Dreamwalker

Chapter Three

The second day working around the remains of Kelutrel exhausted all of the people, Dreamwaker, Omaticaya, Pa'li, and Ikran Clan alike.

Fewer and fewer living na'vi were found in the wreckage. The Sky People m'dics and the people's shaman traveled through the remains of the great tree alongside the hunters, wanting to help any survivor the moment they were found.

Surprisingly, Rol'ei found the dreamwalker's strange clothing to be rather comfortable. He felt warmer, which he didn't like, but other than that, the small bugs didn't bite through the cloth, and it served well enough to protect his skin from further scrapes. His feet felt strangest. He had to lean on his bow for more than just releasing the pressure from his thigh, but, he had to admit, he did not slip as much while working in the ash-coated debris. He was grateful for no further embarrassment in front of the Omaticaya people we was so resolute to help.

The sound of wailing never ceased, simply rose and fell in cadence. Eywa would see the living through, but never in all the stories did Rol'ei know of any despair like this one.

What surprised him most were the near constant stream of tears falling down his companion's cheeks. He did not sob or wail like the Omaticaya, but there was no denying the emotion he felt every time they retrieved another body.

“Ted, let us take a break.”

“I just want to finish this branch.”

Rol'ei shook his head. Ted's arms had been shaking furiously from exhaustion for a full mark of the sun now. “No, we break now. I need to eat.”

The dreamwalker stared at base of the branch a moment longer. Rol'ei touched his shoulder. “No one living waits for us under there. It can wait.”

“If someone does?”

He sighed. “One more branch.”

They had to call a couple more over to help move it, but it was worth the effort. An older member of the clan had been pinned. Unconscious, but still alive. Ted called the nearest dreamwalker m'dic over. She took one look at the rescuers and sent them on their way. Rol'ei smiled.

“Thank you, for helping me with the last one.”

“It seems you have a sense for this.”

“I'm just watching the way the branches fell. If we watch the tops, the way the angles are, we can see those most likely to leave space under it.”

“I'll just follow your direction. You know more of the plants then I do, I believe.” The complement made the dreamwalker smile. “Come. I saw you pack more of the squash in that sack you brought.”

“It seems I'm not the only one with skills in observation.”

They ate in exhausted, companionable silence.

“Are you ready to get back to it?”

Ted had a strong wrinkle in his brow.

“Not quite yet. I've had an idea, and I'd like to work it out a little.” His little knife diced some berries off of their thorny stems.

“Would you mind if we walked? I'm getting stiff.”

“Of course.”

The dreamwalker slung the bag over his shoulder, so the strap crossed over his chest.

Rol'ei didn't exaggerate. His leg had gotten quite stiff. Maybe, on the way home, when he finally decided to travel back to the ocean, he'd take a side trip to the hot springs. Maybe a day's extra walking, but it'd be worth it. Depending on how long it took, his ikran might even be up to short flights on the way.

Ted's footsteps took them to the outer limits of the great tree. He walked along the branches, using a long stick he'd plucked from the remains.

“What are you looking for?”

“I'll let you know if I find it.”

Occasionally they came across the belongings of one of the clan. Rol'ei retrieved a large frond to serve as a carry all, since Ted's bag could hardly carry everything. If the belongings were those of the dead, then they belonged with the body as it was set into the soil to return to Eywa.. Neither Ted nor Rol'ei could decipher to whom anything belonged.

“Hm, do you see that?”

Ted pointed to a flicker of blue in the gray-green of the ash covered branches.

“Yes, I believe so...”

“Oh, it can't be.”

Rol'ei set down his carry-all and followed Ted into the mess of broken branches. This area hadn't been searched at all, they'd traveled to the far side of the destruction, where none of the fleeing people had turned. Presumably because the military had been closer to this side. At some point he would have to tweak the ear of one of the Omaticaya warriors to learn the details of that fateful day.

He helped hold back the remains that Ted frantically pulled away.

“Oh, I can't believe this!”

“Believe what?”

Ted pulled a long, longer than Rol'ei's outstretched arms, pristine blue item from the mess that'd shrouded it from sight.

“It's the flute!”

“The flute?”

“I'm sorry, the Omati s'ampata. It must be. It has been described to us, but none of my people has ever seen it. We must get it to Mo'at!”

“Was this what you were seeking?”

“...no. I wasn't. I was looking for...”

Rol'ei looked, trying to see what caught Ted's attention. He smiled at the floating tuffs of seeds from the spirit tree.

He stood back as Ted slowly climbed over the branches, following as the seedlings floated away. The seeds disappeared into the branches causing Ted to start digging away again.

“Another flute?”

“No, even better.”

Rol'ei gently rested the flute on its side, so he could follow.

Cradled in the dreamwalker's arms, was not a child, or some other ancient instrument, but a few seed pods.

“They look just right. I think they ripened just before the fire.”

“Seeds?”

“Just as precious as the flute. In a few hundred years, one of these could be the next Hometree.”

“Hm, that does little to comfort those now without a place to sleep.”

Ted sighed. “True, I suppose. But it represents hope for the future. You cannot deny that we all need that right now.”

Rol'ei nodded.

“Shall we bring our finds to Mo'at?”

Ted nodded, staring down at his seed pods. He took off his shirt, wrapped them carefully in the fabric, before tucking them in his sack. Between the two of them, they managed to navigate their way back without breaking anything else.

* * *

On the way to the sacred tree, Rol'ei plucked a couple more of the large leaves and wrapped the flute carefully, tying it off with vines. He simply didn't have enough arms to carry his bow, which he still leaned on for stability, his end of the large package of Omaticaya belongings, and the flute.

“You should take this, Ted. I can not carry all of this.”

“I... it is a sacred instrument.”

Rol'ei made a rude noise with a click of his tongue.

“Relations between the dreamwalkers and the Omaticaya are better, but they are still strained. If I offend Mo'at, then it will be-”

Rol'ei repeated the rude noise and tossed the vine strapping over the dreamwalker's neck, so it sat above the sack he already had on his back.

“Follow my lead, you will be fine.”

By the time they got to the tree, the smells of the midday meal cooking in the fire pits nearly drove him mad. Ted's fruit collection was impeccable, but all this heavy work needed more energy in the belly.

“Ah, grand lady,” Rol'ei said upon the first elderly female he saw with a pit full of food. “Oel ngati kameie. Though perhaps, I should be saying, it is a pleasure to smell what you have brought to the people.”

“Oel ngati kameie, you old charmer. Come, receive a plate.”

He began to set down his side of the leaf package, only to be stopped by his companion.

“We should really-”

Rol'ei waved off the comment. “We need to eat. Then we will find the others. My companion is shy, you must forgive him.”

The old woman's eyes turned to the dreamwalker. Her eyes finally took him in, his strange dress, then Rol'ei's own dress.

“You do not speak like a demon,” she whispered.

Rol'ei laughed. “No, I am no demon. I simply wear their protective armor. I am but a soft-skinned Singer. See? My bow is good for nothing but a walking stick. I am from the Ikran Clan.”

“Ah, but they went home, did they not?”

“True, but with women so beautiful here, I had to stay to help.”

She laughed, politely, and scooped some of the steaming meat onto a leaf platter. Rol'ei settled down on a rock, motioned Ted to join him. The shy dreamwalker sat close by, pulling his precious bundles into his lap as if the mere act of sitting might break them; considering the occasional bouts of clumsiness, it might very well be possible.

“I do not have enough platters for all,” the matron said, eying the dreamwalker wearily.

“We can share,” Rol'ei said with a dismissive wave of his hand. He plucked a piece of the meat, blew on it until it cooled enough to taste. He groaned in appreciation, causing the matron to smile again.

“Eat,” he whispered urgently to Ted. “It is disrespectful to both the cook and the beast to turn down the meal.”

Ted hesitated until Rol'ei finally separated a section for him. “Here, this will be the most tender. She honors us with such a fine cut.”

Their fingertips grazed as Ted finally reached for the meat. Rol'ei watched his face carefully, curious about the down-turned eyes, the purple color coming up in his cheeks.

“Thank you,” Ted whispered, taking a bite. His eyes closed, his facial expression that of pure pleasure. Rol'ei grinned.

“See woman? You have another man dropping a your feet, your cooking is so good.”

“Flatterer.”

“Always!”

Others came, sitting around the meal and the fire. Most talked, filling the air with cheerful camaraderie. Rol'ei joked with any who cared to speak with him, many plucking at his tan clothing, curious about why he dressed like a dreamwalker. To each person he spun a different tale, all true, in their own way, but not the whole story.

He filled his platter again with more of the meat and some cooked grain that one of the younger women brought from her family's fire.

Ted stayed small and quiet at his side. Rol'ei didn't mind. All the while he told his minor stories, he wove up one in his mind for Ted to say to Mo'at. He could see the discomfort in all the faces around the dreamwalker. One had been accepted into the clan, now there was a strain in the people, a strange expectation that all had to be welcomed now. A simple story, but a complicated resolution to the problem.

“Is your belly full?”

Ted smiled. “I have not eaten so well in all my life.”

“You hear that, sister? Such a complement!”

“If he stays with you much longer, that honey tongue might rub off.”

The dreamalker coughed and sputtered oddly.

“Are you sick?”

“No, no.” He rubbed his chest, smiled weakly. “It's just... some things don't translate smoothly.”

Rol'ei shook his head. Somethings he'd never understand.

* * *

Rol'ei walked alongside Ted, his hands now empty save his bow, which he did his best not to lean on. They'd deposited the belongings with an elder along the way. He'd been careful to have a youngling run ahead and send word to Mo'at that a dreamwalker would be coming into the sacred ground.

A few days ago, this would be shattering to their lives, but so many have been in and out, they could hardly argue... he hoped.

Along the way, Rol'ei stripped off his top covering. He asked if he could remove the bandaging, and Ted had looked, but he pronounced the wounds still too new and ragged. Rol'ei did remove the gauze from Ted's own skin, leaving his upper body streaked in ugly scabbing.

“Fah, you can't meet Mo'at like this...”

Ted grumbled. “I do not have to meet her at all, you can take the flute to her.”

“I did not find it, you did. Wait here a moment.”

He ducked into the area of one of the artisans. With a smooth word and a complement or two, he had a bit of red dye from him.

“Here, take the straps off.”

Ted's eyes stayed on the ground as Rol'ei quickly traced some hunter's marks on his upper arms.

“I am no artist, nor are you a hunter for the Omaticaya, but considering what you have done for the people....”

“Rol'ei, I can't wear the marks of a hunter; I don't want to insult anyone.”

With a snort Rol'ei's fingers changed their path. He didn't know the exact markings of all the clans, but as the Singer of his clan, he had every right to cover the dreamwalker in his own clan's singer marking.

“You are a seeker of truth, are you not?”

“I seek knowledge, yes. Knowledge of the trees, of the flowers and the fruits and the-”

He cut him off with a flick of his hand. “I am giving you the mark of my clan's singers then. Our singers are known among the clans as those who seek the truth in the histories, so that we will be able to teach them to our children. Here, look up. Look at me.”

Rol'ei dipped his small finger in the dye, and carefully lined Ted's lower lids.

“We wear red, in my clan, to honor the blood that is shed and to draw our connection with the oceans. There is a red plant that grows.” He changed the stroke over the dreamwalker's cheek, wavering it a little to mimic the sharp spades of that plant's leaf. “The way this red sits on your skin reminds me of that plant on the ocean, how it floats just under the surface.” His thumb traces a blank space between the lines, noticing the purple coming up again. “Let your voice ring out loudly, so all may hear it,” he lined Ted's bottom lip.

He dipped all of his fingers in the dye, drawing lines down one side of his neck, over his collarbone and bare chest.

###################################################################################

http://indanthronecomics.deviantart.com/art/Face-Painting-186596959

###################################################################################

“Which arm do you hold your bow with?”

“I... I haven't shot any weapons.”

Rol'ei raised an eyebrow, but decided to line the dreamwalker's left arm, since that one gripped the cords to the flute. On his back Rol'ei marked briskly, accentuating the mere scratches until they looked like great gouges done to him by the paluluka.

As he turned to return the remains of the dye, Ted stopped him with a touch on his shoulder.

“Wait, may I mark you as well?”

“Oh?”

Ted smiled. “I'm not going to be the only one walking up there covered in red.”

Rol'ei smiled too, happy to bow to this small demand. “The facial marks are the ones of the Singer. Make the lines under the eyes clean.”

“And the ones on the neck?”

Rol'ei nodded.

He held very still as the dreamwalker's fingertips dipped into the cool dye and slowly traced all the proper lines. Considering Ted couldn't see the marks on his own body, Rol'ei felt that he was placing the marks rather accurately.

Rol'ei calmly stared into the eyes of his companion as he worked. Could he tell how intimate the act of marking another could be?

He could hear the whispers of the Omaticaya around him. Let them whisper. Teacher and student could line each other as they wished. Proper ceremonies be damned.

“There,” Ted said, his fingers finishing off the last mark down Rol'ei's throat. Rol'ei closed his eyes a moment, reveling in the cooling dye on his skin. He always felt more complete with his lines.

“Let me return this.”

He thanked the artisan graciously.

Rol'ei grinned at the dreamwalker. “You already have the attention of all the women around you.”

Ted glanced around, his skin going purple again. Rol'ei laughed.

“The lines suit you, Ted. You will find many women courting you to their hammocks tonight.”

“Just what I needed.”

Rol'ei looked at him out of the corner of his eye.

“In jest, I speak in jest.”

“Hm. Come, let us find Mo'at.”

###################################################################################

Mo'at – Omaticaya's Tsahik, spiritual leader or shaman for the clan
Rol'ei – Singer for the Ikran Clan
Ted – Edward Cera, Avatar ethnobotanist. A specialist in nutritional values of Pandoran plants.
Omaticaya Clan – main clan
Ikran Clan – Rol'ei's clan
Kelutrel, or Hometree – burnt down, the scene for most of my fic.
Utral Aymokriya, Tree of Voices, the great spirit tree that the Omaticaya Clan has retreated to.
Tsahik - shaman, matriarch
Tawtute – Sky People
Paluluka (Thanator) – panther-like large, stalking predator

###################################################################################