Eywa'itan

9 | The Well Of Songs

Neyn'inan spent days travelling along the trails the heartbeat drummed. During the night, they flew, and during the day, they ran and hunted. Through their bond, Tsmukan could feel where his Na'vi brother wanted to go. There was no need for any speech between them, a blessing for the feral youth.

Aside from his mother, grandmother, and father, Neyn hadn't been able to speak since he left the Well of Souls. No, not since he encountered Jake again. He would growl, hiss, and screech, which he was thankful Tsmukan could understand perfectly. This was the same for him regarding what his flying brother wanted, though usually it was for him to rest.

Like now.

<Little Brother, sleep.> Tsmukan rumbled, diving to a safe, nearby canopy large enough for both of them. Neyn denied this and kept urging the banshee to keep their pace. But the young ikran was firm, and he landed. He kept nudging the child into a comfortable opening in the branches.

'...Not tired.' Neyn hissed back, for the umpteenth time that day. But he admitted to himself that there was no bite left in it. He was indeed tired. In his haste to get away from Jake, he hadn't slept a wink in at least a day.

He was weary, agitated, and overwhelmed. He missed the Well Of Souls, the calmness he'd found there. He missed the comfort of his mother's embrace and hearing his father's voice. He did not like being where they weren't, but he had to go. He had to embark on this journey, following the heartbeat's trail.

Great Mother was calling him somewhere. He could hear her heartbeat even now, drumming through the ground in a certain direction. He could 'see' the wisps of light creating a path for him to follow. The closer he got, the brighter it became.

When Eywa speaks, he listens. This is the way. He was taught this. He'd lived this. He needed to keep going. Maybe wherever he was going would provide the peace of mind losing his home had shattered. No matter what it was, he would use any excuse to keep moving further away from where Jake was without rest.

<Little Brother, sleep.> But the banshee was not having it. His little brother was tired, and he needed to rest. So he rumbled again, continuing to nudge the child until he finally let himself lie down. Just as he used to in their nest, Tsmukan put his large wing over Neyn to keep him warm.

Unconsciously, Neyn leaned into his warm side, even though he continued to complain in growls. Tsmukan pretended to ignore him, laying his head down as he kept watch silently. Too comfortable to fight it longer, the child eventually fell asleep. Tsmukan let out a triumphant huff, continuing to guard him as he got his needed rest.

Tsmukan was a stubborn, prideful Ikran. He knew what his brother needed, and he would not settle until he got it. He would fight the largest enemies if it meant protecting him, and he'd defy any order if it meant staying by his side. As his guardian, that was his duty.

Night came again, and they skillfully traversed the vast forest with fresh senses. Rest, just as the Ikran knew, helped Neyn loads. Twice as fast, they followed the path of light Great Mother set for them. Unlike Neyn, Tsmukan could not see it. But he could feel it through his bond with him and knew where to go.

As the pull he felt got stronger, he slowly went from flying to gliding. Eventually, Neyn asked him to land, and he kept close to him in the trees. The boy flipped and flew through the branches, his feet only gracing the grasses for a moment. No Na'vi Tsmukan had ever seen moved quite like his brother did.

But when certain scents became apparent, Neyn'inan's running halted to a cautious walk. The smell of scorched soil buried beneath fresh dirt... the scent of old paints, oils, and herbs never used. The texture of the trees bled into fabrics and woven wood. The rancid remnants of toxic waste, purged by years gone by. This was the site of a village long gone.