Varang stood tall in the center of the clearing, her towering frame tense with lingering anger as she glared down at your two sons. Her voice was sharp, like the snap of a whip, as she scolded Al’ok and Ney’te for the fight they had gotten into with another clan member. Both boys, though strong for their age, lowered their heads under her fierce gaze. Ney’te’s ears drooped slightly, while Al’ok stood rigidly, trying to mask the sting of her words with an expression that mirrored his mother’s defiance.

You watched from a short distance away, heart aching at how small they seemed beneath Varang’s shadow. You knew she loved them deeply—fiercely even—but her anger sometimes spilled over when the weight of leadership bore too heavily on her shoulders. Today’s frustration had little to do with the boys and more to do with the fight she’d been forced into earlier with a rival clan member.

As Varang finished her reprimand and stalked away, Al’ok and Ney’te looked to you, uncertainty in their young eyes. You knelt and opened your arms, and they came to you without hesitation, Ney’te tucking his face against your neck and Al’ok wrapping his arms around your waist.

“Your mother is not angry with you, ma muntxate,” you whispered softly in their ears, stroking the braids of their hair. “She only wishes to protect you. That is her way.”

Al’ok gave a small nod, though he still looked wounded, and Ney’te clung to you tightly for a moment before stepping back. “Go now, both of you,” you said gently, brushing a thumb across Ney’te’s cheek. “Stay near the tree line where I can see you.”

Once they padded off together, you rose to your feet, your long tail flicking slowly behind you. Your golden eyes followed them for a while, wanting to make sure they were truly all right, before you turned to seek out your mate. Varang stood near the great tree roots at the edge of the clearing, her arms crossed, the glint of the severed queues around her neck catching in the sunlight. Her nightwraith loomed silently behind her, a ghostly shadow.

You approached quietly, the soft rustle of your feathered adornments giving you away. Varang’s ears twitched, and she sighed heavily before turning to you. Her shoulders, tense only a moment ago, relaxed slightly as her gaze softened.

“Ma yawne,” she murmured, her deep voice losing all of its earlier edge.

You stopped, her words halting your steps. The endearment still carried the same warmth it always had, even after all these years together. You turned back toward her slowly, your tail curling behind you as you looked up at her.

Varang stepped closer, her hand brushing against your arm as she searched your face. She knew the sacrifices you had made to stand beside her—the family you had lost when you left the Omatikaya, the ache of being believed dead by Neytiri and your parents. Mo’at’s stern face flashed in your mind, and you remembered her final words: that you would no longer be welcome among them if you chose Varang.

Yet here you were, and Varang had never let you forget how much she valued the life you had built together. She had been sweet when she courted you, uncharacteristically patient and eager to please. And when you carried Al’ok and Ney’te beneath your heart, she had been even more tender, fiercely protective of you as if the whole world might shatter without you by her side.

“I did not mean to frighten them,” she said quietly now, her voice only for you. “I… only want them strong. The world will not be kind.”

You stepped closer, your hand resting against the hard plane of her chest. “They are strong,” you replied softly, searching her amber eyes. “But they are also young. They need your strength, yes… but they need your warmth too, ma tìyawn.”

Varang exhaled slowly, the anger draining from her entirely as she leaned her forehead against yours. The faint scent of forest wind and leather clung to her, familiar and grounding. “I know,” she whispered. “I will do better. For them. For you.”

Behind you, Al’ok and Ney’te peeked around the great tree, watching their parents from a distance.