Chapter Text
“Awra! Are you going to see that Neteyam boy again?”
She freezes midstep, wincing as her mother’s voice echoes through their family’s marui ominously. “Awra!”
She sighs in resignation as her third escape attempt that week was foiled. Curse her mother’s superior hearing – at this rate she was never going to be able to sneak out. “Awra!” Comes Ronal’s voice again, this time accompanied by hurried footsteps. Her mother appears at the lip of their marui, eyebrows furrowed heavily as she places a hand on her pregnant belly.
Awra swallows at her mother’s displeased stare, lifting herself back into the marui and gingerly setting her basket down. “Yes mother, I’m here. I’m sorry.” She says sheepishly, offering an apologetic smile. Ronal is less than impressed, folding her arms over her chest. The bracelets on her arms tinkle in the silent night air, a sharp contrast to the loud timbre of her voice as she speaks her next words.
“What have I told you about that boy? And his family?”
“Not to spend more time than necessary with them. I know, mother but–”
“Not another word!” Ronal interrupts, raising a hand to pinch at her eyebrows in exasperation. “I will not have my daughter sneaking out at all times of eclipse to be with some forest dweller.”
The words feel like a bucket of cold water, and Awra feels her heart sink to her toes. Ronal sighs again, offering her hand for her daughter to take. Awra tentatively places her hand in her mother’s larger one, letting Ronal guide her to sit at the edge of their marui. It’s dark out now, the sky illuminated by a gentle sprinkle of stars.
“It’ll bring you no good to get close to that boy.” Ronal starts, still holding Awra’s hand. Awra sulks silently, letting her mother rub circles over her knuckles. “You know this.”
“But what if he’s different, mother? He feels different.”
“Nonsense. They are Ometicayan, we are Metkayina. It could never be.” Ronal snaps, dropping Awra’s hand. Awra shrinks in on herself at the sudden outburst, tail flicking behind her. She keeps her hands clasped in her lap, fiddling with a shell beaded onto her top. She hears her mother sigh from beside her, before gentle fingers lift her chin.
Awra meets her mother’s gaze, stern but loving; a familiar expression. “I know you don’t like it, but you know this is for the better. You are Awra, daughter of Olo’ eyktan Tonowari and Tsahik Ronal, precious daughter to the Metkayina and future Tsahik. You have a duty to your people. A duty only you can fulfill.”
A breeze glides past Awra’s shoulders as Ronal speaks, and she shivers. Awra curls her tail around her side, still fiddling with her thumbs as her mother’s words sink in like lead. She feels the chill in her arms, and curls into herself tighter.
“A Tsahik’s duty is to her people. And you cannot fulfil this duty chasing down an outsider.” Her mother pauses, brushing a piece of hair away from Awra’s face. “And that is why you must say goodbye to this frivolous romance. Because it simply cannot be.” Ronal takes her daughter’s hands again, rubbing soothing circles with her thumbs. Awra can feel her mother’s callouses from hunting and holding her spear, and a well of emotion floods her chest.
“You are set to marry the future Olo’ eyktan, and there is only one way about it. We bear no sons, so you must choose a man for yourself.” Ronal says gently, watching the waves crash on the beach in the distance. “A Metkayina man who is strong, who will fight to be your mate and Olo’ eyktan. You must choose him, and be mated before the eyes of our Great Mother.”
“I don’t want that.” Awra squeezes out. She was young, and experiencing love for the first time. It seemed too soon to think about choosing a mate, let alone mating forever in front of Eywa. What would the Great Mother think of her?
“I know it saddens you, ma Awra. But you must promise me to give up this thing you call love for that Ometicayan boy.” Awra swallows down the lump in her throat at her mother’s words, squeezing her eyes shut.
“I feel you, my beloved. And I know you will do the right thing.” As Ronal says this, she seeks her daughter’s eyes. Awra feels a tear slip out, and she hurriedly swipes it away with her forearm. It’s so unfair, she thinks. It’s so unfair.
“My beloved?”
Awra lets out a deep breath, meeting her mother’s gaze. Ronal’s eyes soften when she sees the wetness around Awra’s eyes but says nothing. The breeze is picking up now, whipping her hair around her face.
“I will make you proud mother.” Awra says, hardening her brow. “I will do whatever it takes for my people. I promise.”