Counting Stars - Aonung x Neteyam

Part 1

- It is our responsibility to choose their punishment. - Ronal said in a firm tone. My mother didn't seem too pleased and clicked her tongue, loosening her grip.

- I'll fly around the area where you last saw him, you go with him for water and try to find him by the rocks at the bottom. - said my father looking at me. I must have grimaced because he shook his head at me. This was no time to get sentimental. That was the translation of that grimace. - Later we'll talk about why you left your brother alone. - he added. I nodded, knowing it was something he would say. I would expect the punishment, whatever it was.

- It's the boy! It's okay, he's alive! - someone shouted behind us. Almost all of us moved at the same time to see Lo'ak struggling out of the water. His face was red and he had a wound on his arm, but overall, he looked fine. My mother was the first to reach him.

- Are you all, right? - she asked holding his face with her hands. He nodded and looked over at Aonung, who was trying to hide behind one of his brothers without success.

- You are a coward! - Lo'ak shouted at him, making all the people nearby look at us. Some began to mutter and others shake their heads.

- Not here. - said my father pulling him. - I take care of my son, you should start to realize that we are not the problem. - said my father to Tonowari as he passed by him. Ronal made a sound with his throat of disgust, but he didn't even flinch. Aonung's father pushed him into the marui and Tsireya appeared out of nowhere, red-eyed and tired-faced.

- Lo'ak? - he murmured and my brother seemed to pull himself together at once. - Are you all, right?

- Yeah, yeah, it's just a scratch. - I watched as he lifted himself up, getting taller. For a moment I almost laughed and my eyes went straight to my mother, who was already rolling her eyes.

- Come on, we have to cure it before it gets infected. - She said, leading Lo'ak towards our marui. We walked together, with my father still serious and even though my brother was fine, still nothing about the situation felt right.

As we passed by Aonung's marui I could hear his father saying horrible things to him. Things I had heard before but never from my father.

He had always been tough and I knew it was all out of fear of losing us, but he would never tell me I was a disgrace. He would never make me feel like I was less. I felt guilty again, but quickly shut it down when I saw my brother's wounds again. I knew that whatever punishment he would deal with, it would be well-deserved.

The forest boy was silently frustrated, the first hundred times he failed he would make a hand motion, letting the energy out somehow. When he was on the surface, he hissed like his mother. Much lower, much more controlled. But when he got it, even his posture would change. Aonung would never say he noticed such things, but he did. And every time he got something he pretended it was no big deal, but deep down he was a little glad.

Still, he wished he could tease him some more. Even if his sister didn't let him do it very often, it was a nice distraction. But it hadn't lasted long. The four siblings had learned quickly. Even before the boat attack, they all knew how to swim almost as well as they did. Obviously not as fast, nor could they last as long underwater, but they were up to the task.

Kiri was an expert in marine life, harvesting fruit almost as fast as the local villagers and was patient when it came to waiting for larger prey that only came close to the reefs every so often. She would stay for hours in the plantations, nurturing the plants and helping those responsible for making them grow.

Then there was the other girl, the smallest, whom the villagers affectionately called Tuktuk, because she was always jumping. She had the energy of age. Always trying to help or learn something new. The elderly women adored her, she would bring her flowers and they would call her to teach her things with the rest of the children. No one could say anything bad about her, those same elderly women protected her as if she was their personal treasure.