The Barrens (as the Anurai called it) weren’t as plain as Lo’ak first believed the night he found himself with Layaki and Co’sai. As they ventured on, what was once flat rock became a tumultuous terrain – the earth was slashed with mouths that seemed to reach no end and canyons that snaked around cliffs so tall, they blocked out the sun. It then made more sense to him why the Oso’i were slow: one false step could lead to death.
“Hold on and do not look down,” Co’sai taunted. They were making their way down the side of a cliff, the footholds barely wide enough for their animals. Of course, Lo’ak automatically glanced over the edge. Below was nothing but darkness; a pit created with another cliff just yards away from the one they were on. His fingers tensed over Layaki’s shoulder and the wrist in his sling pinged from the sudden flex of his fist. It was an instant regret.
“Close your eyes, that might be better,” Layaki said. Lo’ak did not need to be told twice. He kept his eyes shut for what felt like a couple of hours, his anxieties easily fighting off any temptation to fall asleep. Then, almost scaring him to death, Co’sai loudly sang a string of notes that bounced off of the rocks around them.
“What was that?” Lo’ak asked.
“It is to tell them we are home,” Lo’ak’s ears perked up as if to say ‘really? We’re here?’
“You may open your eyes now,” Layaki finished. Slowly, Lo’ak’s eyes fluttered open.
Both of the cliff sides fanned out into platforms, a wide wicker bridge weaving them together. Torches were lit on either side: beacons that marked the entrance into the Anurai's village. Past it, Lo’ak could make out slopes that ran down to other naturally formed platforms and nooks that looked like half-formed caves. Flames danced everywhere, which made it hard for him to believe that it was still only noon. The village was an amalgamation of nature and Na’vi-made structures, creating a mix-matched world in which the Anurai have used the cliffs as a kind of guide or foundation – they had built around and with what they were given. Co’sai sang another string of notes.
“Now what does that mean?” Lo’ak looked over Layaki’s shoulder at Co’sai, who seemed pleased with his vocals.
“That we have a… prisoner,” Layaki answered. Na’vi faces began to peek out of crevices and huts, peering up at them as they made their way down. 'Prisoner' did not sit well at all with Lo’ak, but in light of the circumstances there was no other way to put it. A handful of the Anurai made their way to the entrance, their deep blue skins glimmering with a hue of purple by the firelight. The Oso’i stopped in front of them. Co’sai spoke to the people and they listened with eyes trained on Lo’ak. Layaki intervened, probably to clarify that Lo’ak was not a ‘prisoner’, but a ‘guest’ of sorts.
The crowd gave way as Co’sai, Layaki, and Lo’ak slid down to the ground, parting like fish around a predator. Lo’ak stared directly ahead, looking only at the back of Co’sai’s head as they made their way down the wicker path. Co’sai and Layaki passed their satchels off to a few men, giving instructions in their language before continuing on. At the very end of the bridge that spanned the abyss, was a place where the two cliffs met, creating a semi-vast platform of stone in which the largest hut was built. The walls were of direhorse leather and the doorway was the skull of a large animal that Lo’ak had never seen before. Its rows of teeth on the bottom jaw had the front canines removed as though to form a path into the home. Co’sai sang again, a low tune that echoed through the firelight. Lo’ak pressed his lips together, his heart beginning to race. If he was refused by the Olo’eyktan, he might as well be dead. The leather curtain parted.
A tall, broad-shouldered Na’vi stepped forth, dressed with pieces of leather and bone. His hair fell to his shoulders in braids, held together by beads of carefully carved materials that Lo’ak couldn’t place. A headband wrapped around the width of his head with fangs as their centrepiece. His eyes were the gleaming silver of daggers.
“Rai’lu.” Co’sai and Layaki bowed and Lo’ak quickly followed suit. Rai’lu nodded.
“We have found this Na’vi in the Barrens, fallen from the sky and separated from his family,” Layaki stated. Rai’lu scanned the boy, his gaze stopping on his hands.
“And who are you?” He asked, his voice a deep baritone sound. Lo’ak blinked. He did not expect such a direct question.
“Lo'ak te Suli Tsyeyk'itan, son of the Omaticaya’s Toruk Macto,” Lo’ak replied. Rai’lu frowned.
“No. Who are you,” he asked again. Lo’ak’s brow furrowed. What the hell does that even mean? He felt Layaki and Co’sai looking at him, waiting for an answer.
“Just Lo’ak, sir,” he meekly said. Rai’lu stood straighter, as if the answer was almost appalling.
“And what do you need of the Anurai?”
“Help to find my family. We were looking for the Olangi Clan before I was lost – if I can be brought to them, that is all I need.” A second of silence. Rai’lu looked from Co’sai to Layaki, again communicating as if words were not enough. Lo’ak clenched his jaw.
“The Olangi are a traveling people. In order to return you, we must find them and even then, we do not know how long that would take,” Rai’lu thought aloud, crossing his arms over his chest.
“We can send a Varsh to search and send word – have them come to us,” Layaki interjected. A day later, when they were alone, Layaki explained that a Varsh was a bird that could carry messages relayed through a bond.
“And while we wait?” Rai’lu asked. To Lo’ak’s surprise, it was Co’sai that spoke next.
“We can always use an extra hand.”
Just like that, Rai’lu consented and Lo’ak blew out a breath of relief. Rai’lu instructed Layaki to go and make arrangements with a Varsh to fly out before dawn the next day. Co’sai was to check the rations and materials so that one more mouth was accounted for.
“And you,” he looked at Lo’ak.
“You stay with me. No other home here can accommodate another.”
-------------------------------------
That night, Rai’lu sat Lo’ak down in the middle of the home and told the story of his people. As artisans and craftsmen, their creations were intricate, beautiful, and highly coveted by the Sky People. Their sculptures, tools, art… Everything seemed to be of high value for the aliens. At first, they were satisfied with what they could be given, but over time those open hands came with requests, and those requests quickly turned into orders. At gunpoint, the Anurai lived like factory workers, fashioning whatever was asked of them at the condition that their sacred stones (the sculptures of their history) and spirit tree were not touched. They slaved away, their weak and elderly meeting death earlier than Eywa would have wanted due to exhaustion.
“Even then, it was not enough,” Rai’lu said.
In the middle of an eclipse, the clan was raided for all that they owned. Rai’lu’s father had instructed Rai’lu to take all the children and those of his generation far, far away, and by morning, all that had remained of their home was mere ash and smoke. The fight was useless: they were no match for the aliens' machinery.
Rai’lu then took Lo’ak’s wrist and held his palm up between their faces. Their stares locked on to each other.
“I do not trust you. Toruk Macto means nothing here. If I find that you bring harm to my people, I will not hesitate to kill you. Understood?”
Lo’ak’s eyes burned. His throat felt as though it were closing up on itself.
Rai’lu dropped his hand and with a nod, gestured to one of the leather curtains to the side.
“That is your room. You may go,” he said. Lo’ak did not have to be told twice. He got up, said his formalities, and disappeared behind the curtain.
The room almost completely empty save for a single wicker cot that was fashioned in the corner. There was a small leather flap by it on the wall, rolled up so that the cool air flowed silently into the room. And the view… Lo’ak stretched his arm through the hole and felt the cool, damp cliff face against his skin. It was then, in the dark, that he allowed himself to cry.
