A true seer | Neteyam

18. Return of the Tulkun (part 2)

"Maway," he said. He kept holding me still for more moments until he spun me around. I looked up to find Neteyam's face close to mine, his eyes wide open and a big frown. I gazed back and forth between the knife and his gold-like eyes. He didn't say a word, but our minds, connected as one ever since we were kids, told me something. 'He wouldn't want that'.

I stared into him. The point of the knife found its way to Neteyam's chest whilst my eyes turned watery in between the frown I had and the lack of blinking. He wasn't afraid I would hurt him, because he knew I couldn't, and I knew it, too. There just wasn't any reason to, and if there was it'd still never be enough to hurt him. Neteyam was all too caring to let himself follow a traumatized girl into the forest when she was in the middle of a mental collapse, not knowing if she was more angry than sad, but certainly having one thing on her mind: revenge.

The fang knife made almost no sound when I dropped it on the grass, my hand suddenly too weak. Both of us were quick in embracing each other; I did it like my life depended on it, but it was only my sanity.

His body was as warm as always, and it was something I associated with the nice sensations he made me feel. He had his left hand on my lower back and the right one on the back of my head. Quiet sobs left my body as Neteyam pulled me closer to him until our breaths combined and I was sure he could feel my heartbeat.

"I miss him," I whispered.

"I know," he answered.

I couldn't understand how he always remained calm. With me, at least. He could have easily been called Lowsla if he had turned out to be a girl, because, just as the Tulkun that owned the name, he had to selves. I had seen him mad, his body tense, and giving side eyes to everyone. But it was a different story with me. I had probably already given him a dozen reasons for him to snap, but he didn't. The most I had seen was a frown. I began to wonder if he had a soft spot for me.

But whatever my thoughts were —which made me daydream— they weren't what I needed to think about. It had to be Atswon, not Neteyam. My best friend had died. I tried to focus.

"They deserve to die for what they did. I'll kill them all." My words broke the silence, but Neteyam didn't say anything. I was expecting an answer that I didn't receive for what felt like the longest minutes of my life.

"They deserve it, yes. And his death is not something you can easily get over with. But don't torture yourself this way. Please."

I closed my eyes and breathed in. "Why do you always have to step in?" I asked. My question was purely transmitting a confusion I had had since he came into my life once again. 'Why not let me be?'. Through my blindness, I couldn't see why he would willingly decide to involve in problems that weren't his. He tried solving them, giving the right words, and there was no one else I knew that did it, as well. Atswon was the closest to it, but I knew he did it because he hated conflict. He had the demeanor of a mean, tough guy, and although he did have some of the latter in him, his spiritualist, caring, and nice personality was far greater. Conflict wasn't in his plans, so he tried to find a way to solve others' disputes.

For Netetam, though, he had told me himself during one of the nights we spent in The Caves. He said that for a very long time, he had been lost. It was hard enough being the chief's son, and getting into fights was mostly Lo'ak's go-to activity that he always got dragged in. I assumed that those two separate ideas came together in one statement: Neteyam started involving because that was all he learned to do when his family was in trouble. It was a natural reflex. But inferring wasn't enough for me, for there was always a chance to be wrong.

"Because I care about you, morning, noon, and night," he finally answered.

"Why?" My voice had barely been a swish that got brushed away by the wind of midday. Neteyam and I were still very much together, but we pulled our upper bodies fat enough so we could stare at each other's faces. My eyes roamed every faction of his face, just so that I could analyze the expression he had.