Nussudle did not intend to search the entire Home Tree.
At first, he assumed Nayat'i would be near the training platforms. That was where she usually went when she needed space, when her thoughts became too loud. When she wasn't there, he moved lower, checking the resting branches where hunters gathered after long patrols.
Nothing.
He asked quietly, keeping his voice steady, pretending his chest wasn't tight every time someone shook their head.
"She passed through earlier," one woman said."Didn't stay long," said another."Looked upset," a third added, carefully.
Nussudle was stumped. Where in the world could Nayat'i be? That was before it clicked
The Tree of Voices.
Immediately, Nussudle ran and mounted his direhorse, guiding it through the forest surrounding the home tree. The animal responded smoothly, hooves finding familiar paths as they descended into the forest. He rode fast, but not recklessly, weaving between roots and low branches, letting instinct guide him where conscious thought failed.
The Tree of Voices stood apart from the rest of the forest. Its roots spread wide and low, etched with generations of markings. Names, hunts, bonds, grief. The air there always felt heavier, quieter, as if the forest itself listened more closely.
He slowed before dismounting the direhorses' hooves, becoming lighter as they came to a light jog.
Then he saw her.
Nayat'i lay on her side against one of the tree's lower branches, her queue connected to the living fibres. Her body was curled inward, shoulders shaking faintly. She wasn't sobbing openly, but the sound she made, small, broken breaths she tried to hide, hit him harder than anything could have.
Nussudle stopped a few steps away.
For a moment, he simply watched. Not because he didn't want to help, but because he knew how fragile this space was. The Tree of Voices was not a place to interrupt thoughtlessly.
"Nayat'i," he said quietly, his voice almost croaking as he spoke.
She stiffened.
Her breath caught as she turned her head. Her eyes were red, her face tense, like she'd been holding herself together by force alone. For a second, she looked as if she might pull away, disconnect and leave before he could say anything.
Instead, her expression collapsed.
Nussudle closed the distance immediately and knelt beside her, wrapping his arms around her without asking. She clutched at him as if the ground had vanished beneath her, pressing her face into his chest, shaking as the restraint finally broke.
She whispered, voice raw. "Please... Nussudle don't go..."
Nussudle looked at her, the knot within his chest twisting and pulling at him. Seeing her like this, his mate, his first real friend, crying about him leaving.
Nayat'i cried openly now, her shoulders trembling as she held onto him. Nussudle stayed silent, letting her breathe it out, letting the moment exist without trying to fix it too quickly. He'd learned, painfully, that some things needed to be felt before they could be understood.
"Was I not good enough?" she said suddenly, the words rushed and desperate. "That's what this means, you leaving me because I haven't been the best I could be..." Her cat-like ears fully ducked as her tail lay flat.
He pulled back just enough to look at her. "No."
She shook her head. "You shouldn't need to leave. Ta-take me with you."
"Nayat'i," he said firmly, his voice low but steady. "I'm sorry, but this is my journey, and yours is to be here."
She laughed once, bitter and sharp. "Please, Nuss, I can't be without you... "
Nussudle took a very broken breath, trying to hold himself. "I'm leaving because I chose a path. Not because you failed to hold me here."
Her hands trembled as she reached up and slowly disconnected her queue from the tree. The moment the connection broke, she seemed more present - and more vulnerable than before.
"My father made a choice like that once," she said quietly.
Nussudle stilled. He'd heard pieces of the story before, never all at once. Nayat'i never liked speaking about him, and he never tried to push her.
"Mu'is was a warrior," she continued. "A hunter. He thought he could handle a Txeptxal alone. He wanted to prove he was enough to protect my mother without help."[1]
Her voice cracked. "He died doing it."
Nussudle pulled her against him again. "That wasn't your fault."
"I know," she whispered. "But knowing doesn't stop the fear of watching it happen again."
He rested his forehead against hers. "I am not your father. And I am not walking into this alone."
"You're still leaving me. L-like him..." she said softly.
"Yes," he admitted. "But not because I want distance from you."
She searched his face, ear perking as she looked into his yellow eyes. "Why then. Why didn't you bring this up during our nights out? Or when we both hunted together. Why now?"
Nussudle swallowed. "Because I was afraid."
Her eyes widened slightly.
"Afraid that if something went wrong, or if I told you too soon," he continued, "I wouldn't have the strength to leave."
Silence stretched between them.
"That wasn't your choice to make. We are mated before Eywa, together we are bonded," she said eventually.
"I know," he replied. "And I'm sorry."
Her anger didn't vanish instantly. But it softened, giving way to exhaustion.
"I don't need you to be perfect," she said. "I need you to trust me."
"I do," he said quietly. "I just forget how to show it."
She leaned into him, their breathing slowly evening out.
"I don't want to lose you," she said.
"You won't," he replied. "I am coming back."
She let out a shaky breath. "You don't know that."
"I do," he said. "Because I'm not leaving to escape something. I'm leaving to prepare for what's coming - and I want you there when I return."
She looked at him for a long moment.
Then she kissed him.
It wasn't rushed or frantic. It was deliberate, certain. Their closeness built naturally, tension giving way to warmth, to familiarity. Hands found shoulders, backs, faces. Words faded as emotion took over.
Nussudle rested his forehead against hers, breath uneven. "Tomorrow," he said softly.
She nodded. "Then stay."
He did...
Morning came too quickly.
The clearing before Home Tree was quiet when Nova stood ready, wings folded, tail flicking slowly. The ikran sensed change, alert but calm.
Kamun stood nearby, posture straight despite his age. Ilara was beside him, hands folded, eyes watchful.
Eytukan stepped forward first.
He didn't say much. He pulled Nussudle into a firm embrace and held him for a moment longer than usual.
"Come back alive," he said simply.
"I plan to," Nussudle replied.
Eytukan's mate offered a quiet nod. "The clan will wait."
Kamun placed a hand on Nussudle's shoulder. "Travel with care. Listen more than you speak."
Ilara leaned in and pressed her forehead to his. "You walk your path honestly. That is enough."
Then Nayat'i stepped forward.
She didn't try to hide her tears this time. She wrapped her arms around him, kissed him once, then again, her grip tightening as if memorizing him.
"I'll be here," she whispered. "When you come back."
Nussudle mounted Nova, settling into the saddle he would soon replace. He looked down at her one last time.
"I will return," he said.
Nova launched skyward.
As they turned west toward the endless sea and the lands of the Metkayina, Home Tree shrank behind them.
Nayat'i remained where she stood long after he vanished from sight.
Slowly, she placed a hand over her stomach.
And waited.
(AN: DUM DUM DUMMMMM)
[1] Fireback Mastadon from the video game Avatar: Reckoning and Avatar: Frontiers of Pandora