The first light of morning filtered through the leaves of the Omatikaya Home Tree, dappling the soft, moss-strewn floor in patterns of gold and green. Within a hollow beneath the massive roots, Tony—or, as the Omaticaya would come to know him, Nessudle—stirred. The faint, sweet scent of flowers and damp earth filled his nostrils, mingling with the warmth of Ilara's arms wrapped protectively around him.
Tony's eyes blinked open, wide and uncomprehending, reflecting the glowing canopy above like tiny mirrors. His small, blue fingers flexed instinctively, grasping the edge of Ilara's braid. The world was immense and luminous, full of the gentle hum of life: the rustle of leaves, the distant cries of banshees, the whisper of the wind threading through the colossal branches.
Ilara watched him carefully, her luminous amber eyes soft but alert. She traced a delicate finger across the curve of his cheek. "Eywa," she murmured, reverent. "You have chosen well. Even now, he begins to awaken."
The infant let out a small coo, the sound almost musical in its clarity. It was enough to draw Ilara's attention to the larger gathering nearby. Women of the Omaticaya clan had begun to arrive quietly, each drawn by the news of the foundling. They moved with the grace of forest predators—silent, watchful, yet full of a mother's curiosity. Among them were the elder mothers, healers whose knowledge of Eywa's ways ran deep; younger females, apprentices in the arts of nurturing; and even those who had yet to bear children, drawn by instinct, hope, or fascination.
Mysa, a respected healer with silver-streaked hair and a calm demeanor, stepped forward first. Her eyes, sharp and discerning, studied the infant. "He is healthy," she said softly, almost as though speaking to the child himself. "Strong lungs. Steady heartbeat. And yet… There is something more. A presence."
The other women murmured their agreement, voices blending with the soft sighs of the forest. Ilara shifted slightly, keeping Tony nestled against her chest. "I felt it from the moment I took him in my arms," she said. "He is… bound to Eywa in a way I have not seen before. Not even with the children of our clan."
One of the younger mothers, Rilaya, knelt beside them, her dark hair falling in loose waves over her shoulders. She reached a cautious hand toward Tony, hesitating just above his tiny head. The infant turned slightly, eyes tracking her movement, as though aware of the intention behind it. A ripple of quiet astonishment ran through the gathering.
"Already he senses us," Rilaya whispered. "Already, he knows the safety of our presence."
The older mothers exchanged glances, a silent conversation passing among them. In the Omatikaya clan, such things were rarely spoken aloud but understood: the bond between Eywa and a child could manifest from the first moments of life, often in ways impossible to describe. To sense it in a newborn, especially one of unknown origin, was extraordinary.
Mysa crouched, her hands hovering close to Tony without touching him. "The forest itself recognizes him," she said. "Even the roots of the Home Tree seem to lean toward him. He is… important. But important does not mean he is yet ours to claim. We must watch, learn, and guide."
Another mother, a woman named Nivah, reached out with both hands, letting Tony's small fingers curl around her own. "He is like the first light of the sun in a hidden grove," she said softly, awe threading through her voice. "Bright, new, and full of promise. Yet fragile. We must protect him—not just his body, but his spirit."
Ilara nodded, brushing her braid back over her shoulder so Tony could see her face clearly. "That is why he is here, with me. With us," she said, her voice both tender and firm. "Kamun brought him from the forest, but we—our clan, our hearts—will guide him. We must be patient and cautious. A child alone, even one blessed by Eywa, is vulnerable to the dangers beyond the trees."
Tony yawned, stretching his tiny arms outward. The subtle luminescence along his skin pulsed faintly with each movement, catching the light of the morning. The mothers leaned closer, whispering to one another in the Na'vi tongue, their words a mix of speculation, curiosity, and reverence.
"Do you think he is… chosen?" one asked, her voice hushed, as though speaking louder might shatter the fragile moment.
"Chosen by Eywa," Mysa corrected softly, "but not yet by us. That comes slowly, with trust, guidance, and learning. For now, he is simply… here. Alive. Whole. And that is enough."
Rilaya smiled gently, glancing down at Tony. "He responds to us," she said. "Even now, in his infancy. This means he will learn quickly—faster than most. Our guidance will shape him, yes, but Eywa's thread is already woven in him."
The discussion shifted naturally to practicalities. Who would feed him first? Which mothers would watch over him in turns? How could they ensure he was protected while still allowing him the freedom to connect with the forest around the Home Tree? The women of the Omaticaya clan moved with a quiet, instinctive efficiency. They debated softly, their voices like wind through leaves, never losing the reverence that marked their concern.
Ilara remained the constant presence, holding Tony close as the mothers shared their insights. She watched as a young female named Salyen offered soft, melodic hums, vibrations meant to soothe infants and guide them gently toward calm. Tony responded immediately, his tiny hands relaxing, his body leaning into Ilara's embrace.
"See?" Ilara said, eyes glimmering with quiet joy. "He understands. He learns. Even now, he recognizes comfort."
Mysa, standing nearby, nodded approvingly. "He will need the circle of mothers, the guidance of those who know the forest and Eywa's ways," she said. "He is not of one family alone. He will grow as part of the clan. But mark my words—this child will be unlike any we have known."
There was a pause, a quiet that stretched long enough for the forest itself to seem to hold its breath. Tony blinked up at the circle of women, a small coo escaping him. Ilara laughed softly, a sound of wonder and relief. "And so begins his journey," she whispered.
The women, sensing the weight of the moment, knelt around the Home Tree's hollow. Each reached out, hands hovering above Tony without touching him, offering silent blessings. It was not a ceremony, not yet. It was recognition—a shared understanding that this child, though without a family of his own, now belonged to them. Belonged to Eywa, yes, but also to the Omaticaya, and through them, to the forest itself.
Tony stirred again, rolling slightly against Ilara's chest. His gaze swept across the faces of the mothers, his small, luminous eyes reflecting the deep green canopy above. In that instant, it was as if the forest itself breathed through him, acknowledging him as one of its own.
Ilara brushed a strand of hair from his forehead. "You are safe here, little one," she said softly. "And we will teach you, guide you, love you. You may not remember your first day, but know this: you are home."
As the women slowly dispersed to prepare for the day, Tony remained cradled in Ilara's arms. The light of the morning grew stronger, warming the hollow beneath the Home Tree. Outside, the forest thrummed with life—the rustling of leaves, the distant calls of banshees, the gentle stir of streams winding through roots and ferns.
Tony, the infant, blinked at it all, cooing softly, a tiny thread connecting him to the vast, living world around him. And the Omaticaya watched, their hearts quiet with awe, knowing that this child—found, alone, yet profoundly connected—would one day leave a mark upon Pandora that even Eywa herself might notice.
Ilara tightened her embrace, whispering once more: "Welcome, Nessudle. Welcome to our people. Welcome to Eywa's world."
The forest seemed to answer with a soft sigh, and for the first time, Tony lifted his tiny arms as if to reach for it.
(Hope you enjoyed :) )