The One ||Neteyam Sully||

5. {~Just Breathe~}

Val'kiera's POV
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Once we arrived back onto shore my gaze adverted to Neteyam as he waltzed up in front of me towards the others and smacked the back of his brother's head.

"What the heck Neteyam!" Lo'ak shouted at his brother before they started play fighting. Atleast I think it was play fighting but I wouldn't know since I had zoned out in a memory.

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It was another casual day in the village of the F'aomayina clan. I was watching my brother, his friends, our cousins, and other teens play fight and act as if they were in war. They devided themselves into different teams and made sure it was an even amount of girls and boys on each team. Since they were the 'older kids' they always said that I couldn't play because I was too young and they didn't want me to get hurt, but all I wanted to do was be apart of the game, yet I still chose to listen to the others and enjoyed watching the game play out in its 'battlefield' which was on the big ancient iced lake, the lake that was never really water and as never seen a liquid form, it has remained a solide form since Eywa created pandora. The teens had built barcades and shelters for the battlefield with the help of some adults. The game is one of the many ancient traditions for the tribes children and a pass time for them, some of the structures on the field were even built by my parents.

From left and right there were shouts and the teens were being swooped off the ground by other teens tails and 'weapons' which consisted of real swords, staffs, shields, and anything else that the teens designed. They all got to choose and design their own weapons and carved and crafted them themselves (with the help of the adults who specialized in blacksmith, crafting, and resource studiers), these weapons would be theirs to their adult hood and would follow them to the grave (of course they would be modified and most likely re-built later on if they broke or the teens wanted to design a new one), the clan believed in spirit weapons in which when a clan member is old enough to learn to fight they would create their own 'spirit weapon' in which their spirit would have a connection as it fought with them and the power of their spirit would give strength to the weapon that will guide them threw battle and protect their soul from the opposing side (obviously if the weapon broke it wouldn't mean anything and the member would just re build a new one and transfer their spirit to it), the clan believed that if their weapon broke that the spirit would return to its body and would wait for the member to rebuild it a home (a weapon) so that it could be at its full strength and protect its warrior.

The only rule of the game was no bloodshed, well, no 'bad' bloodshed, the occasional scratch, bruise, cut, small scar, and black eye were an acception as the children weren't in any real danger and they would heal. As long as they didn't cause permanent or bad damage to the point where it won't heal in a week or  two then it was fine and the teens all agreed to the rule and knew what could potentially happen to them by playing the game, and it's one of the many reasons me and other young children weren't aloud to play.

I admired my brother as he fought and I cheered him on as he helped defeat the other team. To me, my brother was a hero, a powerful god, undefeatable. "GO PAKO!!" Young me shouted with a grin stretching from ear to ear as my eyes glimmered and I jumped up and down in happiness and excitement. He shared a grin with me as he took down another teen from the other side, which was the last of the team meaning that his team had won, "YAYYYY, YOU DID IT PAKO. YOU ALWAYS WIN, UNDEFEATED!" I ran up and jumped into his arms as he dropped his weapon and hugged me back.

"You know I always have to win when my favourite little sister is watching or else she would be disappointed," Pako retorted as he smiled at my happiness and he hugged me tighter.