Another Chance |Ao'nung x Neteyam|

Chapter 19: A Distant Memory

Death is no stranger to Neteyam. It greets him akin to an old friend, warm red embrace staining his skin as the Metcayina stumbles a weak two steps before collapsing.

Even Lyle stands still in surprise for a moment; it's just enough for Neteyam to run away.

Neteyam does not even know the name of the man who saved him and his child, but his heart pounds in his chest, memories rushing to the surface. They choke him like rope around his neck as he runs from the recom soldier, eyes wide, wild.

Neteyam is furious; at the world, at himself, at Lyle Wainfleet.

Nobody said it was easy, sure, he knows this. Every warrior does. No-one ever said it would be this hard.

Suddenly, Neteyam is fifteen, lying in excruciating pain, his family around him, wondering if he'd make it at all. His legs burn as he jumps along the branches; he doesn't even know when he climbed up, all he knows is that Lyle is under him, following him. Neteyam is a task yet unfinished.

Run.

A voice whispers in the back of his mind. Run.

It is not yet time to die.

Panic sets in; Neteyam cannot shake the memories off. His head pounds and the left side of his face feels numb, flesh buzzing under his skin. Suddenly, his tongue feels too big in his mouth, swollen, though it is not.

Reality is far away.

He's working on instinct.

His instincts tell him to stop and so he does. He stands high upon the branches and Lyle skids to a stop under him, gold meeting gold, teeth bared. Thunder wrecks the sunny skies, clouds swirling like foam on the ocean waters. The air smells like rain. Cold winds rustle the leaves.

Everything feels like a slow-motion recording. Ones Norm and Max had showed him as a child.

They stare at one-another, weapons raised, poisoned arrow against a gun.

"Easy now," Lyle taunts, smirking. "Wouldn't want to repeat the past."

To Neteyam, the past stays exactly where it is. Dead in the graveyard of his forgotten memories.

"Would not dream of it," Neteyam's voice rings out, accent rolling off his tongue like fiery honey.

"Then how bout you get your pretty boy ass down here," Lyle hums, cruel eyes shining with malice. He licks his lips and gestures to his gun with those golden eyes. "This the same one. The gun."

Neteyam's skin erupts in goosebumps. He bites his tongue.

"We need your daddy, kid. You come with me, and I might convince the guys to let you live in exchange for your family."

However, Neteyam does not give in to empty threats disguised as promises. He lets his arrow fly, jumping out of the way of stray bullets.

"Nobody," he howls, voice tinted with a low growl. "Hurts my family."

Lyle curses, arm crazed by the arrow. It taints his blood, but not enough poison seeps into his soul to kill him; but it's alright. Neteyam has many arrows and a will the hardness of diamonds. As he runs, flying from branch to branch, he shrieks for his ikran and presses the buttons on his comms.

"Dad! Dad, I'm under attack!" He bolts higher and higher, to where the branches thin out, barely keeping his weight. "Dad! You read me?"

"Neteyam?!" Jake's voice yelps out, strained. The winds distort his words and Neteyam realises he's flying. "Who's with you?"