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yayayr

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 Neteyam x Reader

𝘀𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 Neteyam and you had grown up together, had sharpened each other like two arrowheads. You thought that meant everything, until you see Ka'vina has taken your place.

ᶜʷ cannon divergence, misunderstandings, nudity, slight sexual innuendo, angst (happy ending)

ʷᶜ 11.1k

Despite the high stakes, hunting always brought you a sense of peace.

There were repetitive motions that you followed for every hunt, ones that felt as familiar as breathing at this point in your life.

Every hunter must remember first scan their area, they must be familiar with the routines of the yerik packs, must be aware of where palulukan reside and hunt, must be wise to acknowledge the territory that the angtsìk claim as their own, it is also important that they be wary of the path they take home for nantang’s are known to try and steal a clean kill when the opportunity arises.

Next the hunter must track, keeping everything listed prior in mind. If the yerik tracks stray too close into palulukan territory, the hunter should retreat. If the hunter stumbles into angtsìk grounds, they must remember to show no fear.

Once the hunter has safely tracked a yerik, they should remember to watch their footing. To step lightly, and avoid sticks, leaves or other flora that can alert the yerik that something is around. It is best to find an angle that allows you to stay hidden, a clean kill from a concealed location always fills your chest with pride.

When the hunter is concealed they can then nock their arrow. A slow pull on the bowstring minimizes noise, and leads for more time to correct your aim. But a skillful hunter can nock, draw, and release an arrow before the yerik can even raise the defensive fans that sit upon their heads.

A true aim leads to a clean kill. A spoken prayer to Eywa, sending the yeriks spirit back to hers. And thanking the yerik for its sacrifice, for feeding the clan, and providing precious materials in the form of hides.

Finally the hunter must decide on if they will haul the entire yerik back to the home tree; or if they will only take the most valuable cuts of meat, and the largest spans of hide to carry back and leave the rest for other forest creatures to feast on.

You rarely chose to leave any of your catch. Years of training left you strong, you could easily haul your kills home. It did not matter if it left an ache in your shoulders, or if a twinge settled in your lower back.

As you approach hometree you begin to wonder if you should have at least taken a bit of the breast meat. You knew it was Neteyams favorite, and it would be a good way to show him not only your hunting prowess, that you are attuned to him. That you see him.

It is a nice thought. To court someone you have been pining after most of your life. But then you find yourself too close to hometree to dismount the yerik from your shoulders and you chuckle at how much your mind wandered on the way home.

You make your way through the clan, greeting people as you make your way to the carvers. They would slice the hide from the yeriks body and hang it to dry before cutting up your kill into as many satisfying, equal portions as possible to be prepared for the cookfire tonight.

Mou comes to greet you, “Thank you taronyu.” He grabs the yerik from where you’ve placed it. “Do you wish for a specific cut? Perhaps you would like some of the hide?”

It was traditional for the carvers to ask if the hunter would like a specific piece of their kill. But that would also take away the significance of offering a piece of meat as a courting display.

“I do not wish for it. You know you do not have to ask me that every time I bring you a kill, Mou.”

He laughs at you, finding your blank tone amusing, “It is tradition.”

“It is stupid. Have I ever asked you to do this for me?”

“No, but one never knows when ferocious hunters like you may grow lazy.”

Mou tosses a grin over his shoulder as he hauls your kill away and towards the group of waiting carvers. He was never one to take your brazen demeanor as rudeness, he knew you spoke your mind and let your feelings be known even in uncomfortable situations.

You scoff at him as you leave. As if you would ever become lazy. How could he have the audacity to even think of such a concept?

The clan is bustling as you shift through; children are running around with their wooden toys, singers are practicing the ancient songs, there are bigger hunting parties returning with their kills, even the weaving circle is louder than usual.

It brings a slight grin to your face, seeing the people happy makes you happy. You had more than enough time to take a quick nap, and then head to the river to wash up before dinner would be served. Maybe if you skipped the nap you could take your beloved ikran out for a flight and wash at one of the hot springs that sparsely resided in the Ayram Alusìng.

Yes.

That would be nice, it could ease the tension in your shoulders.

It is settled. Instead of heading back to your kelku, you pivot to climb up hometree. The ikrans rest at the highest level, but you’ve been climbing almost as long as you’ve been walking so you would reach it shortly.

As you arrive at the base of hometree and start to find some solid footing a call of your name comes across the clearing. Your eyes close, a sigh heaving through your lips. With a turn of your head you survey the area, you know the voice, and have heard it almost everyday since she learned how to speak.

You spot Kiri weaving her way through the clan, her hand raised in a beckoning motion. “Come search with me for some paywll.”

“They are far Kiri. We will not arrive back before the cookfire starts.”

She is face to face with you now, her tail undulates as she speaks. “You have never minded missing a bit of the cookfire.”

Your lips purse, a crease forming between your brows in mock debate.

“Please.” Kiri grasps your hand before turning around and tugging you behind her.

Laughter bubbles uncontrollably out of your chest, “Kiri – Wait! I have not said yes yet!”

“You would have said yes regardless, now come. I will carry the gourd now, you may carry it back when it is full.”

You were only supposed to be txantxewm, lingering over her shoulder to shoo predators away. Now she wants you to work too! Unbelievable.

It’s hours later when Kiri and you approach hometree again. You’ve ended up carrying not only the gourd filled with medicinal liquid, but also the leaves of paywll, which are packed into a basket that rests on your hip.

You pass the cookfire on your way to the Tsa’hiks kelku. It’s lively as ever; drums are being beaten creating a tune for the singers to perform to, there's a group of clan members dancing, and the younger members have begun to section off into groups.

Kiri is half a step in front of you, excited to drop off the items her grandmother requested and finally be done with her Tsakarem training for the day. You allow your eyes to skim over the faces, searching for Neteyams, you’d like to know where you should move to after you deliver the materials to Mo’at.

It takes you a few moments to find him. He’s settled all the way across the gathering, surrounded by other young hunters, a few climbers and weavers as well. He normally sits on the edge of the group, saving space on one of his sides for you. You’re unsurprised to see he’s flanked by Fay’ru, the other male trying to get into the future Olo’eyktan’s good graces.

You’re unable to conceal your look of shock at Ka’vina sitting on Neteyams other side. She has never joined your group before, always softly tucked into the weavers circle or sitting with her sister where the singers congregate. You school your expression before someone can see you trying to dissect Ka’vina from the inside out.

Neteyam had always rejected anyone from closing him in. He would kindly redirect them towards another seat, reminding them that he had saved his closest friend the seat they had just tried to sit in.

Neteyam was a strong warrior, a strong hunter, and as his father would say he has a ‘backbone’. So there would be no reason for him to allow her to sit in your spot.

But he was of age, in his prime years.

He was strong. He filled out his body well in recent years. He gained some of his fathers unnatural width. His old armbands no longer fit, having to become bracelets or being stored away for his future children. His cummerbund also barely fit now, but he refused to part with it until it absolutely no longer fit.

He was kind. He took on responsibilities of other clan members when he could see them struggling. He helped the elders with carrying their baskets, he had even carved them walking sticks to steady them on their paths.

He was the youngest hunter to ever get a clean kill on a sturmbeest. Very few of the current hunters had prowess that rivaled his. He frequently led the younger hunters when they went out, making time to help them hone in on their skills.

Neteyam also frequented the training grounds, not for his own skills. He had been bestowed the honor of training new warriors. Of teaching them the ways of the Omatikaya, making sure they had every required skill to complete their Iknimayas.

Ka’vina was a stark opposite.

She spent most of her time around hometree, never venturing out into the forest unless accompanied by a warrior.

She weaved many things. Tewngs, chest coverings, chokers, bracelets, armbands, cummerbunds, bowstrings, baskets, hammocks, floor mats. The list could continue on and on.

She was knowledgeable of healing herbs, the best spices to use on meats at the cookfire, aware of how to properly prepare some tough to handle roots and fruits for consumption as well.

However she was naive.

You knew she did not know how to hunt. Did not know how to skin a yerik, how to aim at a herd of sturmbeest; you were not even sure she knew what animals were aggressive and which were kind.

Her hands were soft, not even calloused with the countless hours spent weaving. You didn’t think she even wielded a bow. Hardly believed that she knew a knife could be used to do anything other than chop roots. It showed how simple her life was, how different she was from Neteyam. How different she was from you.

Then it dawned on you. Neteyam must be courting her. As they say ‘opposites attract’ and her softness would be a perfect compliment to the firm hand he would come to lead with.

A piercing feeling shot into your chest.

You’ve been following Kiri silently this whole time. She had glanced back at you occasionally, mostly to make sure you were still following her, but she could tell you didn’t want to speak based on the carefully crafted expression on your face.

Mo’at greets you as you duck into the tent, on autopilot you respond.Then you’re asking her where she’d like the gourd and the basket, placing them down with a delicately crafted care before bidding your goodbyes.

“I will join you at the cookfire shortly.”

“Ah. I will be heading home.” You shake your head, the beads braided into your hair clacking with the motion. “Let me know if you require aid harvesting more herbs. Goodnight Kiri, Tsa’hik.”

With sudden, jerky motions you duck back out of the tent. You can hear Kiri protesting, trying to encourage you to at least pick up a niktsyey before heading home. It’s pleasant to know that she cares, but you don’t think you could face Neteyam so shortly after your realization.

Unfortunately you have to walk past the cookfire again to reach your kelku, it being on the opposite side of the village from the Tsa’hiks. You were a skilled hunter, a warrior when needed, and you knew how to camouflage, how to avoid being seen.

Taking a steadying breath, you head more towards the forest, where it would be easier to blend into the flora. Easier to slip past your friends. Easier to avoid the new reality you’d have to live in.

You’re only a few steps away from rockier terrain when a five fingered hand grasps your wrist. Whipping around you come face to face with Lo’ak.

He’s grinning, clearly happy to catch you and hinder you from heading home, “Come, I need your support in an argument with Vor’lan.”

He doesn’t listen before starting to drag you towards his friends. What is it with these Sullys and refusing to wait for an answer!

“Lo’ak. I am tired, I have been out all day.”

“That is fine. It will be quick, and you can have my last niktsyey as payment.”

You scoff, “No. I have not had time to wash, I do not wish to be around people.”

“My friends do not care.” He turns to face you briefly before continuing to drag you, “To be fair, they will probably still drool over you.”

“Lo’ak!” An incredulous gasp tears from your throat.

A boyish laugh leaves him, “It is true! So do not worry about the smell, just back me up okay?”

In reality you could dig your heels into the dirt and yank your wrist free of his grasp. You were still stronger than him, your muscles more taut, more prepared to fight back than his. But the soft spot in your heart reserved for the Sully kids aches. So you allow him to drag you to where his friends reside at the cookfire.

You allow him to shove the niktsyey into your palm, along with a carved up filled with something that he definitely should not be drinking. The food and drink loosen you up, allow you to relax a little bit, to find a way to enjoy the company you’re in.

When Lo’ak retells his story about the tslikllte he caught, all of his friends doubt him. No one believing he saw one of the creatures this far inland. But then he’s looking at you, “She was there, tell them! Tell Vor’lan specifically how I bested it.”

You take another swig of your drink, swishing it around your mouth as you decide how much to talk up Lo’ak. “I was not there when Lo’ak stumbled upon it.”

“Hey! You so wer -”

“Hush. When I arrived you were already wrestling the poor thing.” You gulp down a few more sips before beginning to swirl the drink around in your cup.

You’re barely helping Lo’aks case and he has to defend his honor, “I had thought it to be dead already!”

“Any skxawng should know that they can hold their breath. Nevermind that does not matter. I have never seen a grip as strong as Lo’aks.”

His friends are leaning in closer now, staring intently at you, the expressions you make, the way your eyes flit over each of them.

“The tslikllte are coated to make them slick, and yet, Lo’ak never faltered. He managed to keep it in his grasp even as he removed a hand to retrieve his knife.” You begin to rest against the log everyone had gathered around, knowing that your job was done and you can fall into a nice limbo until you retire for the night, “The taste was like nothing I have experienced before, I couldn’t be happier to have tried it.”

Their conversation flows freely after that. They talk about climbing tomorrow, which mountains are best, where they can get the best views, or the best ones to try tricks on their ikrans around. It then flows to why they chose the colors that decorate their arrows. It ebbs briefly into relationships, and who’d they’d like to court after completing their dream hunts. It takes a turn into how some of them would rather mess around with many people before settling and that brings a chuckle to your tongue.

The conversation had been settled into which piece of a sturmbeest was best when it suddenly goes quiet. All eyes are focused behind where you and Lo’ak sit and would make you nervous if you weren’t such a strong warrior; scratch that, it would make you nervous if you did not have so much of the fermented drink settled in your belly.

You’re about to open your mouth and ask what has everyone staring when there's abruptly hands on your shoulders. The voice that follows sends a shiver of rigidity down your spine.

“What are we talking about, hm?”

One of Lo’aks friends speaks up, “The best part of a sturmbeest.”

“Ah, it is easily the thigh.” Neteyams hands begin to lightly massage your shoulders, feeling the tension that formed, “You do not mind if I steal her, right?”

It was a rhetorical question, and everyone knew it. You may have loved Lo’ak, willing to do almost anything he had asked. But you were still Neteyams closest friend, it was a no brainer that you would hightail it out of there as soon as you were asked. Still out of respect, they shook their heads, bidding you a goodbye.

“I am exhausted Neteyam, it would be best if I head back to my kelku now.” You’ve stood to make your point. Turning around to face Neteyam, hoping he did not see the cracks in your composure.

“I will be quick,” He smiles at you, one of the genuine ones that shows his true inner happiness, “ there is someone I want you to meet.”

Oh. You absolutely could not go over there. The stories you knew of Ka’vina were enough to satiate your need to ever meet her.

Neteyam begins to tug you by your hand, as both his siblings had earlier. These damn Sullys and not taking a hint!

This time you dig your feet, you don’t let him drag you towards that woman. Your reaction would ruin your reputation in the clan.

“I really am tired, Neteyam,” You turn to Lo’ak, “Did I not say the same to you before you dragged me here?”

Lo’ak nods, remembering how you had complained hours earlier. He doesn’t understand why you’re denying Neteyam though, he doesn’t think you’ve done that in all his years of knowing you.

“Then I will walk you home.”

He turns in the direction of your kelku, seemingly pleased to just be in your presence after not seeing you all day. You let him drag you a few steps, just far enough that you’re sure his brother and his friends can no longer hear you.

“I wish to walk alone.”

Neteyams tail slows to a still in front of you, his ears flick forward to catch any and everything you say, “...But I have not seen you all day.”

What are you supposed to say? ‘I know, I’ve lived this day as well?’ or better yet, ‘I have seen you, but chosen to not acknowledge your presence as it makes me sick.’ Neither option feels right so you stay silent.

“I wish to walk you home so we can talk.”

“I do not have energy for conversation.”

“You had energy when entertaining Lo’ak’s friends.” Irritation is obvious in his tone, and his tail begins to whip back and forth harshly.

“I was not saying much, just sitting in their presence.” You finally meet his eyes, trying to drive home your point, “Just let me walk by myself tonight, please.”

The disappointment settles heavily on Neteyams features as he comes to terms with the fact that you will not allow him to do this, he grunts some noncommittal reply before heading back towards his friends who remain at the cookfire.

You should have left after that, stomped your way to your kelku, grabbed a nice warm pelt, and tucked into your hammock. Instead you watch Neteyam through the crowd, eyes following as his figure settles back onto the log, and he allows Ka’vina to settle into his side a bit more than is considered friendly.

The stabbing pain settles back in your chest. It pulses a bit the longer you watch but it does not matter anymore. You would have to fall into a new routine in the morning, sure that Ka’vina would not want you close to Neteyam as they start courting.

Before you know it four eclipses have passed and you’ve successfully avoided Neteyam for all of them. You hunt early in the mornings, leaving before most of the hunting parties have even woken up for the day. You return with your kills lighter than normal, taking enough meat to satiate yourself until the next day.

When you complete your duties you take to flying. Not the usual routes that the hunters would take, or the ones that the warriors would patrol around, just drifting with the wind patterns. Your face ends up windburnt from how much time you’ve been spending up there.

If your head isn’t literally in the clouds, you take to climbing. The hobby wasn’t your favorite, and that’s what made it the perfect diversion. You could head back out to the forest, finding a good tree to observe Eywas beauty from. Sometimes, you’d just climb hometree, heading all the way to the top to give your ikran some special treatment.

Regardless of how, you strayed from your normal paths. If you avoided them, Neteyam shouldn’t be able to track you down. And hopefully he would get the point, would understand that your paths were unwinding from each other, that they were branching off in different directions for the first time.

It hurts to avoid him. But it was better than facing him. Better than seeing him with Ka’vina. Better than watching their love flourish, and hearing the gossip spread about what a perfect pair they make.

The fifth day starts like the rest. You wake, change your tewng and chest piece, eat some fruit you had foraged the day before, slide on your knife holster and knife, and toss your bow across your back.

As you emerge from your kelku a sense of loneliness sits in your chest. You missed hunting with your friends. Missed fooling around with them at the cookfire. Missed accompanying Kiri on her foraging. Missed doing stupid shit with Lo’ak under the guise of being a responsible figure. You really missed Neteyam.

Missed flying with him. Missed hunting with him. Missed training with him. Missed indulging Tuk with him. Hell you even missed rebraiding his hair.

But your heart can only take so much. The images of him with Ka’vina flow freely into your head, reminding you of why you needed the distance, of why you needed to become a ghost in your own home.

A shout of your name halts you in your tracks. The Olo’eyktan has one of the most noticeable voices in the whole clan. You take a deep breath before turning to face him

“Good Morning, Olo’eyktan.” You raise your hand in the traditional greeting, “What can I do for you?”

Jake greets you back, “None of that formal shit kid,” then he’s yanking you into a hug. Your arms wrap sheepishly around his back, uncomfortable with the gesture due to the state of your and Neteyams relationship.

“You can say no, but Neteyams a little tied up at the moment so I was hoping you could train the young ones for a little while?”

As if you could say no to the Olo’eyktan. Jealousy claws at your heart, Ka’vina has Neteyam so busy with his courting that he can’t even tend to his duties?

“Of course, I will head there now.”

This would be good. Your friends would probably be there, and it could solve your loneliness problem, maybe you could even get a few good spars in and disguise them as ‘training demonstrations’. A skip finds your step on your way to the training grounds and for the first time in many eclipses you feel excited.

A small part of you hopes that Lo’ak would be there, that he’d force you to go on an adventure with him after training. And you could ask to bring Kiri along, satiating most of your need to hang out with the Sully kids.

You can’t think about the Sully kids without including Neteyam. You want to reminisce about happy memories, want to think about all the future good memories to come, but then Ka’vina inches her way into your mind. The image of them together at the cookfire, sitting too close for comfort.

But you won’t see them, they’ll be too busy taking strolls through the forest. Or maybe they’re flying their ikrans in spirals around each other. Perhaps they were climbing through the ayram alusìng, going higher and higher until they reached the alluring hot springs.

It’d be preferable to not think about the way Ka’vina would undress.

Would she save her modesty and undress after submerging, hoping that her loincloth and chest covering would dry before they emerged again? Or would she make a show of it, slowly unclipping her chest covering, slowly dragging it down to reveal her breast. Would she move onto the loincloth and make a show of that too?

And Neteyam. Would he watch, become so enticed with the show that he couldn’t avert his eyes? Or would he be the gentleman he was raised to be, letting Ka’vina undress and submerge in the warm water, allowing the steam time to curl over her body before finally turning around and entering the spring himself.

Oh Eywa, you were going to be sick. Why would you torment yourself with such thoughts?

A few steadying breaths flow into your lungs. The nausea is still present, but you know once you start teaching that it will subside for good.

You see the familiar shape of Tal’kren. He is performing on the archery targets, taking them from odd angles and showing off to the young ones before their lesson begins. You nock an arrow and wait, deciding when the best moment would be to make your presence known.

Tal’kren takes aim and you eye his stance to figure out which target he is aiming at. You determine it must be the target woven between many trees, the one nearly 100 meters away, farther than any of the young hunters could even dream about reaching.

You let your arrow soar just milliseconds after his does. From the angle everyone is watching from they cannot see your arrow trailing his. Tal’kren’s arrow sinks into the bullseye of the target with a satisfying thump.

Your arrow splits his a millisecond later with a much more satisfying crack. Fifteen heads start turning, searching for who released the arrow.

“Pxi kan, taronyutsyìp,” Tal’krens voice rings out. Finding you much before the trainees did.

You smile, laughing, “I am not little, just taronyu is fine.”

Tal’kren claps a hand on your shoulder before bringing you in for a hug. As you pull back, he keeps the hand on your shoulder “I assume you are my partner for today?”

“I am,” You want to show camaraderie, and encourage the trainees to cultivate similar relationships so you make no move to remove his hand from your shoulder. “The Olo’eyktan has asked me to step in for the foreseeable future.”

The young trainees murmur excitedly; your name is one that is usually spoken in soft whispers so for you to join in on their sessions for a while seemed like a blessing from Eywa. They could complain, wishing it was you and Neteyam training them, that they could have both of the best future warriors teaching them.

But they normally had Neteyam, had spent months learning from him and Tal’kren. Now they could learn your ways, and they could learn how to make their own unique style based on the two of you.

Days pass like this. The trainees soaking up your knowledge. Letting you adjust their stances, pull their strings more taught, sharpen the arrowheads that dulled from constant use.

Today you’re standing face to face with Opani when you hear the familiar timber of Neteyams voice. Your ears flick in annoyance, because of course Neteyam had to show up, but then you’re focusing on the young warrior in front of you.

Looking down towards the target you can see she is off, leaning more left than she should. It may be because of your proximity so you chide her gently, “Adjust to the right, if you were to take the shot now you would not hit a kill shot.”

She exhales roughly through her nose, you believe it to be from nerves and not irritation so you do not scold her. Then she shifts, leaning slightly more into your personal space. As she releases the arrow you hear Neteyam’s voice again.

This time you flick your head to angle it over your shoulder. Where was he? Why did it sound as if his voice was getting closer?

Beside you Opani releases a shout of joy, and that forces you to face front again. She's already staring at you, jumping a little from excitement. Flicking your eyes to the target you can see she hit the bullseye perfectly.

You ruffle her braids, giving her some words of encouragement before telling her to go retrieve her arrow and try again. After she runs off you redirect your attention in Neteyams direction.

You must be off your game, any skilled hunter should be able to differentiate from all current sounds around them. Yet, you somehow managed to miss Ka’vina’s voice. Seeing her renders you motionless; Your ears press against your skull, your tail falls flat, eyes drifting over every piece of her.

It takes you a few moments to notice Neteyam is in front of her, his back to you. They assume the same positions you and Opani were just in. It feels different this time though.

With you and Opani it was obvious that you were teacher and student. With Neteyam and Ka’vina it seemed as if it was a date. Instead of their movements being out of necessity, they had a sensual tone to them.

Neteyam uses his hand to raise Ka’vinas elbow higher, he watches the arrowhead carefully to make sure her aim is true. She turns towards him, saying something that you can’t hear.

You can see how he raises his fingers to grasp her chin. He tilts it back towards the target, encouraging her to always keep her eyes where her arrow is aimed.

The feeling that settles in your stomach makes you disgusted with yourself. They’re a well suited couple. Anyone with eyes could tell you that. They would make a good Olo’eyktan and Tsa’hik.

A good couple to lead the Omatikaya.

And here you were, upset at their presence. Upset that they were falling into love in the public eye. Upset that Neteyam hadn’t even told you he was considering courting Ka’vina.

You wondered which piece she wore was Neteyams courting gift. Was it the bracelet, the deep brown twine, mixed with blue and green beads that match her skin and the tones of the forest?

Or was it the choker, lined with polished river rocks lining her collarbone?

You couldn’t let your mind linger any longer. Couldn’t allow it to make you detest your closest friend.

So you find Tal’kren, alert him of some sudden illness you’ve come down with, and leave for the day. You could rest, and allow your mind to drift to other things. It would be smarter to head to the Tree of Souls. To make an honest prayer to Eywa for her to help you move on.

She would help you, but you weren’t sure if you wanted to let go yet.

You wanted to seem more alluring, something to attract attention at the clan gatherings. Not that you were actively seeking a mate, but it would be nice to see who is interested. Nice to see how many options you had, if any.

You knew you were rough around the edges. Knew that you spoke harsher than most liked. That your hands were rough from years of use. That you had nasty scars littering your body. That you had more muscle than the typical lithe Na’vi woman.

And you knew it had to make you less desirable. That the men must have wanted someone easier. Someone who thought before they spoke, and chose their words carefully so you could fall upon them like a pillow instead of a rock.

But that does not mean that everyone would dislike you, there has to be someone in the clan who sees your beneficial qualities. Someone who you could live your life with.

If there wasn’t you would prefer to know sooner rather than later. To decide if you should seek out a mate from a different clan.

So you seek our Kiri. A skilled weaver, knowledgeable in the proper herbs to stain cloths, and good company.

You had decided on a nice deep red. It was a color not typically worn by the Omatikaya as it did not blend in with the forest fauna - therefore it would draw the most attention.

“So, I have not seen you around the gatherings much.” Kiri drawls, keeping her head towards her weaving but angling her eyes to see you.

Your fingers don’t stop their meticulous patterns, “I have been there. Just last night I ate with Lo’ak.”

“Yes, but you skip at least 4 cookfires a week.”

“I tire easily, you know of my many duties.”

Kiri scoffs, but decides against responding. Her silence allows you to pick up a new bead, weaving it onto the side of where the cloth will hang. You’ve decided on white beads, and silvery polished river stones. They compliment the red well, they will also bring more attention to your waist, clacking and clashing with every step.

You decide on a symmetrical look. Two braided strands on each side. The farthest one shorter than the one that rests closest to the cloth. It will look nice.

Will it matter? Will the males of the clan really focus on the little details or only focus on what rests underneath?

You knew Neteyam would notice, that he would mention that the symmetry helped your internal equilibrium. Helped keep you centered in the rough moments. Not that you couldn’t function if your garments were asymmetrical, but he knew you were always a hair more sure of your aim.

But you were not wearing it for him. So what he thought did not matter. However this left you with a good idea on what to focus on when approached. Knew what you wanted to hear, and what you did not.

As you tie off the last bead on the tewng a sense of accomplishment falls upon you. You gaze upon your work lovingly; proud that even though your hands are rougher than the weavers, you can still produce a good piece.

It’s during your admiration that Kiri speaks again, “I require more twine.”

“The great mother has bestowed you with two legs and two arms, you can go retrieve your own twine.”

“I will fall out of rhythm, and then who knows how long it will take me to complete this piece.”

Your sharp words never phased Kiri, never shoved her away. You guessed it was good enough reason to go and retrieve more twine from the weavers circle.

As you stand and begin to pad away, you can hear Kiri shout some sort of thanks and you lift your hand in acknowledgement.

You were aware of many women in the weavers circle. Most of them are siblings to people you’ve hunted with, some girls you grew up with, others were elders who taught you how to weave at the beginning of your life.

A polite, simple greeting would do. You could say hello as you’re reaching for the twine. Exchange niceties, as you unspool the amount you guessed Kiri needed. And unsheath your knife and cut the twine before any deep conversations began to form.

You keep your head down as you reach for the twine and greet the circle. Everyone murmurs a similar greeting back and you are content to leave it as that. They know why you are here and do not need to indulge in conversation.

“Ma’numeyu, how have you been?” Rinak is speaking, drawing your eyes up from where the rest. She taught you how to weave when you were just a babe, toddling around camp looking for things to do.

“I have been well, and you Rinak?”

“I am also well numeyu, but I am disappointed that you have not eaten with me in many moons.”

You unsheath your knife, angling it safely to tear through the taught line of twine, “I am sorry. I will eat with you tonight if you will have me.”

“Of course I would.” Rinak chuckles, as if amused by the idea that she would shun your company away.

You smile back at her, pleased with how easily this has went. You have not run into Ka’vina or any of her friends, and have not had to exchange fake niceties with them. This will be counted as a win in your book.

But then you turn, ready to stand and head back to where you and Kiri have been hanging out as you weaved. And there, at the far side of the circle rests Ka’vina. Sitting knee-to-knee with her is Neteyam. He is weaving something, what you cannot tell, but Ka’vina is intently studying it.

Neteyam is looking at you though, his head tilted as if he is curious, and his hands only loosely grip his work. It is as if he is hunting; his eyes remain wide even after he blinks, not wanting to miss any movement from his prey.

You meet his eyes, frozen in place from his gaze. It would be improper to run, but it would be too awkward to walk over and say hello at this point. The tension grows around the circle, other members slowly noticing the way that the two of you are staring at each other.

The tension snaps like a bowstring when Ka’vina tugs on the piece in Neteyams hand. His eyes bolt to hers, ears flicking forward to catch every word that she says. That is your moment to move, so you run with it.

One of your hands raises as you bid everyone good weaving and goodbye. You force yourself to maintain a normal pace, not wanting Neteyam to see you run away. For him to know how openly you despise choice.

Upon returning to Kiri, you silently drop the twine, pressing a hand to her shoulder in greeting as you pass. She does not speak however, simply tying the two pieces together so she can continue working on her piece.

You’ve tucked your knees to your chest, resting your chin on them as you stew in your thoughts. Kiri must have known about Neteyams chosen one by now. Ka’vina must have been formally introduced to the Sullys, and therefore Kiri. And Kiri was the best judge of character, if she were to say Ka’vina was a good pick, you would believe it.

A whispered call of her name leaves your lips. You hope she misses it. Hope that it blends in with the pleasured yelps of the children, or the distant roars of the ikrans, even the chatter of the passing group of hunters.

But it does not, and Kiri responds much louder than you would like.

“What is it?”

“What are your thoughts on Ka'vina?” You can feel her eyes boring into the side of your head, but you refuse to look at her.

“She is a good weaver.”

This is common knowledge, Kiri must know you do not care about it. “What else?”

“If she did not wish to weave, she could easily join the singers.”

She must be egging you on. Wanting you to expose what you really feel before she says anything. You would think that a hunter as skilled as yourself would have more patience. You snap all the same, falling right into Kiris trap, “Yes. I know this. Everyone knows this. I want to know what you think about her deeply.”

“I think she is a good person. That she has many skills to help around hometree, and is known to assist the children and elders, but is unwise when it comes to other tasks.” Kiri is still staring at you even as she finishes her piece, “Why do you ask?”

You could not tell her the reason. Even if she sensed it, it would be wrong considering that Ka'vina was to be her sister. It could be worked out, where had you seen Ka'vina? Where had she piqued your interest?

“She has come around the training grounds recently and I could not think of why.” Finally you let your eyes drift to Kiris, hoping that there are no emotions swirling in your amber pools, “It makes sense with what you said. She needs to become fluent in many skills, not just a few.”

Kiri stares at you, eyes flicking over your face. Then to your ears, and briefly to your tail. Trying to assess how you feel internally from your body language. When she senses no showing of a lie a smile graces her face.

Then she's tossing the piece she crafted into your face. You grab it before it can slide and meet the dusty ground. As it rests in your palms you notice the red, white, and polished river stones that accent it.

“I made it so you could have a matching set tonight.”

At that, you gape at her. She had gone through all this trouble for you?

“Well don’t just look at me! Do you like it?”

“Yes, very much. Thank you Kiri.” You’ve stood now, crossing the small clearing to toss yourself onto her as a full body thanks.

“You skxawng get off of me!”

The two of you tousle a bit, acting like children getting into their first scuffle. But then you are off of her, and running in the direction of your kelku to get ready for the cookfire tonight.

It is almost eclipse, which means you have enough time to change slowly, put your braids up in a different style and meander your way back to the center of hometree.

On your way back Tal’kren calls for you. He must have also stopped at his kelku before heading to the cookfire.

“Hello Tal’kren, how were the trainees today?” You call back over your shoulder, refusing to stop for him, but walking at a slower pace nonetheless.

“They were fine. No more rowdy than usual. Though they listened les-” Tal’krens voice trails off, and when you turn to look at him he is already staring at you, “What are you wearing?”

You’re approaching the cookfire now, but you still choose to indulge him, “It is new, how do I look?” You give a childish spin, showing all angles of your new outfit.

You can feel more eyes than just his as you sit and wait for a response. But it is not worth searching for who is staring at you when you have a perfectly fine archer right in front of you. If you’re lucky he will say something that will make you believe he has more going on in his head besides arrows, bowstrings, and bows.

“It is very sevin,” Tal’kren gulps, a light shade of indigo coming to his cheeks and the tips of his ears, “You are sevin.”

It was not the best compliment, but you would not deny that it made something flutter in your stomach. It was nice to be seen as something other than a txantxewm taronyu.

“Thank you Tal’kren.” You begin to walk towards where you know Rinak likes to sit, “I will see you after I have eaten, yes?”

“Yes. I will be with some of our other friends over here.” He gestures in a general direction, not moving until he sees you nod in acceptance of his words.

The night moves smoothly from then. You talk with the elders, inform them of the current happenings of your life, what new herb you decided you liked on your meat. They in turn spoke about other things you may enjoy, what fruits could enhance the flavor of certain meats, special herbs only the most skilled climbers could eat.

It was nice to speak with them, to gain some wisdom, but it was even nicer sitting around with people you knew.

First it was Lo’ak. His group sat between Rinak and Kiris groups, and he had made fast work of snagging your arm as you passed by. They indulged you in more fermented juice, happy to provide whatever you desired to keep you with them.

You missed the way that Loak's young friends eyed you. Missed how their eyes traced over your chest covering. How they seemed to stop at every bead, or rock, that dimpled the pattern. He had said they ‘drooled over you,’ but in your eyes they were just children, and there was no way they’d be interested in you.

Then Kiri and her group came to join. She had said something about how it was ‘Forbidden to hide from her’ when she crafted you such a beautiful piece. Her friends eyed your new cloths with jealous eyes. The color combination was something they had not considered to be allowed.

You still ignored their gazes. Knowing they mostly wanted to know what weaving pattern Kiri used, and what herb was used to dye the clothes and twine. Not that they cared about you as a person or the body that rests underneath the cloths.

There was a good mix of people, the feeling of the group never becoming tense or uncomfortable. There was currently an exchange of the bravest, most death defying things they had gotten away with.

You had decided that was your time to go join Tal’kren. If you heard too much about what Lo’ak or Kiris friends got up to, you would feel the need to implore them to be safer. So you asked them to top off your drink before you headed off.

As you approach, only two pairs of eyes flick to you. The first being Neteyams, it would seem as if his eyes followed you the entire way from across the fire, but that would be a silly thought. Especially considering Ka’vina was still pressed closely into his side.

The next is Tal’kren. He grins widely as you get closer to where he rests on the log. Already moving to rise before you even fully reach him, “Would you like to sit?”

“It is fine, may I brace my back on your legs though?” You did not wish to have the rough bark mar your skin.

He plants his feet a bit away from the log, steadying them before nodding, “Of course.”

Their conversation is equally as lively as the other groups. Once again discussing trick shots they have taken during sturmbeest hunts.

They first discuss the ones that do not count. This only means they got scolded for it after as it did not result in a kill, was reckless, wasted resources, disrupted the formation, or all of the above.

Once the group had ran through those, they switched to ones that did count. Ones that ended in a kill, clean or not. These were much more important, as the elders would try to scold you, but they had rarely any footing because the clan was still fed.

The only person who could not produce a story was Ka’vina, and it did not bring a sense of pity to your chest. Instead it just reminded you how different she was. Even if she did participate in the hunts, would she want to engage in such activities? What did she even consider fun?

You’ve been avoiding where she and Neteyam were sitting. It was not against them, but you were unsure of how you would act, and you preferred to keep this night enjoyable.

So when someone grasps your bicep and yanks, you are shocked. Before you even have time to identify who it is you’re being tugged backwards.

“Hey-” You stumble over a rock, nearly falling to your knees before you regain your composure, “Just wait a second!”

“I will not.” Neteyams voice is gruff, like he had to force the words through clenched teeth.

You’re furiously pulling your arm now, the cookfire is glowing dimly in the distance, and you cannot believe the audacity of this man. “You will!”

With that final motion, you are able to tug your arm free. And you spin rapidly to face Neteyam, appalled at his actions.

“What was that?”

“It was necessary.”

“By Eywa, in what world was that necessary?”

Neteyam does not grant you a response. He stands in front of you, huffing a little bit with his eyes towards the ground. His ears flick at every sound, and his tail lashes aggressively behind him.

“You are a grown man, and I know your tongue has not been cut out, so speak.”

His eyes meet yours briefly before softly uttering, “They were looking at you as if you were a piece of meat.”

“I cannot understand mumbling Neteyam,” When he doesn’t make any move to speak again you turn to leave.

“I said they were looking at you as if you were a piece of meat.” The last words spit from his mouth like acid, like they physically pained him to say.

“So what if they were?”

“They should not do such things.”

“Why is that?” You come close to him. Because of the height difference you still have to peer up at him, but you hope your intimidating presence is enough to cut him down a bit, “Why should they not look at me?”

“It is unbecoming of a hunter. They should know better.”

And you laugh, right in his face. “Unbelievable. You are truly, unbelievable Neteyam te Suli Tsyeyk'itan.” Then you stalk off, rushing in the direction of your kelku, hoping you can make it in and tie the flaps shut before the tears run down your lashline.

One would think they would want to spare the feelings of someone they grew up with. That they would find a way to soften the blow, not make the impact harder.

If he found you so undesirable, why could he not find another way to say it?

The winds flow freely through your hair. You had unbraided it, wishing to wash it before braiding new beads and feathers into it.

You’re flying on your ikran, heading to one of the hot springs you’ve been aching to dip into for weeks now. Your favorite one rests inside a cave on one of the mountains.

There is just enough space for your ikran to land, truly hiding the space from anyone who doesn’t know it exists. However it also meant that you could never know who’s inside without entering yourself.

But you had left long after the clan had settled for the night. Only the embers of the cookfire remained, and you passed many sleeping members of the clan on the way up hometree. There was no doubt that you would be alone.

You step slowly into the space, admiring the bioluminescence that lit up the cave. Stripping quickly you almost dive into the water with your haste. The hot water instantly releases some tension in your shoulders.

There are natural ledges around the border of the pool, you find one and take a seat. You’ve been very busy recently and deserve the chance to relax.

Before you can get too comfortable you take to scrubbing your scalp. The goal is to remove any dirt, dust, or grime that may have gotten caught up in your tightly wound braids. But that quickly switches to giving yourself a scalp massage.

The motions are nice. They would be even better if it was someone else completing them however, you were not a complainer. You’re unsure how long you sit there for, but you’re sure enough time has passed that you can scrub away at your body now.

Any caked on grime or blood, has become soaked through with the warm water. It slides off your skin easily, showing the vibrant blue shade underneath. You begin to feel more like yourself again, as if you’re shedding your old skin and coming into a new one.

When you turn around, eager to retrieve your waterskin and change positions you're faced with another body. You must have mistaken the sounds of someone else entering the spring with the sounds of your own splashing.

You scoff, “What are you doing here?”

“It is a free hot spring.”

“Yes, but should you not be getting your beauty sleep?”

“Shouldn’t you?”

All the tension you felt leave your body came back. You had specifically came so late as to avoid any of this. Why couldn't Eywa give you a break, just this once. With a deep breath you shut your eyes tightly, and let you head fall against the border.

You would not allow Neteyam to bother you. You have waited many moons to come here, and you would leave when you were ready, not because you were forced out.

Soft ripples distract you from where you’ve let your thoughts drift. Your ears snap to attention, trying to discern if the ripples are moving closer or farther from your location.

Your eyes shoot open when you realize that Neteyam is moving closer to you. “What are you doing.”

You do not pose him a question. You speak the words like a warning, giving him the chance to turn back.

“I am coming deeper so the water may reach my shoulders.”

“Go to that side of the spring then. Do not come closer.”

For a moment you think he will continue moving towards you. That he will attempt to cage you in against the wall and himself, but he moves to where you told him to go. When he gets there you expect him to stay silent.

You have nothing to say to him, nothing nice especially after the cookfire a few nights ago. And whatever he has to say to you, you do not wish to hear.

Minutes tick by in silence. It is not comfortable, some may even say it is suffocating, most would leave. You got here first however, and you refuse to vacate when you came under such perfect conditions to be alone.

Let's be realistic, there were plenty of hot springs he could have picked, why did he come here? He could have left after seeing you already submerged! Quietly backed out, and climbed upon his ikran to find another spring.

The thought irritates you more. It makes you grind your teeth, the anger beginning to simmer in your chest.

“I wish to talk.”

Neteyam had said those same words to you forever ago, when this all began. They had meant less than they do now, but you still feel the same way.

“I do not.”

“Well, we must talk. There is no other wa-”

When you open your eyes, you find Neteyam already staring at you intently, “You cannot force me to talk with you. You are not Olo’ekytan yet, and you do not command me in hunting parties, therefore I do not take orders from you.”

He softly calls your name. If you didn’t know any better you would assume there is a quiver to it, a bit of unsureness. But that would be a silly thought, and you promptly will yourself to stop thinking it.

Suddenly Neteyam is moving closer again. Slowly but surely moving into your side of the spring. When he reaches the halfway point you raise your hand slightly, muttering a quick ‘don’t’ in warning.

That does nothing to deter him. His shoulders begin to glisten from no longer being submerged, droplets cascading down his arms and clavicles in rivulets that remind you how thirsty you had been just a few minutes ago.

Oh Eywa! What were you thinking? As you get your thoughts back under control Neteyam shifts ever closer. His body comes to rest just a few feet in front of yours. Slowly inching closer, truly trying to cage you like an animal.

“I said to not come closer.”

“And I said we need to speak.”

He thinks you will just sit here? Allow him to force you into speaking? Believes that your nudity embarrasses you enough, that you will allow him to speak?

There is some space between the cave wall and the border of the pool, and if you angled yourself properly you could follow it the entire way back out to where your tewng and chest covering rested. And if you called for your ikran as you were dressing you could be back to hometree within the half hour.

It is decided.

You scooch backwards, using your arms to lift up onto the ledge. It is then that Neteyam finally stops.

Neteyams eyes flick over your body. Your chest, where your nipples have begun to peak in the cooler air, the water that drips down your navel, the way your hips look without the tewng covering them. He does not speak, but an indigo tint falls on his cheeks, rises up his neck, and also hits the tops of his ears.

You stand, wringing out your hair so it does not drip on you as you fly. Pointedly ignoring Neteyams presence, but when he does not continue in his harassment you turn your eyes towards him again.

He is flustered, that much you can tell. At first it makes you a little happy, knowing that you actually do have an effect on him. Then you remember Ka’vina, and the feeling leaves.

“Oh you are disgusting!”

Neteyam sputters out of his trance, “What?”

“Staring! At an undressed woman. Alone! Especially when you are courting another.”

“Oh, yes, yes, sorry.” Then he avoids his gaze, focusing on the water directly in front of him instead.

“Wait.” His eyes raise back to yours, “My courting?”

“Yes. With Ka’vina.”

A disbelieved laugh leaves his lips, “I am not courting Ka’vina.”

“There is no need to lie. I will not tell her about this.”

“I am not lying.” He rises a bit more, grabbing your hand, “Come back in and I will explain.”

You laugh at him, “I am not going back in there with you.”

Eyes flick back towards the entrance of the cave, remembering your earlier plan. The urge to execute that plan comes back. The urge to suddenly be tucked into your woven mat with pelts submerging you in warmth, stronger than anything else.

As you’re debating your escape plan Neteyam sneaks up on you. He places a hand on your thigh another on your waist, and hauls you back into the water. You hiss, smacking his chest.

“You cannot move so rashly!”

“I would like to know how you came to the belief that I was courting Ka’vina.”

You try to thrash a bit. To use the slickness of the water on your behalf, but Neteyams grasp is unrelenting. He does not let you move an inch.

When you try to at least sit down, he still does not let you move. “I will not speak until I can rest.”

“You must lean back then. It would be unpleasant to sit directly down.”

It is then that you realize you are on Neteyam's lap. A flush adorns your face now, realizing the predicament that you’re in. But his grasp still isn't letting up, so you lean back on your haunches. Carefully maneuvering to avoid any unwanted touching.

“Now explain.”

“I saw the two of you at the cookfire, a few moons ago.”

“Yes, I was integrating her into our group.”

“Because you were courting her,” Your hand raises to cover Neteyams mouth, if he wanted you to explain he would have to hear it in entirety before trying to contradict your words.

“I only realized because she had taken my spot next to you. And then the two of you at the training grounds, the way your hand lingered on her.” You move your palm from covering his lips to grasping at his chin, the same way he had done to Ka’vina.

Tossing his head to the side you continue, “Then you were with her at the weaving circle. You had allowed her to critique your work, allowed her to undo the knots and braids you had worked on. You don’t even like to weave.”

Neteyam is peering up at you, his lashes fluttering lightly, “May I speak now?”

You nod, not trusting your voice anymore.

“I was around her because she needed help completing her iknimaya, many of the other karyus have tried and she has failed many times.”

“Her iknimaya?”

“Yes, her other karyus were too rough, they did not attune to her learning style.” One of his hands begin to travel up and down your side, “I was involving her with our friends so she could have other people to lean on.”

Your eyes stray to the side, embarrassment creeping up your spine. But Neteyam keeps staring at you, “She needed help with archery for her dream hunt. And I needed help with weaving. I wanted to make something beautiful, that would last, that could withstand harsh weather, and harsher movements by the wearer.”

The hand moving up your side travels up, ghosting over the side of your breast, and lightly settles on the side of your neck.

“It was a mutual exchange of skill.”

Your embarrassment at misunderstanding makes you snap at him, “Yes, I understand that Neteyam.”

Your voice comes again, lighter and nicer this time, “You do not desire her, even slightly?”

“Not even slightly. What else would make you think that?”

“She is soft.”

Neteyam mulls over your words. Ka’vina is soft, her body is soft, her words are soft, her weaves are soft, the way she aims her bow is soft, so he agrees, “Yes, she is soft. But I do not want soft.”

“Why?”

“Because no one knows me like you. No one can anticipate my movements like you. They cannot hit flying targets as well, and they do not like to sharpen their arrows so they pierce their kills more efficiently. I have wanted it to be you since we were children, since my parents explained the concept of a mate to me.”

“That is stupid. You were too young to understand then.”

Instead of being upset at your misplaced anger, Neteyam just smiles. Then his lips curl into a smirk, “May I kiss you?”

“May you… what?”

“Kiss you.”

Instead of answering you lean forward and press your lips to his. You’re motionless, and it’s awkward. But then Neteyam begins moving his lips, opening them slightly and tilting his head to deepen it.

Before you know it your hands are pressing against his face, trying to memorize the feel of him after months of not being close. You finally pull away when you start to feel light headed. Your eyes are hazy darting across all of his features as you greedily suck in air.

You lean back in. This time Neteyam licks into your mouth, he tastes like the smokiness of the meat that was served at the cookfire tonight. It’s something you believe you could get used to.

This is something you think you could get used to.

You’d do it anywhere. Here in the hot springs, back in your kelku, in Neteyams kelku, out in the forest, hell you’d even do it at the training grounds if Neteyam wanted.

Truthfully, you’re a bit mad at yourself. How long could you have been doing this for if you had just spoken to him? How much farther could you have gone? It did not matter now, and you clearly were not the best at thinking through scenarios.

When Neteyam leans back again you nearly whine. The fact that such a noise wanted to emerge from your throat shocks you. What was this man doing to you?

“Would you like to see what I was weaving?”

You’re lightly panting, allowing your tongue to lave over your swollen lips. “What?”

“What I was weaving with Ka’vina -”

“Do not mention Ka’vina when you just had your tongue in my mouth.”

Neteyam laughs, “I will not, but she did direct me in perfecting your courting gift,” His grip lets up a bit so that he can begin caressing you softly, “It is over with my tewng. If you will still have me.”

“Of course I will still have you, do not make jokes.” You stand, grabbing Neteyams hand, and suddenly you’re tugging one of the Sully’s around. “I am excited to see what you have made for me.”

“It will fit you well.” He kisses you one more time, acting as if he would not get the chance to after he bestows the gift upon you, “And then everyone will know you are mine.”

A realization dawns on you. The other night, Neteyam had not been mad at you for crafting a new loincloth and chest covering. He was mad at your comrades, your friends, for eyeing you in such a way, “You were jealous the other day?”

“Very much so. They were just looking at you, not seeing you.” Another peck, “I see you, that is why I deserve to court you.”

You laugh. It is a soft sound, one of the only soft things you can identify about yourself. And you don’t allow the hard parts of you to bring you down. Don’t allow them to make you insecure about how you would fit with Neteyam. He likes you as you are, and that is enough.

Forehead nuzzling to his, you repeat his words, “And I see you.” Unable to resist, you kiss him one last time before making a demand, “Now let me see my gift.”

Neteyam laughs ever amused at your personality, but he does not voice any opposition. He would continue to feed into you for as long as the two of you shall live if it meant he got to see your grin. Got to see your fangs peek out over your bottom lip, and your nose scrunch up in delight.

Yeah, Neteyam was exactly where he wanted to be.

Translations: Yerik - hexapede Palulukan - Thanator Angtsìk - Hammerhead Titanothere Nantang - Viperwolf Taronyu - Hunter Ayram Alusìng - Hallelujah Mountains Kelku - Home/House Paywll - Water plant Txantxewm - Terrifying Tsa’hik - Spiritual Leader Tsakarem - Tsa’hik in training Tewng - Loincloth Niktsyey - Food wrap Tslikllte - Mudcrawler Fish Skxawng - Idiot, Moron Pxi kan, taronyutsyìp - Sharp aim, little hunter Taronyu - Hunter Numeyu - Student Sevin - Pretty

a/n: i wrote like 7k words straight on this. i really hope yall like it. if u find anything i should be warning ab please lmk!

Dividers by @cafekitsune

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