Eywa'itan

11 | The Healing Sleep

The pain he felt was vast and unfathomable, every sense alight in the worst of ways. His unseeing eyes were flooded with the searing whiteness of lights. His ears rang with screams and roars. He knew this sound. Was that his mother crying? His fathers? Äzan and Tsmukan? He could not tell at all. He'd lost touch with everything around him outside of his pain.

He remembered this agonizing feeling. The wind across his skin felt like fire, and he felt his body ignite. It burned through his wounds and into his blood, his vessels straining, screaming. He was screaming. He could not tell the ground from the sky or which direction they were heading. Every movement and breath was an eternity of suffering.

He remembered this pain. How could he not know it? Poison coursed through every vein it invaded, slowly spreading through him. He could feel every second of it, even worse than the grievous wounds the destroyed bullet left. It shattered before impact, releasing the toxic vial hidden within it.

It was the same as back then. The pain that took his family away. The toxic stench made breathing a suffocating experience. The stench of death, that's what he knew it as.

It felt like forever went by. Was this how he would die? His body was giving up on him, he could feel it. But a soothing, icy flood permeated him before he lost more strength. It snuffed out the raging flames inside him bit by bit, and his pain steadily eased over what felt like another eternity.

The scent of life and clarity, the waters from the Well Of Songs. It was in small amounts, keeping the toxins at bay. New voices could be heard, panicked as they gave orders. He couldn't understand the words, the world muffled and distorted, but he knew that voice, too. His grandmother? She was worried, frantic.

His wounds weren't something she could heal with what she had, she needed help they didn't have.

Then he heard Jake's voice. Hopeful, determined. He felt strong arms gently lift him, but even the softest touch sent waves of agony through his body. He was being taken somewhere with the utmost haste. As carefully as possible, swiftly, as once again the wind sparked at his skin. He felt that whatever his grandmother had done wouldn't hold for long, as his body soon felt like it was boiling again.

He was soon surrounded by foreign scents. The scent of sky people and metal. A scent he didn't like. He struggled, this place was not safe, but a soothing voice calmed him. He was in Jake's arms. His mother was beside him. Their mated scent, melted together forever, calmed him slightly. When before it had been jarring, now it was his only solace.

But there was another scent there. Something he did not understand. It reminded him of the auras he'd seen before. Na'vi in a place no Na'vi should be, young and almost obscured by the heavy scent of skypeople. They carried a nostalgic scent he couldn't place, but just as soon as it was there, it was gone.

Something numbed his body, the pain slowly vanishing to nothing. The last thing he felt was his body descending on a warm pool, the liquid soothing on his once-aching body. With the odd comfort came waves of lethargy, his mind drifting into oblivion

The world faded away...

.

.

Mo'at had seen those wounds once before. The moment her daughter rushed back to her, frantically begging for a way to save him, she was quick to grab her most treasured medicine. Crystalline waters seemed to glow, a gift from their late sister clan.

Many years ago, the Oaretirea's tsakarem gifted her "Eywa's Tears". It was meant to help them when times were dire as a draught of healing and enhancement. They would give them a batch of the sacred water every year during their celebration.