Neteyam

In the shadow of Pandora's green trees, I sat with the young girls of our tribe, sharing stories and laughter, when the hum of ikrans echoed through the air. We were waiting for the return of the hunters, among whom was my husband Neteyam, a warrior and olo'eyktan of our tribe, as well as our son, who was only beginning to learn the art of hunting.

The sun was already dipping toward the horizon when I finally saw the silhouettes of the hunters descending from the skies. My heart beat faster—I knew I would soon see Neteyam and our son. However, as they landed, I noticed that Neteyam, with a stern expression on his face, was reprimanding our boy.

"You should not have fallen behind and tried to catch wild animals on your own!" Neteyam's voice thundered. His eyes flashed with anger, and I felt the tension rise. "You risked your life! This is not a game!"

Our son stood before his father with his head bowed, his shoulders tense with shame. He had become preoccupied with searching for rare prey and forgot the safety rules that we all follow. I could see him trying to justify himself, but the words wouldn't come out.

"I wanted to show that I could be strong, like you!" he said softly. But Neteyam only shook his head.

"Strength is not just about being brave. It means being wise and caring for your brothers and sisters," he replied with determination. "And now, you must return home. I cannot allow you to risk yourself like that again."

Like a bolt from the blue, his command sounded like a sentence. Our son slowly turned and walked away, his steps heavy with disappointment and misunderstanding.