is it over now?

@Bisahalani

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 Nadua was still puzzled by what'd transpired and wondered what'd caused her and @Calian to be transported to this new world. In the days following their awakening, she stayed close to her husband and did little exploring. She was too anxious and concerned that they'd done something to cause this—that their misdoings had brought them to this purgatory. Although she couldn't name what they'd done wrong, Nadua was sure that this was a punishment of some sort. 
 
She thought of her tribe while she hid away from the world, wondering what had happened to them. And her children? What had happened to them? Had they also been punished for whatever misdoings their parents had committed? 
 
Today, feeling slightly more confident, Nadua peeled herself away from Calian's side to explore the forest. Admittedly, it was a lovely place, and she found herself in better spirits as she got up and moved around. Pamola, her Canadian Jay, followed overhead, sticking close incase something happened. 
 
“Pamola,” Nadua said, glancing up at the flying bird. “I know it is not home, but it is nice, hm?” The bird chirped and added nothing else. “I know, I know, but think of it for a minute. What if this isn't a bad place like we thought?” The bird looked doubtful. “Ah, you are impossible sometimes, little one,” she said and shook her head; so much for positivity.
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Bisahalani had awoken near the edge of the forest.

The most surprising thing was that there was an edge, now. He knew the shape of the woods well; he explored them frequently, and often travelled to the mountains beyond. But today, the edge had appeared far from where he had expected it. The familiar magpie-jay fluttering overhead chittered loudly at the sight of sheer cliffs where there had once been only the sea.

Bisahalani listened intently as he explored this new boundary. Why and how the world had changed, he could not begin to answer. Neither could his companion, who voiced his wonder without hesitation. He would have to ask Grandmother Moth. Had his family done something? Was this a blessing? A punishment? Maybe it was neither.

Bisahalani paused when he heard another familiar cry—his mother’s companion. He turned and trotted among the great trees towards her, tail wagging.

“There you are, Mother,” Bisahalani called out, warm and bright. “I thought we were the ones who moved about, and the world was what stayed still; but it’s decided to prove me wrong.”

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"There you are, Mother," Bisahalani called out. “I thought we were the ones who moved about, and the world was what stayed still; but it’s decided to prove me wrong.”

Nadua turned towards him, eyeing him suspiciously as he talked. “Bisahalani?” she said slowly, “Son ... is that you?” It was challenging for her to stare into his face and question him—that face she loved more than anything!—but these lands were strange, and she couldn't let her guard down now. “What ... are you doing here? I thought your father and I were the only ones here ...” This made no sense to her; what was going on?

Pamola landed on Nadua's shoulder, fixing the man with a scrutinizing stare.
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At the look on his mother’s face, Bisahalani faltered. What was he doing here? He actually couldn’t quite remember how he had gotten here. He remembered setting out at one point, but what came next was hazy in his mind.

“Who else could it be?” Bisahalani scoffed, nose wrinkled. A tiny sliver of doubt wedged itself in his thoughts. “I don’t look different, do I?”

He glanced around himself. Yes, these were the same woods he had grown up in. But how had they gotten here? The magpie-jay landed on his shoulders and set to preening a wing, unconcerned. As long as there were still plenty of pine nuts and berries, who was he to complain? Bisahalani, however, was not quite so practical.

“At least we’re together,” he said, taking a deep breath. He was, after all, the chief’s son; he had to be reliable. “But I don’t understand how I got here, either.”

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Nadua follows Navajo customs! Feel free to read up on some of her beliefs/practices here: https://navajocodetalkers.org/navajo-death-rituals/

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Nadua believed that evil spirits had a way of playing tricks on the mind—was this one of them? After all, her Bisahalani would never scoff at her. Her body grew stiff, and her mouth drew a straight line. “No son of mine would scoff at his mother,” she said, her voice level. “You do not look different, but your spirit is different. I do not trust it.” Nadua had always been superstitious and had never been shy to express her feelings; the situation surrounding her and her son's sudden arrival played into her mind's games.

She had assumed he was dead, like the rest of his siblings, and she did not speak the names of those who passed; it was their people's way. Nadua took a deep breath to try and steady herself, wondering how she'd figure out if this was her son or not.
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He lowered his head in shame, staring at his paws. He looked like a scolded pup with the way he folded in on himself.

“I’m sorry,” was all he could think to say. He hasn’t scoffed at her, but at the idea he wasn’t himself. Maybe she was right. Maybe he had died, and had come back wrong. But no—his heart was beating in his chest. He could feel it pumping as he spoke.

What was he supposed to say to his own mother who refused to recognize him? The hurt and betrayal was obvious in his face.

“What should I do?”
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