The walk back to Home Tree was slower than the one away from it.
Nussudle and Nayat'i moved side by side, hands brushing now and then, neither quite ready to let go but no longer holding on as tightly as before. The forest around them had settled into its late-night rhythm. Insects buzzed softly, and distant calls echoed through the canopy, but the excitement that had filled the air earlier was gone.
When Home Tree came into view, its glow was dimmer.
The fires still burned, but lower now. The music had faded to quiet drumming, more habit than celebration. Many of the clan had already returned to their hammocks, leaving only small groups talking softly or laughing in tired bursts.
As they stepped back onto the main platform, a few heads turned.
Some smiled.
Some simply nodded, already guessing.
Nussudle felt his stomach tighten slightly. The celebration had been loud and overwhelming earlier. Now, in the quiet, everything felt more exposed.
Nayat'i noticed.
"You don't look afraid of thanators," she said quietly. "But this?"
He huffed. "This feels harder."
She gave a small smile and nudged his arm. "Too late to run now."
Before he could respond, a familiar voice cut through the low hum of conversation.
"There you are."
Kamun stood near the edge of the central platform, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Ilara was beside him, calm as ever, her gaze already settled on Nussudle and Nayat'i together. A few steps behind them stood Nayat'i's mother, her posture stiff, eyes sharp with concern and exhaustion.
Kamun gestured with his head. "Come. All of you."
It wasn't a request.
They followed him into the inner chambers of Home Tree, away from the remaining celebration. The room Kamun led them into was simple—wide, circular, with carved supports and low light from glowing vines. It was used for private discussions, family matters, and decisions that didn't belong to the whole clan.
Once inside, Kamun turned and waited until everyone had entered.
The silence was heavy.
Ilara was the first to speak. "You were gone longer than expected."
Nayat'i straightened. "We went to the Tree of Voices."
That did it...
Ilara's eyes softened instantly. Kamun's shoulders relaxed just slightly. Nayat'i's mother inhaled sharply, one hand lifting to her mouth.
"And?" Ilara asked gently, though she already knew.
Nussudle took a breath. His voice came out steadier than he expected. "We've bonded. As mates."
For a moment, nothing happened.
Then Ilara smiled.
It wasn't the composed smile of the Tsahìk. It was warm, open, and full of quiet pride. She stepped forward and placed her hands on Nussudle's shoulders.
"I'm glad," she said simply.
Kamun let out a low breath, something close to a laugh. "About time," he muttered.
Nussudle blinked. "You knew?"
Kamun shrugged. "I had suspicions. You're not subtle."
Nayat'i's mother, however, was not smiling.
She was crying tears of exhaustion, leaving her body.
The sound caught all of them off guard. Tears spilled freely down her face as she covered her mouth, shoulders shaking. She took a step forward, then another, until she stood directly in front of Nayat'i.
"I thought…" she began, voice breaking. "I thought you would be alone for so long."
Nayat'i froze, mortified. "Mother—"
"I worried every night," her mother continued, tears falling faster now. "After your father, after Na'fey… I was so afraid you would carry everything by yourself."
Nayat'i glanced helplessly at Nussudle, her ears flattening slightly. "Please don't cry."
Ilara moved immediately, placing an arm around Vey'ang and guiding her gently toward one of the low seats. "She's joined with Nussudle now... We are family, Vey."
Kamun finally laughed properly then, a quiet, deep sound. "You see? Strong daughter, strong mother. Too much feeling in one room."
Nayat'i groaned quietly. "I'm never hearing the end of this."
Her mother laughed weakly through tears and reached out, pulling Nayat'i into a tight embrace. "I'm just relieved," she said. "So relieved."
Nussudle stood there awkwardly, unsure where to put himself, until Ilara beckoned him closer.
"Congratulations," she said to him. "To both of you."
The room felt warmer now. Lighter.
But Kamun hadn't finished.
"Sit," he said, gesturing to the centre of the room. "There are things we still need to speak about."
Nussudle and Nayat'i exchanged a look.
Whatever came next, there was no turning back now.
They sat where Kamun directed, a low circle formed by smooth wood and dim light. The room felt smaller now, not because of the space, but because everything that needed saying was already pressing close.
Nayat'i's mother wiped at her face, embarrassed now that the tears had slowed. "I'm sorry," she said quietly. "I did not mean to make this… dramatic."
Ilara shook her head. "There is nothing wrong with relief," she said. "Especially after so much loss."
Kamun leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees. "This is not a court," he said. "No one here is in trouble. But bonds are not only personal matters. They affect families. The clan. So we speak plainly."
Nussudle nodded. His throat felt tight, but he welcomed the directness.
Ilara turned to Nayat'i. "You chose this freely?"
"Yes," Nayat'i replied at once. "Without pressure."
"And you understand what it means," Ilara continued. "Not just affection. Shared responsibility. Shared mistakes."
"I do," Nayat'i said. "And I still choose it."
Ilara then looked to Nussudle. "And you?"
He didn't hesitate. "I choose her. I know I still have much to learn. I won't always be right. But I won't walk away."
Kamun studied him for a long moment, eyes sharp but not unkind. Finally, he nodded once.
"That answer matters more than confidence," he said. "Good."
Nayat'i's mother sat straighter now, her breathing steadying. "I worried," she admitted, voice softer. "After her father died, I saw her harden. After Na'fey… I feared she would close herself off completely."
Nayat'i frowned slightly. "I didn't—"
"You didn't mean to," her mother said gently. "But you were carrying too much alone."
She turned to Nussudle then. "You understand what it means to stand beside someone like her?"
Nussudle met her gaze. "I won't pretend I can fix everything," he said honestly. "But I can stay. And listen. And share the weight."
That seemed to be enough.
Her shoulders relaxed fully for the first time since they had entered the room. "Then I welcome you," she said. "As family."
Nussudle let out a breath he hadn't realised he'd been holding.
Ilara smiled again, small but certain. "The bond is recognised," she said. "There will be no public announcement tonight. Let the celebration end as it should. In time, the clan will know."
Kamun stood. "Good. Then that is settled."
Nayat'i blinked. "That's it?"
Kamun smirked. "Did you expect speeches?"
She groaned quietly. "I was bracing for something worse."
Kamun chuckled. "You'll get enough of that later."
The tension that had filled the room finally drained away. What remained was tiredness—deep and earned.
Ilara placed a hand on Nayat'i's shoulder. "You're not alone," she said again, softer this time. "Not anymore."
Nayat'i nodded, eyes down, ears warm with embarrassment. "I know."
They left the room together a few moments later. The celebration outside had nearly ended. Fires were being tended down. Voices were low, full of the kind of quiet happiness that followed a long night.
A few Na'vi noticed them as they returned, offering knowing smiles or simple nods. No one pressed. No one asked questions.
That was enough.
Nussudle and Nayat'i stood for a moment at the edge of the platform, looking out over the forest. The night air felt cooler now, calmer.
"I didn't think it would go like that," Nussudle admitted.
Nayat'i snorted softly. "Neither did I. My mother crying was… unexpected."
He smiled. "You handled it well."
She glanced at him. "So did you."
They stood there in comfortable silence, the weight of the day finally settling into something manageable.
Below them, the forest continued as it always had—unconcerned, patient, alive.
And for the first time in a long while, Nussudle felt like he wasn't carrying his path alone.