draw what I felt. And so I did.

Far too abstract, for my taste. Not what I wanted to explain. It wasn't good so I drew it again. The sun could never quite fit on the paper but nevertheless I persisted.

I never could quite capture the sun. No matter how hard I tried, just seemed too bright for my understanding, especially the idea I wanted to present.

So I stuck to things that explained themselves.

I moved to people. From my little corner withing the rocks or leaves, I'd sketch out the village. All completely and blissfully unaware of the observations I made regarding their features. I knew the village like the back of hand, each curve or scar was not unnoticed by me.

Sometimes I wondered if they ever saw me.

I sketched everyone. The babies in their cradles. The men coming back from hunting missions. The elderly women sunbathing. Aunnong sharpening a trainer-blade.

That's where it all went wrong.

Aunnong was the first full-body shot I wanted to try my hand at from a lower-view angle.

Needless to say, the image was not the most flattering of images.

Before I could shade it, a few of the older boys caught me and asked what I was drawing. I idly displayed my page and became very confused when they began cackling and shoving the drawing in Aunnong's severely embarrassed face.

After they left, Aunnong threw his training blade to the floor and stomped his foot. He was upset. So upset in fact, like a child does, he tried to find the worst thing he could say to hurt me.

"This is why they left you!" He had growled, before stomping away.

I believe it sometimes. Maybe that's why I keep fighting back.

This led to the numerous fights. Punches, kicks, bitting, splitting, wrestling, pulling. You name it, we did it. Sometimes one on one, sometimes in the midst of a group. But it was always against him. It varied who would win, depended on how mad we were.

Fighting was nothing new to us, but this one was different.

It was the time where I had fought for someone other than myself. It was the first time I fought to protect someone and the first time someone had fought to protect me.