Beneath the Canopy

The Things He Noticed

The forest was never truly quiet.

Even before the first light of dawn filtered through the enormous leaves of the Omatikaya's home, Pandora breathed.

Wings fluttered somewhere high above the canopy. Tiny creatures scurried through the undergrowth. Leaves whispered against one another as a warm breeze wound between ancient trunks, carrying the sweet scent of night-blooming flowers and damp earth.

Neteyam had learned to sleep through all of it.

He had not, however, learned to sleep through his younger brother stepping on his tail.

His eyes flew open.

"Lo'ak."

The name came out as a low growl.

A muffled curse answered him.

Neteyam lifted his head from his hammock just in time to see Lo'ak crouched awkwardly beside him, one foot still planted firmly on the end of his tail.

"What are you doing?"

"Nothing."

"You are standing on my tail."

Lo'ak glanced down.

"Oh."

Neteyam stared at him.

Lo'ak slowly lifted his foot.

"Sorry."

"What are you doing?"

"I told you. Nothing."

"At this hour?"

Lo'ak's ears twitched.

That was enough of an answer.

Neteyam groaned and dropped his head back against the woven fibers of his hammock.

"No."

"I didn't even ask you anything."

"You were going to."

"No, I wasn't."

"You always make that face when you're about to ask me to cover for you."

"What face?"

"That one."

Lo'ak scowled.

Neteyam closed his eyes again.

"Whatever you are planning, I am not helping."

There was silence.

Then—

"Neteyam."

"No."

"Come on."

"No."

"I just want to—"

"Lo'ak."

"Fine."

Neteyam heard him move away.

He waited.

One breath.

Two.

Three.

Then he opened one eye.

Lo'ak was sneaking toward the edge of their sleeping area.

"Lo'ak."

His brother froze.

Slowly, Lo'ak turned.

Neteyam raised an eyebrow.

Lo'ak's shoulders slumped.

"I hate being your brother sometimes."

"No, you don't."