When a seemingly lifeless boy is saved by a girl.
-
Ma'vona was once a beloved member of the Kame'tire clan, known for their profound understanding of Pandora's flora and unparalleled healing skills. Their expertise was so great that they could heal...
♪ Mighty Eywa by Simon Franglen ♪ ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━ Chapter Fourteen The Search
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
I lay on the floor of our small hut, the dim light entering through the gaps of the woven walls. The scent of the earth mixed with the lingering smell of fresh leaves, creating a comforting atmosphere.
Ma'vona sat beside me, her fingers busy weaving a piece of fiber-thread she had found earlier. The fibres twisted and intertwined under her touch, forming something delicate yet strong. I could hear the soft rustle of the thread as it passed through her hands, the occasional clink of beads as she tied them into the design, keeping her mind busy.
The rhythm of her work was soothing, steady, but inside, my mind was a whirlpool of questions, confusion, and lingering unease.
Ma'vona had shared parts of her past with me earlier today—small yet major fragments of the story I had been piecing together for quite some time now. It was as though she had opened a window to a time long buried, allowing me to glimpse into the moments that shaped her. Her connection to the clan, her abrupt exile, and the things she had witnessed and endured. Her words filled some of the gaps in my understanding, like puzzle pieces falling into place. Yet, no matter how much she revealed, it was not enough.
There were still so many questions—so many things that didn't quite add up.
What had truly happened to the former advisor, Mokasa? What chain of events had pushed Ma'vona into exile, banishing her from the only family she knew? How had Txä'vo risen to be the leader now?
And then there was Anufi. When Ma'vona spoke of Anufi's feelings towards the attack and destruction of the Sarentu clan, it was clear that Anufi harboured deep pain. But the way she treated Ma'vona didn't align with her apparent sorrow. There was something else there, a tension between them that felt unresolved, something that Ma'vona had not, or could not, explain.
I stared up at the ceiling, my mind tangled in these thoughts, trying to find answers in the shadows that danced above me. Every piece of the story Ma'vona had given me felt incomplete, as though she was still holding back, or maybe even unaware of the full truth herself. The questions nagged at me, refusing to let go.
I was about to turn around to drift off into a nap when a noise from outside caught my attention. At first, it was faint-the soft shuffling of feet, muffled voices—but then it grew louder, sharper. A voice cut through the quiet hum of the day, commanding and urgent. Txä'vo's voice.
"All the warriors, up and out!"
I snapped out of my thoughts, lifting myself up onto my elbows as the sound of movement outside intensified. Ma'vona had already paused her weaving, her fingers hovering over the thread as her eyes met mine, both of us silently questioning what was happening.
I stood up quickly, feeling the cold air from outside creeping in through the gaps in the walls. Ma'vona set down her work and followed me as we stepped out of the hut. The crisp breeze hit us immediately, and I could see the village stirring with activity. Warriors were gathering, moving with purpose, their expressions hard and determined. The narrow pathways between the huts were crowded, the air thick with tension.
