It had been over a month since her mate had left, and Home Tree felt hollow without him.
Nayat'i sat high among the branches, legs hanging freely over the edge of a thick limb that curved out from the trunk. From here, she could see most of the clan moving below her. Hunters came and went, children climbed and laughed, and elders spoke in low voices as they sorted tools and food. Life continued as it always did.
Yet for her, something felt paused.
Her gaze lingered on the stretch of forest where Nussudle and Nova had disappeared into the sky weeks earlier. She knew, logically, that he was far beyond that point now, across water and reef and places she had never seen. Still, her eyes returned there again and again, as if by watching long enough she might see a dark shape against the clouds.
Her voice drifted from her lips, low and quiet, a soft song meant only for the forest. It carried sadness without drama, longing without desperation. The wind caught it and carried it away through the leaves.
Her arms wrapped loosely around herself as her body swayed with the branch. The motion was calming, familiar. She had spent many hours like this since Nussudle left, half watching the world, half lost in thought.
What she hadn't expected was the attention.
After Nussudle's departure, hunters had started approaching her more often. At first, it had been subtle. Casual greetings that lingered too long. Questions that didn't need answers. Offers of the company that came without reason. She understood the thinking behind it well enough.
The chief's second son was gone.
Some believed that meant opportunity.
Most of them were easy to deal with. A short shake of the head, a firm "no," or simply turning away was enough to send them off. They left awkwardly, embarrassed but not offended.
Others were not so quick to give up.
One, in particular, had tested her patience.
Ateyo.
He had approached her twice under the pretence of conversation, speaking politely at first, asking about her hunts, her training, her time among the elders. Then his words shifted. He spoke of bonds. Of the futures. Of how the clan needed strong pairings, especially now.
She had stopped him before he could finish.
Her expression alone had been enough. steady, and unyielding. Her ears and tail held low in a cold-filled moment, which showed more emition thatn her face.
Word travelled fast after that.
Ilara and Kamun made the matter final not long after, announcing openly that Nayat'i was bonded and promised to Nussudle. The declaration ended any serious attempts immediately. No one wished to challenge the Tsahìk or the Olo'eyktan on such a matter.
Still, the attention did not entirely fade.
Instead, it changed shape.
Women approached her now, not with interest but with curiosity. Sisters, cousins, friends, and even those she barely knew asked questions. How was Nussudle? What was he like as a mate? Had they bonded quickly? Did she miss him?
At first, Nayat'i answered patiently yet embarrassingly.
Then the questions became tiring.
By the third week, something else had begun to change.
She woke most mornings feeling sick. Not enough to stop her from moving, but enough to make food unappealing. Her moods shifted without warning. A careless comment about Nussudle could make her chest tighten painfully. Sometimes she snapped. Other times, she went quiet, retreating into herself.
She didn't explode.
She compressed into herself.
The pressure made people uneasy. Conversations about her mate slowed, then stopped altogether.
Artsut noticed.
They sat together one afternoon, sharing dried fruit in silence before Artsut finally spoke. "You've been different," she said gently. "Not bad. Just… not yourself."
Nayat'i didn't argue.
"You should see Ilara," Artsut added. "At least speak to her."
The idea lingered longer than Nayat'i expected.
By the following day, she found herself walking toward the Tsahìk's chamber.
The entrance was quiet, leaves hanging thickly to keep the space cool and private. Nayat'i paused briefly before pushing them aside.
"Tsahìk?" she called softly. "Are you here?"
The chamber smelled of herbs and earth. Bundles of dried plants hung from the walls, and shallow bowls of ground spices rested on smooth stone shelves. Nayat'i stepped inside carefully, looking around with mild curiosity.
Ilara's voice came from behind her.
"Nayat, my child. What brings you to me?"
Nayat'i startled, then turned quickly. Ilara stood near one of the inner branches, her expression calm and knowing. Nayat'i lowered her head slightly out of respect before speaking.
"Ever since Nussudle and I bonded," she said quietly, "my moods have been… unstable. When people speak of him, even casually, it feels like something inside me tightens."
Ilara studied her for a long moment before motioning for her to sit. They both sat facing each other, the space between them calm and unhurried.
Without another word, Ilara reached behind a woven basket and produced a small vial. From it, she poured a single tear-shaped drop of clear liquid into Nayat'i's palm.
"Take this twice a day," Ilara said. "In a week, your body and your connection to Eywa will change. Then we will know."
Nayat'i stared at the small drop resting in her hand. It shimmered faintly in the low light.
She looked up to ask a question.
Ilara was gone, and in her place the remainder of the vial lay flat on the wooden floor.
The chamber was silent.
For a moment, Nayat'i simply sat there, heart beating a little faster. Then she exhaled slowly, closing her fingers around the vial. She placed it carefully into a small leather pouch at her waist and stood.
There were still duties to attend to.
Later, as the day quieted, she returned to her hammock. It swayed gently as she lay back, eyes drifting toward the canopy above.
Her thoughts returned, as they always did, to Nussudle.
Wherever he was, she hoped the sky and sea were being kind to him.