The delicate rays of sunshine were beginning to wane as the day drew to its end. Tsawke turned the sky to flame, casting its red shadows upon the surface of the cool, rippling water.
The high winds whipped and tore at the sheer cliffs, stealing the leaves off the heads of the trees. Peace resonated within the settlement of the Tayrangi clan. Everyone was about their usual, day-to-day errands- gatherers bundled heaps of rich fruits into baskets; children dotted the camp in flocks, squawking gleefully as they played about; returning hunters labored, dragging the carcasses of the day's fruition to be hacked into smaller pieces for the evening meal.
Along the hem of the great, towering cliffs, a burble of laughter disrupted the lowing call of the wind.
Two Na'vi youngsters, cackling like anything, gallivanted up the grass-carpeted incline. They were brothers. They tussled and shoved at each other in friendly fire, each trying to beat the other in a race turned physical play-squabble to crest the cliffs.
First brother's feet touched first. He let out a whoop and jabbed his fist triumphantly into the air, a cheeked grin splitting his cheeks.
"Victory is mine!", pointing a blue finger at his brother, he preened, "You are now the rotten yovo fruit!"
Second brother, although he did not like to lose, delivered a heart shove to his brother's shoulder, laughing.
"Be careful, or your head will be too big for the visor" he humorously warned, poking the older in the space between his eyes. He swatted the hand away.
"You are just sorry I am faster" he swiveled on his feet, resuming his trot, pounding up towards the cliff's lip, "come on, the ikran will turn to stone by the time you'll have reached, hurry up!"
As if suddenly remembering the reason for this little jaunt in the first place, second brother's eyes widened for a moment before he sped up the cliff.
Just the day before, the brothers had completed their iknimaya, rendering them now official members of the Tayrangi clan, warriors at the premier of their trade. This task was no easy feat, many of the other participants had sustained injuries in the act of taming their banshee mounts- none were fatal, but all were painful and inconveniencing, nonetheless. The remainder of the previous day had been taken, as Tayrangi tradition, for the newly made clan members to rest and patch up.
The celebrations and festivities - an excitable part of iknimaya's completion - would be held tonight, when the sun brushed the waters spine.
Having rested and tended to their (quite minor) injuries, the brothers had a good few hours of free time to themselves.
