Awnga lu Sarentu

Tamtey was not excited to see Alma’s face as soon as she arrived at the Hideout. Telisi hissed at the sight of the human woman, kicking up extra dirt and leaves as she landed, and Tamtey was having a hard time keeping her own lips from curling. Still, the woman was wringing her hands, fingers twisting in the hem of her patchwork shirt. Already some of the vibrant silk threading had been pulled loose along the hem and neckline, and the various patches were beginning to separate. 

Alma had spent so much time in her Avatar skin, her human body had been practically neglected; most of her clothing, as well, either didn’t fit or had spent so much time in storage that they were dry rotted. Hence, patchwork shirts and pants until they could acquire more. It made Alma look…softer, weaker. Vulnerable. The near-constant wetness of her eyes when she looked at Tamtey didn’t help either. It made Tamtey want to protect her, and the mere thought of underestimating Alma Cortez was enough to boil her blood. 

“Alma.” Tamtey acknowledged, dismounting fluidly. 

Alma’s face flickered as she tried to smile, arms twitching as if she were debating raising her hand in a gesture, possibly a wave, but ultimately decided against it. Instead, the human woman shuffled her feet and schooled her expression into a polite, indulgent facsimile of a smile. 

“Tamtey, how was your flight?”

Try as she might, Tamtey couldn’t hate the woman for wanting to make small talk. “To be honest, it was a long day in the air. I’m glad to be back.” 

Alma’s lips twitched again in another half-smile. “I’m glad to hear it. You were gone for so long, we missed you.”

“I was only gone a couple weeks, Alma,” Tamtey reminded her. “The Zeswa needed support.”

“Right,” Alma nodded. “The Arches. A tragedy.”

“A tragedy…” Tamety shook her head, sighing, “doesn’t even begin to cover it. We knew Mercer was capable of unimaginable cruelty—my clan is proof of that—but to destroy the Celebration Arches? To tear apart Zeswa families?” She ran a hand over her face. “You weren’t there. The bodies…wildlife, hunters, mothers and children. Mercer is behind it all.”

She watched as Alma swallowed, eyes lowering. 

“Mercer has gone too far.” Alma agreed. 

Tamtey’s ears pinned as she looked down at her former teacher. “He always went too far, though, didn’t he? It’s nothing new. I see it. Ri’nela sees it. Why can’t you?”

“No, no,” Alma smiled placatingly, raising both palms. “I see it. He…has a mean streak, for sure, but it’s gotten so much worse—”

“No. Alma, you of all people should know how cruel he’s always been.” 

Tamtey very suddenly wanted to leave. She’d never been successful convincing Alma of Mercer’s evil. Each conversation ended with tearful apologies from Alma, only for the human woman to say something like ‘Mercer has a mean streak’ only a few moments later. 

“What do you want from me, Alma?” Tamtey asked, tail lashing. “Do you want me to tell you it’s okay? Accept that Mercer brainwashed you, or manipulated you, or whatever it is you’re trying to convince me of.” She scoffed, taking a knee so she could search Alma’s eyes. “The Great Mother herself peered into your memories, laying bare each thought and feeling from the slaughter of my clan. You may have convinced yourself of your own innocence, or perhaps ignorance, but you knew.”

Alma was silent. Her lips thinned. “I never claimed to be innocent. You’re right. I’m just as guilty as Mercer.”

Tamtey sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. The problem wasn’t the question of Alma’s guilt—it was the fact that, after decades, there were still times Alma questioned the degree of Mercer’s guilt. Tamtey had read it herself in one of Alma’s notes; the woman still believed she and Mercer made the right choice. It was an argument that Tamtey desperately wanted to make, to scream into the human woman’s face, to make her understand. But Tamtey couldn’t make her see. It was a fruitless attempt, each and every time. So, instead of snarling the words brimming on her lips, she said, “So why did you come to meet me? It wasn’t to talk about Mercer’s cruelty, was it?”

“No,” Alma shook her head. “I need to bring you up to speed. Ri’nela told you about gathering the clan leaders, right?”

Tamtey nodded. 

“She went to The Hollows to request the presence of Anufi. So’lek volunteered to fly to the Kinglor Forest and the Upper Plains to request their leaders. He should be back any time now, but Ri’nela left earlier than he did. She’s not back yet.” 

“You’re worried?” Tamtey asked, arching a brow. She had confidence in Ri’nela’s abilities, but the Clouded Forest was treacherous. “Do you want me to find her?” 

“Do you mind? I worry about her, even though she barely speaks to me. Her anger is warranted, don’t get me wrong, but I—I just worry.” 

“I’ll check on her, Alma.”

Alma’s eyes flicked up to meet Tamtey’s. “I’ve been meaning to ask—why do you still call me Alma? Everyone, even Priya, has started to call me Cortez. They think I don’t notice, but I do. Not you, though. Is it…” Her throat bobbed. “Forgiveness?”

“Forgiveness?” Tamtey echoed, incredulous. “You think I call you Alma out of softness? You are wrong. The others call you Cortez because they see you as some other version of yourself, someone they don’t know. I call you Alma because you are the same. To remind me that the same woman who taught us and looked after us is the one who allowed our clan to be slaughtered, and for us to be kidnapped, abused, and indoctrinated. To them, you may be someone else. To me, I am seeing the real you.”

Tears welled beneath Alma’s mask. “…I see.” 

Tamtey looked down at the woman for a few heartbeats, watching her small frame tremble as she held back a sob. She hated how weak Alma looked. It almost seemed wrong to dislike something so tiny, so fragile. She pursed her lips. 

“I’ll go find Ri’nela.” Tamtey said finally. “If you hear anything, radio me.” 

She waited until she saw Alma’s head bob in a shaky semblance of a nod, then she left. 

Tamtey decided to walk to The Hollows, allowing her mount some well-deserved rest. Thankfully, the rain in the Clouded Forest had long since gone, and the air held only the slightest chill. The mists were always thicker after a rain, swirling well above her thighs as she walked. She was grateful for the cloak keeping her warm and dry, and she couldn’t help but wonder how So’lek was faring. She wondered if he thought of her as often as she thought of him. She wondered if he missed her. 

Humming, she allowed herself to imagine a life without the war, without the RDA. It would have been so pleasant, a childhood without TAP, without Mercer, without constant fear and pain. She’d have grown up with her clan, her mother and Aha’ri. The Sarentu would be alive and thriving. It was a picturesque dreamscape, one she so desperately wished for, but she couldn’t change reality. The best she could do was find the aspects of reality that brought her joy. Like So’lek. In a perfect world where the RDA didn’t exist, would she and So’lek have even met? Likely not. And if they had, who’s to say they’d even like each other? Plus, would she have had such a close relationship with her clanmates? As terrible as it was, the residential school of TAP had made them learn to depend on one another despite their differences. 

Tamtey huffed, stepping over a mossy log. What was supposed to be a light musing was beginning to make her head hurt. Thankfully, the entrance to The Hollows was right ahead. She picked up the pace. 

The Kame’tire greeted her as she walked inside the ravine, their faces bright with welcoming smiles and friendly eyes. Tamtey couldn’t help but smile in return. Already, Anufi had brought light back to the Kame’tire. The Hollows smelt of fragrant herbs, medicinal and culinary alike. She’d learned that the Kame’tire prided themselves on ‘medicinal meals’, a tradition honed by Okul, as a way to merge the healers’ craft with everyday meals. As tsakarem, Okul had more freedom than Anufi in regards to experimentation; Anufi’s many duties as tsahik simply did not allow for boundless creativity. Anufi did, however, have a wealth of knowledge that aided in Okul’s culinary experimentation. The entire clan was able to lend expertise as well. The cook and cooks-in-training, the hunters and gatherers, and even the elders combined their shared knowledge and abilities to welcome a new tradition into the clan. The children, of course, were enthusiastic taste-testers. 

The scent of the evening meal—roasting meat and sizzling vegetables—permeated from the cook’s cave. Dusk was a few hours away, but already she could see the Kame’tire preparing for nightfall. Hunters and gatherers returned, sorting and cleaning their weapons and tools, and the Commons was bustling with activity. Tamtey stepped into the intricate cave system of The Hollows, her feet thudding softly on the polished wood floor. Predictably, she found Anufi in her chambers, humming under her breath as she sorted various tools and pre-made remedies in a travel basket. 

“Sarentu,” Anufi greeted warmly, her voice a rich blanket of affection. “It is lovely to see you.” 

Tamtey’s tail curled, a smile stretching her cheeks. “Tsahik. It is always a joy to visit The Hollows now. Your people thrive under your guidance.” 

“My people are strong and resilient,” Anufi said, standing. “We will heal as a clan.” 

When Anufi opened her arms, Tamtey stepped into the tsahik’s embrace, letting the rich scent of herbs wash over her. The scent of belonging, Tamtey thought absentmindedly. She’d only recently made the connection: each and every tsahik she’d met had played a crucial role in welcoming her into their clan. Etuwa, Minang, and Anufi all held a special place in her heart. Ri’nela and Okul, as tsakarem, held that same feeling of home and belonging. The skill of a tsahik extended well past proficiency in herbalism or communion with Eywa—it was an innate ability to unite all of Eywa’s children. If Tamtey happened to associate the scent of herbs with that particular ability, who could blame her? 

“I am looking for Ri’nela,” Tamtey said as Anufi turned to pick her basket up, using the thick cords as a strap to sling it over her back. “Have you seen her?”

“Of course,” Anufi said. “She came by earlier to tell me of the meeting being held at your Resistance camp. I will head there shortly.”

“Do you know where she is now?” The worry bleeding into Tamtey’s voice was hard to mask. 

Anufi looked up. “You fear for her.”

“I do. She is capable, I know, but…”

“You worry nonetheless. It is because you care for her.” Anufi placed a hand on Tamtey’s shoulder. “Fear not. She is at The Herbery, the camp near The Cut. An apprentice apothecary requested her help foraging.”

“But…” Tamtey blinked. “Ri’nela can forage anytime. Why now?”

Anufi chuckled. “She is a tsahik in the making. One of the People asked for her help. She is fulfilling her duties.”

Tamtey nodded. “I suppose you’re right.” She twisted her fingers in the fabric of her cloak. “Do you think they could use some help?”

Anufi’s look was all softness. “No, I do not think they need help. But perhaps they would enjoy your company.” 

All at once, the building anxiety in Tamtey’s gut was washed away. “My company. Okay.” She smiled, turning to the doorway. 

“Take a meal to go!” Anufi called as Tamtey slipped from sight. 

“I will!” Tamtey replied, weaving around a confused Kame’tire, making haste towards the exit. “Irayo!”

She nibbled on a sample of roasted meer deer meat and mushrooms as she walked towards The Cut, delighting in the coolness of the forest as the sun lowered from its peak in the sky. The Kame’tire had kindly given her a whole meal which she wrapped in a thick leaf, taking bites as she observed the scenery. It had been a while since she had just walked. In fact, Tamtey had rarely traveled anywhere without Telisi before. She missed her bonded, of course, even knowing she was safe at the Hideout only a short way across the Clouded Forest. With how sensitive Telisi’s ears were, it was highly possible she could even call her mount from here. Alas, she could not. Telisi deserved a break, and Tamtey would do everything in her power to grant it. Even if that meant she had to do a little extra walking today. 

The Herbery was a quaint camp situated in the middle of a clearing, a grove of towering pines providing pleasant shade. Immediately upon walking into the clearing, Tamtey could see why The Herbery was such a desirable camp for the apothecaries and herbalists to spend their time. Medicinal herbs grew in abundance amongst the underbrush, and beneficial mosses and lichens grew on the bark of fallen logs and hung from pine branches. She could see the more controlled areas of growth, similar to the small garden Jin used to attend to outside the old Resistance HQ, though the Kame’tire ‘garden’ was less controlled and more curated. 

Tamtey saw a Kame’tire woman wearing traditional herbalist attire—a soft leather tunic and waistcloth fashioned with multiple cinched pockets for gathering. She was crouched over a patch of bright blue moss, plucking choice pieces and placing them into one of her pockets. At Tamtey’s approach, the woman stood, greeting her with a smile. 

“Sarentu, welcome to The Herbery.” The woman said, her voice soft and sweet. “Have you come for herbs?”

Tamtey returned the woman’s greeting, head dipping when she said, “I am searching for my clanmate, Ri’nela. She is said to be here with a young apothecary?”

“Ah, yes,” the woman clapped her hands together. “She is with Keylu. The poor girl has been fretful as of late, administering care for a dear friend. It seems she is finally willing to seek help.” 

“Where can I find them?”

The herbalist hummed, rubbing her chin. “Near the Shrewd River would be my best guess. Hmm, yes, he likes to bed down there…”

Tamtey blinked. “He?”

“Hm? Oh, Keylu’s friend. Yes, that way. A short walk.” The woman pointed north, her kind eyes crinkling in the corners as she grinned at Tamtey. “Good travels, dear.”

“Thank you.” Tamtey said with a polite inclination of her head, turning to walk north. The herbalist had acted…strange, but perhaps Tamtey’s exhaustion-induced paranoia was rearing its ugly head. Again. 

The walk was another calm one. Tamtey was beginning to enjoy the sound of fallen leaves crunching beneath her feet and the feeling of damp ferns against her calves. The rain had come and gone, but the moisture still clung to the ground and foliage. The air smelled crisp and fresh, and the sun—just beginning to creep lower in the sky—cast a rainbow through the mists. Beautiful, Tamtey thought, running her hands over lush moss-covered boulders, relishing the feel against her skin. It truly was a gorgeous day. 

That made the pollution all the more apparent as Tamtey neared the Shrewd River. 

It began small, with a faint chemical tang in the air. Then, the plants began to lose their luster, vibrant colors fading into sickly brown. The constant trill and chirp of insects quieted, the tiny creatures avoiding the pollution instinctively. Then, she saw the corpses. Meer deer, scarab crawlers, and even a bone helm rhino—their bodies pale and desiccated. It was alarming seeing the bodies, and extremely telling. Ordinarily, fallen animals would be almost immediately enveloped by loiyokx in the Clouded Forest, and the shroud would stay in place until decomposition was complete. The fact that the loiyokx refused to touch these bodies…

“There is a large base near here,” Tamtey hissed. “Death leeches into the forest.” 

Worry formed a pit in her stomach. The RDA base had to be close, and she was now walking along the bank of the Shrewd River—exactly where the herbalist had said to search for Keylu and Ri’nela. 

“What have you gotten yourself into, tsmuke?” Tamtey mumbled to herself, finally tearing her eyes from the animal corpses. 

Movement in the treeline. 

Tamtey tensed, lowering herself to the riverbank and drawing her shortbow, notching an arrow within seconds. A low groan reverberated through the trees, deep and agonized. It sounded like an animal, but the timbre was far too deep for any small creature. Whatever it was, it was big. On near silent feet, Tamtey crept through the mists, ears tilted to catch even the smallest sound. At first, she only heard labored breathing and shallow wheezes. Then, a voice, high and shaking with fear. 

“Please, my friend. Rise. Fight it.” The voice whimpered. It belonged to a girl sounding as if she was just into adulthood. 

Tamtey lowered her bow and stepped closer, weaving between trees until she was on the edge of a misty clearing. At the sight, she dropped her bow. It landed with a thud on the muddy ground. 

“My Eywa,” she breathed in shock, knees going weak. “What…?”

The largest creature Tamtey had ever seen lay slumped on its side in the middle of the clearing. It was larger than a zakru, covered head to toe in thick, armor-plated skin of the lightest blue, green, and pink hues. A great sail spanned its back from neck to tail, even larger than that of a txampam. Most peculiar, however, were the two smaller, more flexible fin-like sails on either side of the taller sail, and the long pink tendrils emerging from the secondary sails. They moved independently, flapping and swaying with each of the huge creature’s labored breaths. Tamtey reckoned each of those individual fan-like tendrils, even the shortest ones near its head and tail, were longer and wider than she was. The bony, blade-like fan atop its head pulsed with a light bioluminescence as it lifted its mighty head to look at her. 

That was when Tamtey noticed the creature was weeping. Not tears, but a yellowish pus-like solution dripped from the creature’s lacrimal ducts. Its mighty jaw hung loose, drool dribbling onto the rotting, polluted ground it lay on. A groan ripped from the creature’s throat, raw and twisted and suffering. Its strength left it and the massive head fell back to the earth. 

Uncaring of the snot and fluids, a young Kame’tire girl cried out and patted the creature’s cheek frantically. 

“Ma ‘eylan, ma ‘eylan,” the girl sobbed. “Tìtxen si! Wake up! Please, wait a little longer. Do not fall asleep.” 

As shaken as Tamtey was at seeing such a massive creature up close, she could not sit by while it suffered. Neither would she ignore the girl’s distress. She shook free her alarm and stepped forward to kneel beside the girl. “What is happening? How can I help?”

The girl sniffled and looked up, meeting Tamtey’s gaze. Her eyes, the color of the lightest green moss, widened slightly. “The Mark of the Sarentu? You are Ri’nela’s clanmate.” 

Tamtey nodded. “I am.” She kept her voice gentle. “You are Keylu?”

“Yes,” Keylu nodded, chin wrinkling as fresh tears threatened to fall. “And this is my dear friend, though I wish you got to meet him in happier circumstances. He is sick. The Sky People have corrupted his feeding grounds and killed his garden.” Now the tears did fall, dripping onto the creature’s armored skin as Keylu cried, her body curling over the creature’s head as if she could protect him, regardless of the fact that the creature’s eye was bigger than Keylu’s head. “It is as if he drank a poison that he cannot purge. It is killing him!”

“It’s the pollution,” Tamtey said, heaving a gusty sigh. “It has to be. There’s a facility near here, probably pumping tons of chemicals and waste into the ground and water.” She observed the dying trees. “I’m assuming my clanmate came to help?”

“Yes.” Keylu nodded shakily. “She is gathering banquet mushrooms to help purge his blood of the poison. It is his last hope. We’ve tried so many things—tinctures, salves, cleansing herbs. None of it has worked. The best banquet mushrooms grow deep in the forest, and—” Keylu keened suddenly, clapping a hand over her mouth. “I could not bear to leave him if—if he—oh, I cannot say it.” 

Tamtey understood. Keylu wanted to be near her friend if he died. It was an impossible burden for a girl so young. 

“I understand,” Tamtey said gently, tail swishing as she tried to make up her mind. 

She was torn. Her instinct demanded she locate Ri’nela and ensure her clanmate’s safety. The RDA could wait. This magnificent creature, however, could not. As she knelt, deliberating her next moves, the creature fought to stay conscious. His breaths were labored, each inhalation a struggle, and his eyelids fluttered weakly. A faint sound, akin to a whimper, slid past the creature’s slack lips. Tamtey felt her heart break. 

“Even after Ri’nela returns with the banquet mushroom, your friend will be in danger.” Tamtey said, standing. “As long as the pollution leeches into the ground, he will consume poison.” She softened her voice. “I need to leave you now, Keylu. My clanmate will return soon, and I must take care of the Sky People base.” 

Keylu sniffled. “Alone? But—what if something happens?”

“Nothing will happen.” Tamtey assured, her voice infused with a surety she hoped was true. “You are a good friend to him, Keylu. Stick next to him. I will come back.” 

“Okay,” Keylu breathed, wiping her eyes. Then again, stronger, she said, “Okay.” 

Tamtey smiled. “Okay.”

The drone of machinery was loud as she neared the base. Nearly deafening, she could hear the slam of drills and the halting screeches of rock and mineral grinders. Under the hiss of hydraulics, she could hear the low murmur of human voices. Tamtey crept alongside the parked trucks, her shortbow held at the ready. She only had her bow and her rifle slung over her back alongside her quiver and the knife on her belt, a mere fraction of the usual weaponry she had hooked to Telisi’s harness. Taking down a fairly large RDA base without her heavy bow was not ideal, but it would have to do. After all, she’d been in more precarious situations before, and had worked with significantly less. As long as she was quick and quiet, this should be a breeze. Right? 

Fucking wrong. 

She alerted them by accident, of course, but how was she supposed to expect two RDA officers infiltrating her hiding place to make out? At first, she thought maybe they’d walk right past her nook—a heavily shadowed alcove between a shipping container and a parked dozer—but instead they tumbled right into her hiding spot, masks clinking together in frenzied imitation of a kiss as they came together, fingers pulling at zippers and clasps. 

Oh. Oh no. 

Tamtey was mere feet away, her back plastered against the rusted metal of the shipping container as the two soldiers rutted against each other, gasping and giggling under their breath. How did they not see her? Her tanhi glowed in the darkness, and despite her stillness, there was no way she’d remain unseen. Should she just…kill them? She’d never struggled with her morals before, but it seemed wrong to kill them in whatever throes of passion they were under. What the fuck do I do? Her tail flicked uncomfortably, and she cast her gaze on the two soldiers. She’d have to kill them, and soon. There was no way she could—

“Yo, what the fuck?”

Tamtey froze. One of the soldiers stilled, head snapping up as they made eye contact—tiny human eyes beneath a fogged mask locking onto glowing amber. 

“What? Why’d you—mmf—why’d you stop?” The second soldier protested, then followed the first’s line of sight. “What—”

In unison, the two began to scramble for their weapons, searching for their issued firearms beneath disarrayed clothing. Ears pinned in abject horror and mortification, Tamtey drew her knife. 

“Sorry,” she murmured in perfect English. “I’ll make it quick.” 

And it was quick. But that didn’t change the fact that one of the soldiers, lightning fast, flipped a switch on their radio, opening the RDA channel. The entire embarrassing encounter had been broadcasted to all personnel on base. That was, of course, made evident to Tamtey when the alarm began to blare and several angry voices got nearer and nearer to her position. 

“You just had to come to my hiding spot for a secret romp, didn’t you?” Tamtey hissed, leveling a finger at the bodies on the floor. “You inconsiderate, horny motherfuckers.” 

She wiped her blade on her waistcloth and sheathed it, then fished for a new magazine. She’d just snapped her rifle up when the first AMP appeared. 

“Hello, there,” Tamtey sneered, fixing the AMP in her ironsights. “Let’s get this shitshow over with.”

Later, as pinks and oranges bloomed across the horizon, the setting sun warmed Tamtey’s bruised and dirtied skin. She’d earned herself a new black eye and several scrapes and cuts, alongside a particularly stellar road rash on the side of her right thigh, a souvenir from her frantic roll across the pavement to escape the spraying flames of an AMP Pyro. Her cuts wept crimson blood and she stopped by a small creek to wash the majority of the filth from her skin and clothes. The explosion she’d caused had engulfed the entire base in flames, and a thick layer of soot coated her braids. By Eywa, she stank. 

“By Eywa, you stink.” Ri’nela wrinkled her nose as Tamtey walked into the clearing. 

“Hello to you, too.” Tamtey drawled. “Want a hug?”

Ri’nela shied away from Tamtey’s grasping hands. “Absolutely not. Besides, don’t you want to see how our friend is doing?”

Tamtey perked up. “Is he…? Did the banquet mushroom…?”

“It worked.” Ri’nela’s smile lit her face. “He’s improving. Keylu is ecstatic. Come see.” 

Her clanmate led Tamtey further into the clearing, her hand hovering just over Tamtey’s skin as she steered her towards the young apothecary and the massive goliath. Keylu had been busy, Tamtey could see. Wooden bowls lay strewn across the moss, and the makings of poultices and fast-acting tinctures were everywhere. Keylu was grinning brightly, flitting about the creature as he gathered his legs beneath him and stood. 

“He looks so much better!” Tamtey called. 

“He does,” Keylu agreed, tail swishing. “He’s very grateful for the help of the Sarentu.” 

As if to back her words, a pink fin-like tendril brushed against Tamtey’s cheek, and a low croon emerged from the giant. In the dim light of the setting sun, the creature’s bioluminescence patterns began to glow, the vibrant colors reflecting off the polished armored skin. He was even more massive standing up, and his sails pulsed with a brilliant glow as he shook off the remainder of his lethargy. His eyes, large and bright, met Tamtey’s. 

“He’s beautiful.” Tamtey breathed. “I’ve never seen a creature like him before.” 

Keylu’s smile widened. “A flrrtsawl. Quite literally a gentle giant. They’re so incredibly rare, they are practically a legend. Or a myth. In fact, the Zeswa do not believe they exist. The greatest moment of my life was when he chose me to be his friend.” The young apothecary ran a loving palm over the flrrtsawl’s crest. “I honed my craft around him. As an apothecary, I specialize in the herbs he grows in his garden. We’ve spent a lot of time together.” 

Tamtey let her gaze wander around the clearing. It was true, many rare medicinal plants and herbs grew here, and they looked to have been of legendary quality. At least, before the pollution tainted them. The land would heal, though, and perhaps the garden would flourish again soon. “I’ve never heard of an animal keeping a garden,” she confessed. “Or staying in one place, for that matter.” 

Keylu chuckled. “That is alright. Most Na’vi can’t even find a flrrtsawl’s garden, much less lay eyes on the creature itself. Those who do are blessed. The flrrtsawl is special, even to his wild brothers and sisters. Only in his garden can a predator and prey coexist in peace.” She snickered. “Under his watchful gaze, I’m sure you could cuddle up to a palulukan.” 

Tamtey blinked. “You’re lying.” 

“Not even a little. The flrrtsawl shows us how to live in harmony with all of Eywa’s children. It is how we will be in the spirit world, after all. Utter peace.” 

Tamtey hummed, sharing a smile with Ri’nela as her clanmate came to join them. “That sounds nice, ma Keylu. Really nice.” 

The young apothecary grinned. 

“Where will you go from here?” Ri’nela asked. 

Keylu shrugged. “I’m going to try and convince him to make a temporary garden near The Herbery so I can keep an eye on him as he heals. After that, he’ll probably come back here.” 

The two Sarentu women nodded. 

Tamtey spoke up. “Want us to accompany you back to The Herbery?”

Keylu shook her head. “No, but thank you. My friend needs a little longer before he can walk that far. We will be okay.” Then, a wry smile spread across her face. “He wants to thank you both before you leave, though.”

“Thank us?” Tamtey and Ri’nela shared a quizzical look. 

Keylu just snickered. “Bond with him. Let him thank you properly. To bond with a flrrtsawl is a sacred thing.” 

With a chuff that sounded almost amused, the flrrtsawl extended one of his kuru toward Tamtey and the other toward Ri’nela who came to a stop on the other side of his head. His fin-like tendrils brushed the canopies of the trees as he moved, shaking loose glowing particulates of pollen that fell around them like tiny stars. 

“Hello,” Tamtey breathed, taking hold of the massive queue. With her other hand, she reached behind her head to grab her own kuru. A deep rumbling emanated from the gentle giant’s mighty chest, and his eyes found hers. Immediately, all anxiety fled her. “You truly are a peaceful creature, aren’t you?” Loosing a breath, Tamtey made tsaheylu with the flrrtsawl. 

Tranquility. Serenity. An abundance of calm. The flrrtsawl did not thank her in words, but she could feel his gratitude in every single cell of her being. In the span of a few milliseconds, she was able to look into this creature’s soul. She saw the peace he brought to the forest, and the unity he brought to all of Eywa’s children. She felt his grief as he witnessed poison seep into his garden, stealing the life from his brothers and sisters. She saw Keylu in his memories, and felt the love he had for his friend. Then, suddenly, she saw Sarentu. The flrrtsawl was old. How many decades, how many generations had he been alive? Certainly long enough to have met the traveling Sarentu, to have memories of her ancestors. She felt her eyes well with tears and heard a muffled cry from Ri’nela. Many years ago, the flrrtsawl welcomed the Sarentu into his garden. Today, a new generation of Sarentu repaid his kindness by saving his life. On behalf of all Eywa’s children, the magnificent creature seemed to say through the bond, thank you.

Tamtey wiped tears from her eyes, smiling widely as she broke the bond. “Thank you, Gentle One. Flrrtu.”

After bidding farewell to Keylu and the flrrtsawl, Tamtey and Ri’nela began the hike back to the Resistance Hideout. They’d regroup with Anufi there, along with the other clan leaders. Then maybe—finally—they could come up with a plan to destroy the RDA presence in the Western Frontier once and for all. 

“Is it even possible, do you think?” Tamtey asked idly, stepping over a winding root. “To defeat the RDA?” 

She had her eyes on the forest, but she heard Ri’nela’s sigh. For a few heartbeats, her clanmate considered her next words. 

“It has to be possible.” Ri’nela said finally. “Where would we find hope, otherwise? The Na’vi are strong. Eywa is strong. We are strong enough to provide a resistance against the RDA’s tyranny.”

“A resistance, yes, but are we strong enough to destroy them? Permanently?” 

Another silence. Then, “I think so.” 

“Truly?”

“Truly. The Great Mother and her children will persevere.” Ri’nela said with an air of surety. “You have destroyed countless facilities already, and you have seen that it is only a short time before the land heals and wildlife returns. See?” 

Ri’nela nodded her head towards a break in the trees. Tamtey craned to look, seeing a mostly overgrown concrete facility. Mosses and lichens covered almost every surface, and even the guard towers glowed with bioluminescence vines. 

“How odd,” Tamtey mused, coming to a stop. “I didn’t take down this base. Eywa reclaimed this one long ago.” 

Ri’nela stilled as well. “Oh? How long ago? Can you tell?”

Tamtey hummed, stepping through the brush and closer to the weathered facility. The old base had faded lettering on the northmost wall—Research Station Alpha—and long-rusted supply crates in fallen stacks around the perimeter. Judging by the abundance of flora, it had been many years since the RDA set foot in this facility. 

“At least a decade,” Tamtey told her clanmate, pointing at the faded letters. “It was an old laboratory or something. It’s strange, though, these coordinates aren’t in any of the Resistance databases. It would have been flagged long ago.”

The Resistance had mapped all the old RDA and Resistance facilities in the Clouded Forest, and she and So’lek had searched each one for any usable technology or equipment weeks ago. Tamtey was sure she’d never visited this one. And, judging by how overgrown it was and how well the thick canopy covered the facility, it was almost completely camouflaged from the air. 

“Do you think there’s anything worth salvaging in there?” Ri’nela asked. 

Tamtey shook her head. “I doubt it. Everything inside has doubtlessly been exposed to the elements for many years. I’d be surprised if it was even capable of running electricity anymore.” 

Ri’nela frowned. “You may be right, but what if there’s something valuable in there? Something that could turn the tide of this war?”

Arching a brow, Tamtey leveled a look at her clanmate. “The chances of that are very low. Besides, hear how silent this place is? It’s creepy as hell.”

After her exploration of TAP Con-1, Tamtey was extremely reluctant to explore any more abandoned RDA bases. The eerie silence, the lack of life, the knowledge that anything could spring from the shadows at a moment’s notice…it freaked her out. It didn’t seem to bother Ri’nela in the slightest. 

With an arched brow, Ri’nela leveled a look at Tamtey. “So, what? My Sarentu emissary, my deepest confidant, my dear tsmuke is…a chicken?” 

Tamtey narrowed her eyes, cheeks heating. “No. This is a learned experience. There are so many things that could go wrong in there—”

“Bok-bok.” 

Tamtey froze, eyes widening. “You did not just make Earth bird noises at me—”

Ri’nela blinked innocently. “Bok-bok.”

Lips pursed, Tamtey blew a gust of hot air out of her nose. “You’re insufferable.”

Her clanmate smirked. “And yet, you love me.” With that, Ri’nela walked up to a vine-covered maintenance hatch, rusted and brittle with age, and kicked it in. With one last teasing, “bok-bok,” she slipped inside. 

“Dammit, Ri’nela.” Tamtey cursed, clambering after her. 

The air was, of course, dank and wet and stale. Glowing lichens grew along the cracked concrete walls of the narrow maintenance tunnel, and puddles of water splashed beneath her feet as she crouch-walked after her clanmate. Ri’nela’s tanhi glowed softly in the darkness, the spots along her tail seeming to pulse with each lazy sweep. 

“Are you sure about this?” Tamtey asked Ri’nela as they emerged into the small maintenance room. They had to stay hunched as the ceiling was not quite high enough for them to stand straight, but the look Tamtey gave her clanmate was enough to convey her seriousness. 

“Yes.” Ri’nela replied, voice steady. “This site is completely unsearched. It’s old, yes, but if we can find some decent material…” Her voice trailed off, but the meaning was clear. 

If they could find something truly useful—salvageable technology, weaponry, et cetera—it could give the Resistance a fighting chance against the RDA, especially after the majority of their stored supplies, technology, and weaponry were lost in the bombing of HQ. 

“Very well,” Tamtey acquiesced. “Let’s go.”

It took little convincing for Ri’nela to allow Tamtey to take the lead. After all, she was the most experienced with abandoned RDA facilities and knew what could pose a threat. The ventilation shafts, for example, were absolutely off-limits. The steel had doubtlessly been worn beyond anything resembling structurally sound over the years of neglect and constant weathering. Tamtey had fallen through enough brittle vents to know it was a bad idea to travel through the ducts. Thankfully, the maintenance room had another opening into the room below. With a few well-placed kicks, Tamtey was able to knock the bolts free and send the cover careening to the floor below. 

“Bingo.” Tamtey grinned. 

“Who’s Bingo?” Ri’nela asked. 

With a laugh, Tamtey batted her clanmate with her tail. “It’s a silly Earth phrase. It’s synonymous with ‘got it’.” 

Ri’nela huffed. “Weird.” 

Tamtey couldn’t tell if the phrase was weird or if she was weird. Knowing her clanmate, it was likely the latter. She rolled her eyes, then dropped down the hatch and into the room below. It was a small room—lit only by a flickering incandescent. Evidently, electricity still powered the facility, as weathered as it was. A locked door was ahead of her, the red light above the steel doorframe barely glowing. An external locking mechanism held the two heavy-duty doors together. Tamtey had seen a similar device before; generally, it was installed before the RDA vacated a high-profile facility, making it harder for Na’vi or Resistance to gain access. 

“You might be right, Ri’nela,” Tamtey admitted, lips turning up. “See this lock? There might be some good stuff inside.”

Her clanmate dropped down behind her, tail whipping excitedly at Tamtey’s words. “That’s great. And I see the lights are on, too, even if they’re the backup lights. Maybe there’s some good tech?”

“Maybe.” Tamtey agreed, bringing her leg up and kicking the locking mechanism square in the center. The metal internals broke, making it easy enough to pry the device from the steel double doors. 

With the locking mechanism removed, the light above the door flashed green and the doors slid open, revealing a hallway that was admittedly worse-for-wear. From what Tamtey could gather, the majority of the facility was underground. Several sublevels, she assumed. The above-ground facility was only a fraction of what this research station had to offer. Slabs of concrete and rebar from the level above littered the floor, and the air was musty with the scent of rotting fungus and something fresher. Was that…blood?

Tamtey held up a hand, signaling Ri’nela to freeze. She crouched, ears swiveling as she strained to detect any sounds. She inhaled deeply, just to be sure, and yup that was the acrid stench of blood—old and fresh alike, mingling with the stale air as a repugnant message. 

“Ri’nela, we are not alone down here.”

“I smell it, too.” There was a hint of fear in Ri’nela’s normally calm tone. “Is it animal blood?”

Tamtey craned her neck, her sharp eyesight picking up a faint spatter of red-brown blood on the floor at the end of the hall. Claw-marks littered the concrete walls. “I think so, but we have to be careful. I don’t know what kind of animal it is. It could be one of the Severed.” 

Ri’nela didn’t reply, but her shaky breaths betrayed her emotions. 

“We can go back.” Tamtey reminded her. 

“No,” Ri’nela said, straightening despite the nervous wobble in her voice. “We’re armed. We’ll get what we came here for.” 

“Okay.” Tamtey clapped a hand on Ri’nela’s shoulder. “Let’s do it.” 

Ri’nela’s bravery was admirable, and she was right. They were both armed, even if Tamtey was lacking her usual plethora of weapons. Ri’nela had her longbow slung across her back, her green woven quiver full of sharp wooden arrows. Her knife—a small, straight blade used for foraging—was kept sharp in her leather sheath. It wasn’t for combat, like the curved blade attached to Tamtey’s belt, but it would do in a pinch. Her clanmate did not carry a rifle or shotgun. Tamtey hadn’t explicitly asked why, but she’d noticed Ri’nela’s reluctance to hold a firearm, even for training, after she officially became tsakarem. It worried Tamtey slightly, seeing as Ri’nela had more experience with firearms than with a bow, but technically so did Tamtey. 

Ri’nela held her bow at the ready as they crept through the dimly lit halls of the research station. She already had an arrow notched, her fingers deft against the length of the arrow. With a rush of fondness, Tamtey noticed Ri’nela had adorned each arrow with feathers in traditional Kame’tire style, though she combined the colors in the same fashion she did with her hair feathers. In fact, the bright hair feathers was the one thing about Ri’nela that never changed. While Tamtey switched hairstyles practically every day, and loved learning how each clan styled hair for different events, Ri’nela kept her hairstyle the same. It was the way she remembered her mother’s hair, after all. As one of the oldest Sarentu, her memories were clearer. She could remember certain moments from before they were taken, including the way her mother used to style her hair. 

In the same silk satchel she kept Teylan’s songcord, Tamtey had her own hair feathers tucked lovingly between two swatches of violet silk. She’d found them in one of the baskets at the Sarentu Moot site, and could only assume they used to belong to her own mother. It was for that reason that Tamtey refused to touch them, much less wear them. The thought of losing them was too much to bear. 

Ri’nela’s hair feathers swayed with her movements, bright specks of fuscia, golden yellow, and violet against her dark hair. She walked with the learned stealth of a saboteur, and Tamtey crept right alongside her. 

The stench of animal blood strengthened as they continued down the hallway. Exposed wires in the ceiling sparked as they passed beneath them, and sharp gouges in the steel made for a slight obstacle. Tamtey knelt, running her fingers along one of the gouges. 

“Claws,” she muttered. “Look at this, Ri’nela. Do these marks look familiar to you?” 

Ri’nela swallowed, fingers brushing her throat—a habit telling of her increasing nausea. “It looks like the marks left by the feral thanator, the one that attacked us in the Upper Plains.” 

“That’s what I feared.” Tamtey sighed. “I might know where we are, but to be sure…we should keep going.” 

“Should I be nervous?” Ri’nela asked, her grip on her longbow tightening. 

“Yes.” Tamtey stood, pulling a stone-tipped arrow from her quiver. She notched it, holding her shortbow at the ready. “Stay alert.”

They continued down the hall, and Tamtey noticed flecks of fresh blood spotting the concrete as they walked. A new scent rose in the air, musky and fetid. She wrinkled her nose, hissing under her breath, then she saw it. An open door leading to a small room, the faded paint on the wall reading ‘Security’. The stench of death was nearly overwhelming inside the room, and Tamtey signaled again for Ri’nela to pause. Tentatively, she slid forward, peeking into the room. She gagged, rearing back. 

“What is it?” Ri’nela whispered sharply, raising her bow. “Is it a feral?” 

“What’s left of a predator’s meal, I think,” Tamtey gagged. “It caught a meer deer. It’s pretty gross in there.”

“Can you tell if it’s a Severed?” Ri’nela asked, pursing her lips. “The ones you’ve found were scattered, right? In the Kinglor Forest and the Upper Plains?”

Tamtey nodded. “Yeah. The chances of a Severed sticking around is low, but not impossible. It’s likely a predator who made a home here. Odd but not terribly out of the ordinary. I think the Severed were here at one point, though.” She pointed at the tears in the steel and concrete. “We should be cautious, just in case.” Tamtey paused, fishing her radio from her belt. She switched it on, toggling to Anqa’s private frequency. 

“Anqa?” She whispered into the radio. “Are you alone?” As the only one who really knew about Hajir’s past, she didn’t want to spill all of his secrets on an unsecure line. 

The radio clicked on and rustling was heard. “I am now.” The woman said quickly. “What’s up?”

“I think we found the place where the ferals were made.”

An intake of breath. “Are you sure you want to go in? Hajir said it was a truly horrific place.” 

Tamtey rubbed the back of her neck. “Ri’nela and I are already inside. And he was right—it is horrific. There have to be loads of bad memories in here, and it’s not exactly safe either.”

Anqa made a noise. “Yeah, that’s what I’m afraid of. Be careful, okay?”

“We will be.” Tamtey toggled the radio off and they kept walking. 

The electricity, while spotty, was mostly reliable. The hallway lights only flickered slightly and the doors opened as they neared. They descended stairwell after stairwell, dodging debris, until they reached a large room with high ceilings. Cages were stacked along one wall, dusty and rusted, and various doors along the other walls lead to what looked like laboratories. Through the long windows into the rooms, Tamtey could see lab equipment, terminals, and holding areas. Suspended by thick steel cables, reinforced by steel beams, were walkways a short ways down from the ceiling, connecting various ‘upper level’ labs that had the windows covered by steel plating. 

“We made it down,” Tamtey said into the radio. “It’s huge…some kind of biology lab. I see animal cages.”

Ri’nela made a noise of distress and Tamtey turned. She followed her clanmate’s line of sight to a pile of bones on the floor. She could see the remains of at least three different animals. 

“Cages?” Anqa continued, oblivious to their macabre discovery. “That doesn’t sound good. Just…get out of there, okay?”

Tamtey cringed, feeling deep in her soul that Anqa was providing some damn good advice. And she was not about to take it. “We haven’t explored this place yet, Anqa, and there might be some really useful stuff in here. We have to check it out, but we’ll be careful, I promise.”

Anqa groaned. “Fine. Do not die. I’ll stay on the line.”

Tamtey grinned shakily at Ri’nela, whose responding smile was wobbly at best. Without another word, the two made their way around the room. Most of the glass into the laboratories had been shattered, and lichens grew across the surfaces. There wouldn’t be much worth salvaging there. Three labs, however, seemed to be reinforced and sealed from the elements, alongside a supply room directly adjacent to the sealed labs. 

“Supply room first?” Ri’nela asked. 

Tamtey nodded. 

A steel cage rested in front of the supply room’s door, and it took both Sarentu women to drag the contraption out of the way. The metal screamed as it scraped across cracked concrete flooring, its hinges creaking under the ministrations. Eventually, though, they managed to successfully pull the cage out of the way. The supply room was locked, seemingly requiring a standard key to open it, but the door hinges were weak. A well-placed kick erased the need for a key. The door slammed open, revealing walls lined with shelves and trunks. Tamtey stepped inside and opened a trunk, its contents bare for both Tamtey and Ri’nela to see. 

“My Eywa,” Ri’nela breathed. “Is that…?”

“Holy shit,” Tamtey gasped. “Teylan would have a field day.”

The trunk was filled with untouched, unaltered ropes and fabric sheets of heat-resistant para-aramid synthetic fiber, also known as—

“Kevlar.” Tamtey grinned ear from ear. 

She opened another trunk, then another. Ri’nela did the same. 

“It’s all supplies to make ballistic body armor!” Tamtey crowed. “This is amazing. We can get Rajinder to make bullet-proof armor for the Resistance. We can even make some for us!”

Anqa’s voice sounded over the radio. “Wow, that’s fantastic! Excellent find. I’ll fuel the Samson and head your way—”

A scrape against the concrete, followed by a menacing hiss. Tamtey whirled, shoving Ri’nela behind her, and the rest of Anqa’s words faded into the background.

A feral thanator, the largest Tamtey had ever seen, stalked into the light of the hallway beyond the door to the supply room. Fresh blood dripped from its maw, its wicked sharp fangs seeming to glow under the incandescents. The rest of its body was pitch black. The Severed did not have natural bioluminescence, making them practically invisible in the dark. How long had it been there, watching them?

“Oh, fuck.” Tamtey hissed, bringing her bow up and immediately loosing an arrow. It struck the thanator in the shoulder. The beast roared, muscles bunched in preparation to spring. They were trapped in the supply room, the only doorway being the one the thanator occupied. Tamtey pulled another arrow from her quiver. 

Two arrows embedded into the beast’s hide, one stone-tipped and one adorned with vibrant feathers. Ri’nela. Her clanmate hissed savagely, stepping forward so she could stand beside Tamtey. 

“We fight together.” Ri’nela said, her voice hard. 

Tamtey nodded, adjusting her stance for a partner. 

They attacked together. Tamtey fired arrows in quick succession, each thwip thwip sending a sharp arrow into the thanator’s hide. It surged forward, batting at them with razor claws, but the arrows in its joints slowed it. Ri’nela’s longbow wasn’t meant for a fight in enclosed spaces, but she made it work. Tamtey gave her the openings to fully draw her bow, loosing arrow after arrow into the thanator’s operculae. The heavy metal collar prevented some shots from hitting, but enough were able to lodge deep into the creature’s body. In less than a minute, the thanator’s breaths began to wheeze and its movements slowed considerably. One of Ri’nela’s arrows must have pricked its heart. Tamtey lunged forward, unsheathing her knife, and severed the feral’s jugular and carotid. Its blood sprayed, and the creature fell. Dead. 

Tamtey doubled over, panting. “No gashes this time.” 

Ri’nela wiped sweat from her brow, her knuckles white on the grip of her bow. “Uh huh. Please tell me that was the only monster lurking in here.” 

Tamtey slung her bow over her back. “I think it’s the only one. Even the Severed are territorial.” Reaching around her belt, she withdrew SID. 

“What are you doing?” Ri’nela asked, leaning against the wall so she could catch her breath. 

“The last two had access codes inside their stomachs.” Tamtey said. “They didn’t dissolve in the digestive fluids, and they were too heavy to pass. I’m going to check if this one has one, too.” 

Sure enough, SID picked up a signal. Tamtey sighed and brought her knife to the skin of the thanator’s belly. This was the gross part. Ri’nela averted her gaze, eyes pinched shut until Tamtey gave the all-clear. 

“Look at this,” Tamtey said, holding up the bloody metal card. “This makes three access codes. I have the other two in my pouch.” 

Ri’nela’s eyes widened. “There are three high-clearance labs. Do you think…?”

“I do.” 

Tamtey undid the leather twine on her pouch, pulling free the two access codes she’d kept stored away. Now she had them all: A, B, and C. She peered at the locked labs. Sure enough, she saw Laboratory A, Laboratory B, and Laboratory C. Perfect. 

“Want to do the honors?” Tamtey asked, handing Ri’nela the notedly clean Access Code A. 

“Why, thank you.” Ri’nela hummed, plucking the card from her fingers. 

The locking mechanism on Laboratory A was a simple yet well-built contraption. The access code itself contained a specific frequency signal, one that matched the signal emitted by the lock. It wasn’t a simple ‘swipe to gain access’ feature, but something slightly more complex. Ri’nela slipped the access code into a small slot in the bottom of the locking mechanism. After a few seconds, the faint light above the door flashed green and it slid open. 

“Bingo.” Ri’nela said with a smirk. 

Tamtey rolled her eyes, stepping around her clanmate and into the lab. Immediately, Tamtey could smell the stale air. While there weren’t any signs of water leakage or environmental weathering of the technology inside the lab, it was obvious the laboratory had been abandoned for years. Dust coated the surfaces and the floor, and each step kicked particulates into the air as she continued into the room. She and Ri’nela coughed as dust swirled around them. As they stopped in the center of the room, Tamtey stilled. Against the far corner of the lab, a human skeleton lay slumped underneath a lab table. The bones were a brittle ivory, and a tattered lab coat still rested over its frame. Creepy. 

“Hey, is that a terminal?” Ri’nela asked, voice muffled by the lilac silk scarf she used to pull over her nose and mouth. 

Tamtey turned in the direction of Ri’nela’s gaze. It was a terminal. A little dated—certainly not one of the newer RDA models she was used to hacking—but definitely recognizable. “Looks like it.” She unclipped SID from her belt. “Shall we see what secrets it contains?” 

Ri’nela grinned. 

Of all the Sarentu briefed on the usage of SID, only Tamtey and Teylan put aside the time to learn the device. Teylan, so he could make improvements wherever he saw fit. Tamtey, so she could steal data and perform hacks with ease. Ri’nela had used it a couple times after Teylan and Nor’s disappearance to help with finer electrical problems while Tamtey was away. Other than that, SID was a mystery to her. In fact, most days Ri’nela forgot hers in the basket next to her bedmat. 

“So you can hack through their firewalls?” Ri’nela asked with a raised brow, leaning over Tamtey’s shoulder as she worked. “Just like that?” 

“Just like that.” Tamtey confirmed, eyes glued to SID’s little screen as she concentrated. “I obviously have to watch out for anything that will trip an executive function that wipes all the data, or a failsafe that alerts the RDA, or a misclick that results in a fatal error that may or may not render the entire terminal unusable—”

“I got it, I got it.” Ri’nela thwacked the back of Tamtey’s head. “You’re smart.” 

“Hey, you said it.” 

The terminal blinked to life, its dusty screen now showing Tamtey had full, administrative access. 

“Aha!” She crowed, clipping SID back to her belt so she could rub her hands together. “What secrets will you sing for me today?” 

Tamtey immediately clicked on the most recent files saved to the hard drive, filtering the data to bring up the ones with the strongest encryptions. Of course, ‘most recent’ translated to the latest files before the facility was abandoned, which was years and years ago. 

“Here’s one,” Tamtey muttered. “An audio log from the lead scientist of Project Feral. Totally uncreative name, by the way.” She opened the file. “Maybe this will tell us a little more about the Severed.” 

The audio file began to play, a woman’s voice filtering through tinny speakers. 

“On the matter of yesterday’s behavioral evaluation, the progress so far is less than ideal.” The woman sighed frustratedly. “The hypothesis that removing the neural whip of a younger subject would lead to a more controlled result thanks to the plasticity of the developing brain is so far proving to be flawed. Admittedly the measurable benefits may await us further down the line, and these kinds of early findings are tea leaves at best, but based on what I’ve seen, I find it hard to be optimistic.” Rustling, then the voice again, infused with new passion. “We should explore the possibility of acquiring a newborn subject, or even better, a pregnant one.” Another pause, as if the woman was questioning whether to continue. Then, she sighed. “As an aside, one Hajir Beshara continues to be cause for concern, forming attachments to the test subjects that then motivate his disruptive outbursts. I am getting tired of reminding him that we are acting fully within the bounds of the RDA’s ethical guidelines and am strongly considering having him removed from the project.”

Tamtey’s eyes widened and she shared a look with Ri’nela. “So this is the place. I had my suspicions, but…”

“Hajir…” Ri’nela muttered sadly. “I knew he played a role in the making of the ferals, but I never could see it. I guess…I guess it sounds like he kept causing them problems, hm? Even when he was still an active member of the project.” 

Tamtey nodded. “I wonder if he eventually was asked to leave. I mean, think about it. Obviously something happened here for the site to be abandoned in such a hurry. Maybe he left before it happened?”

“Maybe.” Ri’nela shrugged. “Is there anything else in there?”

Tamtey returned to the terminal. “Let me search his name. Even if they made him leave, any of his notes are integral to the experimentation process of Project Feral. I bet I can find them.” 

Ri’nela puttered around the laboratory as Tamtey searched the terminal. She even took Access Codes B and C and opened the doors to the other laboratories, searching for any usable equipment or useful information. Every few seconds, she’d bring a small trunk or box to where Tamtey crouched in front of the terminal. Evidently, she was finding some decent stuff. 

“Here we go.” Tamtey called. 

Ri’nela came rushing back into Laboratory A. “What did you find?”

“Audio files. Just two for now, the rest are still decrypting. I’m going to play them.”

With a nod, Ri’nela lowered herself next to Tamtey. When Hajir’s voice filtered through the speakers, Tamtey nearly wept. 

“Hajir Beshara’s ethology notes.” The recording began. It was Hajir’s voice. Tired and worn and young, yes, but Hajir. Tears welled in Tamtey’s eyes. “Socialization attempts continue to prove fruitless. Growing frustrated. Hunter Bravo shows liminal social behavior. Grooming in vicinity of Delta, likely submissive signal. Delta unresponsive to efforts.” 

Tamtey noticed Hajir’s stilted sentence structure. He tended to do that when he was stressed or overwhelmed. Oh, Hajir.

The audio continued. “Play patterns likely early dominance play and not pack behavior. Odd considering they showed social behavior before neural whip removal. Hypothesis: Neural whip is integral to social behavior and neurological makeup. Removal causes them psychic suffering—” A gag. “What have I done? What have I done?” A sob. “End log.” 

“Oh, Hajir,” Tamtey said aloud, burying her face in her hands. All at once, she could recall his warm voice, accented and gentle. The way he’d banter with her in the infirmary, smelling of fresh coffee, always ready to unlock his drawer of snacks just for her. The way he’d scold her, worry masked by annoyance at having to change her bandages or make yet another poultice for her wounds. She remembered sneaking into the infirmary at night, pretending to doze off just so Hajir would quit clacking away at his computer and would finally lay down on one of the cots and catch a few hours of much-needed sleep. She remembered him and Alexander, partners in crime. Hajir often feigned irritation at Alex’s antics, but Tamtey saw the light in his eyes whenever he was roped into prank after prank. She missed him. Oh, how she missed him. Tamtey sniffled, wiping tears from her cheeks. “I never got to say goodbye.” 

Ri’nela’s eyes were wet, and she pulled Tamtey into a rare hug. 

“At least we have our memories of him.” Ri’nela said against her hair. “Memories that now live on in Eywa. Hajir may not be in the Great Mother’s embrace, but he will live on in us.” 

Tamtey nodded. “And now these. His voice.”

Ri’nela drew back, placing a hand on Tamtey’s shoulder. “Alex will be glad to have them.” 

“Anqa, too.” Tamtey agreed. She hovered the cursor over the second file and opened it. Again, Hajir’s voice flooded the room. 

“Hajir Beshara. Personal note. Getting anxious about the Hunters. One day they act calm, then the next they snap at each other for no reason. Could be, ferals are truly lost. If neural whips are necessary for social behavior, then SciOps…we may be engineering animal sociopaths.” A grunt of frustration, the clatter of something being thrown across the room. “Can’t go on like this. Who’s the monster here? Not the poor animals.” He sighed, and a thump was heard. His head against the desk? “Dreaming of running away again. Dying peacefully somewhere in the forest. My atonement.” A pause, a sniffle, then his voice, thick with self-loathing. “But I’m a coward. A monster. Now and forever.” 

“You were never a coward,” Tamtey said as the recording ended. “You found your courage, and you brought light and joy to those you loved.”

“He did.” Ri’nela echoed softly. “The ferals were a mistake. One he partook in, yes, but one he also sought to make right.”

“And I’ll continue his efforts.” Tamtey vowed. “He may not be around to see it, but I’ll make sure I grant a merciful end to any Severed I find.” She stood, fishing for her radio. “Anqa, I have some sensitive files to send you. They’re decrypting as we speak.” 

“Oh?” Anqa replied at once, shouting over the sound of tiltrotors. She was airborne, then. “Juicy secrets?”

“Hajir’s notes from the lab.”

“Oh.” Her voice went solemn. “I see. Thank you for finding them. See you soon.” 

“See you soon.” 

As the radio clicked off, Tamtey condensed all of Hajir’s files, along with the rest of the data on Project Feral, and downloaded it onto a flashdrive. The hyper-zipped files containing Hajir’s recordings she sent straight to Anqa’s datapad. 

“Did you get everything?” Ri’nela asked. “I’ve consolidated everything useful into trunks. We’re good to go.” 

“Let me see…” Tamtey had automatically downloaded the encrypted files, but that didn’t mean the less-protected files weren’t of any use. She skimmed them quickly, pausing only when she came across an audio log recorded the same day the research station went dark. Curious, she clicked on it. 

The panicked voice of a woman filled the room. Not the same voice of the head scientist, but younger. A lab tech, perhaps? “They ate them. They ate them. Oh, I’m gonna be next. I am.” Fear made her voice shrill. “Oh, I’m getting light-headed from the CO2. Not such a great way to go… Not much I can do but sit here and record it. Damn monsters broke containment. Went ahead and ate the admins. Access codes and all. Oh, now they’ve got the run of the place. What do you call that? Irony? Poetic justice?” A cough, followed by several wheezes. “Damn…I hope I’m knocked out before they get in here. Maybe I should just…do a few jumping jacks…speed this up.” 

Tamtey’s gaze shifted to the skeleton in the corner of the room. Death by carbon dioxide, huh? It was a slow, painful way to go, she’d heard. Judging by the pale tinge to Ri’nela’s face, she figured they were both remembering Harding’s particular punishments regarding oxygen. Had it felt like that for this woman? 

“I can’t help but feel sorry for her,” Ri’nela said quietly. “I want to hate everyone who worked on Project Feral, but I can’t. Not when we have Hajir’s memory to honor.” 

“I know.” Tamtey sighed. 

“But it was so horrid, what they did.” Ri’nela continued, running a hand over her braids. “They severed the kuru of innocent animals. Children, torn from their mothers, raised in cages and concrete walls. Like we were. It’s so clear, now, what they were planning to do. Think of the bounds of Kevlar in the supply room. This was not just wanton experimentation. This project had a purpose. An end-goal.”

Tamtey swallowed. She’d figured it out, too. The RDA had been planning to make weapons out of the ferals, to fit them in armor and send them out to crush the Resistance and any clans that stood in their way. By cutting off their kuru, the RDA was hoping to forge obedient beasts who would follow orders without being swayed by their natural instincts. Obviously, the experiment had backfired, making it evident that connection to Eywa was the only thing keeping Pandoran life sane. Instead of making the animals docile, it only made them senselessly violent. But if it had worked…the ferals would have been the perfect weapons. 

Just like the Sarentu children were meant to be. 

Tamtey looked down at her hands. What if Mercer had ordered their kuru removed? What would they have become? The thought made bile rise in her throat. The remnants of the Sarentu, unable to connect to Eywa or any of her children. Unable to feel, unable to See. Filled with rage and hate and endless suffering. Tamtey would truly be a monster, then. The images came faster, now, clearer. Herself, trained by Mercer to kill without mercy, to obey without hesitation. With her skillset, it would be easy to wipe out the Resistance. Considering she was biologically Na’vi, she had a true chance against the clans of the Western Frontier. With Teylan’s genius, Ri’nela’s sharp mind, Nor’s persistence, and her adaptability…she could barely think it. If she and her clanmates had been altered like the Severed…the RDA would have won years ago. 

“I’m glad it didn’t work.” Tamtey croaked, her nerves seeping into her voice. 

“Yes,” Ri’nela agreed, meeting Tamtey’s eyes. They were haunted. She was thinking the same thing. “I’m glad it didn’t work.” 

Tamtey’s radio crackled, Anqa’s voice filtering through. She’d arrived at the research station. 

“Let’s get out of here.” Ri’nela said, breaths shallow. 

Heavy rain fell in sheets as Tamtey directed Telisi to land a few kilometers from the probe site. In regular circumstances, Tamtey loved the rain in the Kinglor Forest—the sounds of droplets striking each individual broad leaf, the earthy aroma of damp soil, and the way small sun rays peeking through the clouds made the forest shine. Heavy rains like this tended to urge the creeks and streams to flow with abundance, making the day after even more desirable for fishing and, in Tamtey’s case, bathing. The water seemed cooler and fresher after a rain, and she absolutely adored how her hair and skin seemed softer following a long bath. 

The rain was not desirable when taking down the RDA, however. The only decent thing a downpour did was grant her an extra layer of stealth. Everything else was a disadvantage to Tamtey directly. The rain, as pleasantly scented as it was, masked the scent of human quite well, making it harder to distinguish their patrol paths. That, and it made the concrete floors and walls of their bases slick. Her feet, as callused as they were, did not have the traction of RDA-issued boots or the pedes of AMP suits. Even with leather ankle guards, the flooring, walkways, and even the roofs of RDA bases could prove a challenge in the rain. 

As Tamtey approached the probe site, she was made aware of yet another problem. The RDA has erected their site around and inside a massive tree. The tree itself grew inside a chasm, the trunk of it growing atop a plateau in the very middle of the chasm, its extensive root system forming several ‘bridges’. There were two makeshift camps on either side of the tree; one camp looked to be a cargo site with a flattened plot for aircraft landing. Another camp was a makeshift data center where she could see a few tents housing computer terminals. As she crept closer, she could see RDA patrolling within the chasm itself, guarding small caves and inlets. Based on the thick wiring Tamtey could see emerging from those caves, she could only assume those were the locations of the probes Priya had told her about. 

Hissing under her breath, Tamtey used a lift vine to pull her high into a nearby tree. As she crouched on an upper branch, hidden in the canopy, she listened to Priya’s whispered instructions. 

“Okay, so the RDA are using radar probes to collect a mad stack of resource data, and they’re beaming it somewhere else.” Priya’s voice said quietly in Tamtey’s ear. “Try and access the probes so we can just yoink the data and shut them down.”

Tamtey arched a brow, a wry smile tugging at her lips. “Yoink, Priya? Really?”

“Hey!” The woman huffed. “It’s totally scientific. Anyways, the RDA can’t exploit what they can’t see, right?”

“Right.” Tamtey agreed, feeling rain drip down the small of her back. “Thievery and sabotage. I can do this.”

A lone AMP patrolled at the base of one of the tree’s massive roots. As the rain picked up, Tamtey leapt from the tree and sent a heavy arrow straight into the cockpit, impaling the driver before he even knew she was there. Quickly and quietly, she dragged the evidence of her kill behind a cargo container. With the heavy rain and cloud cover, it should be a little while before the body is found. Hopefully long enough for her to get what she came for. 

Flicking water from her eyes, she moved on, climbing onto the dense root so she could begin to slowly scale it, keeping her body flush against the lush moss and foliage growing atop the surface of the root. The rain made the plant matter slick, and each silent step was taken with great care. Soon, she was pressed up against the trunk of the great tree. To her surprise and delight, there was an opening into the tree trunk covered by a thick mass of vines. She slipped inside, mentally cataloging the space as an emergency shelter should she be discovered. It was dark inside the hollowed portion of the trunk, and it was dry. Moss grew over the walls, and even some grass sprouted in the center of the space; evidently, some sunlight was able to pass through the vines during clear days. As her vision adjusted to the darker space, Tamtey gasped softly at the plant growing amidst the small patch of grass. A tarsyu sapling. 

“Oh, hello,” Tamtey breathed at the little sprout. It was the smallest tarsyu sapling she’d ever seen, and it unfurled its tiny, delicate petals as she neared. Wispy tendrils stretched outwards as if in greeting, their soft glow reflecting off Tamtey’s damp skin. She didn’t dare make tsaheylu—the sapling was much too small for that—but it warmed her heart to see it there. One day it will be a mature tarsyu. That is, if the RDA didn’t kill this tree with its poison and pollution. 

Immediately, Tamtey’s mood soured. Her ears pinned. This little tarsyu was at risk as long as the RDA made camp here. Already, machinery was boring into the earth, and the air stank of chemical waste and pollutants. This camp wasn’t even fully developed yet…how much more devastation would the RDA bring to this place? 

Tamtey grit her teeth. The mission just changed. Originally, her goal had been to hack and destroy the probes stealthily. Minimal casualties. But now? She hissed. They all have to die, and I have to make sure the RDA can never set up camp here again. 

Time to get to work. 

There were four mapping probes in total, and thus the site was divided into four separate sections. Each area was guarded by at least one guard—be it an AMP, a Combat Exo, or a soldier. The massive roots of the tree partially hid each of the inlets from the sightline of the others, making it somewhat simpler for Tamtey to take the guards down without alerting the adjacent section. What she had to be careful about was the noise. 

The soldier was simple. Tamtey dropped from one of the roots as soon as he walked underneath, clapping a hand over his mouth as she drew her knife across his throat. The Combat Exos, too, were easy enough. She waited until they walked close to the entrance of the inlets. Then, perched atop either a root or a hulking shelf mushroom, she sent an arrow straight into the driver’s skull. The force of the impact would send the metal suit toppling into the inlets themselves, consequently hiding the bodies from sight. She saved the AMP for last, pitching a shock grenade beneath the AMP’s feet as it passed below her. The downpour helped mask the driver’s cries of agony, and were quickly silenced as she leapt onto the cockpit, drove a stone-tipped arrow through the glass, and impaled the driver right between the eyes. When the guards inside the chasm were taken care of, she unclipped SID from her belt and visited each of the inlets. The mapping probes were about the size of an ‘angtsik, two large plates on either side of the machine directing low-frequency, rhythmic pulses into the ground. Various wires and cords ran from the machine and into the ground. Disgusting. 

Tamtey hacked the first one with SID, realizing with no small amount of gratitude that all four of the probes were connected. All the data was in one place, ready for Tamtey to extract it. She hacked through the firewalls, downloading all the data files and preparing them to be sent directly to Priya’s laptop. “Pri, I’m sending you the data now. There’s a lot.” 

“Understood.” Her friend said at once, humming as the data made its slow transfer. “Damn, that is a lot. Hmm. The RDA are mapping wide and deep, like they’re looking for something. But what?” Priya mused to herself, huffing frustratedly when she couldn’t immediately think of an answer. “Shut them all down. I’ll call when I’ve worked this out.”

To disable the machines quietly, Tamtey hacked back into the network with SID, injecting a virus Priya had made directly into the probe’s hardware. From what Priya had told her, the virus would corrupt the probe’s internal computer and fry the hardware, rendering the device unusable and all stored data inaccessible. She’d still have to visit each probe to access the hardware, but that was no problem. With the guards down, she had all four probes disabled in minutes. 

“It’s done,” she said into her radio. 

“Amazing! I don’t know how you do it.” Priya laughed softly. “I’m standing here panicking at a computer and you’re taking down RDA prospecting sites like they’re nothing.”

Tamtey chuckled. “Thanks. I’ve had a lot of practice. One day, maybe you’ll be just as comfortable out here.” 

Priya huffed amusedly. “That’s a big maybe. Anyway, I’ve got all the data I can; the survey results, itineraries, everything. It looks like all of the oil drilling operations came from the same forward base. There’s a lot of equipment stored there.”

“That’s odd. Send me the coordinates.”

“Just did. I need to swing by one last fissure before heading back to HQ. The RDA hasn’t been there yet and I want some clean samples.” 

Tamtey frowned. “Be careful, okay?”

A snicker. “Aren’t I always?” A pause of contemplation. “Don’t answer that.”

Tamtey rolled her eyes and the radio clicked off. With the probes disabled, the RDA would no longer be able to use this place for mapping. Now, her job was to make sure they could never use this place for anything else. Ordinarily, her method of…dissuading the RDA from setting up camp somewhere again was to rig the entire structure to explode. With this camp being built around and underneath the massive tree, her options were quite limited. Good old sabotage it was, then. 

Making her rounds, Tamtey pulled the wires from every technological device she could find. She shattered screens, cut through cords and cables, punctured the tires and treads of heavy machinery, and destroyed cargo. Nothing was left untouched. Then, she stole all their ammo. She couldn’t take all the guns—too much weight for Telisi to carry—but the ammo she could use. As she worked, the virus wreaked havoc on the networking system the probes had been connected to. It wouldn’t destroy the RDA’s entire system, but it would corrupt the database from this specific site. Good.

When she was done, Tamtey bid a silent farewell to the grand tree and the tiny sapling that grew within. She had done her part in keeping this place safe. Now, the Upper Plains beckoned once more. 

The coordinates Priya sent her were located within Step’s Cradle, a place Tamtey hunted several times during her stay in the Upper Plains. If a base had been constructed there, it was very recent. Hopefully it was weakly guarded. 

There was only one way to find out. 

The minute Tamtey entered the airspace of the forward base, she quickly realized it was not, in fact, weakly guarded. Tamtey’s original plan had been to descend from the sky on Telisi’s back, raining sudden death upon an unprepared, unsuspecting RDA camp. A light drizzle fell from thick grey clouds—perfect for hiding them from view. The location of the camp—at the base of a steep cliff, alongside a noisy rushing river—would have provided Tamtey adequate cover for a last-minute aerial ambush. That is, if the fucking FLAK cannon in the center of the camp hadn’t burst to life as soon as they flew within range of its sensors. In Tamtey’s defense, she was used to spotting the FLAK cannons mounted along the exterior walls of established bases. Unfortunately, Tamtey was a fucking idiot and forgot this base was the exact opposite of established and thus would have a completely different layout than she was used to. 

Both rider and ikran paid the price for Tamtey’s idiocy. There hadn’t been any time to rush to the ground, to dismount and fight. Within seconds of flying into range, Tamtey and Telisi were being bombarded with flak-laden explosive missiles. The missiles, thankfully, were not heat-seeking, though they were scarily accurate and fired at a rapid rate. Had Telisi been any less reactive, they’d both be bloody bits strewn across the Plains below. 

Through the bond, Tamtey could feel Telisi’s pain and confusion. While her beloved ikran could dodge the missiles with relative ease, they still detonated much too close to her. Each loud whoomp, the piercing sound of the missile explosion paired with the fiery displacement of air, severely affected Telisi’s sense of balance. A steadily worsening feeling of vertigo. Tamtey sucked in a breath, feeling her mount’s growing fear. The FLAK cannon had alerted the RDA present at the base, and Tamtey could see the bustle of frantic activity below them as soldiers and AMPs readied their weapons. If the FLAK cannon brought them down, the entire force would swarm them. A death sentence. There was only one course of action. 

Dive-bomb the FLAK cannon, obviously. 

Telisi shrieked, a deafening sound heavy with pain and rage, and entered into a steep dive. Right above the camp. As they descended, Tamtey readied her rifle. The FLAK cannon continued to fire, fire, fire, its bright flashes accompanied by loud booms. Telisi’s dodges became narrower as they got closer to the ground-to-air turret, and each explosion singed their skin. With a scream, Tamtey unloaded her clip into the FLAK cannon's dual missile arms, hoping desperately that at least one bullet would pierce the explosive rounds housed therein. She couldn’t stick around to find out, however. As quickly as they’d descended, Telisi flared her wings and pumped heavily, carrying them swiftly away. Not a moment too soon. Tamtey felt more than saw the explosion—a loud, hot eruption behind her as the remaining missiles ignited and blew within the cannon, rendering the entire machine a useless, smoldering mess. 

Back in the sky, Tamtey was glad to see the explosion had taken out a few of the unguarded soldiers that had been gathered too close to the FLAK cannon. Good. The sooner she could kill the rest, the sooner they could leave. 

Vulnerable spots, Tamtey recalled, remembering what Priya had told her about the base. Fuel. Power. Machinery. There’s no base without those. Sending a wave of reassurance and confidence through the bond, Tamtey directed Telisi downwards once more. 

The tanks of propane and other gaseous fuel were easy enough to see from the air, and even easier to hit with a well-timed grenade-tipped arrow. The resulting explosions were massive swells of fire and smoke. After only a few sweeps, each and every fuel storage tank had been destroyed, along with a few more unfortunate RDA who had been too distracted to predict her movements. As Telisi swooped downward again, the remaining RDA forces finally got their heads out of their asses and began to fight back. Luckily, a human’s reaction time had nothing on that of an ikran. As Tamtey shot at the various generators littering the camp, Telisi tore at AMPs and gored soldiers with her rear talons. They moved in sync, their bond strong despite the ringing in their ears and lingering agony from the close-quarter missile explosions. 

Thankfully, there was no data Tamtey needed to collect from this camp, and thus there was no reason to dismount. She killed and wreaked havoc from the air. Soon enough, only bodies and smoking machinery remained in the destroyed camp. Tamtey breathed a sigh of relief, resting her slick forehead against Telisi’s hot leathern skin. 

“Do you want to land, my dear?” Tamtey asked, sending the intention through the bond. 

While Telisi couldn’t respond with words, her vehement reply was clear as day. No. 

Tamtey frowned. She could feel her bonded’s exhaustion and the strain with each wingbeat. “My love, are you sure?”

Telisi just growled, irritation spiking. She wanted nothing more than to go home, to rest, but they were needed. They were always needed. Telisi was tired, but there would be no rest until the mission was done. 

Pursing her lips, Tamtey considered the rush of emotion she was feeling through the bond. How long had her ikran felt this way? There was no time to address it. Not yet, anyway. Sighing, Tamtey sent a pulse of sorrylovesorry and unclipped her radio from her belt. 

“Priya, I’ve taken out the site. Where are you?”

“Good!” Priya chirped over the radio. “Just getting the last samples, then I’ll get Anqa to…” The sound of tiltrotors momentarily silenced her friend’s words. Then, “Oh, that can’t be good.”

Tamtey’s gut twisted. “What was that? Was that one of ours?”

“Uh, no,” Priya responded, her voice high with sudden anxiety. “An RDA patrol just flew over. It’s fine, there’s no way they can spot us down…and it’s coming back around.” Fear in her tone, thick and choking. “Oh, fuck.”

“Get under cover!” Tamtey roared. Over the radio, she heard shouts and screams. Then only static. Cursing wildly, Tamtey pulled up the last set of coordinates Priya sent her, her fingers slick with cold sweat. Her voice wavered as she pleaded, “Telisi…”

Without even needing a command, Telisi put on a burst of speed. She flew with fervor towards Priya’s location, seeing her route through the bond. The Upper Plains were a mere blur beneath them as they shot through the clouds. Each raindrop left behind a pinprick of pain, they were flying so fast. Tamtey couldn’t tell who was more afraid, her or Telisi. Her beloved ikran had just recently taken a liking to Priya. What would await them when they arrived—more friends to bury? Tamtey was so overwhelmed with nerves that she nearly dropped her radio when it crackled again. 

“Hey,” Priya whispered, her voice barely audible. “Tamtey? You there?”

“Priya,” Tamtey breathed. “Are you okay? You cut off—I was so worried—”

“Okay is relative,” Priya interjected, her voice still a faint whisper. “Well, we’re cowering in a nearby cave and the idiots haven’t found us yet, but it won’t take them long to figure it out.” Her friend let out a shaky breath, then said even quieter, her voice laden with guilt and fear, “That was real smart getting us stuck in here, Priya.” 

“I’m close to your position,” Tamtey assured her. “Sit tight. I’ll distract them.”

Over the radio, Tamtey could hear muffled tiltrotors. The aerial patrol was landing. Priya whimpered. “Please hurry.” 

Tamtey grit her teeth, a frantic prayer slipping out between trembling lips. Great Mother, protect my friends. Telisi flew onwards. 

As they approached the fissure, Tamtey immediately saw why the RDA had been a little more hesitant to set up camp at this site. The giant crack in the ground was hissing steam, a thick sulfurous cloud that rose high into the air. The Upper Plains were home to many thermal springs due to the presence of geothermal gradient heating beneath the crust and a high amount of deep-circulating groundwater. The tremors had shifted a faultline, exposing channels of superheated water and steam—scalding vapor and liquid that now burst from the earth in the form of geyser eruptions. The high temperature of the area made it impossible to see any heat signatures through Telisi’s eyes, but Tamtey could just barely see a small cave entrance beneath a rock shelf, only visible through a thick cloud of steam. She could also see the RDA patrol that searched right outside. They were seconds away from finding the hiding Resistance members.

This time, Tamtey felt only determination through the bond as Telisi entered into a dive. Teeth bared, they barreled straight into the ground patrol. The memory of Priya’s voice thick with fear, the overwhelming dread at the thought of losing her close friend, the knowledge of just how close to death her people were…Tamtey saw red. She and Telisi tore the patrol to shreds. 

It was second nature, now, this degree of destruction. This degree of rage. It was oh-so-easy to kill when anger boiled her blood. Coupled with such high stakes, the fear of even more loss, there was really no other alternative, was there? Either they died or Priya died. It was a simple choice. So, Tamtey killed. Within minutes, it was done. Simple.

“Priya, come in.” Tamtey barked into her radio as soon as the last soldier died, his innards coating Telisi’s fangs. She directed her ikran to land upon the rock shelf adjacent to the cave’s entrance, dismounting for the first time in almost two hours. Her thighs ached, but it was no matter. The decision had been simple. “Come in, Priya. Are you okay? It’s safe, the RDA is gone. Please, come in.” 

Static, then Priya’s voice, thin and warbling and drenched with relief. “I’m so glad to hear your voice. We’re good, we’re good. Heading out of the cave now. Thank you, Tamtey, thank you.” 

Tamtey rushed towards the cave’s entrance, tail lashing worriedly as she peered through the steam. She only relaxed when she saw a flash of vibrant purple emerging from the darkness. Priya. 

“Tamtey!” Priya cried as they made eye contact. “I’m so happy to—oomph!”

In the span of a breath, Tamtey had her friend clutched to her chest. She’d lifted Priya completely off the ground, one hand cradling her friend’s tiny head while the other held her body close. The size difference was astounding at such proximity, and Tamtey was able to curl her shoulders, nearly encasing Priya’s body within her own. 

“Oh.” Priya gasped, hands flying up to grasp at Tamtey’s clavicle. The purple-haired human didn’t seem to know what to do. Tamtey had never initiated a hug quite like this before. “I’m okay, Tamtey, I promise.” 

Tamtey’s chest rumbled, a mix between a purr and a growl. “That was too close.” Tail continuing to whip behind her, she held on for a few more breaths, exhaled deeply, then placed Priya gently back on her feet. “I so badly wanted to show you Pandora, Pri,” Tamtey said lowly, crouching to meet Priya’s eyes. “Just…not like this. You could have died.”

Priya smiled shakily, reaching up to pat Tamtey’s cheek. “It wasn’t Pandora that tried to kill me. It was the RDA. Though, maybe today was the universe telling me to maybe stay inside for a little while.” 

Tamtey just pinned her ears. 

“I’m fine.” Priya insisted. “Shaken, yeah. Might need to change my uniform, but fine. We all are.” She gestured towards the mouth of the cave where the remaining Resistance members, Anqa included, stumbled into the open. 

Anqa cast them both a look, sent a grateful smile to Tamtey, then ushered the Resistance members towards the outskirts of the fissure site where the Resistance Samson was partially hidden behind a steaming crack in the ground. Thankfully, Anqa’s beloved aircraft remained unscathed. 

“You know,” Priya began softly, catching Tamtey’s attention. “On Earth, rocks don’t float. Every time I see it, it messes with my mammal brain. I’ll never get used to it.” She chuckled, expression bittersweet. 

“I’m not even used to Pandora yet,” Tamtey admitted. “There is so much more to discover.”

“Which is why it’s so important to protect her, right?” Priya hugged herself, shaking off the remainder of her adrenaline. “Sure, we almost died today, but I learned a lot. Good and bad. The good news is, toxicity wise, the land will heal. Which shows how totally brilliant your world is. Being an ecologist on Earth, well, ‘ecology is pathology’ as my old professor used to say.”

“That’s so very sad.”

“It really is. Pandora is so alive and so beautiful, it terrifies me.” Priya ran a hand through her short, tousled hair. “But I’d do anything to protect it. I’ll have to run the simulations, but I’m pretty sure Mercer’s plan will destroy all of this. That’s the bad news. He’s planning something big.” With a deep swallow, Priya’s eyes flicked up to meet Tamtey’s. They were oh-so afraid. “Before the patrol showed up, I was talking to Ri’nela. She’s sending the word out—gathering the clan leaders. It’s serious, Tamtey. Very serious. We need to figure out how to stop him. I just hope we can, you know?” 

Tamtey felt her gut twist again. It was that serious? Somehow, she’d known it would be. The confirmation sunk like lead in her soul. Mercer had always wanted to break Pandora and all its inhabitants. She let her snarl rip through the air. This time, Priya did not flinch away. 

“We will keep Eywa’eveng safe,” she hissed. “We will stop him.” 

Tamtey woke clutching her throat, fingers scrabbling uselessly as she fought to draw breath. Sneering, blurred faces swam above her. Mercer, eyes cold as he stared down at her, hurting her despite her larger size. The AMP from the Extractor Plant, metal fingers constricting her windpipe as she kicked feebly. 

Harding, laughing as she slammed her boot into Tamtey’s midsection again and again, knowing Tamtey lacked the strength to even stand. 

“Ma Tamtey?” A voice, thick with sleep but tinged with alarm. 

Tamtey grit her teeth, baring them despite the pain in her throat and lungs. Her breath came in short wheezes, blood rushing in her head and ears and eyes. The air stank with the acrid stench of fear, her fear, thick and cloying on the tongue. How many times had she fallen unconscious to the scent of her own fear? Tears leaked down her face. She was clawing at her throat now, fingernails carving bloody welts down the tender skin. 

“What is happening?” Another voice, older but just as concerned. 

“Light a lamp. Hurry.” 

She opened her eyes briefly, but all she saw was dark. All she felt was cold. Like Mercer’s office. Nothing good happened in the frigid darkness of that room. It was better to close her eyes, to stop fighting. She would pass out anyway, she always did, wouldn’t it hurt less if she just went limp? With one last keen, she did just that, the tension leaving her all at once. Tamtey’s body jerked intermittently as she forced her breaths to calm, fingers spasming as they dropped from her neck. A familiar fuzziness loomed at the edge of her subconscious, an invitation into peaceful nothingness. 

“Tamtey?”

There was a hand on her cheek. A thumb, caressing close to the corner of her mouth. Too close. She hissed, teeth snapping. A grunt of shock and the hand drew back, only the taste of blood lingering on her lips. She’d get a beating for that, she already knew. 

Suddenly, firelight illuminated the space. What? Mercer preferred the lights off, and he’d never use fire. And Harding used the bright fluorescents to her advantage, knowing how sensitive Tamtey’s eyesight was. So, what…?

Kin held the firelamp high, eyes wide and concerned. At his feet, a basket was overturned, miscellaneous tools and materials strewn across the floor of the marui. The small bag of the resinous sap used to light the lamps had been ripped open, the flax material torn beyond repair. 

A sound to her right drew her attention. So’lek knelt by her side, his golden eyes assessing her as she shook and panted. The gravity of what just happened hit her like a stampeding ‘angstik. 

“Fuck,” she spat, fists clenching at the rawness of her voice. Had she been screaming? Tamtey groaned, burying her face in her hands. Her body reeked of anxiety and her skin was damp with cold sweat. “Goddamn it, goddamn it.” 

Kin cast a nervous glance at So’lek. “I do not understand these words. Should I get Minang?”

Double fuck. She’d promised herself she’d avoid using English words, especially around the clans. Embarrassingly, she felt tears gather in the corners of her eyes, a hot wave of shame rising within her. 

“I’m okay,” she croaked in Na’vi. “It was just a nightmare.” 

So’lek tsked, though Tamtey noticed he didn’t reach out to cup her cheek like he normally would. It was then that Tamtey saw the single line of blood running from the pad of his thumb. She cried out, grasping his hand and pulling it close to her face. Her fang had ripped right through the skin. 

“Fuck, So’lek, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry—”

To her surprise, So’lek cut her off with a short hiss. He took her hands in his, staunchly ignoring the drips of his blood onto the mat beneath them. 

“You have nothing to apologize for.” So’lek said firmly, holding her gaze. “Nothing. Was it not you who told me these things happen?”

Tamtey would not allow herself to be comforted. By the Great Mother, she’d bit him. She inhaled sharply, averting her gaze as she held back tears. When she spoke again, her voice was a mere croak. “I thought I was done with these.” 

So’lek saw the tremble in her shoulders, the self-loathing in her eyes. “You have been through a lot, especially this last month.” 

She huffed, rubbing at her swollen eyes, then made the mistake of touching her neck. Blood smeared as she traced the raised welts, and she winced as she imagined what she must look like. 

“Here, Sarentu.”

Kin was beside her suddenly, pressing a cool, damp cloth into her hands. She nodded gratefully, using the cloth to wipe beads of blood and sweat from her neck and face. When she was done, the older man handed her a flask of fresh spring water which she gulped down eagerly. The chilled water, paired with the cold night’s breeze coming in through the marui’s tentflaps caused her to shiver. A lingering bolt of fear stiffened her spine. So’lek noticed at once, pulling a blanket from his own bedmat so he could drape it over her shoulders. Her own blankets were dampened with sweat. 

“Irayo,” she said to both So’lek and Kin, her voice quiet. 

“Would you like to talk about it, ma Tamtey?” So’lek murmured. 

Tamtey pursed her lips, glancing up at Kin from beneath her lashes. She had no problem talking to So’lek—after all, he’d been there to witness her carnage at the drill platform. But Kin? The older man was kindly, too generous for his own good, and the closest thing Tamtey had to a paternal figure. To give him a glance into her ugliness…? 

“Have I ever told you the story behind this spear?” Kin asked suddenly, eyes crinkling as he smiled at her. The older man stood, gesturing to a spear propped up on a wooden stand. It was a well-maintained spear, its stone tip polished and sharp, with vibrant orange fabric adorning the staff and base. 

Tamtey had noticed the spear before, yes, but she’d never paid it any attention. “No…?” 

Kin’s smile widened. He removed the spear from its stand, bringing it over and sitting with the weapon in his lap. “I made it when I was a young man, shortly after learning to hunt amongst the pa’li. My hunts fed the clan, and I was renowned for my ability to bring back the highest quality meats and hides. With this spear, I could down even the mighty txampam with ease.”

Tamtey wiped the remnants of her tears from her face, leaning forward. There was something in Kin’s voice, and the look in his eyes…this wasn’t just a trip down memory lane. This story mattered somehow. 

“Then the Sky People returned. They didn’t come to the Upper Plains at first, and we Zeswa foolishly believed our might had discouraged them. We did not prepare as we should have.” The older man’s face fell slightly, and he traced the intricate carvings running down the length of the spear. “When they attacked, it was sudden and with a fury. I used this spear to slaughter many Sky People. It was not enough. I watched as our tsahik and olo’eyktan were killed, as many of our men and women were slaughtered.”

“What happened?” Tamtey asked, eyes locked on the older man’s. 

“Our hunting parties used to be bigger. The hunts themselves—grand events. Families would gather, and we would hold feasts nearly every night of the expedition. It was a time for cooking, crafting, and copious amounts of zangke. Young hunters would train under seasoned mentors, and we would have dance-fighting and sparring all day. The Sky People came after one of our hunting parties, seeking to wipe out the strongest of us. They nearly succeeded.” Kin took a measured breath. “They killed our tsahik first, thinking we would surrender. We did not. We fought back, our olo’eyktan leading the charge. Their pack was strong, and we lost many, but in the end we were stronger. There were a few left alive, and they told us of the other pack—the pack they’d sent to The Circle, to go after our women and children.” He scrubbed a hand over his face. “I’d never ridden so fast. My pa’li was wind over the plains. There were few of us left, but our olo’eyktan was fierce. His fear for his daughters drove him onward.”

Tamtey’s eyes widened. The olo’eyktan’s daughters…Nesim and Minang. 

“They were already leaders, those girls.” Kin recalled with a bittersweet air. “They protected the youngest of the children, and encouraged the youth to defend alongside them. When we arrived, they’d killed many Sky People already. But the pack was too large, their guns too much. Nesim had fallen, her face bloody. We could not see if she was alive. They had Minang kneeling, her wrists bound. We charged in. All I had was my spear. In my rage, it did not matter. I had never killed like that before, never been so thirsty for blood. I watched as our olo’eykltan fell, along with many of my peers. In the end, we pushed them back, but I could never again hunt with this spear. In fact, it took many years before I could hunt again. The sight of blood…the stink of death…there is a reason I am a Dairy Master, not a Master Hunter.”

“But…” Tamtey shuffled forward, brows furrowed. “You kept the spear. Why?”

“Oftentimes, I cannot bear to look at that spear,” Kin admitted. “It is strange. I made it as a young man, and hunted with it for many seasons. I provided for the clan with that spear.” He sighed. “Those memories will forever be shadowed by the day I used it to kill in anger. I had never killed in such a way, without honor. But…I did it to protect my People. I want to hate the spear, to detest it, but I cannot. The spear did not kill those Sky People—I did. To hate it is to hate myself, and that is not the Way of the People. I cannot hate myself for protecting my clan, for protecting children. So, I keep it. I do not love it, and I do not know if I ever will, but I respect the decisions I made whilst wielding that spear.” At this, Kin smiled softly at Tamtey. “I would do so again, without hesitation. You are not a monster for protecting your home and your people.” His last words were aimed at Tamtey; soft, yet delivered like a punch to the abdomen. 

Tamtey stared at the spear and at Kin, her eyes wet. There was so much she wanted to say, so many emotions swirling together in her heart and soul, but she could not find the words. She opened her mouth then closed it. For several heartbeats, she sat in silence, absorbing the story she'd just been told. 

“Irayo, ma Kin.” She said finally. 

Kin smiled softly, handing the spear to her. She took it, fingers tracing the grooves. Then, without a word, Kin stood and began preparing a pot of tea. So’lek leaned forward, kissed her forehead, then stood as well. In the silence of the early morning, both men set out to ready themselves for the day. 

She held the spear in her lap, ruminating and reminiscing, until the scent of spiced tea filled the marui. Kin’s favorite tea, a dark blend accompanied by warm spices. The older man preferred to add a splash of zakru milk to his tea, and Tamtey was pleasantly surprised when she tried it the first time. The creamy richness of the tea was exactly what she needed, and she was more than willing to put the spear back on its stand and accept a full, steaming cup from Kin when he presented it to her. So’lek accepted his own cup and the three Na’vi gathered around the flickering fire. 

Together, they sipped their tea in content silence. Tamtey no longer trembled with fear and anxiety, even if her mind was not completely settled. So’lek sat close to her, his knee pressing against hers in quiet reassurance. She reached out and grabbed his hand, holding it tight in hers. She kissed his knuckles between sips of tea, nuzzling her cheek against his callused skin. Kin watched over them with fondness, his tail flicking idly as he took long drags from his cup. 

For a moment, they had the freedom to just be. 

Tamtey had just placed her nearly-empty cup of tea on the ground when her radio crackled. Well, So’lek’s radio. Her warrior had given his radio to her days ago, convinced that he could wait to replace his ‘ugly Sky People communication box’. She’d accepted under firm conditions that he got a new radio upon returning to the Resistance Hideout. The radio crackled again. Frowning, she placed her cup on the ground next to her and opened the line. “This is Tamtey.”

“Hey, we’ve got a problem,” Priya said, her voice tense. “The explosions that brought down the Arches kicked off some secondary seismic activity and it’s bad-bad! There’s crude oil bubbling up everywhere and it’s messing with a bunch of ecosystems.”

Tamtey stiffened. At her side, So’lek’s ears pinned. “What can I do?”

“Come help, please,” Priya begged. “I’ve taken a team to check out one of the tissues and the RDA are already set up here. We’ve sent them on a wild goose chase so I can check out their sensors, but I need to be really quick.”

“Wait,” Tamtey blinked. “You’re outside?”

“I am!” Priya cried. “And it’s terrifying!”

Tamtey carded a hand through her hair, anxiety coiling in her gut. “Hold on, Pri. I’m coming. Send me the coordinates.” She stood, tea forgotten, as the radio clicked off. “So’lek. Kin. I have to go. If she’s in danger—”

“I know,” So’lek reassured her, standing as well. “I will meet with the sisters today. If the RDA is making moves, it is time for us to return.”

She nodded. “I’ll see you at home?”

Her warrior smiled, tweaked one of her braids, and leaned in close to peck her lips. Tamtey couldn’t help but smile against him, brushing her nose against his. She’d take that as a yes. 

In the next few minutes, she’d packed up her bedroll and secured her weapons. So’lek even packed some of his own dried meats, fruits, and nuts for her to take since they weren’t able to eat breakfast. When both were satisfied and had engaged in another lengthy kiss—this time out of Kin’s sight—Tamtey whooped for Telisi. She was already airborne when she received the coordinates—a facility near The Cut in the Clouded Forest. 

“Glad I’m wearing my cloak,” Tamtey murmured, pulling up the hood and inhaling deeply. Her cloak had hung right next to So’lek’s in Kin’s marui, and thus smelled faintly of his warm resin scent. Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad flight after all. 

The coordinates Priya had sent her were deep within the Crimson Wood, and the early morning mist hung heavy in the air, swirling around Telisi as she landed. If not for the chatter of humans, Tamtey would find the nearly empty prospecting site eerie. The sun was just beginning to peek out through the dense fog, bringing a smidgen of warmth to the cool forest. The prospecting site was a small RDA camp consisting of semi-permanent and temporary structures. It was the first step to a base or extraction plant being built, and she could see mainly RDA-issued tents and portable structures like what the old Resistance HQ had been constructed out of. Several raised platforms and walkways connected the structures, and she could see armed Resistance members standing guard on each and every platform. Tamtey found Priya atop one of the main platforms, hunched over a portable computer. What had they been called? Laptops? 

“Thank God you’re here!” Priya gasped, abandoning the laptop for a brief moment so she could wrap her arms around Tamtey’s waist. “Anqa flew by and drew the security team away but they could be back any minute. We’ve got to work quickly. I need to know what the RDA, uh, know.” 

Tamtey found herself stiffening under Priya’s touch, the urge to draw back almost overwhelming. Instead, she willed her body to be completely, utterly still, fearful that even the slightest movement would bring harm to her small human friend. When the hug ended, she was left stunned by her visceral reaction. 

“Are you okay, Tamtey?” Priya asked, clocking the unusual response. 

“Uh, yeah,” Tamtey stammered, forcing a smile. “I think I’m a little tired still, sorry.” 

Priya eyed her for a moment then shrugged. “We’ve got some coffee if you want some.” Without waiting for a response, the purple-haired woman spun back to the laptop, fingers flying across the keys. 

Tamtey decided that wouldn’t be such a bad idea and took a swig from Priya’s thermos. The hot, bitter drink helped clear her troubled thoughts. There wasn’t time to dwell on her nerves, still shaken as she was from her nightmare. She screwed the stainless steel cap back on the thermos and placed it next to Priya’s laptop. The human woman in question mumbled under her breath as she worked, eyes glued to the screen. 

“Are you okay?” Tamtey asked, crouching next to her friend. “You look pale.” 

“Am I ok?” Priya echoed, barking a laugh bordering on hysterical. “I’m in the wild, in an RDA base, and I’m kinda hyperventilating.” As if to prove her point, she took in a wheezing breath. “How do you do this all the time?”

“Mawey, ma Priya,” Tamtey soothed, pushing past her discomfort so she could reach up to splay a palm over her friend’s back and another over her heart. She applied the most gentle pressure. “Mawey. Breathe.”

Priya sucked in a breath, tremors subsiding slightly. “Thanks.” 

Tamtey nodded, giving Priya one last squeeze before releasing her. “I used to fear Pandora, too, but out here is where I’m meant to be. My spirit knows it. It is okay if you are nervous.” She bumped her tail against the back of Priya’s knees. “I will protect you. Now, what do you need?”

Inhaling deeply, Priya made a flapping motion with her hands. “Okay. If I can get access to this system I can run some scans and dig through the RDA’s reports. You’re getting good at hacking, right?”

“I can use SID to find unsecure terminals.”

Priya smiled, the muscles of her face trembling only slightly. “Perfect! I need personnel data with the right clearance, okay? The RDA left pretty quick, so chances are they’re some key cards and login information laying around.”

Tamtey nodded, then began her search around the prospecting site. The first terminal she found was located along one of the other platforms, shielded from the elements by a heavy duty tent. The screen was blinking, having not been powered off completely. She grinned. It would be easier to hack. 

The terminal didn’t contain a lot of information, unfortunately, but it had enough. “Priya, I’ve just sent you some of the personnel roster. Is that useful?”

“You bet!” Priya chirped through the radio. “I need to identify someone with authorization to run the scanners. Keep looking for stuff like biometrics and credentials.”

“Got it.” 

She continued to search, finding an RDA-issue laptop on a desk inside one of the semi-permanent steel buildings. She pushed aside strewn papers, hacking the tiny device with SID. 

“Priya, you said biometrics? I think I’ve got that.”

This particular laptop had to belong to someone in security, as it housed files and files of personal identification information—records, fingerprints, medical data, et cetera. 

“Perfect.” Priya said, the tension in her voice starting to lessen. “I just need to find someone with the right access.”

Another personal laptop, then. Tamtey resumed her search. She crowed quietly when she found a makeshift laboratory, seeing the laptop abandoned on a crate. She scanned it with SID, her smile widening when she saw just who the laptop belonged to. 

“I found a science officer’s credentials, I think. Sending now.”

“Bingo!” Priya chirped. “I can put together an access profile now.”

Tamtey blinked, beginning her walk back to Priya. “Who’s Bingo?”

“What?” Priya asked, sounding genuinely confused, then she chuckled. “Ha, no, it’s just a saying. I’ll explain later. Just get back here.”

Humans and their strange sayings, Tamtey mused, shaking her head. She’d thought that the Resistance humans would make more sense than the soldiers she’d overheard at TAP. Not in the slightest. 

When she rejoined Priya on the platform, she saw the purple-haired woman take the last swig of her coffee, her nervousness being replaced by caffeine-induced focus. Tamtey had spent enough time around her friend to know the bitter drink induced some sort of calm over her hyperactive friend, different from Hajir who used to drink coffee as a way to stay awake. 

“So, the RDA is drilling at lots of new sites.” Priya said with renewed steadiness. “Mercer’s plan is pretty genius, in a ‘kill everything’ kind of way. I’m running a full toxicology analysis and mapping the quake damage, but it’s gonna take a while.”

Tamtey pursed her lips. “Do you have the coordinates for the drill sites?”

Priya hummed. “I will in like twenty minutes. These firewalls are a bitch. You can keep me company in the meantime, if you’d like.” She grinned shakily. “Distract me from the whole ‘being outside’ stuff.”

Chuckling to herself, Tamtey moved so she could sit on the platform’s railing. “I guess I have some things to catch you up on.” 

“Oh?” Priya glanced up from the screen. “Good things, I hope?”

Tamtey couldn’t keep her cheeks from heating. “Very good things.” 

“Is that—” Priya’s eyes locked on hers, a teasing smile spreading across her face. “Is that a blush, Tamtey? You better tell me what happened, like, now.” 

Ducking her head slightly, Tamtey felt herself grin, her stomach yet again aflutter. “Well, uh, So’lek asked to court me.” 

Priya’s mouth dropped open, and nothing could have prepared Tamtey for the pitch of the squeal that erupted from her small human friend. 

“What? Our So’lek asked to court you? Like, super-broody-and-kinda-terrifying So’lek?”

Tamtey nodded, tail swaying. 

“Oh my gosh,” Priya squealed again, hopping on the balls of her feet. “Did you say yes?”

Another nod. Another squeal. When Priya noticed her reactions were drawing the attention of the Resistance members nearby, she shuffled closer to Tamtey, her voice an excited whisper. 

“You need to tell me everything.”

Tamtey’s smile widened, her blush dark on her cheeks, and obliged. Priya’s excitement was contagious, and soon Tamtey found herself giddy, the pitch of her own voice rising as she recounted the night So’lek asked to court her, the ‘dates’ they’d been on since then, and the morning she’d presented him the acceptance gift. 

Priya gasped, allowing herself to actually look at the cloak Tamtey was wearing. “Oh my gosh, you made that? Like, from scratch? And you made So’lek one, too?” 

“I did,” Tamtey nodded, running a hand over the front of her cloak, smiling softly. 

“That’s so married-couple-coded, I can’t even.” Priya grasped Tamtey’s hands, arching a mischievous eyebrow. “So, when’s the wedding?” 

“The wedding?” Tamtey asked. 

“Yeah! You know, the matrimonial ceremony and all that jazz.” 

Tamtey blinked. “Na’vi don’t have weddings, Pri. At least, I don’t think so.”

Priya hummed, rubbing her chin. “So how does everyone know you’re married?”

“We’ll smell like each other, I guess,” Tamtey shrugged, her blush spreading down her chest. “When the courting process is done, if we both choose, we’ll mate before Eywa. That’s all I know.” 

“Girl,” Priya deadpanned. “You’ve got to do your research. I need to know when to throw you a party, okay? Not just when you plan to jump So’lek’s bones.” 

“Priya!”

“It’s true!” The purple-haired woman threw her hands into the air. “Weddings have, like, gifts and stuff. I need to know when, Tamtey! I have to plan.”

“Oh my—” Tamtey buried her face in her hands. “Fine, fine. I’ll let you know. To the best of my ability. Okay?”

Priya placed her hands on her hips, eyes narrowed. “I guess that works.” 

“Are you done interrogating me now?”

“Hmm. Yes—wait, no. Have you kissed yet?” 

“Uh—”

“Ohmygosh, how could you leave that out? You’re, like, one step away from banging.”

“Priya!”

Even after Priya returned to her laptop, painstakingly decrypting the files Tamtey had sent her, she continued to rib and tease her Sarentu friend. As Tamtey’s face got progressively hotter, she decided to flip the script. 

“If you’re quite done putting me through the wringer,” Tamtey began, leaning forward. “What about your love life, huh? Does the great Officer Priya Chen have an interest in anyone?”

Tamtey was rewarded by Priya’s pale skin flushing a vibrant pink. 

“Ah, so there is someone.” 

That’s as far as Tamtey got. Try as she might, her friend was extremely tight-lipped about where her affections lay. Tamtey poked and prodded, even going so far as to literally poke at Priya’s side; even when Priya was dissolving into fits of giggles, Tamtey was unable to extract any useful information. 

“You are incorrigible, you know that?” Tamtey groaned, leaning back against the railing. 

Priya just smiled, wide and innocent. 

The computer started to chirp, and both Priya and Tamtey perked up. The purple-haired woman crowed victoriously as she leaned down to look at the screen. “Got the coordinates for the clearing and drill sites. Are you up for a field trip?”

Tamtey huffed a laugh. “I suppose. How long will you be here?”

Priya shrugged. “Until I’ve searched all their servers for anything useful, I guess. What happened at the Arches could have been avoided if I’d just had the information. Even the littlest bit.” 

“It’s not your fault—”

“I know,” Priya interjected, sighing. “But if something happens again because I didn’t dig deep enough, then it will be my fault.”

Tamtey pursed her lips, opened her mouth to argue, then shut it again. “Okay. Just—be safe, alright?”

Priya blinked. “Do you think I’m in danger? I mean, other than the possibility that the RDA could drop in on us at any moment, and the forest is teeming with animals that want to kill me, and—”

“Priya, mawey,” Tamtey reassured. “You are surrounded by your friends.” She gestured to the Resistance members standing watch. “And Anqa watches over you from the air. You will be just fine.” 

Priya relaxed slightly, exhaling deeply. “I am super grateful.”

Tamtey patted her friend on the shoulder. “I’ll shut down the drilling teams.”

“Cool, cool. I’ll see what else I can dig out of the database.” Priya pursed her lips, face flickering with guilt and shame. “I…I’m sorry. I really wish we’d never come here. Humans, I mean.” 

Tamtey smiled sadly. “It’s too late to change that. But we can do some good now.” 

Priya just nodded. “As soon as I know anything, I’ll radio. Be safe.”

With a final inclination of her head, Tamtey left. The clearing site Priya mentioned was in the Cradling Pines, close to the landmark called the Stone Sentinels. From her aerial view, she could see that the Stone Sentinels were towering lichen-covered boulders forming a half-circle around what used to be a flat clearing thick with pines and vibrant foliage. The RDA had ravaged the ground, however, and only stumps remained. She grit her teeth, rage boiling in her gut at the sight of the torn earth, fallen trees, and dying flora. The mists were too dense to see how many soldiers occupied the site. She would have to take them out on the ground. 

When Telisi landed on the outskirts of the clearing site, behind one of the Sentinels, Tamtey was pleasantly surprised to see how well she blended into the Clouded Forest’s swirling mists in her grey cloak. Even the bright coloring on the back of the cloak matched the surrounding ferns and color-changing lichens. She could hear a commotion at the clearing site, surprisingly. Had they seen her? 

Tamtey quieted her steps, whispering into her radio. “Priya, I’m approaching the fissure just to the north of you. What should I do?”

“Right.” Priya responded at once. “There’s an RDA clearing team there. Stop them before they can set up a drill.”

“I can do that.”

“Good. And according to the security reports, there’s a thanator and her cub there. She’s protecting her territory.”

Tamtey blinked, trying desperately to ignore the icy spike of fear down her spine. Palulukan. The last time she’d run into the great beast, it almost killed her. Her leg still bore the scar. Here, she was about to walk into a den with two thanators—a mother currently enraged, trying to protect her cub from the Sky People. Wonderful.

Sighing, Tamtey nodded to herself. “They’re very dangerous, but I’ll try and keep them safe.”

The shouting grew in volume—and pitch—as Tamtey snuck around the huge boulders, inching towards the camp. The air was already thick with the stench of blood, and she could feel the effects of palulukan’s nearness. Her palms grew slick, and she needed to tighten her grip around her bow and the arrow she’d already notched. Her heart thumped against her sternum, breaths shallowing as her body prepared itself to fight—or flee. Unlike her first encounter with palulukan, however, she was able to function within her right mind. She wasn’t paralyzed by fear, nor was she overwhelmed by a sense of impending doom. Instead, she felt on-edge. Wary. Driven towards the battling palulukan instead of away. Was it Eywa? 

“Great Mother protect me,” Tamtey found herself murmuring. “Guide my bow. Allow me to fight alongside your children today.” 

The Great Mother did not answer with words, of course, but Tamtey found herself straightening as a menacing growl split the air in front of her. Despite any sense of self preservation, she found herself peeking out from behind the boulder in the direction of the sound’s source. Just in time to see a snarling black mass spring from the mists and barrel into an AMP. 

This palulukan was even larger than the one she’d seen in the Kinglor Forest. Its back and two sets of forelegs were riddled with silver scars, and talons longer than her hand ripped into the metal frame of the AMP. Wicked fangs punctured the reinforced glass of the suit, engulfing the screaming AMP driver within. The female palulukan jerked her head, tearing the human soldier’s body in two. Blood and viscera sprayed as the mother pulled the torso free, jumping back down to the ground so she could present her spoils to her child. The child who was almost the size of his mother, standing only two meters to her right. 

Tamtey’s mouth went dry as the palulukan duo turned to face her. 

The Clouded Forest palulukan were different from those native to the Kinglor Forest. Not only were they larger in size, having adapted to a fiercer environment, they were colored to blend almost entirely into the mists. Their backs were striped with deep green, matching the foliage of the forest, and flecked with thinner stripes of crimson to match the red and magenta ferns. Even their sensory quills were bright scarlet, as if each appendage had been dipped in blood. The armored portions of their back and head were still black, like most palulukan, but their lower body faded into a smoky grey, their paws the lightest in color. Overall, the creatures looked to be almost invisible in the swirling grey mists of the Clouded Forest. It made their sudden stillness all the more eerie as Tamtey’s eyes strained to keep track of their forms. 

Slowly, the cub inched forward, nostrils snuffling as he scented the prey his mother presented to him. After a few terrifying seconds, the cub’s lip curled in disgust, and with a mighty paw he batted the soldier’s torso away. The cub’s mother seemed entirely unsurprised by this, and instead directed her attention fully towards Tamtey. The female palulukan’s lip curled and an insidious shivering hiss slipped out from between her fangs. 

Tamtey stood, mute with horror and fascination as the female regarded her with fierce golden eyes. As calmly as she could, Tamtey placed her bow onto the ground, maintaining eye contact with the mother. She didn’t know if eye contact was a good idea, but she didn’t want to risk looking away. Tamtey shivered, licked her lips, and said, “I mean you no harm, palulukan. You are safe. Kxuke.”

The female palulukan regarded her, sniffed, then curled her lips, limbs bunching beneath her lithe, muscled body. 

“Oh, fuck—”

The mother leapt over Tamtey’s head, locking her jaws around the body of an approaching RDA soldier. The cub hissed in alarm, his powerful tail slamming into yet another soldier who attempted to flank them. Tamtey wasted no time, notching an arrow in her shortbow as she whirled, sending the stone tip right into the third soldier’s skull. 

Thus began the most surreal fight of Tamtey’s life. 

Side by side with two palulukan, they wreaked havoc on the RDA clearing site. The mother was able to down any approaching AMPs with ease, and her cub picked off the footsoldiers with lethal precision. Tamtey used her shortbow to down the AMP Pyros who had been setting fire to the surrounding foliage, sending her arrows right into the volatile canisters on the suit’s arms. The AMP Pyros were soon engulfed by the very same flames they used to scorch the surface of Eywa’eveng. 

As they fought, Tamtey’s anxiety began to leave her. The powerful roars of the two palulukan only seemed to fuel her, and she found herself relishing how the RDA soldiers shrunk in on themselves in fear, paralyzed in the face of death incarnate. 

When an AMP fired its shotgun, the bullets grazing the cub’s softer armored flank and evoking a cry of pain, Tamtey felt rage consume her. Sure, this child was of arguably the most terrifying land predator species on Pandora, but he was still a child. Tamtey would be damned before a child got hurt on her watch. She roared, drawing the AMP’s attention. As it turned, she sent a stone-tipped arrow into the glass of the cockpit, shattering it. She leapt, drawing her knife from its sheath and burying it into the AMP driver’s throat. He died, gurgling on his lifeblood. Tamtey hissed savagely at the body before rejoining the two palulukan. This time, when another AMP swung his huge metal fist just a hair too close to Tamtey’s face, the cub’s mother was the first to rip it to shreds. 

In mere minutes, the three decimated the remaining RDA forces at the site. They were bleeding from several cuts, stinking with the stench of death, but they were alive. As the female palulukan’s talon pierced the last soldier’s heart, she tilted her mighty head to the sky and roared. It was a declaration of both victory and warning. The cub tilted his head back and echoed his mother’s cry, twin roars splitting the silence of the forest. Tamtey spat blood from her mouth, grinning wildly, then raised her weapons to the sky and loosed her own ululating cry. When she was done, she turned to the two mighty beasts, bringing her hand to her forehead. 

“Oel ngati kameie, fkew palulukan. Oeru meuia.” 

The female held Tamtey’s gaze, an unspoken sentiment passing between them. Slowly, Tamtey extended her hand, her heartbeat steady and sure. 

Golden eyes flicked down toward her outstretched hand, and Tamtey could see the deliberation. Then, with equal slowness, the palulukan rested her mighty jaw against Tamtey’s palm. The mother’s armored skin was hard against her hand, and Tamtey could feel the indentations of scars long healed. 

“You are beautiful.” Tamtey breathed. 

Against her palm, the palulukan rumbled the shortest of purrs, then withdrew, turning and slinking into the mists of the forest. The cub’s tail swayed once in acknowledgment, then he followed his mother. 

Perhaps they would go back to their den, or maybe they would find a new home—one less tainted by the RDA. Either way, fighting alongside them had done something to her heart. To her spirit. With renewed strength, Tamtey straightened. The Great Mother would not stand by while humans defiled Eywa’eveng, and neither would she. 

Smiling with blood-flecked teeth, Tamtey clicked on her radio. “Priya. I stopped the RDA, and I had help—the teeth and claws of the forest.”

Priya crowed in victory. “I’m so glad you’re okay! Gotta love those teeth and claws. I mean, sometimes. From a distance.”

She chuckled. “This experience was up close and personal, but it was good. I’m going to destroy this whole site. The RDA won’t use it again.”

Tamtey proceeded to do what she did best, disabling any technology the RDA would find useful before rigging a truly spectacular explosion. When the clearing site was nothing but smoking rubble, Tamtey allowed herself to relax slightly, speaking again into her radio. 

“Priya, I’m done here. How’s the testing going?”

Her friend huffed in response. “The oil toxicology is about as bad as expected. I’m still waiting for the full underground imaging. The payload went deep, deeper than this oil seam. There’s something really fishy about it.”

Tamtey pursed her lips. The last thing she wanted to hear was news of yet another one of Mercer’s cruel schemes, but the events of the last few weeks positively reeked of his touch. “If you work it out, let me know.”

“I hope you’re not tired yet.” Priya said, her voice tinged with regret. “There’s movement at a fissure in the Kinglor Forest. It looks like they’ve deployed mapping probes. They’re looking for something underground. It’s cool tech but really toxic—kicks up a lot of pollution.”

“I’ll disable them.” Tamtey said. 

“Good. But before you do, send me the data they’ve found.” Priya sighed. “The RDA is up to something and I need all the info I can get to work it out.”

“Understood.” 

As Tamtey walked back towards the Stone Sentinels, back to her beloved ikran and the awaiting mission, she cast a longing look toward the misty treeline the two palulukan had retreated into. 

“Irayo.” She said quietly, knowing her words would not find them. For a heartbeat longer, she stood in place. Then, she nodded and continued onward, her heart set. 

Tamtey and So’lek spent the entirety of the next week assisting the Zeswa. For the second time in only a few months, the Zeswa were having to bury hundreds of their own, and countless families were having to adjust to a life without their loved ones. 

Nesim had called all the Zeswa to The Circle for the funerary rites and for a census; there were still a number of Zeswa missing, along with worried family members who feared their loved ones may still be buried beneath the rubble of the Celebration Arches. Unsurprisingly, many Zeswa chose to stay at The Circle after the funeral, preferring to stay close to the zakru and to the majority of their kin. The uncomfortable truth was that the Zeswa no longer felt safe in the Upper Plains, and the hunting camps were too exposed for parents to raise their children in peace. During the week Tamtey was with the Zeswa, she saw the population of The Circle increase exponentially while many hunting camps were either packed up or only inhabited by the hunters themselves. 

Due to the massive shift of people, Tamtey spent the majority of her time helping raise and construct more tents and living spaces for the new inhabitants, as well as work with Kin and the cooks to ensure there was enough food to keep them well fed. To spend time together, Tamtey and So’lek would venture into the Plains to hunt or gather, and would bring their spoils back to The Circle. That, and the mornings where they shared tea and a quick breakfast, were the only times they got to be alone. At night, they slept in Kin’s marui, usually after staying up to help the older man prepare baskets of pre-cooked food for the families overcome by grief. In the mornings, after tea, Tamtey would join Minang as the tsahik cared for the physically wounded and the mentally exhausted. The healers’ marui had been expanded, now containing a space for those who were having to adjust to life without one or multiple family members. Tamtey made sure to spend time with the orphaned children, playing with them or helping them complete easy tasks. They would benefit from the distraction while Nesim worked to locate the children’s extended family members or find a family to adopt them. Adoption was a common practice within all Na’vi clans; after all, child rearing was a community endeavor regardless of circumstance. No clan, especially the Zeswa, would allow a child to suffer. The orphans would be cared for, of that Tamtey had no doubt. 

She also spent time with the widows and widowers, those whose spouses had died in the valley. She met an elderly Zeswa man who had been mated for many decades, only for his mate to leave on a gathering trip to the valley and never return. She met a Zeswa kitemaker, a newly mated woman pregnant with her first child, whose mate had joined the hunting expedition that was crushed when the Arches fell. She spent time with the young woman she’d convinced to leave her brother’s body behind, and met the distraught father who mourned his son. She was surrounded by grief and loss, heartbreak and despair. She held them, cried with them, and listened to the stories they told. 

Slowly, the grieving Zeswa began to search her out—request her presence over meals, during chores, or in the dark of night when grief staved off sleep. They came to her with the stories of those who had been lost. Tales of adventure and journeys embarked, of love created and shared, of hardships and challenges. They came to her with stories of life. It was a way of mourning for the dead, perhaps, or a way of allowing them to live once more in the form of oral storytelling. In a way, it did not matter the individual reasons why they came to her—it mattered that they trusted her with a piece of their loved ones, trusted her to carry their stories in her heart. Somehow, it became a nightly event. After the evening meal, they would join her by the cooking fire. Sometimes it was just one, other times it was many. They would talk, and Tamtey would listen. Sometimes, she would ask questions, and the conversations would last several hours. Some Zeswa would sit and never say a word, while others would talk until their voices choked with tears. At first, Tamtey was uncomfortable with the responsibility to listen and remember each story, but soon she found she felt honored. Like it was a sacred duty to hear the stories, to commit them to memory. It felt right. 

It felt…Sarentu. 

At the end of each night, she would call Ri’nela before bed and recall the stories she’d heard that day. That, too, felt right. With each story she heard—each story she relayed to her clanmate—she felt her heart swell. The madness that had overtaken her after the Arches’ collapse dwindled more and more as the days passed, and soon the urge of the Killer was overshadowed by her affection for the People. It was not gone—could never truly be gone—but her rage had been quieted by an even stronger emotion. Love. 

One morning, Tamtey sat nestled under So’lek’s arm as they drank their tea. Her eyes were half-lidded as she sipped the steaming beverage, humming as its floral sweetness hit her tongue. Of all So’lek’s tea blends, this one was her favorite. Partially because it was also his favorite, and she absolutely loved watching his mood brighten as he prepared the delicate dried flowers each morning, his movements practiced and steeped with love. He made sure to refill her cup first, always, knowing how the early morning chill of the Upper Plains seemed to affect her more than it did him. When she’d shivered a little extra one morning, mentioning offhandedly that shared body heat would be much more effective than the cooking fire, So’lek had grinned widely and lifted his arm—an invitation for her to huddle right up against his side. Ever since that morning, she’d made that her default spot. This morning was no different. 

Tamtey hummed contently, pressing a kiss to the groove of So’lek’s collarbone. He leaned down to nuzzle her head, a stilted purr rumbling his chest. They were both exhausted, having prepared twice the amount of bereavement baskets the night before. In fact, her warrior could barely keep his eyes open, and every so often she’d notice his breaths deepen as if he was on the verge of dozing off. It would be so easy to just fall asleep against him—tucked beneath his arm, her ear resting over his heart. So, so easy. It was a thought that brought a sleepy smile to her face. Even in the midst of such grief, such mental pain, she was able to feel at peace with him. She pressed another kiss to his skin. 

“I have something for you, ma So’lek.” Tamtey said, looking up at him. 

His eyes blinked open and he met her gaze, a smile tugging at his lips. “Oh?” 

“Mhm,” she hummed, sitting up and placing her empty cup on the ground. “But you’ll need to get up.” 

So’lek raised a brow, but he didn’t question it. Together, they stood. The morning air was crisp, the sun having just started to rise. Colors bloomed on the horizon, faint for now, as she led him to the outskirts of The Circle where their ikran perched. Tamtey had decided to keep the gift in the leather pouch strapped to Telisi’s harness, partially to keep So’lek from accidentally stumbling upon it, and partially to ensure its safety—and there was no safer place than upon Telisi’s back. 

Telisi and Ìley were nestled against each other in the branches of a windbent tree, seeking each other’s body heat in the crisp morning air. Telisi chirped happily at their arrival, flapping to the ground so she could push her head into Tamtey’s chest. She’d been waiting for this morning, after all, and knew exactly why Tamtey had brought So’lek here. Ìley looked particularly disgruntled at being left alone in the tree, so he slunk down to meet them, tossing his head. 

“We’re going on a flight?” So’lek asked as Tamtey checked the tightness of Telisi’s leather straps—a standard pre-flight inspection. 

“We are,” she confirmed, slinging a leg over Telisi’s back. 

She waited patiently as So’lek checked Ìley’s saddle and clipped his weapons to the harness—traveling unarmed was no longer an option as long as the RDA was around. To soften Ìley’s morning grouchiness, Tamtey tossed both him and Telisi a strip of cured vekreng meat and some cloud spitter seeds. Both ikran gobbled the snack eagerly. 

His check complete, So’lek grunted in approval and mounted his ikran. With dual cries, they urged their mounts into the air. Tamtey and Telisi took the lead, flying north of The Circle. 

They skimmed the waters of the Greatheart Lake, feeling the cool spray against their skin as their ikran dipped their wings and tails across the surface of the water. The rising sun made the rippling lake glow with vibrant golds and pinks, and Tamtey found herself leaning in the saddle so she, too, could brush the surface of the lake with her fingertips. Along the edges of the lake, Tamtey could see small herds of winzaw foraging amongst the foliage, and could hear the splash of fish as they swam towards the surface in anticipation of the sun’s warm rays. It made for an easy second breakfast for their ikran. 

It was a short flight to Tamtey’s destination, a small islet she’d flown over during her last solo trip to the Upper Plains. The islet was located in the northmost waters of the Greatheart Lake, close in proximity to the First Zakru mountain where she’d found another Sarentu totem. She’d originally considered bringing So’lek to that spot, but the small islet they landed upon had the most gorgeous view of the sunrise and the calm waters of the lake. Not to mention, the islet had patches of the most beautiful magenta and sunny orange flowers, their scent dewy and sweet. It reminded her of her favorite tea blend, and her favorite tea blend reminded her of So’lek. 

She knew she made the right choice when So’lek’s eyes fluttered shut as he inhaled deeply, a small smile gracing his face at the sweet fragrance in the air. His tail curled upward in pleasure, and she could tell the moment he realized her intentions, the reason she’d brought him here. 

When he dismounted, Tamtey took his hand and led him to the center of the islet, where she’d prepared a small rug and some cushions the day before, next to some wood she’d foraged to make a fire. They’d already had their morning tea, but Tamtey made sure to bring along a basket of pre-made mushroom and egg wraps that they could steam and eat hot—So’lek’s favorite breakfast. Ever the gentleman, So’lek helped her carry the heavy basket to the mat, where they sat in peaceful silence as Tamtey lit the fire. When she revealed the wraps, So’lek’s tail whipped excitedly. 

She could practically feel his glee and anticipation. They both knew what this was about, and Tamtey found herself smiling brightly as the wraps steamed. She’d caramelized the mushrooms, just like he’d taught her as soon as she was able to eat Na’vi food, and grinned as the rich, nutty scent filled the air. It had taken her some time to realize that the way she learned to cook, the way So’lek had taught her, was different from any of the clans she’d visited. While the Aranahe clan had the most similarities, So’lek’s method was something entirely unique. Only after talking to Kukulope did she put it together. So’lek had taught her how to cook like a Trr’ong. She suspected he’d done it subconsciously, not even realizing that he was sharing his culture with her each and every time he began a lesson in front of the cooking fire. Little did he know, she remembered every little trick. After conversing with Kukulope, she knew things about the Trr’ong that even he hadn’t taught her. One of which she incorporated into this morning’s breakfast. 

Tamtey served them both three generously sized wraps—slightly more than they were used to eating in one sitting, but it was a special occasion and she had taken extra care to season the eggs just the way he liked it. She could barely keep still as he picked up a wrap and removed the thick outer leaf meant to keep the wrap’s shape as it steamed. So’lek almost dropped the wrap when he saw the edible inner leaf, the one holding its flavorful contents. His eyes widened, snapping up to meet hers, and he opened and closed his mouth several times, unable to form words. 

The inner leaf itself wasn’t spectacular, a dried broadleaf she’d foraged and brought from the Kinglor Forest, but it was the way she’d woven it that rendered her warrior speechless. Tamtey had painstakingly torn each leaf along the veins, and let them dry flat. Then, after cooking the mushrooms and eggs, she’d woven the strips of leaf in a braided pattern, intertwining new leaf strands as she went. At the end, she enclosed the contents of each wrap in an intricate braided spiral—the Trr’ong symbol of new beginnings. This specific technique of wrapping food was for feasts and special circumstances, a way to elevate even the most simple of meals into something beautiful. 

“Tamtey,” So’lek breathed, his golden eyes misting. “Where did you learn this?” 

Tamtey smiled, removing the outer leaf of her own wrap. “Kukulope. Her clan used to visit the Trr’ong. She was very young, but remembered some of the things her clan said about them. I thought maybe you’d like it.”

So’lek held the wrap almost reverently. “Like it? Ma Tamtey, I love it. I hesitate to take a bite.” 

She chuckled. “Please eat. I spent too long on those mushrooms for them to go to waste.” 

He laughed, and she heard a wetness in his laugh, but he obliged, taking a bite of the steaming wrap. He chewed, eyes shut to savor each and every spice and texture. He took another bite, then another, tail swishing behind him. As he ate, Tamtey took a bite of her own wrap. She’d sampled the food when she cooked it, of course, if only to make sure it was even edible enough to serve to him, but even still she was impressed by the depth of flavor she achieved. The leaves she’d chosen to braid around each wrap introduced a subtle sweet taste as well, bringing a satisfying finishing touch to the flavor profile. Not half bad, in her opinion. 

“This is spectacular, ma yawntutsyìp,” So’lek said when he finished the first wrap. Without so much as a breather, he reached for the second one. 

Tamtey watched him eat, realizing that she absolutely loved watching the microexpressions on his face and the way he seemed to positively thrum with joy with each bite he took. She could feel a rumble in her chest as she ate with him, a purr of pride and adoration and seemingly every emotion she could ever associate with love. 

He finished his wraps before she did, shuffling close so he could rest a palm on her knee while she ate. His thumb rubbed circles on the inner portion of her knee and she was having a very hard time focusing on her food. Thankfully, he waited until she’d swallowed her last bite before leaning over to press an enthusiastic smooch to her cheek. 

“That was the most amazing acceptance gift,” he murmured between pecks. 

She chortled. “You think that was your acceptance gift? My dear, that was just breakfast.” 

He blinked, leaning back. “What?”

Grinning, she snagged his hand and brought it up to her lips, kissing his scarred knuckles. Then she stood, the tip of her tail brushing the underside of his chin as she walked towards the pouch she'd clipped to Telisi’s harness. 

“Close your eyes,” she called to him. She peeked behind her to make sure he obeyed, then removed two sizable silk bags from the large pouch. She brought them over, placing the azure silk bag on the mat in front of him and put the crimson silk bag in front of herself. “Open.”

He obliged, golden eyes landing on the silk bag before him. His fingers twitched toward it, then he caught himself, looking at her. 

She nodded, reaching towards her bag as well. Together, they untied the braided cords holding their bags shut, revealing the garments within. For the second time that morning, Tamtey had the privilege of watching So’lek become absolutely speechless. Smiling ear from ear, she urged him to try it on, promising she’d do the same. Again, after he took a moment to process the gift he held, he obliged. 

The hooded cloaks were, in Tamtey’s opinion, wondrous shows of artistry. They fell to the knee, made of durable kinglor silk, enforced with soft sturmbeest leather, and accented with various hues of bruise moss and sky rock moss sewn into the silk, particularly into the back of the garments. Tamtey had learned that the color of bruise moss, depending on what it was treated with, could range from the darkest purple to the brightest sky blue. Sky moss, on the other hand, could range from the most vibrant orange to the deepest maroon. Both mosses were valued for use in clothing due to the fact that they glowed slightly, even after being dried and treated, and that they could be woven into silk thread to reinforce the stitching and embroidery of any garment. Tamtey, true to her nature, took that idea and ran with it. 

So’lek’s cloak was dyed a dark navy, the tanned leather around the neck and shoulders dyed black. Beginning in the shoulders and spreading across the width of his back and down his spine was a replica of Ìley’s deep azure, violet, and orange markings. She’d done her best to copy the fierce stripes and bursts of color, and had even woven in some white silk thread to make the individual colors pop. The hemming of the cloak was strengthened with thick black thread, and she’d made fastenings along the front of the cloak with the fangs of nantang. For her own cloak, she’d chosen a muted indigo dyed silk and a dark gray leather. She’d used the same gray silk thread to reinforce the hems, and had chosen moss thread of dusky pink, bright yellow, and sky blue to replicate Telisi’s markings. She’d traded for some vekreng talons to make the fastenings of her cloak, wanting to match somewhat with So’lek. Her proudest feature of the cloaks, however, were the symbols she sewed into each corner of the cloaks. On the right corner, she sewed the Sarentu clan symbol in silver thread, an exact replica of the mark beneath her eye. On the left corner, she sewed the Trr’ong clan symbol, choosing a bright gold thread to represent the dawn. When So’lek found the embroidered markings, she could have sworn she saw a tear in the corner of his eye. 

“It’s a riding cloak,” she told him, feeling suddenly bashful. “It’ll keep you warm in the Clouded Forest, protected from the wind in the Upper Plains, and the leather is waterproof so you can keep the rain out.” 

“It matches Ìley,” So’lek said in awe. “And you match Telisi.”

“I did some good work, didn’t I? I mean, it wasn’t all me. Neytu helped a lot, but the design was mine.” She smiled brightly at him, stepping close so she could run a hand over his cloak. She absolutely did not take the same chance to feel up his broad chest, not at all. 

So’lek caught her wrists, quirking a brow. Damn, he saw right through that. The warrior surprised her, though, by gripping her hands and bringing them up to his lips, kissing each of her knuckles. 

“You did excellent work,” he rumbled, looking up at her from under his lashes. 

She blushed brilliantly, the heat in his golden eyes making it suddenly hard to think. “You are worthy of it, ma So’lek.”

This time, it was his cheeks that darkened. The fire in his gaze only intensified, however, and he stepped close to her, hooking a finger under her chin so he could tilt her head up. With his other hand, he tweaked one of her braids. He brought his face close to hers, bumping their noses. His next words were spoken a mere breadth away from her lips, his voice a low timbre. 

“I would have you as my mate right now if I could.” 

By the look in his eyes, Tamtey could see that he wasn’t talking about sex—though she knew, especially after sleeping in close proximity for the last week, that it was something they both wanted. No, he meant that he wanted her. 

“I need to know, before I continue,” he rumbled. “Was that your acceptance gift?”

She nodded, catching her lower lip between her teeth. His eyes locked onto the movement, pupils dilating. 

“I’ll need that in words, ma yawntutsyìp.”

This time, it was her who leaned forward, grasping his face in both hands so she could nip at his jaw. “Yes, ma So’lek. Yes.”

He smiled, wide and bright. “I very badly wish to kiss you.” 

Tamtey felt like she could vibrate out of her skin. “I’ve never kissed anyone before.”

His eyes sparkled. “Neither have I. Shall we try?” 

She ducked her head, smiling despite herself. He made it so easy to feel at ease with him, even as her heart threatened to beat out of her chest. 

“I would very much like that,” she breathed, belly aflutter. 

They moved forward at the same time, noses bumping. 

“Oh!” Tamtey giggled awkwardly, flushing. 

So’lek snickered, catching her hands in his. She was relieved to find that hers weren’t the only ones slightly damp with nervous sweat. 

Tamtey squeezed his hands, moving closer once more. She smiled up at her warrior. “Try again?”

Flush spreading to his neck and chest, So’lek nodded. This time, he leaned in slowly, lips parted slightly. Hands still clasped between them, Tamtey pressed up close to him. When she met his lips with her own, it was with softness. 

Such sensation, such closeness. It felt like a dream but she was oh-so-beautifully alive. When tears slid down her cheeks, she was not at all surprised. Her eyes fluttered shut. 

Tamtey could only describe the kiss as sweet. Sweet in the tea they drank this morning, sweet in the meal they shared, and sweet in the love she felt as their lips moved against each other. Sweet in the gentle way he cupped her cheeks, and sweet in the brush of his thumbs over the corners of her eyes where tears continued to gather. Sweet even in the barest nip of his teeth at her lower lip, and the way he leaned in so he could kiss her deeper. She brought her hands to his wrists, rubbing circles over his pulse. When they parted, both were panting. 

She opened her eyes slowly, a smile tugging at her lips. When she met So’lek’s eyes, she saw that his cheeks were also wet, his smile matching hers. 

“We are courting now, then?” She asked, eyes bright and hopeful. 

He grinned, pulling her into a tight embrace. “Yes, ma Tamtey.” He pressed a smooch to her forehead. “And I could not be happier.” 

She purred, wrapping her arms around his torso and pressing her cheek to his heart. The soft silk and leather of his cloak brushed the skin of her face. 

“I could probably kiss you forever,” she murmured against him. “I liked that very much.” 

So’lek hummed. “And if we keep practicing, we will only get better.” 

Tamtey smiled into his chest. “Well, I’ve always liked learning new skills.” 

Her warrior laughed. “We might just have to practice again, then—”

A small smile graced Tamtey’s face as she saw the Celebration Arches in the distance. She took the long way, flying from the north end of the valley, swooping around and beneath the towering stone arches. A herd of pa’li galloped below, their whinnies echoing over the fields of vibrant flowers. A group of pa’liyä maktoyu trotted along the creek’s edge, intent on hunting winzaw. A family of txampam grazed further down the creek, the calf exploring a particularly tall patch of reeds a short way from its dam. 

Tamtey heard the whistles of vekreng lounging atop a grassy rock shelf, basking in the sunlight after a successful hunt. In the middle of the valley, Zeswa gatherers collected seeds and berries in woven baskets, chatting and laughing. Life beneath the Celebration Arches was indeed just that—a celebration. It was not a festival with dancing and zangke, but something more peaceful. A celebration of the serenity of life in the Plains, of change and freedom. It brought a smile to Tamtey’s face. 

The flux loomed in the distance, a force Tamtey could feel more than see. Her skin prickled, and she could hear a faint static from her radio. She landed Telisi atop one of the farthest arches from the flux concentration, knowing she would lose the ability to use her radio once she descended into the valley. Her dearest Teylan had once been obsessed with flux concentrations, or fluxcons as he’d taken to calling them. The merging of Pandora’s gravitational and magnetic forces with those of Polyphemus created areas of extreme electromagnetism, and that electromagnetism was then strengthened in certain areas with the presence of Ubh-310 deposits—or, using the preferred name by the RDA, unobtamium. Tamtey was no scientist, but she knew unobtanium was one of the factors behind the formation of the stone arches and the grandiose size of hometrees like the one that housed the Aranahe. Priya had remarked on countless occasions that rocks on Earth couldn’t float, nor could their trees grow as large as any Hometree. It was a wondrous feature unique to Pandora—one that frightened most humans but was an endless source of fascination for Tamtey. 

She reflected on that wonder as she dismounted and sat on the very edge of the arch she’d chosen to land upon. Her feet dangled over the side, and the hunting parties below were mere pinpricks from such an altitude. The breeze was cool for the Upper Plains, and clouds darkening on the horizon hinted towards an afternoon rainstorm. Tamtey was hoping she could check on Anqa and be on her way before the rain started in earnest. 

Feet swaying in the breeze, Tamtey unclipped her radio from her vest and toggled onto Ri’nela’s private frequency. She’d check on her clanmate—and So’lek afterwards—before descending into the flux zone. 

“Ri’nela?” She called into the radio. “How are things going over there?” 

“Ma Tamtey,” Ri’nela responded at once, her voice tired. “Things are busy here. People are still getting used to coming to me or you instead of Alm—Cortez.” Her clanmate still stumbled over the name, refusing to address Alma the same as she did before. “It feels lonely at the new HQ without Teylan and Nor,” Ri’nela continued. “And as we grow less, I am expected to be more.”

“I know, tsmuke. We are leaders, you and I. The Resistance needs that. We need that,” Tamtey told her. “People we can trust.”

“I think of Anufi. I think of her a lot,” Ri’nela sighed. “She came back from something I can’t even imagine. And not just that, but she helped us, and will lead her clan again. We’ve been broken apart by the same lies, but I’m no Anufi. I don’t know how to heal us.”

“So much has happened. The lies of our past revealed. We’re all still reeling and trying to learn from it.” Tamtey kept her voice even, but injected firmness into her tone. “But that does not mean you aren’t strong enough to lead the Sarentu. You are one of the strongest people I know, ma Ri’nela. And you’re not alone. We will figure this out together.”

“You are right,” Ri’nela said with a sigh, “but I’d prefer the lessons to be less bloody and painful. I’m sorry. I just needed to talk to someone who isn’t a wall, or Cortez.” She spat the name. “She keeps hovering like a cloud heavy with rain, but instead of water it’s apologies. I’m just not ready for them yet. But there’s much for me to think about, and for you to do. Be careful, and come home soon.”

“I will,” Tamtey promised. “I’m just checking on Anqa, then I’ll head right back.” 

Ri’nela murmured an acknowledgement, then the radio clicked off. Tamtey toggled the radio again, this time to So’lek’s frequency. 

“Kaltxì, ma So’lek,” Tamtey greeted. 

“Kaltxì,” he returned, his voice low and rumbling. “Will you return to me soon?”

Tamtey felt her tail curl, color blooming on her cheeks. “That is the plan, ma So’lek. I’m in the Upper Plains right now, checking on Anqa and those tremors Priya was talking about.” 

“Is it severe?”

Tamtey was silent for a few heartbeats, using the time to feel. From her seat atop the stone arch, she could feel the vibrations—tremors that began in the ground and traveled up through the stone. 

“It’s enough to disturb the zakru,” Tamtey decided. “Which makes it a problem. The animals are restless, too. It’s causing problems for the hunting parties in the valley.” From her vantage point, she could see the strange patterns in which the herds of bladeheads and soundblast colossus were moving. They seemed more skittish than usual. Even the arrow deer skirted about in unpredictable directions, alert and on edge. “I’ll see if I can determine the cause. If it’s something I can take care of…” She let her voice trail off. 

“I would expect nothing less.” So’lek said. “Do you need me there?”

Tamtey took a moment to consider. “I don’t think so. I can see the Overlook from here. I’ll talk to Anqa and see if she has any additional information. Priya thinks it’s another one of Mercer’s schemes.”

“Mercer.” So’lek growled the name like it was poison on his tongue. “Just another small man reciting the RDA’s words.”

“Even still,” Tamtey sighed. “He’s ruthless and cruel, and he has funding and power. That’s not a good combination.” 

She heard another growl from the radio’s tiny speakers. 

“He is no match for you.” 

Tamtey wasn’t so sure. Mercer was…Mercer. A force to be reckoned with. A man whose hatred and prejudice seeped from his pores. She very much appreciated So’lek’s confidence in her, but… 

Pursing her lips, Tamtey changed the subject. “Do you mind checking on Ri’nela today? I think she’s a little overwhelmed. She feels the call of leadership but doesn’t think she’s ready.”

So’lek hummed. “I see the beginnings of a tsahik in her. The way she looks inward and explores the paths within. Just as you explore Eywa’eveng.”

“She is a good tsakarem already, despite not having a Sarentu tsahik to train under.” 

“She is adaptable, and has done remarkable work under terrible pressure. You both have.” So’lek’s tone softened. “The Sarentu will need a tsahik as you grow and reclaim your place among the clans. Just as they will need an emissary to bring them together. But that is for later. Now we must focus on the fight ahead.”

Tamtey made a sound in her throat, a mix between a growl and a grunt. “I suppose I must go, then, to see if these tremors are part of this fight. I hope they aren’t, but this is the RDA.” She sighed heavily. “This fight…it’s tiring. I’m tired, So’lek.” 

“I know, ma Tamtey.” He murmured. “When you are back, we can rest.”

“Except we can’t, though,” Tamtey groaned. “The RDA doesn’t rest, so neither can we.”

“We are useless to our cause if we do not rest.” So’lek reminded her. “Return to me, ma yawntutsyìp, and we will rest.” 

Tamtey’s mind rebelled, struggling to comprehend resting whilst a war raged. Still, the Tyrr’ong warrior was right. She sighed. “That does sound nice.” 

“Good,” So’lek rumbled. “Fly safe.” 

Despite herself, Tamtey smiled. “I will.”

She was still smiling when she whooped for Telisi, standing and leaping from the top of the stone arch, relishing the breeze before her ikran caught her atop her back. They soared. 

The small campsite dubbed Ally’s Overlook was located in the very middle of the valley, where the arches did not fully connect in the middle. Thus, the campsite was adored for its lush grasses and patches of colorful flowers. Most of the violent winds were deterred by the Arches on either side, making it a favored spot for making camp during a hunt or, in the Resistance’s case, taking a break during a field expedition. Anqa chose the area to land and refuel the Samson since there was less stress on the tiltrotors, and she could navigate between the stone arches without her nav system or radars. Said Samson, Tamtey saw, was situated beneath a windbent tree, the reddish canopy hiding the Na’vi inspired warpaint adorning the Samson from any roaming RDA air patrols. 

As Tamtey directed Telisi to land, she was immediately aware of how much more severe the tremors were in this area of the Plains. With each step she took, she could feel the vibrations beneath her feet—the rhythmic pounding reminiscent of a standard RDA drill site. Yet…she was so far away from any RDA facilities. How was she able to feel it all the way at the Arches?

Tamtey got her answer when she joined Anqa atop a grassy boulder. The human woman held a pair of binoculars up to her mask, intently studying an RDA facility in the distance. Tamtey did not need such assistance with her vision and could make out the structure just as easily. It was the biggest drill she’d ever seen. Furthermore, it wasn’t stationary like she’d first assumed. The gigantuan drill was mobile, its past movement evident by the deep depressions seen in the plains from its treads tearing up rock and soil. From this distance, she could even see downed trees behind the drill, the great machine’s movements not at all deterred by the landscape. 

The mobile drill platform was as large as any RDA base—a titanic landship supported by dozens of large tracked units. From what she could see, the entirety of the structure was built around the behemoth of a drill—the size of an Earth skyscraper—with a supporting base hundreds of meters long and just as tall. The large column of the drill tore into the ground, extracting minerals and oil beneath several layers of rock. It was a violation of the land, an assault on Eywa and her children. 

“That has to be what’s causing the tremors…” Tamtey breathed, horror-struck. 

“Yeah,” Anqa said in agreement. “I’ve never seen a drill of that size. It might backfire on them.” The woman turned to face Tamtey, lowering her binoculars. “Pandora makes it pretty clear. Respect it, or it’ll kill you. Just like my desert, back home.”

“I’ve only seen pictures.” Tamtey said, referring to the grainy images she’d seen on datapads during her historical lessons back at TAP, of lands so vastly different from Pandora yet unique in their own way. 

“We were also invaded once, a long time ago. They wanted oil, too. They thought the desert was a dead place.” Anqa’s smile was bittersweet. “But real desert is powerful, serene, and beautiful. Full of life. Always shifting, but never changing.” The woman scoffed suddenly, carding a hand through her short brunette hair. “What they do the land, the RDA…” She pointed a finger at the hulking drill. “That is death. Which is why that thing must go. I haven’t been able to get too close, but there definitely—”

“Anqa.” Tamtey held up a hand suddenly, halting Anqa’s words. Her ears swiveled and her tail lashed, eyes darting to and fro as she sensed something beneath the ground. 

“What is it?” Anqa asked, voice lowering as her body tensed. 

“I don’t know,” Tamtey whispered, feeling the vibrations in her bones. “Something is wrong—” 

A low groan seemed to emanate from the ground itself, rising up through the great stone arches. The entirety of the valley began to shake, and the world seemed to hold its breath. Distantly, Tamtey could hear animals bleat and cry out in panic, and the voices of hunters and gatherers rising in concern. 

Tamtey’s eyes widened. She was roaring before she even registered the words. “Get down!”

A sound, a sudden crack, split the air. Tamtey dove, tackling Anqa to the ground, covering the small human’s body with her own as the world fell apart. The stone arches shattered and crashed to the valley below in a cascade of death. Thousands of tons of rock buried the hunting grounds, the fields of flowers, and the burbling creek. Animals and Na’vi alike shrieked in terror—then went silent. Dust, thick and choking, billowed from the areas where pieces of the Arches had struck the earth. For several terrifying heartbeats, Tamtey’s vision was entirely darkened, and dirt clogged her ears. She coughed violently, unable to draw a full breath as dust and debris coated the valley. Beneath her, Anqa shook and cursed.

As suddenly as it began, it was over. 

Tamtey hacked and spat dirt from her mouth, wiping it from her eyes and ears. As her vision and hearing returned to her, she was thrust into a nightmare. She stood shaking, trembling, low moans of horror escaping her lips as she laid eyes on the utter devastation before her. The Celebration Arches had collapsed, each and every one, crushing everything beneath them. The once lush valley, vibrant with green grasses and the hues of bright flowers, was suffocated under a thick layer of dust and debris. The sheer size of the shattered remnants of the arches, the unimaginable weight of them, tore deep wounds into the earth upon impact. The valley had been ravaged, completely and irrevocably, and Tamtey couldn’t see any movement through the dust. 

“There were Zeswa hunting down there!” Anqa cried, stumbling to her feet and pointing down the valley. Despite Tamtey’s best efforts, the short haired woman was covered in dust and bleeding from several small cuts. Tamtey, too, felt hot blood seeping down her back and legs from the places where shards of stone had blown over them. 

“Telisi,” Tamtey croaked suddenly, a bolt of panic causing her to straighten. “Telisi!”

A screech sounded, shrill and fearful. From the dust, her ikran stumbled forward. Her leathery skin was bleeding, her colors dulled by the same thick layer that coated Tamtey and Anqa. Her eyes were blown wide, and she scrambled onto the Overlook at her rider’s call. 

Tamtey rushed forward, eyes darting over Telisi’s hide and wings for signs of serious injury. She breathed a sigh of relief when she saw none. Telisi’s breaths came in shallow wheezes, and she buried her large head into Tamtey’s stomach. Almost subconsciously, Tamtey brought her kuru forward and made tsaheylu with her mount. The bond was heavy with shockfearhorror. Running her hands along Telisi’s neck, Tamtey did her best to reassure and direct her mount. 

“Take to the skies, my darling. I need to look for survivors, and you cannot follow me on the ground.” Her voice wobbled. “Fly, dearest. My spirit will ease if I know you are safe. Please.” 

Telisi chittered uncertainly but sensed the urgency in her rider’s words. With great reluctance, she took steps back from her rider and beat her wings, rising unsteadily into the darkened sky. 

“Anqa, are you hurt?” Tamtey asked, turning back toward her friend. 

Anqa shook her head, shoulders heaving. “I need to—I need to get help.” 

Tamtey’s throat spasmed and she coughed. Dust coated her tongue. “Try the radio. The quake—the fluxcon—” She coughed again. “It might work.” 

“Okay, okay,” Anqa nodded jerkily, fingers trembling as she unclipped her radio from her belt. “Priya, do you copy? Come in.” Static. “Priya, come in.” 

As Anqa continued to try her radio, cursing and fighting tears, Tamtey told her friend, “I’m going to go look for survivors.” At Anqa’s nod, Tamtey slid down the hill of the Overlook, wincing as sharp rocks and debris dug into the soles of her feet. 

It was worse than she could have ever imagined. Never before had she seen such devastation, such destruction. 

The earth quaked with aftershocks, the tremors sometimes severe enough to throw Tamtey to the ground. Bruises littered her knees and elbows, and she bled from several gashes from slicing her hands and arms on sharp rocks as she tried to break her falls. She hurt—her body, her heart. As she continued to walk, the pain only grew. 

A cry slid from her throat when she found the first body. A Na’vi youth, barely into adulthood, pinned beneath part of a fallen arch. She’d died instantly, her skull having shattered as the rocks rained down. Her gathering basket lay next to her, torn and upended, its contents stained red with the girl’s blood. 

Tamtey’s hand flew to her mouth, her broken sob seeming to echo. “Go…go with Eywa.” 

She stumbled onward.

The deep gouges in the earth formed channels that she searched through, climbing over downed tree limbs and piles of rock. Mud created slippery pools beneath her feet as it started to rain. Roots from toppled trees and great slabs of rock covered the gouges in areas, providing a buffer against the rain. 

“Help!” The cry came from somewhere in front of her. A man’s cry, strained and agonized. 

Tamtey scrambled forward, climbing past the crushed bodies of pa’li. The hunting party. All of the direhorses were dead, their riders pinned and still beneath them. Also dead. She found the source of the cry, a middle aged hunter whose legs were pinned beneath several tons of stone. 

“Help,” he wept, blood streaking down his face. The bright, viscous liquid bubbled from his lips, breaths rattling in his chest. “Please.” 

The fallen rocks had severed his femoral arteries. Tamtey stayed with him as he died. In less than a minute, he was gone, face slack as his lifeblood leached into the ravaged ground. Tears dripped from her face, mingling with the blood on the ground, but she had to move on. 

Rocks continued to crumble and fall as she walked, some landing dangerously close to her. She barely felt the impact as they struck the earth, hardly noticed debris flying into her face. Her eyes were on the dead. The herds of pa’li and kxaylkxa, dead. The family of txampam, buried under stone and dirt. The corpses of winzaw littered the path she walked, their delicate bones crushed. She found the remains of another gathering group, their bodies beginning to cool. Further down, she saw the remnants of torn marui, a hunting camp completely destroyed as the Arches collapsed upon it. The inhabitants, the families of the hunters, dead on impact. Tamtey’s heart shattered again and again, her vision blurring with tears with every Zeswa body she passed. Men, women, children. 

“They’re all dead,” she cried weakly, breaths coming in gasps as she began to hyperventilate. “So many, dead.”

Water began to pool at the bottom of the fissures, the blood of the dead mixing with the mud she trudged through. Its stench clogged her nose and she gagged. A whine, high and thin, rose in her throat. She tripped, crying out as she caught herself, bloody mud coating her hands and arms. 

That was it. She vomited, retching violently. Her stomach spasmed and her head throbbed as she heaved and heaved. When she was done, she lay gasping, keening through dry, chapped lips. 

Suddenly, Tamtey heard wailing echoing off the stone, a caterwaul of grief and unimaginable pain. A young woman’s voice. Tamtey’s eyes widened and she stumbled to her feet, ears swiveling. She heard the sound again and hastened her steps, moving towards the terrible sounds of grief. She found the young woman at the base of a broken tree, kneeling beside a body. 

“Father is waiting for us back at the camp,” the young woman wailed, clutching the body of a young Zeswa man. He looked to be the same age, if not a little younger. A brother. The woman screamed, her trembling fingers trying fruitlessly to hold a makeshift bandage to the fatal wound in the boy’s side. “I cannot return alone!”

Tamtey rushed forward, kneeling beside the girl and the boy, but he was already gone. Face slack, eyes unseeing, body beginning to cool. The rain washed away the majority of his blood, but Tamtey could see the wound. There was nothing either of them could have done to save him. 

“He is gone,” she choked, shifting her gaze to the grieving sister. 

The young woman brought her shaking hands to her face, a howl of grief bursting from her lips. “No, no, no!”

“I am sorry,” Tamtey cried, embracing the girl. “I am so, so sorry, but you must go. It is not safe.”

“Safe?” The young woman choked, tears dripping from her chin. “I do not care if I am safe. My brother lay here; leave me to die with him.” 

“I can’t do that,” Tamtey said, shoulders drooping. “I won’t leave you to die here. I know you want to. Trust me, I know.” She let her truth seep into her words, her grief for Aha’ri that would never fade, never lessen. “But you must go. Tell the Zeswa what has happened here. Your father.”

The young woman sobbed. “But, I—”

“You can return when it is safe,” Tamtey pressed. “I will make it safe. Please, do as I say.” 

Pressing her forehead to her brother’s, the girl keened. “Tsmukan, tsmukan.”

“I will carry your pain to the ones who caused it.” Tamtey vowed, catching the sister’s gaze. She let the Zeswa woman see the madness in her eyes—the madness that used to strike fear into the humans at TAP and even into her clanmates whenever they’d catch a glimpse. The young woman’s face was streaked with tears, blood, and mud. Her hands were stained red from her fruitless attempts to keep her brother’s lifeblood from seeping into the torn ground. 

The young woman held Tamtey’s stare and she did not shy away from the madness. Her lips twitched and there was a flash of fang. Another sob broke free as the woman raised her chin. Her next words settled Tamtey’s resolve. 

“He was my brother.”

It was said in such a way that Tamtey knew this woman would never truly leave the valley. She may return to The Circle today, relay the news to her father. But part of her died with her brother, a piece of her heart forever lost. Lost in the valley of endless death. 

“I will kill them all,” Tamtey promised, grasping the woman’s hands. “There will be blood for blood.” 

The young woman sniffled, wiping at her eyes, and stood. “I See you, Sarentu. I will tell my clan what has happened here today.” 

Tamtey nodded, clasping the Zeswa woman’s hands. “Go. Be safe.” 

The sister cast one last glance at her brother’s body, fresh tears leaking from her eyes. Then, she murmured a prayer. A farewell. And she left. 

Tamtey watched until the young woman was out of sight, then she tried her radio. 

“Priya, there is so much death here. So many killed…so much life destroyed. If you can hear me, I’m going up to the drill now.” Her next words were a snarl. “I’m going to stop this from ever happening again.” 

The radio spat only static, but Tamtey already made up her mind. The RDA would pay for the lives lost today, for the pain they’d caused. She would make it so. 

The climb out of the valley was excruciating. Not just physically, but emotionally. She yearned to continue searching the rubble, to find any sign of lives that survived the arches’ collapse. But she could hear the rhythmic pound of the drill, feel its intrusion in the earth. The ground continued to quake, sending loose boulders crashing into the valley. Until she stopped the drill, no one would be able to safely descend and search for survivors, nor recover the bodies of those who perished. 

She needed to destroy it. She wanted to destroy it. 

As she climbed through unstable chasms, the scent of death thick in her nose, she felt a fire light in her core. An inferno, sickening in its intensity. Her blood sang for the deaths of those who caused this tragedy. 

By Eywa, she would deliver. 

Tamtey burst from the ground like a demon from hell, clawing through rubble and debris. She’d made it out of the valley, and the drone of machinery was heavy in her ears. 

The drill platform lay right ahead, a monstrous mass of metal. Rain fell in sheets, soaking her hair and clothes. The water mixed with the thick layer of dust on her skin, sending muddy rivulets down her arms and legs. Her breath came in gasps and she tugged her radio from her vest. She was out of the valley, out of the flux. The signal should be clearer here. 

“Priya,” Tamtey tried one last time, clinging to the threads of her sanity. “I’m at the drill. Tell me how to tear it down.”

Priya responded at once. “Tamtey, it’s not safe—”

“Tell me!” It was a demand, hissed with more vitriol than Priya deserved, but Tamtey was too enraged to care. 

Priya’s voice was high with anxiety. “Okay, okay. Destroying the drill-core will leave that monster useless. It’s protected, but cut the control wires and you should get an opening. Just—please hurry. It’s the RDA. Nothing is ever enough.”

Tamtey knew that, but the personnel manning this landship had sentenced themselves to death the moment they set off the charge that led to the collapse of the Celebration Arches. There would be no mercy. She stared up at the drill platform, rage coursing through her body. Her breaths hissed through clenched teeth. She felt it rise up inside her, the being born after Aha’ri’s death and nurtured by Harding’s beatings, Mercer’s lessons, and an unquenchable thirst for retribution. The Killer, she’d come to call it—her childhood salvation and her most shameful secret.

She’d known for quite some time that something split the moment that bullet ended her sister’s life. Her spirit, perhaps, or possibly her mind. Whichever it was, the Killer took charge as soon as Aha’ri’s body began to cool. The Killer was still Tamtey, yes, but…different. Stoic and cold in most instances, yet a hairpin trigger away from being thrown into a fiery rage that bordered on insanity. Insanity fueled by injustice. 

The RDA was all about injustice, wasn’t it? The massacre of her clan, her kidnapping and indoctrination, the senseless slaughter of Na’vi and wildlife alike, and now this.

It wasn’t right, it wasn’t right, it wasn’t right.

Tamtey was lost in her grief, her spirit wailing for the lives extinguished by senseless cruelty and greed. Her horror was insurmountable, as was her rage. Injustice. That’s what it was. Today and ever since the RDA set foot on Pandora. Injustice after injustice after injustice. 

She was done. 

Tamtey straightened, her hands steady as she drew her shortbow. A dangerous calm settled over her, and her breaths came slow and controlled. Her face set in stone, the Killer stalked straight into the den of the enemy. 

The walls of the drill platform were well guarded, and a Scorpion circled overhead. Any attempt to breach the exterior defenses and they would drop her in an instant. Unfortunately for them, however, Tamtey had no intention of walking in through the front door. She entered the drill platform from below, weaving between the tracked units and climbing inside through the gap in the very center, the space where the drill column churned at the ground, breaking through rock and soil to extract minerals and expose oil caches. She was able to leap from the drill head and onto the first deck, lodging an arrow into the chest of the Combat Exo patrolling the walkway of Deck 01. He barely made a noise as he fell, but Tamtey wouldn’t have cared if he had. She had no intention of helping stealthy, of being silent and unseen. No, they would see her, she would make sure of it. And her face would be the last they ever saw before death claimed them. 

She walked right up to the first patrol of soldiers, relishing the way their features went slack with shock and sudden terror. 

Fear me, she thought as she leveled her bow. The weapon your kind made. See me and fear me. Their hands reached towards their guns. They opened fire. It did not save them. 

The alarm sounded almost immediately, all four decks flooding with soldiers and AMPs. Tamtey did not care. She was a maelstrom of death, detached from her body as she tore soldiers apart. Blood sprayed, flecking her face, her lips, her tongue. She killed with ruthless efficiency and lethal precision. Mercer’s lessons in the front of her mind, decades-old instincts moving her body in near silence. She’d learned from him—had been a star student, in fact. On her own time, she’d expanded her knowledge. Human anatomy and physiology, in particular. She knew where their arteries ran, pressure points to debilitate, the areas to cause the most excruciating pain. She took full advantage of her knowledge. 

She used the palm of her hand to break noses and jaws, striking the solar plexus to drop and disorient. With sharp kicks, she shattered knees and femurs, twisting arms from their sockets and splintering ribs. She fought them, and they fought back. 

They flashbanged her, temporarily blinding and deafening. She lowered herself to the ground and kept moving, fingers curled into claws as she continued to kick and punch. When her vision cleared, she launched herself at the nearest AMP, plunging her fist through the reinforced glass and wrapping her fingers around the throat of the driver. His neck crunched beneath her grip and she pulled his lifeless body from the metal suit, throwing it into the next patrol of soldiers. Then she killed them, too. 

Tamtey destroyed the drill’s fuse boxes almost absentmindedly, her focus being on the seemingly endless rush of soldiers. She killed and killed and killed. When she ran out of arrows, she used her rifle. When she ran out of bullets, she used her knife. She used the curved blade to slice open bellies, hearing screams as intestines spilled from gaping abdomens. She whirled, pulling soldiers’ heads back and severing both airway and arteries in a single draw. One soldier approached in her peripheral and she spun, plunging her dagger through his sternum and into his heart. They continued to rush her, shooting at her and shouting fearfully. Some bullets grazed her skin, sending hot blood dripping down her extremities. The pain was fierce, but it did nothing to quell the agony slicing her heart in two. 

Blood coated her hands and arms, and gore splashed her clothes. Her skin was stained red, her blood mingling with that of those she killed. Her feet were beginning to swell, and her legs quaked. Still, she killed. She screamed until her voice went hoarse, cried until she could no longer produce any more tears. Still, she killed. Cuts opened along her knuckles and arms, and bruises bloomed on her legs and torso. Still, she killed. 

Tamtey heard an ikran shriek and pure terror shot through her. Had they gotten a hold of Telisi? With a shout, she drew her blade across the throat of a soldier, shoving him aside as she whirled toward the sound. 

It wasn’t Telisi, but Ìley. So’lek was perched on his ikran’s back, his face drawn.

The ikran flew straight at the drill platform, dodging turret fire. To Tamtey’s horror, she saw a Scorpion rise to intercept him. Without missing a beat, So’lek drew his bow and urged Ìley directly at the aircraft. Facing it head-on, he leapt from Ìley’s back, ducking into a practiced roll straight down the center of the Scorpion. When he came up from the roll, he used his momentum to twist and send an arrow into each tiltrotor. The aircraft fell, smoking, and Ìley caught his rider upon his back. 

A bullet whizzed past Tamtey’s ear, burning the tip of it. She spun, roaring, grabbing the gunman’s face in her hand and slamming him into the floor. She plunged her knife between his ribs and he died with a gurgle. She tried to get another glimpse of So’lek, but a Combat Exo opened fire on her from across the deck. She leapt over bodies, using the downed suits of AMPs as cover. Between peels of gunfire, she surged toward the Combat Exo, plunging her knife into his chest. She whirled again, searching the skies—

A metal fist grabbed her arm and pulled. When she spun to face the AMP, he backhanded her. Metal sliced her cheek and she went down, blood spewing from her lips as she coughed. Her dagger slid across the walkway and tumbled off the deck. No, no!

She heard gunfire somewhere else on the drill platform, accompanied by the shouts and screams of soldiers as they died. So’lek. 

When the AMP grabbed her arm again, tugging her upward, she slammed her heel into the reinforced glass of the cockpit. It shattered, shards biting into her ankles. The AMP driver roared, wrenching her arm and sending a fist into her abdomen. She groaned, the fingers of her free hand scrabbling at the edge of the cockpit. The AMP moved to punch her again but she pulled herself closer, muscles straining as she tried to overpower the AMP. She’d gained muscle the last few months, and ordinarily she’d have freed herself already. She was exhausted, though, and her body screamed with each movement. One arm was still trapped within the AMP’s iron grip, and she strained with her other arm, reaching for the AMP driver’s mask. She missed, latching onto the bar on the back of his seat instead. She saw him grab a knife from the back of his metal suit, a huge blade made for an AMP. Her eyes widened and she did not think. 

She lunged forward and sunk her teeth into the soldier’s throat, right below his mask. 

The AMP driver’s grip loosened immediately as he bled out, and she crashed to the floor, crying out in pain as her bruised and swollen arm struck the metal grating of the walkway. She hacked, spitting blood onto the ground as she rolled onto her knees. The sky, still thick with dust despite the ebbing rain, seemed to swim. Her head hurt, and the gash on her cheekbone wept hot blood. 

Tamtey stumbled to her feet, and she saw him. 

So’lek moved like a hurricane, tearing through the RDA’s patrols and destroying everything and everyone in his path. He had his teeth bared in a menacing snarl, golden eyes alight with fury as he stared down the sights of his rifle. He placed a bullet between the eyes of each of his targets, dropping them before they even had the chance to retaliate. 

There seemed to be no end to the soldiers. Another three patrols emerged from the interior of the drill platform, two from below and one from above. To make matters worse, the drill still functioned. She’d disabled the individual wiring boxes, then destroyed the control fuse. Why was it still running? 

Raising his head, So’lek’s found her in the fray. His eyes widened, lips parting in shock and horror. 

“Tamtey!” He called, leaping over bodies. He wrapped his free hand around her, tugging her behind a huge steel receptacle filled with rock and gravel. He grasped her chin between a thumb and forefinger, tilting her head to both sides so he could assess the damage. 

“Not my blood,” she croaked, eyes downcast. “Not all of it, anyway.” 

So’lek didn’t seem to hear her, his fingers hovering over her sliced cheek and her cracked lips, his eyes lingering on the blood that dripped from her mouth. The blood that stained her teeth. Teeth she’d used to rip open a man’s throat. 

Tamtey could only imagine what she looked like. She was covered almost entirely in blood and gore, dust coating her hair, her eyes puffy and red from crying. And the madness. He’d seen it, she knew he had. He’d seen her insanity, the product of Mercer’s makings. What would he think of her now? She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. 

“Your arm—” So’lek began. 

“It’s fine.” Tamtey said, gritting her teeth as she tested the appendage. Bruises in the shape of metal fingers darkened around her upper arm, and she could already feel it swelling with inflammation. She could move it decently enough, but it hurt. It hurt even more when she flexed her bicep. Her vision swam. 

So’lek cursed in Na’vi, hands splaying so he could steady her as she lurched. “Why did you do that?”

Tamtey’s breaths came shallowly. “I need to keep fighting. There’s more RDA, they’re surrounding us right now, and the drill—”

“We need to destroy the drill-core,” So’lek told her. “Priya said it is venting. The core is exposed each time it vents. She tried to reach you but could not.” 

Tamtey looked down at the radio clipped to her vest. At some point, it had been struck by a stray bullet, straight through one of the speakers. The antenna, too, was gone. “Oh.” 

So’lek opened his mouth to say something else, but he tensed. In the span of a breath, he whirled and placed a bullet between the eyes of a soldier trying to flank them. With a growl, he leapt out from behind their cover and descended upon the approaching patrol. Tamtey could not see the fight that ensued, but she heard it. Seconds later, So’lek returned, blood flecking his vest. His eyes were hard as he met her gaze, his shoulders back and spine straight. 

“We finish this fight,” he told her, pulling the shortbow arrows from his quiver and placing them in hers. They were stone-tipped, sharp and deadly. “I will lay down cover fire as you destroy the core.” 

She nodded, taking her shortbow in hand. It wasn’t the ideal bow to take out the core, but if she was able to get close…

“I won’t let you down,” she told him, angling her face down so he couldn’t see the blood drying on her lips. 

He frowned, golden eyes narrowing slightly. 

Tamtey shuffled uncomfortably, hyperaware of the blood on her hands and under her nails, the blood in her hair and staining her clothes, the blood in her teeth, coating her tongue and her throat and—

“Hey, hey, Tamtey, look at me.” 

So’lek’s voice was faint and muffled, as if she was underwater, sinking in silt. She didn’t know if she wanted him to pull her free or allow the murky depths to consume her entirely. 

“Look at me.”

Right, eye contact. His golden eyes were so beautiful, so clear. She could see herself in them—wait. Was that her? That shaking, bloodied thing? She opened her mouth to gasp and saw fangs stained red. A monster, that’s what she was. Mercer had always called her an animal, dirty and savage, and look at her now. But animals were beautiful in their own way, all of them Eywa’s children. They did not hunt for sport like she did today, kill without mercy. Only the Severed did that, the ones too disconnected from Eywa to feel anything but rage and hate. She’d walked into the drill platform brimming with those horrible emotions, and she’d killed with malice in her heart. Monsters, the Na’vi called the Severed. Would they look at her now and call her the same? And So’lek…was she a monster in his eyes, too? What if—

“Mawey, ma Tamtey, mawey. You must focus, please—”

She saw the glint of a rifle in the distance, the peek of a barrel from behind another cargo container, aiming right at the back of So’lek’s head. Icy fear shot down her spine, and the Killer snapped. She snarled, notching an arrow within the span of a breath and loosing it with a thwip. The stone-tipped arrow punched through the soldier’s Kevlar, killing him instantly. 

So’lek already had his rifle leveled at the next two soldiers who appeared from the rear, dropping them with a rapid burst of gunfire. He angled his body so he could cover Tamtey’s back, trusting her to cover his. 

He trusted her. After what he’d just witnessed, he still trusted her. 

She gritted her teeth. Later. She could freak out later. Right now, they had a drill to destroy. 

They chose a spot on Deck 03 where Tamtey could crouch and aim into the ventilation hatches of the drill column, firing each time the vent covers lifted to rid of excess heat. She’d have to time each shot exactly right, firing in tune with the drill’s rotation and the lifting of the vent covers. With each arrow she fired, she exhaled deeply, feeling a sense of surety return to her. So’lek stood above her, killing any RDA that came near. When the drill-core blew, she felt the pressure build almost immediately. She stood, meeting So’lek’s gaze, and the two leapt from their perch, ducking into an interior corridor on Deck 02 as the drill blew. The explosion was tiered, beginning at the drill-core and expanding until the entirety of the machine—hydraulics and all—began to hiss and smoke. When the heat build up was too much for the drill’s failsafes to bear, the resulting explosion rocked the drill platform. So’lek pressed her up against the concrete wall of the interior corridor, putting his body between her and any possible debris that could fly in their direction. 

Any RDA still present in the facility knew the situation was fubar. Tamtey heard the order to evacuate shouted over the roar of fire. She slumped against So’lek, taking her first full breath in hours. They stayed there for several minutes, So’lek’s hands braced against the wall on either side of her head, his body pressed up against hers. Her hands rested loosely on his waist, her nose buried in his neck. She could feel his rapid heartbeat beneath his vest, feel his chest rise and fall as they finally began to relax. 

“I need to radio Priya,” he said once the tension in his body lessened. 

She nodded, encircling his torso with her arms, holding him close. She continued to breathe, focusing on the steady pace of his heart as he clicked on his radio. Their voices droned in the background, but she caught her name. 

“—yes, Tamtey’s radio is broken. We will have to use mine. Yes, the drill is down. The RDA can’t do any more damage. Not from here.” 

“Got it, good.” A sniffle. Priya sounded as if she was in tears. “They’ve torn Pandora up, you know? And I could’ve stopped them. Why did I go to that party? I should have analyzed the data.” 

Tamtey raised her head and So’lek tilted the radio’s receiver towards her. 

“It’s not your fault, Priya,” Tamtey said, momentarily shocked at the exhaustion in her own voice.  

“I know, I know,” Priya sighed. “But whatever we do, it never feels like enough. Not when this could still happen.”

“Then we stop it from happening again.” So’lek said firmly. 

“You’re right. Yes, okay.” Priya took a breath. “Data. Grab any you can find. Get to the controls and download everything. All of it. We need to figure out Mercer’s plan.”

Tamtey and So’lek shared a look. Tamtey nodded. 

“We will get this data,” So’lek declared. “Tell us what to do.”

The control center was not located on the drill platform itself. It was a temporary structure built a few kilometers from the mobile drill, and they were able to use the ravaged ground as cover as they made their way to the site. A small patrol guarded the control terminal, remnants from the RDA that evacuated the drill platform. Evidently, the data was too important to leave unattended. Good. 

Her shortbow came in handy, and she was able to drop the patrol on the north side of the control center while So’lek dropped the patrol on the south side. They reconvened at the terminal, So’lek watching with interest as Tamtey used SID to hack past firewalls and encryptions. Using So’lek’s radio, they followed Priya’s instructions, activating the sensory probes and preparing Tamtey’s specialized flashdrives for data recovery. So’lek used the time to set traps for the reinforcements Priya was sure would be ordered as soon as the download started. It wouldn’t be a quick process, Priya warned, so they would have to hold their ground. At this, So’lek grinned, fangs flashing wickedly as he revealed a pouch of explosive grenades. He was setting his last trap when Tamtey whooped with glee. 

He quirked a brow, rejoining her at the terminal. “What did you find?”

Tamtey reached into the trunk she’d found in the back of the control room, revealing the treasure. “A fucking rocket launcher.”

“A what?”

“Just watch.” 

Tamtey began the download. Within minutes, they heard the sound of tiltrotors in the distance. With a maniacal giggle, Tamtey hoisted the rocket launcher onto her shoulder. As instructed, So’lek watched as she took aim at the nearest Samson and fired. Boom. So’lek’s breath caught and he chuckled as the Samson blew to smithereens.

“Good, ma Tamtey.”

The grin on Tamtey’s face wasn’t cocky, per se, but she would not deny the pleasure she felt at his praise. She was almost giddy when two more aircraft came into sight. 

The rocket launcher only held three rockets, unfortunately, but the upside of running out of ammunition was the ability to watch So’lek fight. He was able to pick most of the Samsons and Scorpions out of the air using his heavy bow, giving Tamtey an unfiltered view of his biceps as he pulled the string taut again and again, downing the aircrafts with his grenade-tipped arrows. Which was a brilliant fucking idea, by the way. She supported him the best she could with her shortbow, taking out the soldiers who were able to land. They never even got close to the control center. 

When the reinforcements had been permanently dealt with, they waited the extra couple minutes for the download to complete. When the terminal beeped, indicating download success, Tamtey pocketed the drives. 

“Priya, I got the data,” she said into So’lek’s radio. “There’s a lot of it.”

“That’s wonderful,” Priya crowed. “I don’t want to jinx it, but this might just turn the tide, you know? Take it to Anqa and she’ll fly it home.”

Tamtey mumbled an affirmative, then So’lek fastened the radio to his vest once more. She stared at the flashdrives in her hand. So much data, but it would never make up for the collapse of the Celebration Arches—the lives lost, the land destroyed. No amount of data would ever make what happened today okay. She sighed bitterly, tucking the drives into her pouch. Finally, she turned to the man who stood by her side, sure and steady. 

“How did you know to come here?” She asked, leaning back against the terminal. 

So’lek propped a shoulder against the adjacent wall. “Priya kept receiving broken transmissions from Anqa. It took a while, but she was able to hear enough to determine what happened. I was already on my way when she received your transmission about the drill platform.” He met her eyes. “She said you sounded troubled, more so than she’d ever heard. She was worried.”

Tamtey couldn’t even bring herself to be angry at Priya. She was right, after all. 

“I snapped at her,” Tamtey confessed. “She was trying to get me to wait, and rightfully so, but I wouldn’t listen.” She swallowed, averting her eyes. “You weren’t there, ma So’lek. When the Arches collapsed, I saw it all. I tried to look for survivors, after, but so many were dead. So many Zeswa, so many animals. It was sickening. I was so angry. There was no way I wasn’t going to the drill.” 

When So’lek was silent for a heartbeat too long, Tamtey raised her head to try and catch his gaze. When she met it, her heart stuttered in her chest. His golden eyes were solemn, his face pinched with an emotion she couldn’t name. 

“So’lek?”

Was he angry with her? She couldn’t regret her decision, not in the slightest, but could she handle his ire? Or…did he finally see her? The real her, the monstrous Killer she’d become at TAP? 

When he finally spoke, it was not the words she expected. 

“I was scared,” So’lek admitted quietly. “You are capable, ma Tamtey, one of the most capable Na’vi I know, but this? When I saw you, you were covered in blood, and I didn’t know how much blood was yours. And your eyes…I’ve never seen you like that.”

Tamtey stiffened. Her next words scraped from her throat. “That…wasn’t something I ever wanted you to see. I—” Her eyes pinched shut and she trembled. “I understand if you don’t want to court me anymore.” 

So’lek blinked, opened his mouth to speak, then closed it again. “You—this—did you think…?” He shook his head, then tried again. “Tamtey, I have no intention of withdrawing my courtship of you. I was afraid for you, not of you.”

Something like hope bloomed in her chest. “Really?”

He stepped close to her, cupping her face. “Really. I chose you, ma Tamtey, and I am very hard to scare away.”

Tamtey’s eyes misted. “So you’re not…disgusted by me or anything?” 

So’lek traced the corner of her lip with his thumb. “Never, ma yawntutsyìp.”

As if to prove his words, he leaned down and kissed the corner of her mouth, then brushed his lips over the tip of her nose. She knew she still had blood staining her face, dust in her hair and coating her clothes, but he kissed her skin anyway. 

What had she done to deserve his affections? 

Tamtey threw her arms around his neck, pressing her cheek against his. She had so many words she wanted to say, but she just squeezed him tight. She so badly wished to sink into his embrace, to relish his scent and heat, but they still had a job to do.

“I guess we'll go find Anqa now.”

So’lek kissed the top of her head. “I’ll call for Ìley.” 

They flew away from the decimated remains of the drill platform and found that Anqa had relocated the Samson to higher ground. She was leaning against the dusty Samson, fiddling with her radio when they arrived. The brunette woman gasped at the sight of them and ran to embrace Tamtey in a rare show of affection. 

“I wasn’t super worried or anything, but I’m glad you’re okay.” Anqa mumbled against Tamtey’s torso. 

“I’m glad you’re okay, too,” Tamtey said, then fished the flashdrives from her pouch, presenting them to the pilot. “Can you take this to Priya? It’s data from the drill site.”

“Yeah,” Anqa agreed at once, stepping back and taking the drives. “I was trying to talk to her earlier. Couldn’t make out much.” She sighed, staring down into the ruins of the Celebration Arches. “What happened here—this devastation—makes me want to just aim the Samson at the horizon and see how far I’ll get.”

Tamtey knew the feeling all too well. “Anqa, we’ll stop them.”

Anqa pursed her lips, lowering her head. “You will. The Na’vi will. Humans though? Not so sure we’re really helping, even when we try.” The brunette scoffed, trying to hide a sniffle. “Anyway, you fly safe now. I’ll see you at home.” 

Tamtey could not think of a suitable response to Anqa’s words, so she and So’lek just watched as Anqa climbed into the pilot’s seat, donned her helmet, and rose steadily into the sky. As the Samson flew away, back toward the Clouded Forest, Tamtey turned to the warrior beside her. 

“Today showed us how far the RDA is willing to go,” Tamtey said. “It’s not just Mercer anymore—it’s all of them. We need to end this.”

Tamtey spent the next week dividing her time between the Resistance Hideout and The Hollows. The day after the burial, Alma had held a meeting with the members of the Resistance. Crestfallen and tearful, she’d formally surrendered her leadership of the Western Frontier branch of the Resistance and vouched for Tamtey to take her place. Thankfully, there were no objections to the change in leadership. 

At some point, Tamtey knew she would have to contact Toruk Makto himself and announce the shift. Jake Sully, according to Alma, was more hands-off when it came to operations in the Western Frontier, trusting that their leadership was secure. Alma admitted she had concealed her role in TAP from Toruk Makto, fearful he would send her back to Earth alongside the other less-than-redeemable humans. Tamtey wished he had, though she kept that tidbit to herself. 

Tamtey very quickly found out how much time the Resistance seemed to require of her. From early morning meetings to shift scheduling and late night emergencies, she and Ri’nela balanced all the decision-making. Tamtey worked with Alexander to form scouting teams intent on restoring power to the Resistance field labs in the Clouded Forest. With her growing knowledge of the terrain, she was able to determine which field labs could be reached safely on foot and which either required an airship or a personal escort. Another one of the Resistance’s more pressing matters was the distinct lack of usable technology and firearms. Most of their equipment had been lost in the bombing, including research equipment, exo packs, and munitions of all kinds. Retrieving more of those supplies, of course, fell on Tamtey. 

Working alongside Priya, Tamtey was able to intercept RDA supply drops. From those, she acquired more rations, miscellaneous spare parts, and radio equipment. From the various extraction plants scattered across the Clouded Forest, she acquired generators and electrical equipment. The firearms, however, could only be stolen from the armories of established bases. She and So’lek tackled those together, infiltrating the compounds stealthily. They would locate the armory first, quietly dispatch any nosy RDA, then begin the painstaking process of sneaking the firearms back out of the base. Only once they’d stolen all the useful materials they could find could they blow the structure to smithereens. 

It was not how Tamtey envisioned the first week of her and So’lek’s courting. To make matters worse, she barely had time to even think about her acceptance gift for So’lek. She knew it needed to be special, but that required time and consideration she wasn’t currently afforded. 

Even after she and So’lek had gathered a sufficient amount of firearms, ammunition, grenades, and other supplies from the bases, she was still needed. By request, she helped the Kame’tire finish the construction inside the Hideout, turning the cold, makeshift shelter into something resembling a home. The Kame’tire were certainly talented woodworkers and had a knack for decorating a cave so it seemed warm and welcoming. To Tamtey’s delight, she saw Jin working alongside two of the Kame’tire woodworkers, doing his very best to communicate in stunted Na’vi. With their help, Jin was able to complete the memorial space for their fallen friends. They’d held a service that night, remembering the ones they’d lost by the light of firelamps and in the company of friends and allies. 

When the Kame’tire had finished working on the Hideout, Tamtey accompanied them back to The Hollows. There, she was led around by an excited Okul who showed her the newest herbalist and healers’ spaces, as well as Anufi’s completed tsahik’s quarters. Slowly but surely, Anufi and Okul were restoring lost tradition to the Kame’tire. Tamtey spent many hours a day there, learning simple remedies and field medicine—skills that would serve her and the Resistance while they dwelled in the Clouded Forest. She helped an elder Kame’tire, Uwol, take back his fallen mate’s favorite meadow from the RDA. The next day, she helped Sa’ney dispatch an abnormally high number of Severed nantang, and even a particularly tormented feral thanator. Alongside Anufi, she visited more remote hunting camps and delivered medicines and news that The Hollows was safe again. In the few days Tamtey did odd jobs around The Hollows, she saw the number of Kame’tire rise from thirty to almost seventy. And according to Zamhil, they had many more to find. 

During one of the slower days, Tamtey approached Anufi alone in her chamber. She shuffled nervously, immediately drawing the attention of the tsahik. 

“What troubles you?” Anufi asked calmly from her place on the floor, sorting newly made salves amongst several baskets to deliver to the hunting camps. 

Tamtey stood for a heartbeat, then crossed the room and sat on a cushion beside the tsahik. “I am being courted.”

Anufi just hummed, hearing Tamtey but keeping her eyes on her work. “And that is a problem? You do not have to accept him.”

“No, no,” Tamtey said hurriedly. “I want to. It’s just…his gift to me was so thoughtful. I can’t just respond with anything. It has to be special. Meaningful.”

At this, Anufi looked up, a kindly smile on her face. “This So’lek really means a lot to you, doesn’t he?” 

“He does,” Tamtey insisted, “so his gift needs to be just as—” She blinked, puzzled. “Wait. I didn’t tell you it was So’lek.”

Anufi laughed. “Child. Who else would it be? Even if he had not told me himself, it would not have been hard to see.”

Tamtey gaped. “What—he told you? And what do you mean? Is it that obvious?”

Anufi just quirked a brow, her yellow-green eyes sparkling with amusement. “I am your elder, ma Tamtey, and tsahik. Your peers may not see the signs, but I do.” She leaned forward and patted Tamtey’s knee. “Bring him to The Hollows sometime. I wish to meet him under proper circumstances. Has he explained the process of courting to you?”

“Some of it,” Tamtey confirmed. “He said he’ll teach me more as we go. He, uh, wants me to have the true courting experience.” 

Anufi’s eyes softened. “That is good. One of the later steps in courting is for you both to show your families you can provide for and support each other.” A gentle smile graced her face. “Family is complex for you and So’lek both, I know. Perhaps you would allow the Kame’tire to be part of your family?”

Tamtey felt her eyes mist. “I would love that. Would you consider So’lek family, too?”

“Of course, child.” Anufi’s voice was warm. “You will always have a home in the Clouded Forest.” 

Later that night, tucked in her furs and So’lek’s blanket, Tamtey let her mind wander. Upon her escape from TAP, she’d had no one but her clanmates and the stoic warrior who had rescued them. Now, her circle has grown. She had good friends among the Aranahe, and had even found mentorship in Nefika and Ka’nat. She’d found kinship in the Zeswa and amongst the zakru, and had formed strong relationships with Nesim, Minang, and Kin. In her short time in the Clouded Forest, she’d become close with both Okul and Anufi. She may have lost her mother and Aha’ri, as well as Teylan and Nor—and while those wounds dug deep, she wasn’t alone. She had the makings of a community, a family. And possibly, later down the line, she’d have So’lek by her side. The RDA had taken much of her life—past, present, and future—but they hadn’t been able to steal this. And if Tamtey had her way? She’d annihilate them before they even got the chance. 

The next morning, after sharing a leisurely breakfast and tea with So’lek, she received a radio summons from Priya. She found her purple-haired friend at her desk, fretting worriedly over the radio transponder. 

“Is everything okay?” Tamtey asked, crouching next to Priya’s desk so she could talk at eye level. 

At once, the human woman began to stutter, hands flitting nervously over her desk and keyboard. “I—well, you’re probably busy. Of course you’re busy, but—well, I need your help.” 

“What can I do?” Tamtey kept her voice calm and even. 

Priya took a breath. “I’ve been in touch with a few RDA defectors. Now that we’re settled in the Clouded Forest, it’s time for them to make their move. This morning I was talking to this hotshot pilot named Louis de Luca. He finally got fed up with the RDA and stole a Scorpion packed with medical supplies.”

Medical supplies which, as Tamtey was brutally aware, were desperately needed. 

“Did something happen?” She asked, leaning forward. 

“That’s the thing!” Priya exclaimed, panic in her eyes. “I don’t know. I’ve been trying to call him, like, every fourteen seconds. What if the RDA got to him? What if he’s actually a traitor? Obviously I didn’t give him the coordinates for the Hideout—I’m not stupid—but what if there’s an ambush? What if—”

“Mawey, Priya,” Tamtey soothed, placing a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I’ll look into it for you. Do you have his last coordinates?”

Priya slumped, a thready sigh of relief rushing from her lungs. “Oh, you always come through. Thank you. Yes, I’ll send them to you. Last I heard from him, he was in the Kinglor Forest.” 

Tamtey nodded. “Okay. I’ll take Telisi, we’ll fly fast. I’ll keep you updated.” 

“Okay, okay,” Priya said. “Thank you again.” 

Within minutes, Tamtey was packed and had Telisi harnessed. She brought her heavy bow, her shortbow, and her rifle, with her quiver slung over her back. As usual, she had her knife clipped to her belt alongside SID and her pouch, in which she kept snacks for herself and Telisi, spare flashdrives, a small first aid kit, dapophet pods, and—tucked in a small silken bag—Teylan’s songcord. She dressed in her Aranahe silks knowing her Kame’tire attire would be uncomfortable in the humidity of the Kinglor Forest. 

She said farewell to So’lek outside the front entrance of the Hideout, asking him to remain on guard just in case this Louis de Luca turned out to be a traitor after all. She nuzzled into his neck before they parted, feeling his arms tighten around her waist when she kissed the underside of his chin. He took hold of her briefly, rubbing his cheek along her jawline and over the crown of her head with such focus and concentration, she was sure she’d be smelling of him all day. He did not protest in the slightest when she instructed him to bend his knees so she could do the same. 

Then she left. It hurt far more than she thought it would. 

She spent most of the flight pressed up against Telisi’s leathery skin, partially for comfort and partially for warmth. The dense fog of the Clouded Forest chilled her to the bone, especially so high in the skies. That was why it was so noticeable when she dove down the rocky cliffs and into the winds of the Upper Plains. 

It was immediately obvious that this leg of the flight would be torturous as well. 

The harsh winds tore at her silk clothes and threatened to turn her braids into a violent tangle. Cursing, Tamtey removed her outer silk shawl and wrapped it around her head, securing it as tightly as she could. It worked, keeping her hair protected against her head, but in turn it left the skin of her upper arms and shoulders exposed. Without the cover of fog, the sun was hot against her skin. That, too, was uncomfortable. 

Telisi flew even faster in the skies of the Upper Plains, more familiar with the winds and the landscape. They took the shortest route to the Kinglor Forest, though Tamtey was dismayed to see that new RDA outposts and extraction plants had been erected during her absence. Damn, they worked quickly. 

Tamtey breathed a sigh of relief when they flew beneath the Celebration Arches, thankful for its ability to act as a wind barrier and provide shade as they flew the final few hundred kilometers toward the Kinglor Forest. They descended again, flying into familiar humid skies and the canopies of lush forest. 

The relief of both ikran and rider was immediate. Telisi felt rejuvenated in the skies of her homeland, and Tamtey finally her temperature regulate as they flew beneath the upper canopies of the grand trees of the Kinglor Forest. 

Despite her deep love of the Upper Plains and her growing appreciation for the Clouded Forest, she had a special connection to the Kinglor Forest. The dense greenery, the vibrant colors, the rich sounds—burbling creeks, rustling leaves, and the cries of wildlife. All of it represented her very first encounter with Eywa’eveng. The first time she was able to run freely, leap with reckless abandon, and feel the sun kiss her skin. This forest was the home of her first meeting with true Na’vi, her first hunt, her first communion with Eywa, and even her iknimaya. The Kinglor Forest played a pivotal role in her becoming. 

It felt nice to be back. 

A pillar of smoke in the distance told her she was close to the coordinates Priya sent. As she flew closer, she saw a crooked tree, its bark mangled from where the Scorpion apparently hit it. A large boulder, a few meters away, bore deep grooves in the stone. Bits of steel shone within the grooves, telling an unfortunate tale. The Scorpion had likely clipped the tree, sending the aircraft into a spin. Unable to right it in time, Louis and the Scorpion collided head-on with the boulder. The charred wreckage at the base of the large rock confirmed her suspicions. 

“Hey, Priya,” she called into her radio. “I found Louis’ crashed Scorpion. No sign of him, though.”

“Oh, no!” Priya cried. “I hope he’s all right. Those medical supplies wouldn’t hurt, either.” Then, she audibly cringed. “Ugh, no, that sounded crass. Just…try and find Louis, please?” 

Tamtey directed Telisi to land, searching the smoldering remains of the Scorpion for any sign of Louis. When she didn’t find a body, she breathed a sigh of relief. She was just about to deepen her search when her radio crackled. 

“Uh, Tamtey?” Priya called, voice thin with panic. “Heads up! I’m picking up RDA chatter. They’re coming right at you!” 

Sucking in a breath, Tamtey turned tail and sprinted back to Telisi, mounting and urging her ikran into the sky. They would hide among the trees. Just as Telisi flapped into a tall canopy, hooking her sharp talons into the bark so she could cling vertically to the tree, Tamtey heard the telltale whump whump of tiltrotors. 

A Samson descended into the clearing, landing on a relatively flat patch of earth while a Scorpion kept watch from the air. Hidden by the dense canopy, Tamtey and Telisi remained unseen. 

Two AMPs, accompanied by three soldiers, climbed out of the Samson and began to survey the area. So many…  Why would the RDA send such a high number of soldiers after mere medical supplies? Surely they had a surplus already, and it wasn’t as if a Scorpion could carry a large load anyway. 

Tamtey narrowed her eyes, watching the soldiers patrol below her. She was not afraid. No, not in the slightest. But still, something wasn’t quite adding up. What else did Louis steal? 

“I guess we can’t let them find it,” Tamtey murmured to her ikran. Through tsaheylu, Tamtey felt Telisi’s glee. Her ikran’s ego was large, and was fed each time she had the opportunity to rain death upon the RDA. With each battle won, Telisi’s pride became more and more incorrigible. It was infectious. A smirk pulled at Tamtey’s lips. Let’s go.

With a whoop, Tamtey held tight to the harness as Telisi dove backwards from her perch, flaring her wings and pumping upwards, taking the circling Scorpion by surprise. Before the pilot could reach, Tamtey sent an arrow into one of the tiltrotors. It jammed with a screech, exploding into flame and sending the Scorpion careening to the ground below. The AMP patrolling the outskirts of the crash site was crushed before he even looked up. By the time the second AMP drew his gun, Telisi was already upon him. Tamtey rammed her bow into the reinforced glass, shattering it. With a menacing hiss, Telisi snapped her jaws over the AMP driver’s upper body, fangs embedding deep. Then, with a sharp jerk, she tore the driver from his seat and tossed him backward, jaws loosening so as to fling the driver into the tree behind them. Tamtey heard a crunch as the man’s spine broke around the trunk. 

“That was disgusting,” Tamtey told her mount matter-of-factly, flicking blood from her forehead and cheeks. “But also kind of cool.” 

Telisi preened once, pivoting so she could slam her tail into an approaching soldier. He did not rise again. 

The rest of the soldiers were easy work. With the two AMPs taken care of, the soldiers knew they would not last much longer. Their fear made their aim clumsy. They died all the faster for it. 

When all the RDA had been dispatched, Tamtey directed Telisi to land once more. Her ikran chittered once, then ambled in the direction of the nearby creek, intent on cleaning herself before the blood dried on her leathery skin. It itched, especially between her wings where she could not scratch. Tamtey watched her go, brow raised. 

“This is what you get!” She called to her mount. “If you don’t want to get bloody, maybe don’t bite a man in half.” 

Telisi just chuffed, ignoring her in favor of submerging herself in the water. 

Tamtey rolled her eyes, unclipping her radio from her belt. “Pri, I took care of the RDA. I’m back at the crash site, and I think Louis is hiding somewhere.” Her eyes fell on a parachute snagged in some branches, an open med kit on the ground by the trunk. “It looks like he ejected just in time. I think he’s injured, so he’s probably still nearby.”

Her friend breathed a sigh of relief. 

Luckily for Tamtey, the antiseptic Louis used left a scent trail. She followed it along the creekbed toward a cliffside. There, underneath a patch of dense, hanging ivy, was a small cave opening. Clever. She had to crouch to enter the cave, its entrance even smaller than most RDA ventilation ducts. It was the perfect spot for a human to hide. Thankfully, after a few meters, the cave opened up enough for her to stand. She blinked, eyes adjusting to the dimmer light of syuratan by a few parse patches of moss. The man inside cried out when he saw her, leveling his gun at her chest. 

“Freeze!” He shouted, voice high with fear. “Please don’t kill me. I’m on your side. I think.” 

The man was leaning against the wall of the cave, nursing a twisted ankle. His green, RDA-issued shirt was torn from the crash, and bloodied scrapes littered his bare, tattooed arms. He wiped blood from his eyes with his free hand, the sizable gash on his bald head still leaking crimson blood. 

“You must be Louis,” Tamtey said evenly, keeping her tone low and calm. “I’m not here to hurt you.” 

The man blinked at her perfect English, gun lowering as his mind processed the shock. 

“Must’ve hit my fuckin’ head harder than I thought,” he muttered to himself. Louder, he said, “You’re not gonna, like, eat me, are you?” 

Tamtey couldn’t help but snicker. “No, no, I will not. You’d be stringy.” 

Finally, Louis laughed, lowering his gun. “Are you Priya Chen’s friend? I heard the fighting out there.” He looked her up and down, taking in her bloodied appearance. “Damn, was that you?” He whistled appreciatively. 

She nodded, a grin pulling at her face. “Yes. The RDA is gone. You’re safe now.”

He snorted. “I’m a human on Pandora. I think ‘safe’ is relative.” 

Tamtey hummed, amending her statement. “You’re safe here, then. With me.” Into her radio, she said, “Priya, I’m here with Louis. He’s alive.” 

“Yes!” Priya crowed. “I’ve been holding my breath for like an hour straight. Any chance he has the medical supplies with him? I mean, I’m happy either way, it’s just…that’d make me double extra happy.”

Tamtey quirked a brow at Louis. He nodded, pointing to a crate he’d dragged into the cave with him. 

“No worries,” she told Priya. “They’re secure.”

“Awesome! I’ll tell Anqa to go get Louis right away. Everyone’s psyched to meet him.” 

When her radio clicked off, Tamtey turned back to Louis. “Priya’s sending someone to pick you up. You know, I think Anqa will appreciate having another pilot around.” 

At that, Louis laughed, a strained, nervous sound. “Yeah…about that. I never actually said I was a pilot. I told Priya my plan and she assumed.”

Tamtey blinked. “Didn’t you fly here?”

“Technically, I crashed here,” Louis chuckled sheepishly. “But hey! Not bad for a first attempt.”

“I suppose so,” Tamtey agreed, still reeling. “You’re still alive…?”

Louis rubbed the back of his neck. “Look, I didn’t lie, exactly, just…didn’t correct her. I figured she’d be more interested in helping a flyboy than a meathead on latrine duty. I just hope she’ll be in a forgiving mood when she sees the stuff I brought.” 

Tamtey felt a sliver of fondness for the awkward human. His mannerisms…he reminded her of Billy. “Well, pilot or no, I’m sure the Resistance will be grateful for your help. I know I am.”

The man flushed slightly. He pointed at the trunk. “Open it. Look at the bottom. Payment for saving my ass.” 

Tamtey shuffled over to the trunk and opened it. Beneath all the medical supplies, she saw a single datapad. Curiously, she brought it out. “What’s on it?”

Louis grinned. “Some dirt on the RDA. I’m just a latrine guy, so I slip through the cracks. Some officer mentioned a weakness or something, some superstition of theirs. I dig that stuff, so I just grabbed it and ran.” 

She smiled. “Now that’s helpful. Thank you, Louis.” 

Tamtey waited with Louis, helping him wrap his ankle and apply medical tape to some of his deeper gashes. The man was a talker, regaling her with tales of gossip and drama he’d overheard during his time with the RDA. When Anqa arrived, Tamtey helped carry him out of the little cave. 

“I ain’t no damn princess,” Louis yelped when she took him into her arms. By all accounts, he was a big man. By human standards. To her, however, he was no larger than a child. 

“Big baby,” she sassed, shifting him in her arms so she cradled him like a mother would her child. The man squawked indignantly. 

“A man can’t even have his dignity anymore, goddamn.” 

When Louis and the supplies were safely loaded onto Anqa’s Samson, Tamtey bade the two humans farewell. 

“Come see me again, will you?” Louis called from the Samson’s bench seat. 

“Of course,” Tamtey called back, winking. “Princess.” 

As the Samson rose into the air, she heard Anqa’s laughter and Louis’ sputterings. 

Later, when both she and Telisi had wiped the blood from their skin, Tamtey sat by the creek with her feet in the water and opened the datapad. She’d bypassed the firewalls and used SID to ensure the device was free of any bugs or GPS. When she was satisfied, she began to browse the files. With each new document she read, her smile grew wider and wider. 

“‘The Dog Tag Warrior’,” she read aloud, grinning at Telisi. “‘Myth or reality? Legend or lie?’ My Eywa, this reads like a novel.” Tamtey cackled, clicking through the files. So many different accounts, from infantrymen to officers. All of them, warning of the Na’vi terror known as the Dog Tag Warrior. Some were firsthand accounts, others were stories passed down from company to company. There was only one Na’vi the records could possibly be referring to. So’lek. Her So’lek. 

“I need to make copies of this immediately,” Tamtey chortled. “This is fantastic.” 

The files were gold. Dating back to the very first day the RDA returned to Pandora, So’lek had apparently wreaked havoc on several bases throughout the Western Frontier, intercepting supply runs and eliminating patrols. Not only was he quick and efficient, according to the reports, he was a scary motherfucker, too. It made her proud. It made her want to shower him with the most extravagant gifts she could find. And maybe shower him in kisses, too. 

She blushed at the thought, clutching the datapad to her chest. She really needed to find the perfect acceptance gift for him. Thankfully for her, she was starting to get some wonderful ideas. With an ululating cry, she called Telisi to her, mounting with renewed enthusiasm. 

“Come, my love,” she exclaimed, smiling widely. “Hometree awaits. We have Nefika to talk to.” 

Hometree was a welcome sight. The weaving den was bustling with Aranahe, all of whom smiled and called greetings when she entered. It was a wondrous change from her first encounter with the Aranahe. 

“Ma yawntu! There you are!” Nefika exclaimed, rising from where she’d been stirring vibrant dyes in a clay vat so she could tug Tamtey into a tight, familial embrace. “Come, come. Tell me everything. It has been too long.” 

Tamtey did so. She watched Nefika’s shoulders tense as she recounted the bombing of HQ, then stiffen further as she spoke of her discoveries in the Clouded Forest and the true fate of the Sarentu. She saw Nefika breathe a sigh of relief when she told her of the Kame’tire’s help and willingness to join the fight against the RDA. Finally, Tamtey laughed as she was swooped into Nefika’s arms as she finished her tale of the night So’lek asked if he could court her. 

“What a joy, ma yawtu!” Nefika exclaimed, peppering her cheek with excited kisses. 

Tamtey squealed, leaning back. “But I still need an acceptance gift!” 

Nefika gasped, holding her at an arm’s length. “You haven’t given him an acceptance gift yet?”

“Uh…no?”

“Child!” Nefika chuckled. “We must fix that. At once.” 

“I know,” Tamtey admitted, rubbing the back of her neck. “I just…I want it to be perfect, you know? I’ve had so many ideas, but none of them seem right.” She sighed, burying her face in her hands. 

“Why don’t you tell me your ideas?” Nefika suggested, tugging her to sit on a woven platform. “If you are looking for the perfect gift, you needn’t search any further.”

Tamtey smiled, sat, and did just that. At one of her ideas, Nefika perked, tail swishing excitedly. 

“Ma yawntu, that is perfect.” Nefika crooned. “And I have the most wonderful solution that can benefit us both.”

“Oh?” Tamtey quirked a brow. “Tell me more.”

“My student, Neytu, is quite the miserable little thing these days. It was a fall during her rookery climb. Her dreams were crushed, and so was her confidence. And now she dreads to try her hand at anything.”

Tamtey nodded slowly, feeling her heart clench at the news of a failed iknimaya. That had been her biggest fear many months ago. Poor Neytu. “I’m sure her confidence will come back. Maybe she just needs encouragement.”

“You see now where you fit in? We Aranahe may be great weavers, but Sarentu talents know how to spin great tales of hope and courage.” Nefika smiled conspiratorially. “I think Neytu will open up to you. Everyone loves a little something new, and she may be intrigued at the idea of helping with an acceptance gift! She may even share her weaving skills with you.”

Tamtey hummed. “I see your logic. Very well.”

She found Neytu in the crafting room, sorting supplies throughout various woven baskets affixed to the wall of Hometree. 

“Oh, Tamtey,” Neytu tried to smile in greeting, but it looked forced. “What can I do for you?”

“Nefika’s hoping you could teach me more about weaving?” Tamtey asked with a smile, shifting her weight on the balls of her feet. 

Neytu simply pursed her lips. “I am afraid you are mistaking me for someone else. I cannot even fly an ikran to gather my own ingredients. How can I teach you anything useful?” 

Tamtey blinked, working hard to school her expression. She hadn’t seen this level of self-loathing and depression since…well, herself. She could see the cause for Nefika’s concern. 

“Don’t worry about that, Neytu,” Tamtey assured. “I can get what we need, if we don’t already have it. Nefika thinks there’s a lot I can learn from you.”

The young Na’vi woman ducked her head. Instead of looking bashful, however, she looked humiliated. “That cannot possibly be true. Why would she say such a thing?”

“Whatever her reasons, I’m just here to learn.” Tamtey said gently. “If you’ll have me as your numeyu, that is.”

Neytu shook her head. “There is not much I can teach you. But…I suppose if you can get me some bruise moss, I might be able to show you something.” 

The young Na’vi woman pointed Tamtey to a basket containing dried bruise moss, a deep purple fibrous material. Tamtey chose some of the choicest pieces and held it up, smiling proudly. “Will this work?” 

Neytu nodded. “Now, what are we making?” 

Tamtey told her, stumbling over her words slightly as she told Neytu it would be a gift for So’lek. She blushed when Neytu raised both brows, mouth forming an ‘o’. 

“You’re trusting me to help you with an acceptance gift?” 

Tamtey nodded. 

Neytu looked scared. “I cannot do that! What if I mess up? What if I teach you wrong? What if—”

“Neytu,” Tamtey soothed, placing a hand on the young weaver’s shoulder. “Can I tell you something?”

Sucking in a breath, Neytu nodded. 

“Okay. Not finding an ikran…it was my greatest fear during my iknimaya. I was raised by Sky People, more fluent in English than my own language. I was afraid that if an ikran did not choose me, it was proof that I was more human than Na’vi. That fear, it plagued me with every step.”

“But an ikran did choose you.” Neytu said solemnly. “That is the difference. You were strong enough. I am not.” 

“No,” Tamtey insisted. “That is not the case. I was not strong. In fact, I considered turning back several times.”

“Why didn’t you?”

“Itu.” Tamtey smiled softly. “He was with me every step of the way. Encouraging me and reassuring me. If not for him, I would’ve backed out for sure.” 

Neytu sniffled. “I went alone. I thought it was a certainty. I am—was—a good weaver. I’ve even done some hunting. All the supplies I can forage from the ground, I’ve gathered myself.” A tear ran down her cheek. “I was confident. Too confident. Then I fell. I didn’t even make it to the top of the rookery.”

Tamtey felt her heart break, but she concealed the emotion behind a nod. Instead, she spoke evenly. Gently. “And so…your confidence took a hit.”

“Not just a hit. It’s gone. I’m afraid to go gathering by myself. My weaving skills have suffered. It’s like that fall took everything from me.” 

In a way, Tamtey could empathize. Not from recent experience, but before. During TAP, after Aha’ri’s death. She’d been so afraid to do anything. She’d been quite literally whipped back into shape by Harding, and her back still showed the silver scars. 

“How about this,” Tamtey began. “Let’s experiment a little. We’ll try out the design with zero pressure. If it works, we’ll make the gift. If not, there’s no disappointment. No pressure. What do you think?”

Neytu paused, considering. “Okay. No pressure.” 

Tamtey smiled, and the two women gathered by the crafting table and began to weave. As the garment came together, Tamtey was in awe of how the bruise moss and kinglor silk complemented and reinforced one another. It would do nicely. 

“Wow, that is a great piece.” Neytu said when it was done. “I knew there was nothing I could teach you.”

“That’s it?” Tamtey asked, blinking. “You’re not going to teach me anything else?”

Neytu shook her head, gesturing to the garment on the table. “Obviously you are skilled. If you have something more to learn, you should ask Nefika to teach you. I am just useless at this. Sorry.”

“But—”

“Look, I know you are trying to help me be, like, more confident or something, but Nefika is wasting your time.” That familiar dullness settled over Neytu’s eyes. “I am genuinely terrible at this. At everything.”

Tamtey opened her mouth to say something more, but Neytu just lowered her eyes and turned her back, instead returning to her organizing. Tamtey’s shoulders slumped and she sighed under her breath as she left the room and the sullen young woman behind. 

She ran into a young man outside the crafting room. He was shifting on his feet, nervous, and perked up as she exited. 

“Can I help you?” She asked. 

“Sorry,” the young Na’vi man blustered. “I, uh, heard you are having trouble. With Neytu, I mean.” He leaned in close. “Not that you need my help, of course, but maybe I can offer some advice?”

Tamtey nodded gratefully. “Neytu is convinced she has nothing to teach anyone.” 

“Oh, that is clearly not true,” the young man said with feeling. “She always knows what is wrong with my work right away. Sometimes even before I start.” He shook his head wryly. “Just yesterday, I had this great idea for a design. She listed off fifteen different reasons why it was a terrible idea.” 

Something sparked in Tamtey’s mind. Perhaps she could use this. 

“Why don’t you teach me about this design of yours?” Tamtey suggested. “Maybe that’ll get her attention.”

“Oh? Really?” The young man asked eagerly. “You want me to teach you? Are you sure? Wow.” 

As the young man went into great detail about his genius weaving idea, Tamtey learned that his name was Taheywu and that he wasn’t particularly interested in weaving at all, but in impressing Nefika’s prodigy. He had quite the crush on Neytu, but each of his designs was worse than the last. 

“It’s perfect,” Tamtey said when he finished, grinning widely. “Tell me again what materials I need?” 

Taheywu did so happily. 

Tamtey reentered the crafting room with a pep in her step. Neytu paid her no mind as she picked ingredients from the baskets lining the wall, gathering her supplies and beginning to weave. It was indeed a horrid design, and it had precisely the effect Tamtey was hoping it would. 

“I cannot let you do this,” Neytu interjected suddenly, abandoning her organizing so she could come up to her beside the table. “Please stop.”

Tamtey stopped, raising her hands in surrender as Neytu tutted and wrinkled her nose in disgust. 

“This weaving pattern is atrocious.” Neytu grimaced. “Did Taheywu teach you this?”

“Taheywu is eager to teach me, and I have no one else to turn to.” Tamtey batted her eyes innocently. 

Neytu scowled. “I cannot let Taheywu fill your head with his silly ideas. The other clans will think his work stands for all Aranahe.”

Tamtey stared at Neytu expectantly. 

Sighing heavily, Neytu joined her at the crafting table. “Very well. We will redo the design. Your original design with some of my improvements. And if you like it, it can be the acceptance gift.”

Tamtey smiled widely. “Yes, karyu!”

“Please do not call me that.” Neytu groaned. “I’m just trying to help the best I can.”

They spent the next hour side by side, working together to weave the design of Tamtey’s dreams. They used durable kinglor silk interwoven with violet bruise moss and bright orange sky rock moss—the very same kind So’lek showed her on their first foraging expedition. When it was finished, both Tamtey and Neytu were beaming with pride. 

“You are good at this.” Neytu said with a grin. “I struggle with this weave myself.”

“Your technique is what makes this easy,” Tamtey said honestly. 

“Nonsense.” Neytu waved a hand. “You are the one who came up with the design and did the weaving.”

“And you taught me how to do it. You really are an excellent teacher, Neytu.” Tamtey’s eyes softened. “Just like Nefika and Taheywu said you were.”

“I never thought—wait.” The young woman blinked, then a blush rose high on her cheeks. “Nefika said that? And Taheywu?”

“Of course. They know you can do great things. Even if you don’t believe it.”

At that, Neytu’s smile brightened. “Thanks. It actually felt pretty good to show you what I know.”

“Thank you,” Tamtey said. “Your help with this makes the gift even more special. It truly is one of the best creations I’ve ever seen, from you or any of the weavers.” 

“Truly?”

Tamtey nodded. “You may not feel like it right now, but you’ve given me a gift today. Your talent is extraordinary. I hope, with time, you can see that again.” 

Neytu’s eyes misted. “I want that. I do. And maybe I’ll talk to Itu. I’m not brave enough yet, but…I want to try the climb again. When I’m ready.” 

“I like the sound of that,” Tamtey said gently, embracing her friend. “And when you get your ikran, we’ll gather new weaving materials together.” 

Neytu’s smile lit the room. 

Later that day, after she’d eaten lunch with Etuwa, she was summoned by the Aranahe healer Kayì. Predictably, she found the man in the healers’ den, preparing an herbal poultice. 

“I have seen a growing bond between you and Itu,” Kayì told her, placing his mortar and pestle down on a wooden surface. 

“Yes,” Tamtey said. “We’ve been through a lot in a short time.”

Kayì nodded solemnly. “Death bonds us all, but especially if you face it together. This is exactly why Itu needs you now.”

Tamtey felt alarm prickle the base of her spine. “Is he okay?” 

“Yes, yes,” Kayì assured her. “At least, physically. But his spirit needs healing. Losing an ikran brings a grief like no other. Itu always chases the moment, but now he must stop and take responsibility.” The healer shook his head. “Not his favorite thing.”

“Is there a way I can help?” Tamtey asked. “He has helped me. I’d like to return the favor.”

“Only Itu can decide what must be done to say farewell to Zomey. Your growing ikran bond may help him see it is time to let go.” A soft smile graced the healer’s face. “Perhaps you can find a way together.”

Tamtey inclined her head. “I’d be honored.”

“Good. The hunters whisper of Itu spending his days at the place where Zomey died. Most likely you will find him there.”

Unwilling to waste any time, Tamtey harnessed her ikran and took to the skies toward the place Zomey had died. She’d guided Telisi there wordlessly, and her ikran flew with surprising gentleness. Telisi could feel her rider’s pain at the remembrance of Zomey’s death, the happenings of a time before she’d met her bonded. 

So much had changed since that rainy day months and months ago. Even still, Tamtey remembered the hot blood staining her hands as she tried to stop Itu’s ikran from bleeding out. She remembered the way Zomey had clung to life, just for the chance to say goodbye to her rider. Tamtey remembered Itu’s scream when he felt Zomey pass through tsaheylu, his pleas and sobs and wails as her body began to lose its heat. That memory had haunted her for weeks, and had proven a hurdle after she’d made her own ikran bond. Despite Telisi’s passion for life and fearsome strength, Tamtey had seen how quickly an ikran bond could be severed by the RDA. Her fear had kept her from fully trusting her mount. After seeing Telisi fall, her body pierced by shotgun shells following the bombing of HQ, that trauma had resurfaced. 

Tamtey pressed her forehead against Telisi’s neck, the bond bright with lovetrustlove, pulsing from both ikran and rider. Through the many months they’d been bonded, Tamtey knew Telisi’s spirit as well as she knew her own. Making tsaheylu with her brought forth a freedom and unconditional love Tamtey had never known before. She’d been truthful with Neytu earlier—she never would have braved the climb to the rookery without Itu. 

True to Kayì’s suspicion, Tamtey found Itu atop the rock spire where Zomey died. He sat in a patch of those same white flowers that had bloomed in the place where lifeblood had spilled and a bond had been broken. The day was clear and the breeze was warm. As Telisi perched on the side of the spire, Tamtey climbed to meet her friend. The sunlight highlighted tear tracks on Itu’s cheeks. 

“Ma ‘eylan,” Itu greeted, the shadows of his face seeming to soften slightly as he discreetly wiped the remnants of his tears away. “What brings you here?”

“Looking for you.” Tamtey said gently, lowering herself to the ground beside him. “Kayì thought I might find you here.”

Itu smiled, a bittersweet expression soaked with pain. “In the midst of my loneliness, this place brings me both pain and comfort.”

Tamtey could understand that somewhat. Back at TAP, she’d made sure to always slow her steps when she’d been walking through the corridor Aha’ri had died in. Her eyes would find that spot and her heart would burn with pain. She’d felt as if her sister’s spirit lingered there, without peace and unable to be put to rest.

“I understand,” Tamtey murmured. “And this spot will always have meaning. In your spirit and in your heart.”

Itu turned his head, sniffling quietly. He nodded. 

“However,” she continued. “You can’t bring yourself to say goodbye here, can you? It just doesn’t feel right, does it?”

At this, Itu looked up at her. His eyes shone with tears and when he spoke, his voice was a mere whisper. “How do you know that?” 

Tamtey smiled sadly. “I couldn’t say goodbye to my sister for decades. The spot she died…it felt wrong to say goodbye to her there. So, I kept her memory with me. That grief lingered with me for years, until a few days ago. I found a spot where my clan used to gather. My sister was happy there. Remembering the sound of her laugh, the light in her eyes…it was finally right. I still grieve her, but…” She took a deep breath. “I think maybe she’s at peace now. Or maybe I’m the one who’s finally at peace. Either way, after many years, I’ve finally said goodbye.”

Itu swallowed roughly, reaching out to grasp her forearm in shared camaraderie. His hand trembled. 

Tamtey pushed on, keeping her voice tender.  “Is there a place that reminds you of a happier time with Zomey?”

A tear slid down Itu’s cheek and he nodded. “We used to end a day’s hunting at the hunter’s lookout point. Zomey would stretch her wings and pester me for snacks.” A wet chuckle escaped him at the memory. “The view from there, ma ‘eylan…”

Tamtey smiled, squeezing his arm. “Show me. We can say goodbye to Zomey, properly.”

Itu was quiet for a few heartbeats, his eyes searching hers. Then, he sighed, shoulders slumping. “I know what you are doing. And I accept.” He swallowed, eyes misting. “I accept you as my companion in this. My last journey for Zomey.”

“Always one step ahead of me, Itu,” she said with a quirk of her lips. “Have you decided what you want to do?”

“I have thought of little else,” he admitted. “How do I celebrate her life and honor her death? I have an idea. Fortune’s fruit is sharp and strong like Zomey. We can gather some together. I have a plan to use the seeds.”

Tamtey nodded, easing herself onto her feet and extending a hand to Itu. He took it, and she pulled him to his feet. “Let’s go, then. How do you feel about meeting Telisi properly?” 

Itu’s eyes widened. She saw the fear in his gaze, the tension in his body. She saw the longing in his spirit, the desire to fly again, and the guilt that he was considering doing so without his beloved Zomey. He took a deep breath, closing his eyes as he searched deep inside. To join her on Telisi’s back would show acceptance of Zomey’s death and a willingness to move on. Was he ready?

Itu warred with himself. His Zomey was gone, and he could do nothing to change that. Flying upon Telisi’s back would feel like a betrayal, but punishing himself by staying grounded would forever irk his beloved ikran’s spirit. What would Zomey want him to do? 

Finally, Itu loosed a sharp breath, his eyes snapping open. He met Tamtey’s eyes. “Yes.”

Tamtey smiled, wide and encouraging. She stepped to the side, gesturing to her waiting ikran. Telisi trilled as if in permission and acceptance of a passenger. 

His steps slow and meaningful, Itu walked up to Telisi, head bowed in respectful thanks. And for the first time since Zomey’s death, he mounted an ikran. Tamtey climbed into the saddle in front of him effortlessly, making tsaheylu with a familiar smoothness telling of a true ikran bond. He placed his hands on her waist, bracing. He knew the moment she issued the wordless command, feeling Telisi’s muscles bunch. When they launched from the spire, Itu let his eyes flutter shut, feeling the wind caress his face. The sensation was as agonizing as it was joyful, but something had shifted in his heart. It would take many more months, years even, for his grief to sting less. But, perhaps, this was the first step. 

They flew leisurely, Itu directing Tamtey towards a grove of fortune leaf canes growing at the base of a great stone arch. The large, splayed leaves growing from each nodule along the thick stalks of the fortune leaf canes swayed gently in the breeze, and Tamtey could see reddish fruits poking out from under some of the leaves. She saw some more vibrantly colored fruits near the very top of the towering plants. 

“I think I could pluck those from Telisi’s back,” Tamtey mused aloud. “If I get close enough, that is.” To her surprise, Itu barked a laugh behind her. 

“That is not the way fortune fruits are gathered, ma ‘eylan.” He sniggered. 

“What?” She turned in the saddle to face him. “Do I have to climb?” 

He shook his head. “No, Sarentu. You must leap from your ikran and gather it on your way down.”

She blinked. “What? But it would be so easy to just—” She mimed grabbing a fruit with her hands. “I know I could get Telisi close enough.” 

Again, Itu shook his head. “Na’vi can gather this fruit even without ikran. The leap is exhilarating, and the fruit is even sweeter at the end of a successful fall. In its own way, it is a rite of passage.”

Tamtey hummed, looking at the fortune leaf canes in a new light. She nodded. “Sounds like a challenge.”

“I have faith in you, ma ‘eylan.” Itu said. “I have seen you leap in much more treacherous conditions.”

And wasn’t that the truth? 

“So how do I do this?” She asked. 

Itu directed her to urge Telisi to hover above one of the taller fortune leaf canes. 

“See how close we are to it? The best quality fruits are at the top. You lean from the saddle, choose a fruit and reach toward it—” At this, he leaned until he was almost horizontal in the saddle, one hand gripping the harness while the other reached in the direction of a large ripe fortune fruit. “Then, when you are ready, you let go.”

“Oh, that makes sense—”

Itu fell from the saddle. 

Tamtey cried out reflexively, reaching for him, but he had already fallen out of her reach. As he fell, he grasped the fruit he’d been aiming for, wrenching it sharply to dislodge it from the stem. She watched as he cradled the fruit to his chest and allowed the large leaves to slow his fall. In a smooth, practiced move, he landed in a crouch on the forest floor. Tamtey gaped as he held the fruit up victoriously, a grin stretching across his face. 

“See?” He called up to her, his voice barely audible. “It’s easy. Try it.” 

“He’s got to be mad,” Tamtey murmured to Telisi, placing a hand over her sternum as her nervous heart settled. 

Telisi just grumbled, tossing her head. Her ikran’s wingbeats remained steady, keeping them in a secure hover. 

“Well, should I try?” Tamtey asked. 

Telisi chuffed, a reluctant approval filtering through the bond. The ikran flapped toward another tall stalk, and Tamtey spotted an equally plump fruit waiting for her beneath a thick leaf. 

“Can’t be that hard, right?” Tamtey leaned in the saddle, just like she’d seen Itu do, and reached toward the fruit. When she was ready, she took a deep breath and slipped from the saddle. Her fingers brushed the fruit’s vibrant crimson skin…and she missed. 

With a curse, Tamtey lurched toward another fruit slightly lower than the one she’d been wanting, but she missed that one, too. The leaves smacked her face and body as she fell, stinging her skin. She landed in a crumple, grunting in pain. She wasn’t hurt, per se, but her ego had most certainly taken a blow. 

Itu unsuccessfully disguised a laugh with a cough. “Are you alright, ma ‘eylan?”

Tamtey scowled, standing and brushing dirt from her knees and buttocks. “Now I see why you brought me instead of Vefilu. This is so unflattering.”

This time, a snicker broke through Itu’s lips. “Unflattering for a beginner, yes, but you will become more graceful with time.” 

Tamtey just scoffed. 

“Truly,” Itu insisted. “The fortune’s fruit is important for this. And you helping gather it makes it even more special.”

She wanted to be irritated, but when he put it like that…

“Very well,” she acquiesced. “I’ll try again.” 

She tried again. And again. And again. She earned some more bruises on her knees and heels from harsh landings, but by her third try she’d discovered the secret to landing on her feet. By her fifth try, she learned how to properly twist the fruit to get it to dislodge from the stem. In the end, it took her seven tries to successfully snag a decently ripe fortune’s fruit. She crowed victoriously as she landed on the balls of her feet, whooping and jumping as she held the fruit high in the air. 

“I did it, Itu! Look, look!” 

Itu smiled proudly. 

When Tamtey ceased her excited celebrations, they again mounted Telisi and flew into the horizon. Itu called directions above the wind, leading them to a small cluster of rock spires deeper within the Kinglor Forest. On either side of the cluster, a great waterfall roared. The vast river reflected the sunlight, making each water droplet in the waterfall’s spray look like specks of liquid gold in the air. In the distance, Tamtey could see the grove of fortune leaf canes, the expanse of the Kinglor Forest, and the silhouette of Hometree. 

“It is here,” Itu said quietly, gesturing at the tallest stone pillar amidst the cluster. 

Tamtey wordlessly urged Telisi to land, and the two Na’vi dismounted in silence. The air between them grew somber once more as Itu gazed over the water and forest. 

“My heart is heavy, but having you here will help it soar once more.” Itu said, still facing the horizon. 

Tamtey stepped behind him and squeezed his shoulder. “Anything for you and Zomey.”

Itu nodded, taking a shuddering breath. He stepped back from the edge, taking a seat on the grassy surface. He pulled the fruit he’d gathered from his pouch, and Tamtey did the same, handing it to him. When he had both fruits in hand, he broke them open. With a hunting knife, he scooped the seeds out from the center, placing them into Tamtey’s outstretched hands. He pulled a small wooden bowl from his pouch and instructed her to place the seeds inside. 

“I will use the seeds,” he said, taking the bowl and standing. “They symbolize new life as you embark on your journey with your bonded and I mark the end of my journey with Zomey. But…” His voice broke. “I do not know what to say.”

She stepped forward and placed a hand in the middle of his chest. “Say what’s in your heart.”

He took a shaky breath, shuttering his eyes. For several long heartbeats, he stood in silence, searching his spirit for the words that would honor the life of his dearest friend. Finally, Itu took the bowl and stumbled to the very edge of the stone pillar. With trembling fingers, he took handfuls of the seeds and allowed the breeze to lift them from his palms, scattering in the valley below and on the bank of the grand waterfall. 

“I release these seeds as a symbol of new life and new bonds,” he declared. “The sun to warm them and the rain to nourish them. Let them grow as strong as our bond was, Zomey. I hold your silence in my heart. It reminds me that a rash spirit can be a careless one.” His next words were for Zomey, but Tamtey heard the agonized, guilt-ridden plea. “Forgive me. Fly free in Eywa.”

Suddenly, the sparse clouds parted and the setting sun cast a golden light over the valley. The streams and rivers below became molten gold. A warm breeze washed over them, and the spray from the waterfall kissed their cheeks. Golden tears streaked down Itu’s cheeks. 

“She heard me,” Itu cried, shoulders shaking. “And I think…I think Zomey is at peace now.” 

Tamtey embraced Itu the moment his knees weakened, pulling the hunter to her as he wept for his fallen ikran. She continued to hold him as colors bloomed over the horizon, dusk painting the sky with gorgeous vibrancy. When Itu’s tears subsided, they sat side by side, eating the sweet flesh of the fortune’s fruit as the sun set. 

“I’m so glad I could be here to remember Zomey with you,” she spoke after they finished the fruit. 

“My heart feels lighter now,” Itu admitted, “but it is a long journey. One day, far from now, I might bond again and we shall fly together.” 

She smiled, reaching so she could take his hand. “I’d like that.”

His smile, while shaky and small, was filled with hope. 

That night, after they’d returned to Hometree, Tamtey joined Itu and Vefilu for dinner. She’d decided to spend the night amongst the Aranahe, and after dinner the trio gathered with Etuwa in the kinglor’s nest. The four swapped stories and updated one another on their lives. Tamtey learned that Itu had taken to hunting the Sky People with renewed vigor alongside Vefilu. Etuwa had been working closely with the kinglor and becoming more practiced in her duties as tsahik. Vefilu had become quite the renowned huntress, choosing to do most of her hunting on the back of the smaller direhorses native to the Kinglor Forest. Tamtey’s stories of Zeswa hunting tactics fascinated Vefilu, and the younger huntress vowed to try some of the techniques herself. Itu enjoyed hearing about the various ways Tamtey’s bond with Telisi strengthened after learning to traverse the Upper Plains and the Clouded Forest. Etuwa hung on every word Tamtey uttered about Anufi, entranced by Tamtey’s retelling of the Kame’tire tsahik’s love for her people. Tamtey’s news of So’lek’s courting sent her friends into a fit, all three of them pestering her with questions and an exact retelling of the evening he’d asked her. They cared not for Tamtey’s blushes or stammerings, and their excitement made the courting feel even more real. When they were too tired to continue their conversation, the four bedded down on the soft mats on the floor of the kinglor’s nest, falling asleep to the sound of fluttering wings and quiet chirps. 

The next morning, by Nefika’s suggestion, Tamtey met with Kukulope, a Tlalim residing amongst the Aranahe. The two shared a breakfast, and Tamtey learned that the wind trader had a wealth of information on the various clans her people had encountered on their routes. Tamtey listened as the woman recalled the most exotic places she’d visited and the depths of each culture she’d experienced. She’d listened as Kukulope spoke about her family and her clan, and the ways in which the Tlalim were similar to the Sarentu. Kukulope also expressed her desire for individuality and independence, the reason she now stayed with the Aranahe. Perhaps she’d return to her clan at some point, but for now she would delight in the culture found in the Kinglor Forest and use her aloneness to discover who she could be. Tamtey was entranced and asked pointed questions. Their discussion spanned the entire morning, and when Tamtey left the Tlalim woman, she brimmed with new knowledge. 

Finally, after she said her goodbyes to her friends and those at Hometree, Tamtey mounted Telisi and began the long journey back to the Clouded Forest. She’d just entered the airspace of the Upper Plains when her radio buzzed. Tamtey toggled it on. 

“Hey, I know it’s not the best time,” Priya began hesitantly, “but I need your help. There’s some totally weird seismic activity—tremors—centered on the Upper Plains.”

Worry sparked in Tamtey. “Tremors? That will really upset the zakru.”

The zakru were still sleeping, their trunks embedded deep within the soil. Abnormal tremors would rouse and agitate them, causing detrimental damage to their migration rhythms. 

“Does the RDA have something to do with it?” Tamtey asked, though she already had a suspicion. 

“I think so,” Priya confirmed. “I have a bad feeling this is linked to the data from Mercer you found at the big extraction facility. The data I lost in the bombing.” The woman’s voice was tinged with guilt. “Anyway, Anqa thinks she may have found the cause. She’s at Ally’s Overlook now, a short way from where you are. Can you maybe check on her?”

Tamtey frowned. “She’s not answering her radio?”

“No. She’s in a flux area, so comms are a mess.” Priya made a sound, thin and anxious. “It’s silly to worry. She’s an ace pilot, but I—I just feel something’s off…you know?” She groaned. “Sorry, everything’s so strange back here. Nor gone. Teylan gone. And Cortez hasn’t been the same since…well, you know. The awkwardness got, like, really intense after you left. I just—I want everything to be okay.”

Tamtey felt her heart go out to her friend. “Don’t worry,” she reassured. “I’ll go check on Anqa.”

Priya expressed her thanks, the relief in her voice overflowing. When the radio went silent, Tamtey clicked it off and changed course. Ally’s Overlook was what the Resistance called a small, temporary campground beneath the Celebration Arches. It was a beautiful area, used by humans and Na’vi alike to watch the pa’li graze in the shade beneath the Arches. In fact, a short ride from Ally’s Overlook was the cave system Tamtey had climbed through to reach the Upper Plains from the Kinglor Forest. It was where Minang had taught her to ride a direhorse, and where she had seen the Zeswa hunt for the first time. For that reason, she was especially fond of the Celebration Arches and the memories she’d formed there. 

Tamtey dozed on her bedmat, feeling quite at peace with her two new blankets—one held against her heart and the other tucked under her chin. Her old baby blanket—the one that smelled just slightly of her mother—was the one she held reverently against her heart, as if she could somehow protect sa’nu’s spirit by holding the fabric close. The second blanket was yet another courting gift from So’lek. A selfish one, the man had admitted, handing her one of his own blankets before they settled to sleep last night. It was a thick weave, the fibers soft with age. And most importantly, it smelled strongly of So’lek’s warm, resin scent. 

Much to her embarrassment, So’lek had noticed when she’d ended up partially in his bedmat a few nights ago, when her mind was so troubled that only his scent had soothed her enough to sleep. Alas, he didn’t judge her. In fact, he seemed pleased that he could offer her such comfort through scent alone. And so, he gave her his blanket. He had several, he’d commented offhandedly, so it wasn’t as if he’d suffer. 

While Tamtey’s embarrassment hadn’t lessened any, she’d accepted the gift with gratitude. Then, with no small amount of procrastination, she and So’lek retreated to their separate bedmats. Sleep had come surprisingly easy, however, despite the tumultuous events of the last couple weeks. Mainly, she was exhausted—in both mind and body she was utterly and thoroughly worn out. Part of her, though, was actually excited to go to sleep; because, when she woke, it would be the first dawn of her and So’lek’s courting. And that was reason enough to wake up in the morning. 

So why in the absolute hell was she being woken up mere hours into her slumber? 

Tamtey woke slowly, reluctantly, as a small hand prodded at her shoulder. She groaned quietly, mourning her sleep as it flitted away and wakefulness made its unholy presence heavy in her mind. 

“Wassit?” She croaked groggily, peeling her eyes open. The cavern walls of the Hideout seemed hopelessly blurry as she blinked away the remnants of her sleep. The soft syuratan of mosses and lichens was the only light in the sleeping area, as the firelamps had been put out hours ago. 

A masked face, sheepish and much too awake, greeted her. 

“‘Ello, Pri,” Tamtey muttered quietly in English, propping herself up on her elbow so she could look at the purple-haired woman. 

“Hey, Tamtey,” Priya chirped, lifting one of Tamtey’s blankets so she could slip underneath. 

Tamtey very discreetly moved her mother’s blanket to the other side of the bedmat, unwilling to risk covering sa’nu’s scent with that of a human. She did not, however, tell Priya to leave. 

“So…you’re getting in my bed,” Tamtey observed, staying still as Priya sidled up to her side. “Why?” 

“Because it’s cold out here,” Priya shrugged. “And I have something to show you.” 

Tamtey raised a brow. “And it couldn’t wait until morning?” 

Priya rubbed the back of her neck. “It is technically morning.” 

Tamtey sighed, glancing down at the time displayed on the datapad Priya was holding. “Yeah, barely. But sure, invade my bed, why don’t you?”

“Thanks,” Priya grinned, settling deeper into Tamtey’s blankets and furs. 

Rolling her eyes, Tamtey asked dryly, “So? What is this super important thing you need to tell me?” 

At this, Priya’s face fell slightly. She hesitated, then opened a file folder on her datapad. 

“Before I begin, I—uh—I did a bad thing. I think? On Earth it would’ve been bad, but here I’m not so sure. I was just so lost, you know? I—I heard what happened—what Alma did. I needed to find something—”

“Priya,” Tamtey chided gently. 

The woman ceased her ramblings, taking a deep breath. “Right. I did a deep dive into the Resistance servers, and also into the little bit of RDA data you stole. Most of it was lost in the bombing, but I recovered some of it and looked specifically for files mentioning Alma or anything on the Sarentu. You know how we do datalogs from time to time, right? Audio and notes alike? Well, I found some, and…well, I think you should see them, too.” 

Tamtey straightened, her mind finally clearing as she took the datapad into her hands. Priya had organized all the files into one folder labeled ‘Stand Up Comedy’—no doubt to deter any prying eyes. She clicked on the first file, an audio recording. Even with the volume lowered out of consideration for the sleeping Na’vi around her, she heard Alma’s voice clearly. 

“We're going back,” Alma said, her voice tinged with some unreadable emotion. “Funny, TAP used to be all I thought about. But now it's just a dream we had. Before John lost his way. How did it all go so wrong? We were riding high. John's brilliant vision. And my star was rising in the academic field. Together we were unstoppable. We were gonna make a real difference. We could help the Na'vi-kind and humanity. Together. We all had to make sacrifices. Some…they made the ultimate sacrifice.” Tamtey’s eyes widened. The recording continued. “But the science, the progress. Yeah, we did what we thought was right to make TAP a reality. And now…TAP is just a tomb for our dead dreams. Or maybe not. Just maybe.”

Tamtey couldn’t help but bare her teeth slightly. “The RDA didn’t make the ultimate sacrifice,” she said bitterly. “My clan did. Murdered. All so TAP could exist.” 

Priya shuffled, eyes sad. “This isn’t the Alma I thought we knew. She never told us about you—the Sarentu. There was a spike of electrical activity at TAP. That’s why we went to check it out. We had no idea…” 

Tamtey wasn’t even surprised at this point. She just sighed and clicked to the next audio recording. Alma, again. 

“I should take more breaks from the linkbed. But the air outside, the smells, the sense of freedom. I just can't keep myself to these walls.” Alma’s voice was…light. She sounded at ease. Tamtey wouldn’t have bat an eye earlier, but now? She was filled with unease. “The kids must feel the same. To be outside for the first time must have been overwhelming for them. All that beauty. And so much danger. Teylan still seems a bit awkward with the change, though I think he likes it in HQ. So much for him to tinker with. Ri'nela asks all the right questions. She will be a leader one day. And Nor looks confident. Radiant, almost. No longer the moody teenager he used to be. I think they're all doing fine. Learning. Flourishing. Thanks to us. We made the right choice.”

Tamtey scoffed, feeling her ire spike. From the sounds of it, Alma had recorded this only a few days after they were ‘rescued’ from the remains of TAP. And the ‘us’? It was Mercer, no doubt. How could Alma still view that man in a positive light? The choices he’d made? How? But Alma still believed she made the right choice. Butchering Tamtey’s clan, kidnapping the children young enough to indoctrinate. The right choice. 

“This one was right after you guys got to HQ,” Priya said, pointing at the time stamp for the next file. This one was a note—text, innocently written in a document. The words, however, were just as damning, if not more so. 

PERSONAL NOTE: DR. ALMA CORTEZ

I should have gone back sooner. My God. Nearly 16 years. And it's like those years never passed. They all look the same. A little older, maybe, but their eyes... So young. Innocent. It's a miracle they survived. I never imagined they would. Well, sometimes, I did wonder. Perhaps. And then I pushed it out of my mind. But—it seemed impossible. IMPOSSIBLE. I couldn't have known. I suppose if I'm being honest with myself, I couldn't bear to go back. I didn't want to face it. To face them, after everything. The thought of TAP made me sick to my stomach. It still does. All those poor kids went through. And there's so much hurt in their eyes. So much accusation. Except from Teylan. He seems more confused than anything, but happy to be here. I should have checked. I should have FORCED myself to check. Will they hate me forever for leaving them there? It's ironic, really. If Mercer hadn't come back, the RDA would never have scanned for life signs at TAP. Priya would never have intercepted their call. So, thanks, John. You saved the kids, in a roundabout way. I'm sure you're kicking yourself.

“She was too wracked with…what? Guilt? Shame? To even see if we were alive? After leaving us there?” Tamtey was aghast. She looked down at Priya. The woman’s face was solemn. 

Tamtey swallowed her anger and clicked the next file. This was a record of the students at TAP, along with personal notes from Alma and Mercer.

TAP SCHOOL RECORDS

SUBJECT: Teylan

TEMPERAMENT: Eager to please. Ideal candidate to promote human aims. Gets distracted by tech. We should keep an eye on this aspect.

SKILLS: A malleable mouthpiece for TAP.

ADDITIONAL NOTE: Perhaps we can nurture Teylan's love of human technology. AC

SUBJECT: Ri'nela

TEMPERAMENT: Subject appears to be adapting to the program well. Some of the other subjects have a strong attachment to this one. Could be used to our advantage.

SKILLS: Articulate for a Na'vi.

ADDITIONAL NOTE: Agree that Ri'nela is a great candidate for TAP and has the trust of her Na'vi peers. She could go far with the right support. AC

SUBJECT: Nor

TEMPERAMENT: Can be surly. Needs discipline. Suggest stronger punishments to bring him in line.

SKILLS: Shows potential in weapons. Need to break down his resistance to human tech and channel his anger.

ADDITIONAL NOTE: Nor needs care, not discipline, in my opinion. Let's discuss next steps. AC

SUBJECT: Aha'ri

TEMPERAMENT: Displays disruptive and insubordinate behaviors. Strong discipline recommended. Too much influence over sibling and others. Suggest separation.

STATUS: Deceased

NOTES: Disciplinary issues. Subject was not suited to TAP. An unfortunate incident led to termination. JM

SUBJECT: Tamtey

TEMPERAMENT: Responds well to discipline and authority. Has proven capable in training, but is too affectionate with the other subjects. Not yet willing to commit loyalty to TAP. Suggest stronger punishments and methods of incentive.

SKILLS: Firearms. Recommend for combat missions, once loyalty to TAP is rock solid.

ADDITIONAL NOTE: Tamtey is far too young for combat. She is strong for her age, but we should proceed with caution. I will take this up with John myself. AC

ADDITIONAL NOTE: I was too much of a coward to write this when it happened. But I'll write it now. For all the kids. That was no 'unfortunate incident', John. You killed Aha'ri. A child. Because you can't stand dissent and you will crush it at any cost. That spirited girl was snuffed out. I tried my best to protect the others. But I fear it was not enough. What started as a dream will haunt me forever. I will make this right. Let the record state: John Mercer murdered Aha'ri. In cold blood! AC

“At least she took some responsibility?” Priya tried, searching for any sign she could find that Alma Cortez was the decent human being she’d believed her to be. 

Tamtey just shook her head, eyes lingering on Aha’ri’s name. “She didn’t try hard enough.” She clicked to the next file. Another note. 

OWNER: Dr. Alma Cortez

SUBJECT: TAP Con-1: The Kame'tire project update. Diplomatic conversations with the Kame'tire seem to be coming to an end. They just won't listen. I felt sure we could win them over, but this clan really doesn't like strangers. They are different from any Na'vi we've met before. It's so frustrating because they'd be the perfect subjects for TAP. They just won't cooperate. What we're trying to do here is so important and I don't know what we need to tell them to bring them on board. This is going to help their children and the entire future of the clan. They don't know what human culture could do to elevate them and all Na'vi kind. I just need time alone with the kids. With young, curious minds I can help Mercer nurture the ambassadors of the future. There's just so much I can learn. And even more we can teach them. The institutions back home won't believe it. I'd be responsible for the greatest strides in Na'vi/human relations ever. I have to make this work. I have to. John is getting impatient. I am too. I saw Harding slipping out of his office again, yesterday. Not sure why she's involved, but John assured he has a new plan to get the children, safely. This might be our last chance, so it has to succeed. Once we have them everything will be back on track.

“‘The perfect subjects’,” Tamtey echoed, voice hard. “‘Elevate us’ with human culture? What?”

“I don’t know how she didn’t know,” Priya said, shaking her head. “I find it hard to believe she fell for Mercer’s lies.” 

Tamtey’s ears swiveled. “What did Alma tell you, exactly?”

According to Ri’nela, during the brief time Tamtey spoke to her the night before, Alma’s human self had arrived at the Hideout shortly after Ri’nela and Anufi had finished transporting the Avatar’s wrapped body back from The Hollows. For the burial, apparently, which would take place at dawn. The Resistance members, quite obviously, had been curious and alarmed at Alma’s stabbing and Nor’s disappearance. They wanted answers. Alma had held a meeting that night to explain what happened. Neither Ri’nela nor Tamtey had been in attendance. 

Priya swallowed. “She said that she instructed you guys at TAP, and that she was there when the Sarentu were…killed. She said she had no idea Mercer planned to do what he did. But…by the time she found out, it was too late. So, she looked after you guys instead.” 

Tamtey couldn’t stifle the growl that escaped her. Priya flinched. Immediately, Tamtey settled, resting a hand gently on her friend’s shoulder. 

“I won’t hurt you,” Tamtey assured her, keeping her voice even and soft. “I’m just angry.”

“Understandably so!” Priya hissed, eyes wet. “She lied to us. Last night. I knew there was something missing from her story, that’s why I looked through these records. She’d have to be stupid to miss the signs, and she’s not stupid.”

Tamtey nodded. “She knew. Maybe she didn’t want to admit it to herself, but she knew. The fact that, even now, she thinks she did the right thing? I…I don’t think she’ll ever take full responsibility.” 

“So, what do we do?” Priya asked, frustrated. “Banish her? Is that even allowed? We don’t have a prison or anything, either, and…well…”

“She’s the head of the Resistance,” Tamtey finished. “At least here, on the Western Frontier.” 

Priya nodded. “After the tragedy at the old HQ, we can’t lose any more officers. But…she’s not the Alma I thought I knew. She wanted to hang out today, after the burial, but…I can’t look at her the same. Not with what I know. And I don’t even know all of it, do I?”

Tamtey was silent for a moment. “Do you want to know?” 

After a beat, Priya nodded shakily. 

So, Tamtey told her. She told her about TAP Con-1 and the recording in Alma’s office. She told her about the yavä’ and the Sarentu Moot site, and the chemicals used to dispose of her clan. She told her about Anufi and Mokasa, and the betrayal that served as a death warrant for the Sarentu. Then, she told her about Anufi’s reaction to seeing Alma, and the barrage of lies that sent Nor over the edge. Finally, she told her about seeing Alma’s memories in Eywa, and the fact that Alma had been a part of it all from the very beginning. 

At the end of her recount, Priya was crying. Fat tears that pooled in the bottom of Priya’s mask, clouding the glass from the inside. “I’m so sorry, Tamtey,” she wept. 

Tamtey felt her eyes mist, but the tears didn’t fall from her eyes. “I don’t know how to move forward,” she admitted with a sigh. “The Resistance can’t afford for her to leave, but I can’t follow her orders. Not anymore. Not after…this.” 

Priya sniffled. “Then don’t follow her orders. Fight for what you want to fight for.”

It wasn’t that easy, Tamtey knew. She’d have to see Alma frequently. She’d have to talk to her, live alongside her. It would be torture. 

In the silence, Priya spoke again. Slowly, hesitantly, as if uttering the words would make them come true. “...Or you could leave. Like Nor.” 

And isn’t that what Tamtey had wanted, months ago? To leave the Resistance and shake off the last stain of the RDA? This was as much as an out as she’d ever be afforded. But…she couldn’t, could she? The RDA was spreading like a plague across the Western Frontier, leaving death and pollution in its wake. She’d built relationships with three clans, united them under a cause. She was the bridge between the Na’vi and the Resistance. Not Alma. 

“No,” Tamtey said finally. “I won’t leave. Maybe at one point this was Alma’s Resistance. Not anymore. Now, it's mine.” 

“Your Resistance,” Priya echoed, testing the words. A small smile graced her face. “I like it. Will you make me an officer?”

Tamtey blinked. “You’re not an officer already?”

Priya steeled her features, waving a dismissive hand. “Yeah, totally. I’m a…super important officer. Yup. I was just, uh, testing you. You passed.”

Raising a brow, Tamtey huffed a laugh. “Okay, sure. Officer Priya Chen.” 

Then, Priya made a noise in the back of her throat. “So, uh, how are you gonna take the Resistance from Alma?” 

“I’m not taking it,” Tamtey told her friend. “She’s going to tell me everything I need to know. Then, she’ll give it to me. Voluntarily.”

Priya arched an eyebrow. “Uh huh. And how do you know she’s gonna give it to you?”

“Oh, Priya,” Tamtey said with a too-bright smile, patting her friend on the head. “Just leave that to me.”

Priya squinted at her. “You’re totally creepy sometimes, you know that?” 

Tamtey flipped her off. 

A few minutes later, Tamtey had thanked Priya for the information, as jarring as it had been, and had encouraged her friend to get some sleep. The purple-haired woman had blinked innocently at Tamtey, mentioned something about coffee, then scuttled back to the oxygenated area of the Hideout. 

Try as she might, Tamtey could not will herself back to sleep. Her mind was abuzz with the events of the last two days, her self-inflicted responsibility over the Resistance, and the fact that, in a few hours, she would come face to face with Alma Cortez as they buried her Avatar. 

Sighing restlessly, Tamtey buried her nose in So’lek’s blanket and waited for dawn to come. 

The burial spot, they’d decided, would be a short way from the front entrance of the Resistance Hideout, a patch of soft earth near the base of the cliff. Alma was already there when Tamtey arrived, her human form small and weak-looking in the mists. The grave had been dug the night before by a small group of helpful Kame’tire, and Alma stood at the edge of it, staring sorrowfully at her linen-wrapped Avatar body. A small crowd had formed, consisting of a few Resistance members, some curious Kame’tire, So’lek, Ri’nela, and Tamtey. Nobody spoke as Alma began shoveling dirt into the grave. Only when sweat began dripping down Alma’s mask-covered face did Tamtey step in, using her hands to push the remaining soil into the earthen grave. She did not do so out of kindness, but of absolution. In her mind, she buried the false version of Alma she’d grown up with—authoritative, well-meaning, almost motherly. Wordlessly, without prompting, Ri’nela knelt beside Tamtey and helped her finish. 

When the Sarentu women were done, they stepped back from the grave, dirty hands clasped as they let their eyes linger on the patch of earth. There was some shuffling amidst the gathered crowd. Then, with slowness, they began to disperse. 

Not a single word had been spoken. 

So’lek met Tamtey’s eyes, held them for a heartbeat, then inclined his head. He left with the last of the funeral goers. 

Only Tamtey, Ri’nela, and Alma remained.

“How does a person mourn for themselves?” Alma asked quietly after several minutes. “My own body is a stranger to me.” She shifted on her feet, boots scraping against the rocky soil. “I look down at these hands, and I…it’s like I stepped out of my skin.” 

Tamtey looked down at Alma, lips pursed. “It was never you. The real you.”

Alma smiled sadly. “Wasn’t it? Don’t they say the body is inseparable from the mind?” She sighed. “I’ll miss being out here, freely. Watching this world through glass, I feel separate. From Pandora. From you. After so many years…the Avatar felt like my true self.” 

Ri’nela scoffed. “You wore that skin so long, you forgot your true self underneath. That does not make you Na’vi.” Her clanmate’s tail lashed, and some of Ri’nela’s anger made itself known. “Did it make your sins easier to bear?” She demanded. “Playing make believe?”

Alma’s eyes found Ri’nela’s. “I understand the pain you’re feeling—”

Ri’nela hissed. “You understand nothing. All this time, I thought you a friend. A mentor. Someone who only wanted to protect us.” She bared her teeth, fangs flashing. “Aha’ri knew our families would never abandon us. And you let us believe it all the same!” 

Tamtey knew the pain in her clanmate’s heart. She knew she was going through every single one of her memories, looking at them through a new lens. Dissecting all the times they’d been manipulated, indoctrinated, and lied to. 

“I know there’s nothing I can say to make this better,” Alma pleaded. “But, I—I promise, I—”

Ri’nela took a step forward, eyes narrowed. Her next words were low, menacing. “Your promises are worthless. Ashes in your mouth.”

Alma flinched back, nearly losing her balance over the uneven ground. As she righted herself, she reached a desperate hand toward the Sarentu. “Ri’nela, please.”

Ri’nela paid the human no mind, hissing one last time before stalking away from the burial site, back into the Hideout. 

Tamtey remained behind. Alma looked up at her, hope-filled eyes brimming with tears. She wanted forgiveness. She wouldn’t get that from Tamtey. 

“Ri’nela’s right,” Tamtey said firmly. “In that form, you gave us nothing but lies. There can be no forgiveness here.” 

Alma’s shoulders drooped. “You don’t—you don’t have to forgive me, but…how can I make this right?” 

Tamtey crouched so she was at eye-level with Alma. 

“I know I cannot make you realize the severity of your mistakes,” Tamtey said evenly. “Nor can I make you take responsibility for your actions. There is a lot I could tell you right now. Hell, I could even finish what Nor started.”

At that, Alma blanched, body tensing in preparation to flee. 

“But I won’t,” Tamtey continued with finality. “Because we have a common goal, you and I. To rid Pandora of the RDA. Unite the clans. Strengthen the Resistance. Is that right?”

Swallowing roughly, Alma nodded. Her hands twisted at the hem of her shirt, a nervous tic. The very same nervous tic Tamtey adopted from her decades ago. 

Her eyes boring into Alma’s dark ones, Tamtey’s heart hardened. “You’ve done a good job with the Resistance so far. The humans, they trust you. Maybe a little less now, but they still respect you. That’s important. That will be helpful when they respect your decision to give command of the Resistance to me.” 

Alma straightened, eyes widening. She searched Tamtey’s face. She found only stone. 

“You’ll keep your duties. Your job. You will keep in contact with Toruk Makto, just as you have since you left the RDA. That will not change. However, you will now run every decision by me and Ri’nela. From the most inconsequential to the most drastic. I hear it all. And the final decision is mine.” Tamtey leaned in closer. “My mission is to protect Pandora. Even from you. I will not fail.” 

Speech concluded, Tamtey stood to her full height. Alma was so small in comparison. Her influence over Tamtey’s life would be even smaller from here on out. 

Tamtey regarded Alma for several heartbeats. “Do you understand?” 

The human woman’s dark skin was beading with nervous sweat. She opened and closed her mouth several times, wishing to speak but unsure of what to say. Finally, with great reluctance and even greater effort, Alma nodded. 

“Good.” Tamtey turned to leave, but a weak voice stopped her. 

“Wait,” Alma croaked, looking up at her. “Is this revenge? For your clan?” 

Tamtey looked over her shoulder, staring at Alma coldly. “No. You took my family from me. I am gracious enough to let you keep the one you formed with your people. So, no, Alma. This is not revenge. I am simply escaping the shackles you placed on me. Your kind started this war, and for my kind I will help end it.” 

Alma dropped to her knees, like a puppet with its strings severed. 

Tamtey turned and walked away. 

She found Ri’nela in the sleeping nook, sniffling as she ate tiny bites from a bowl of spiced eggs. Tamtey recognized the signature scent of So’lek’s favorite seasoning blend, even if the man himself was nowhere to be seen. She felt her heart warm with fondness—he knew Ri’nela needed space, but he’d remembered how she’d forget to eat when she was stressed. So, he’d made Ri’nela eggs and given her time to grieve. Tamtey couldn’t wait to have that man as her mate. She sat down next to her clanmate, allowing Ri’nela time to process and finish her breakfast. After several heartbeats and a few more tears, Ri’nela spoke. 

“We really were alone all this time,” Ri’nela sniffled. “The one person we thought was on our side? The one person protecting us from Mercer and Harding? A liar.” Her bowl of eggs empty, Ri’nela pitched it across the room, sneering. “Saving us from a slaughterhouse. Embracing us crying and bloody, mistaking herself for a mother. Mourning for the orphans that her own ambition made. Mourning for the families it destroyed. Only to cover our eyes and ears while wrapping us in her arms. And now, she asks for forgiveness and expects us to mourn her disguise? The stolen skin she hid under all these years?” She buried her face in her palms, sighing. “Yet at the same time, I must don a mask as well. Put aside my own pain to tend to that of the others. To be calm, level-headed, and look for the way forward. Because that is what a leader does. Forgiveness is something that can only be found with time, if at all. Time, which we have precious little of right now.”

Tamtey felt her heart break for her clanmate. “I’ve let you bear this mantle alone for too long. For that, I apologize, tsmuke.”

A tear slid down Ri’nela’s cheek. “All we had was each other, and now we’ve lost both Nor and Teylan. Lost them to deception, anger, shame. All of it right there, under my nose.”

“You cannot blame yourself,” Tamtey told her clanmate gently. She didn’t touch Ri’nela, knew her clanmate wouldn’t take kindly to that, but she caught her eyes. 

“I don’t,” Ri’nela said. “I blame her. Alm—Cortez. I don’t even know who she is anymore.”

“She doesn’t seem to know either.”

Ri’nela scoffed. “Is it surprising? Lies on top of more lies. All this time. She said she was protecting us, but really she was protecting herself.”

Tamtey considered this, then nodded. “With or without her, we have to find a way forward.” 

“I am all too aware,” Ri’nela said, her eyes hard. 

“Good.” Tamtey said. “Because you no longer have to bear this burden alone. You are my sister.”

Ri’nela’s eyes met hers, shocked at the title. Tamtey had never called Ri’nela her sister before. It felt right, now. 

“Aha’ri would want it to be so,” Tamtey continued gently. “You are tsakarem of the Sarentu. I am the emissary. And together, we are the leaders of the Resistance. For our people, we will be strong. Around each other, however, you needn’t wear a mask. It is okay to feel, ma Ri’nela.” 

Ri’nela nodded once, shakily, then again. She shifted closer, so she could hold Tamtey’s hand. Then, slowly, she broke. 

The colors of dusk bled into the horizon as Tamtey rose above the clouds. Its colors—orange, magenta, and violet—swirling like the fog below her. They were up so high. The clouds and fog of the Clouded Forest seemed to merge into a blanket of white and grey beneath Telisi’s mighty wings. The stars glittered like fresh morning dew in the night sky, and the brilliance of Polyphemus cast her and So’lek both in the gentlest light. 

“It’s beautiful up here!” Tamtey called over the wind. 

“It is.” He replied, golden eyes sparkling as they met hers. 

So’lek directed Ìley to hover in front of Telisi. The two ikran chirruped at each other as their riders shared a smile. 

They were so high, the ground several kilometers away. Even the largest pines of the Clouded Forest looked to be mere pinpricks below. Their destination, however, was still quite a flight away. Crying Giant, So’lek had called it; a towering, behemoth of a mountain, its peaks flared like a massive stone flower. Between each peak, water cascaded from huge waterfalls. Telisi and Ìley swooped around and through the sprays, delighting in flight as their riders laughed. They continued to fly up, up, up, the air growing thinner and cooler as they rose in altitude. Then, with a final burst of energy, Telisi beat her mighty wings and they crested a waterfall. 

Tamtey felt her breath leave her. How beautiful. 

A lake, blue and sparkling in the middle of the mountaintop, fed the waterfalls. Each peak had a corresponding landmass, rich with trees and flora of all kinds. An island lay in the middle of the lake, and large stones within the lake formed makeshift bridges from each of the landmasses. 

They landed on one of the peaks, dismounting and hiking down toward the lake. Tamtey was in awe as they walked, committing each new sight and sensation to memory. She almost missed So’lek watching her, his eyes soft and fond as she explored this new terrain. Blushing slightly, she averted her eyes. 

Then, the lake came into view. It was even more beautiful up close, the water seeming to glimmer like a gem as she beheld its vastness. The soil was less rocky on the lake’s edge, and she wiggled her toes in the silt. 

“It’s like it’s very own ecosystem up here,” Tamtey breathed, kneeling to brush the top of the flowing water with the tips of her fingers. The entire lake rippled, alive with water being actively created and pushed upward from vents deep inside the mountain. The water itself was the clearest blue Tamtey had ever seen. The air was cool and crisp at such a high altitude, and rich with the aroma of pines and sweet flowers that grew among the flatter, dryer patches of earth around her. 

“I’ve wanted to show you this place since I found it,” So’lek told her, extending a hand so he could pull her to her feet. His eyes were oh-so-soft, and his tanhi pulsed brilliantly. She wanted to kiss each star-like dot. “But this isn’t what I wanted to show you.” 

She blinked. “It’s not?” 

But the place was so beautiful, so peaceful. What else could there be? 

“Come,” So’lek prompted, grasping her hand as he tugged her gently along. Together, they crossed a thin line of partially submerged boulders leading to the island in the middle of the lake. So’lek maneuvered so he was behind her, hands braced by her waist as if to catch her should she slip on the mossy surface. 

Water burbled as it flowed past the large rocks, spraying her ankles. She flexed her toes with each step, delighted by the sensation. In fact, she was so enamored by the sensory details of their walk that she stumbled slightly when they arrived on the bank of the small island. At once, So’lek’s hands found her waist, steadying her. She barely contained a gasp, suddenly hyperfocused on the feeling of his hands, hot and callused and strong, pressed against the bare skin beneath her ribs. 

“Thanks,” she whispered, stunned at her own visceral reaction to his touch. 

So’lek chuckled, low and deep in her ear, fingers brushing her skin. His voice was tinged with humor when he spoke, “Watch your step, Sarentu.” 

Her tail butted against his leg, and she wrapped it oh-so-briefly around his upper thigh. The hands on her waist twitched. 

She laughed, a twinkling sound, and stepped out of his grasp, spinning to face him. There was color on his cheeks, and his golden eyes sparkled with amusement. Her tail curled upwards, and she smirked. 

“What’s taking you so long, mighty warrior?” She taunted. “Didn’t you have something to show me?” 

He blinked, then scoffed. “Bold words for someone who was almost defeated by some rocks.” 

“That’s right,” she purred. “What would I do without you?” 

So’lek rolled his eyes, grasping her hand so he could tug her further inland. She let him pull her along gently, treasuring the feeling of her hand encased in his. 

“I found this while foraging up here,” he began. “As soon as I saw it, I knew I would bring you to this place.” 

“It?” She asked as they walked on an overgrown path, ferns and foliage brushing their calves. 

“This.” So’lek moved aside the frond of a large, pink fern, allowing her to peer into a small clearing. 

Tamtey gasped. “A tarsyu!” 

The magnificent flower unfurled as she stepped closer to it, aware of her presence and welcoming her as Sarentu. 

“I didn’t know there were any tarsyu here,” she breathed, delighted. “Though I should have assumed…” 

Her voice trailed off as she saw the thick woven blanket set up a short ways away, weighed down by rocks. A couple cushions had been placed on the blanket, and in the middle, a basket sat innocently. 

“What’s this?” She asked, recognizing the items from the cave the Sarentu used at the old Resistance HQ. 

So’lek led her to the blanket, kneeling so he could pull a couple wax lamps from the basket. As he lit them, she settled next to him. 

“I figured we could share a meal,” he told her, the gentle light from the lamps making his eyes glow. “It’s not much—some dried meat and fruit—but it’s better than talking on an empty stomach.” 

Tamtey felt her heart soar, an indescribable fondness swelling within her. She watched him set a large platter down between them, smiling at the sight of dried and salted lean meat alongside a variety of dried fruits from the Kinglor Forest. 

“Irayo,” she said gently, taking little nibbles. The food was a welcome surprise, and her empty stomach was quite grateful for the sustenance. 

Together, they ate from the platter. The silence was comfortable, and they existed peacefully within each other’s presence. When So’lek took a measured breath, his tail swishing, she knew he was going to speak.

“I told you about my clan,” he began, looking into her eyes. “How I found them after the Battle of Ayram Alusing.”

“Yes,” she recalled. “The RDA passed through Tyrr’ong territory to get to the Hallelujah Mountains. They…”

“They killed them all,” So’lek said. “Yes. I discovered them, after. Found their bodies, but…I wasn’t around for their massacre.” 

Ah, Tamtey thought. 

“I witnessed much death that day, however,” he continued. “Did I ever tell you about Wawen?”

She shook her head. 

A pained smile flashed across his face. “He was my mentor. He taught me how to hunt, and how to be a man. We trained together for many years. He was at my iknimaya, and the first to meet my Mamante. He became my best friend.” So’lek swallowed, eyes lowering briefly as he remembered. His hand came up to his necklace, touching the dog tags. “It is tradition of the Tyrr’ong to honor their hunts by wearing mementos. It is like a songcord, in a way. Wawen’s had the claws of a nantang, his first successful hunt. He added to it during the time he mentored me.” 

When So’lek took a shuddering breath, Tamtey reached forward and grabbed his hand. He squeezed it, eyeing her gratefully. “He was shot down first, during the battle. Seeing him fall…it was the first time I knew true rage. When I was shot down, when the Sky People murdered my Mamante…” He shook his head. “I knew vengeance, then. I killed the ones who shot her.” He fingered three dog tags on his necklace, worn with time. “I found Wawen, after. His body, broken. He’d survived the fall, though. He lived long enough to crawl to his ikran.”

Tamtey gasped, tears springing to her eyes. 

“I have his necklace, you know. Hidden somewhere safe. I knew I wouldn’t be able to bury him, or the other Tyrr’ong who died at Ayram Alusing. I was hoping the rest of my clan could help me, when I returned…”

At this, she glanced up at him, heart breaking for the young hunter he’d been. Their situations, while similar enough to empathize with one another, carried different scars. He’d lost his entire clan in the span of a day. She had, too, but she hadn’t found out with any surety until today, decades after. 

“Then, there was Txuratrri,” So’lek sighed. “A hunter, like me, who fought at Ayram Alusing. She made her way back to the decimated camp of our clan. She survived long enough for me to bring her to the Tree of Souls. When she died, I knew I was the last.” 

Tamtey sniffled and let her tears fall. She wept for the Tyrr’ong, like So’lek had wept for the Sarentu earlier that day. She brought his hands to her lips and pressed a kiss to his knuckles. Little white scars flecked his hands, evidence of the countless battles he’d raged against the RDA since Ayram Alusing. She kissed each one she could see. They kept their hands clasped between them. Then, Tamtey began to speak. 

“I visited TAP Con-1 yesterday,” she began. “An older TAP facility, deep within the yavä’. It was where we were processed, after we were taken. I remember very little of it, but…being there…it caused me to recall bits and pieces.” She swallowed. “I know we were there for several days. Possibly weeks. It had to be evacuated once the yavä’ spread, but we were there long enough. The RDA, they—they took our blood. Tissue samples. Took away our clothes and toys. They sanitized us. I think Aha’ri was beaten. Nor, too. All I remember from that time is fear.” So’lek squeezed her hands as she took a deep, shaky breath. “Then, TAP. The one in the Kinglor Forest. Alma—she told us our families abandoned us. Gave us up. Aha’ri always denied that, and now I know why. But, when she was killed, we believed it. We grew up thinking we were worthless. Forgotten. We weren’t true Na’vi, and we could never be human. We were some twisted amalgamation of the two. Even Avatars were respected by the RDA more than we were. We were monsters.” She felt a tear slide down her cheek. “Mercer and Harding—they did things to us. Horrible things. It was abuse, I know this now, but…at the time, we felt like we deserved it.” She shrugged. “I got really good at training. Any weapon they taught us, I excelled.” A sneer. “I made Mercer proud. It was the biggest mistake of my life.” 

“You were just a child,” So’lek told her gently. “You were doing your best to survive.” 

She huffed, self-loathing evident in every line of her body. “I made it worse, though. By trying to appease him, I made it worse. For all of us. Nor was beaten, over and over again because he wouldn’t accept the weapons like I did. Ri’nela got good, but…something in her died. Teylan made himself love human things. He studied, got good at technology. I got good at weaponry. It brought…unwanted attention to us both. I’ll never forgive myself for that.” 

So’lek’s eyes searched hers. She let him look, let him see the darkness twisting her spirit. Will you still want me? She thought bitterly. After this?

“My thoughts used to be consumed by gunfire,” he said instead. “When I was asleep and when I was awake. Even now, Ayram Alusing haunts me. My path led me to the Kinglor Forest, to teach the Resistance. I taught them to fight, to hunt, to heal. To live on Eywa’eveng and not be consumed. In return, they taught me Sky People weapons. Metal. I kill the RDA with the same metal they used to butcher my clan. Instead of mementos from my hunts, I wear their metal tags around my neck. Trophies of vengeance, not honor. We have both been scarred by this war. Changed irrevocably. But we will overcome.” 

He brought her hands to his lips, kissing her scars just like she kissed his. They were two edges of the same blade. Forced to become warriors, forced to fight. They’d lost their clans to the Sky People, and had given up part of themselves to fight back. They bore the same sins. And now, they fought for the same cause. 

“The RDA will regret letting us live,” Tamtey said firmly, meeting his eyes. “They will regret ever returning to Pandora.” 

“Yes,” So’lek agreed. “They will no longer steal our life from us. Nor from the people we protect.” 

Tamtey nodded. 

“That being said,” So’lek leaned closer, squeezing her palms. “I will not let this war consume me any longer. There is life beyond revenge and suffering. You have shown me that.” He smiled, tattoos crinkling. “Ever since the day you arrived at Resistance HQ, you have faced every challenge, fought every battle. United clans. All while learning how to be Na’vi—to be Sarentu. You look at Eywa’eveng with such wonder. You hunt with respect. You love with ferocity. The Sky People tried to steal your life away from you, and you have denied them at every turn.” Still keeping one hand clasped in his, he brought the other to her cheek, cupping it softly. “You inspire me.” 

She felt heat rush to her cheeks, and she was certain he could feel it. She opened her mouth to speak, but he brought his thumb over her lips. 

“Let me finish,” he chided teasingly, smile widening. “You inspire me. To be better. To live. It would be an honor to court you.” 

Tamtey felt her heart skip a beat, eyes widening. Did he really just…? The words she’d only dreamed of, he just uttered. This is real. 

She made a sound, something between a laugh and a sob. Her eyes misted and she smiled, wide and bright. 

She leaned into his palm. “I’d love nothing more.” 

The smile that graced So’lek’s face was the widest, most joyful smile she’d ever seen on him. It warmed something inside her, sparked a fondness for him she’d never experienced until now.

“You have a look in your eyes,” So’lek said, searching her face. “You can speak freely with me.” 

Her smile widened. “I am just thinking. It is a privilege to make you smile like that. Sitting here, with you.” She brought her hand up to cover the one he held against her cheek. “You want me to be yours. I can barely comprehend it.” 

So’lek brought his other hand up, cupping her face. He pulled her forward gently, pressing his lips to her forehead. 

“You are so full of life,” he murmured between pecks. He kissed her once over each eye, then again on her forehead. “I am going to court you properly. Slowly. With the reverence you deserve.” He kissed beneath her right eye. “You will experience courtship the Na’vi way.” He tilted her face again, then pressed his lips to her mark. He lingered there for a heartbeat, cherishing the raised mark beneath the sensitive skin of his lips. “And if you choose to accept me, after I have courted you, we will mate before Eywa.” 

Her entire body flushed. His breath was hot against her skin, his lips the sweetest fire. She arched, lips parting. 

He chuckled against her, pulling back. When he looked at her, his gaze heavy, she saw how blown his eyes were. His skin, flushed and dark, his tanhi shining brilliantly. 

“I cannot—will not—kiss you, yet,” he breathed, yet his eyes continued to fall to her lips. 

“Wha—” She stuttered, heart pounding. “Why?”

He smirked, turning so he could grab something from the basket. When he faced her again, he held a small silk bag in his hand, dyed a deep red. When he handed it to her, she recognized the exquisite strength and softness of kinglor silk. He nodded at her and she loosed the braided tie holding it closed. Inside the bag was a wooden carving. She pulled it free with gentle fingers. 

“Oh!” She gasped, tracing the smooth, polished wood with a reverent touch. The figure was painted with vibrant pigments, its pattern that of the most beautiful dusk. An ikran, in flight. “It’s Telisi.” 

She was in awe. He’d captured her bonded’s spirit perfectly, carved wings flared wide as she caught an updraft, face tilted toward the Pandoran sky. Even her ikran’s intricate coloring had been lovingly copied onto this wooden miniature that fit perfectly in her palms. How long had he observed Telisi, committing her coloring to memory? He’d captured her personality exquisitely, highlighting her ikran’s fierce love of Eywa’eveng, her fearlessness in the skies. 

He’d immortalized the one she held dearest to her heart, the being who proved she was Na’vi. 

“Ma So’lek,” she said with wonder and gratitude, eyes misting. “Irayo.” 

He smiled softly. “It is a courtship gift. The first of many. As per tradition, I initiate and make my intentions clear; I wish to court you. The gift is yours whether you choose to accept me or not.”

She cradled the wooden ikran to her chest. “How do I accept?”

“With a gift of your own. There are no rules, per se, but it is telling if your gift reflects how well you know the recipient.”

She considered this, tail coiling. 

“And if I refuse?”

So’lek’s eyes widened briefly, as if the thought hadn’t ever occurred to him that she’d refuse him now. 

She saw the alarm in his eyes and rushed to reassure him. “I have no intention of refusing you, ma So’lek. I just wish to know.” 

He visibly settled, loosing a breath. “In the case of a refusal, your only responsibility would be communication. As promptly as possible.” 

She nodded, filing away the information. “Very well. I’ve never…done this before. Or learned, for that matter. What if I mess it up?” 

So’lek’s eyes softened. “You will not mess it up. If you have questions about anything, talk to me. We will do this together.” 

“Together.” She smiled. “I like that. I am excited…and a little afraid.” 

He pulled her close, tucking her body against his side. “I do not wish for you to be afraid.” 

“I know,” she told him, resting her head against his shoulder. “This is new, and I am nervous. But…this is you. Being near you quells my fears.”

He smiled, pressing his lips to the top of her head. “Good.” 

A growl echoed in the space. 

Tamtey flushed, smiling sheepishly as her stomach made its protestations known. 

“I think I am still hungry,” she muttered, embarrassed. 

So’lek laughed, jostling her slightly. “Good thing I have one more gift. This one is for us to share.” 

From the basket, he produced another bag. This one was wax-coated for transporting food. He opened it, setting it between them. Inside, she found a variety of nuts from the Upper Plains. Roasted and caramelized, shiny with a clear, hard coating. She ate one, exclaiming delightedly at the flavors on her tongue. 

“It’s so sweet!” She happily ate another. “How?” 

“Stagfly ant nectar,” he said. “Melted and boiled, with the addition of sweet plant milk. The nuts were roasted and then tossed in the mixture.” 

“It’s really good!” She chirped. “I’ve never even heard of this before. Is it Tyrr’ong?”

So’lek flushed suddenly, averting his eyes. 

“What is it?”

He coughed. “Well, no. It’s not Tyrr’ong. It was…Alex’s idea, actually.”

She blinked. “Really?” 

His flush spread, the tips of his ears darkening. “Yes. On earth, they’re called ‘candied nuts’. I, uh, told him I wanted to make you something sweet, but we had very limited ingredients. He…gave me ideas.”

Her brows raised. She remembered the last time she’d tried one of Alex’s experimental foods. “But…this is actually good?” 

He grinned. “It is. I made it several times to get it just right.”

She hummed, popping a handful into her mouth. When she swallowed, tail flicking with delight, she asked, “So, you told Alex you planned to court me?” 

At this, So’lek rubbed the back of his neck. “…I did.” 

She grinned. “I didn’t know you trust him that much.” 

So’lek blinked, then barked a laugh. “Trust Alexander Tremayne. I guess I do.” He smirked, bumping her shoulder with his own. “Want to hear a story?” 

She smiled, sidling up to him. “Of course.” 

“He was the first human I met,” So’lek told her, voice warm with amusement. “When I arrived in the Western Frontier, I attacked an RDA aircraft. Got myself taken prisoner.” 

She sat upright, staring at him. “What?” 

He nodded. “It was a decently sized base, too, though the brig was lacking. I found myself sharing a cell with Alex. He was kind to me, even between bouts of interrogation.” So’lek huffed. “Even after I threatened his life on multiple occasions, he helped me. We decided to break out together. We destroyed the base, similar to the way you do now. After, he led me to HQ.” 

Tamtey sat back. “Wow. So that’s how you got involved with the Resistance. I was always curious, you know.” 

His tail flicked. “It was a small bunch, at first. Even smaller than now. None of them were fighters.” 

“So you taught them.” 

“So I taught them.” 

Tamtey hummed, eating another candied nut. “I suppose I should thank Alex, then.” 

So’lek raised a brow. “Oh?”

She nodded. “If he never led you to HQ, we probably would’ve never met.”

So’lek considered it, then nodded. “Perhaps. But do not tell him. He will gloat.” 

Tamtey snickered. “No promises.”

They chatted idly for another hour, swapping more light-hearted stories about their journeys around the Western Frontier, sharing the bag of candied nuts. Tamtey remained tucked under So’lek’s arm, nestled against his side. Every so often, between sentences, So’lek would rub his cheek over the crown of her head, marking her with his scent. As the stars continued to glitter in the sky, Telisi and Ìley began to chase each other in the sky, trilling and chirping. 

“…and that is why it is dangerous to sleep near a den of nantang.” So’lek chuckled. “They can be on you in an instant.”

Tamtey laughed at the Tyrr’ong warrior’s expense, wiping a mirthful tear from the corner of her eye. “That sounds like something I would do! It’s reassuring to know you weren’t always the seasoned warrior.” 

The warrior in question huffed amusedly. “At one time, I was a gangly teen. Believe it or not.” 

Tamtey couldn’t imagine So’lek as gangly. “I definitely wish I could’ve seen that.” 

He tweaked her braid in response, then caught her eyes. They were both nearly breathless after bouts of laughing, their cheeks permanently colored. Tanhi pulsed in tune with their heartbeats. 

Slowly, So’lek leaned in, holding her chin between a thumb and forefinger. 

Tamtey’s breath caught, heat flooding her body. 

“It’s going to be so hard not to kiss you,” So’lek murmured under his breath. 

Tamtey shivered, lips parting. 

So’lek’s eyes dilated, lowering to her lips. His tail whipped behind him. 

When he leaned in, Tamtey’s eyes fluttered shut. She knew him well enough to know he wouldn’t kiss her lips, despite the very obvious urge. She anticipated any kiss he offered, though. 

His lips brushed over the tip of her nose, then up to her forehead. He brought his lips down, lingered again over her mark, then pressed his cheek to hers. A deep, rumbling purr emanated from him. 

“Soon,” she assured him, her voice low. Her hand rose and buried in the hair at the nape of his neck. She tugged slightly and heard his purr deepen into something guttural. 

“You’re going to make this wait very hard,” So’lek growled softly, tilting his head so he could kiss below her ear. 

She sighed in contentment, eyes fluttering. 

Then, he bit her. 

It wasn’t a hard bite, per se, but a scrape of his fangs down from the place he was kissing to right over her carotid. 

She burned. Some unholy noise escaped her and she tore herself from his grip. 

At once, So’lek’s eyes found hers, wide and concerned. “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” 

Tamtey panted, trembling. “No. No, not at all.”

“Did you…not like it? I apologize, I—”

“No,” she said again, blushing furiously. “I liked it. Too much.” 

So’lek blinked. Then his nostrils flared. 

“Oh.” 

Tamtey wanted to throw herself from the mountain. 

So’lek made a weird sound in his throat, then he started laughing. At her. 

Tamtey gaped at him, the heat in her face rising to an inferno. She sputtered. “How—are you laughing at me? Rude!” 

Guffaws lessened until only chuckles escaped him. 

“Do not worry, ma yawntutsyìp,” he reassured her, his voice warm. “I am not judging you.” 

She flushed slightly at the term of endearment, joy coiling in her chest. “But you are laughing.” 

So’lek smiled. “I laugh because I am happy, ma Tamtey. It is…nice to have such an effect on you.” 

She huffed. 

“Besides,” he continued, meeting her eyes. Such a warm gold. “It is not as if it did not affect me, either.” 

Tamtey couldn’t help herself. She glanced down. 

A squeak escaped her, and oh if she wasn’t blushing before, she was most certainly blushing now. 

So’lek was laughing again, entirely unconcerned with her overheating self. 

“That’s—um,” Tamtey stuttered, directing her eyes skyward. “Nothing to be—uh—embarrassed about—”

“I am not embarrassed.” His voice was teasing. 

She squeaked again. “You know—it’s been a lovely night, truly, but—uh—you know what sounds really good right now?” She didn’t give him time to answer. “Bed. Sleep, I mean. Yeah, I’m on to something there—”

Tamtey stood abruptly, pausing just long enough to lovingly tuck the wooden ikran back into its silk bag. Then she got to work putting the platters back in the basket. 

“Tamtey,” So’lek drawled, still incredibly smug. He leaned close. 

She twirled out of his reach, face burning. 

He chuckled at her antics, helping make sure everything was packed and ready to return with them. When she continued to avoid his eyes, So’lek just laughed and called Ìley down so he could attach the basket to his ikran’s harness. Once everything was secure, Ìley flew back up to join Telisi in the sky. 

The syuratan of the Crying Giant pulsed around them as they walked to the edge of the grand cliff. A waterfall roared beside them, its waters falling hundreds of thousands of feet to the ground below. They couldn’t even see the ground, that’s how high up they stood. Only swirling clouds and fog beneath them. 

“I am happy you are courting me,” Tamtey said softly, her voice just audible above the waterfall. 

So’lek glanced at her, noting how her cheeks still held residual heat and color. He smiled. “I am happy to court you.” 

Tamtey finally met his eyes, her own smile wide and bright. Her eyes sparkled. “So happy, in fact, that I can do this.” 

With a teasing wink, Tamtey spun on her heels and tilted backward, falling from the very top of the Crying Giant. 

So’lek gasped and rushed forward, immediately leaping after her. 

They plummeted. 

Wind ripped at So’lek’s braids, stinging his eyes. He looked over at the woman he sought to court. 

Tamtey had her eyes closed against the rushing wind, arms wide as if embracing the air as she fell. She was laughing, wild and carefree. Then, with a whoop, she called for her ikran. 

As Telisi dove alongside her, positioning herself so she could catch Tamtey upon her back, So’lek called for Ìley. Within seconds, they were both flying atop their ikran, swooping through the fog of the Clouded Forest. 

Tamtey tilted her head to the sky and echoed an ululating cry, allowing her voice to flow with the emotion swelling within her. 

At her side, So’lek did the same, and their cries mingled in the night sky. 

The cavern was mostly silent, broken only by pained, shuddering gasps as Alma clung to life. The tendrils of the whispering greatcap brushed against each other as a light breeze made its way into the Circle of Ancestors, sounding as if the spirits themselves were murmuring gently. 

Tamtey and Ri’nela knelt on either side of Alma’s supine body, watching as blood continued to seep steadily into the soil around them. So’lek and Anufi knelt a short ways away, bathed in the soft light of the cavern. Their faces were drawn, eyes lingering on Alma’s body as it trembled with effort to stave away death. 

“I saw…everything,” Alma gasped, blinking rapidly as her eyes misted. 

“Good,” Ri’nela said gently, leaning close to Alma but not close enough to touch. She held Alma’s gaze, but her hand clasped Tamtey’s. It was shaking. “After all this time, we need the truth.”

“We’re ready,” Tamtey added, drawing Alma’s eyes to hers. “No more secrets. May I?”

Alma nodded, a lone tear sliding down her face. 

Tamtey reached forward and grasped Alma’s kuru, bringing it to one of the greatcap’s tendrils. Alma gasped at the connection, eyes flaring wide as she entered Eywa’s embrace. 

Meeting Ri’nela’s eyes, both Sarentu women brought their own kuru to a tendril. Anufi and So’lek did the same. Through Eywa, they peered into Alma’s memories. 

Tamtey was at the Sarentu Moot site. She recognized the coiled roots and stony channels, but it looked different than the place she’d seen in the yavä’. 

Here, she was surrounded by beauty. 

It was night, but the forest was aglow with syuratan. Insects chirped and trilled, shining like stars as they flitted around her. Lichens, long and flowing, hung from branches and towering roots, a bright blue-white against the darkness. 

“So dark…” Alma’s voice rang in her head. “Memories I locked away long ago…from myself. From you.”

Fungi of all varieties grew amongst the soft moss. Tamtey could feel it beneath her feet, tickling the soft skin. How could she feel it? Wasn’t she Alma? Tamtey looked down at herself, puzzled to see her body instead of Alma’s Avatar. 

What? 

When she’d bonded with the Kinglor queen, she’d become the queen through their tsaheylu—looking through the queen’s memories as if they were her own. With Alma…it was different. Why?

Eywa. 

Realization, one she couldn’t have made alone, washed over her. The Great Mother was with them, showing them more. Alma’s memories, yes, but something deeper. 

Mercer thought he’d left no witnesses. He was wrong. 

The Great Mother saw it all. 

“My guilt…” Alma’s voice continued, detached and echoing. “My shame lies ahead. But I must tell the truth. Finally.”

Tamtey began to walk. Slowly, hesitantly, the mosses glowing vibrantly beneath her feet with each tentative step. Ferns brushed her ankles as she walked, and lichens kissed the top of her head as they rustled in the softest breeze. 

“I remember…” Alma breathed. “There was a thrill.” Her voice, awed. “Finally, I’d see the Sarentu. I told myself we were doing a good thing.” 

Tamtey’s surroundings seemed to darken with Alma’s next words. 

“But that’s not how it ended.”

Tamtey could hear laughter and voices, and she saw light flickering off the stony walls. She emerged into a clearing. 

Sarentu danced around a grand bonfire. They swayed, singing and laughing. Children twirled in the arms of their friends, their siblings, their parents. Couples danced, smiles wide and bright. She could hear drumbeats and the melody of flutes. And by Eywa, the Sarentu were beautiful. They wore fabrics and textiles of various colors and designs, each outfit showcasing the vibrancy of several cultures. Brightly colored feathers dangled from ears and tails, or were woven into intricate braids. The Moot site was decorated with coiled wood and colored rope, similar to the designs she’d seen on the Sarentu totems. Baskets overflowed with gifts from clans across Pandora, and the air was rich with the aroma of smoked meat and spices. Everything was so grand—

Her vision whited. 

Suddenly, she was Alma—clinging to the inside of a Dragon as she observed the Clouded Forest from above. It was dusk, the setting sun warm on her face as wind whipped at her hair and stung her cheeks. 

“This is where Mokasa told me to find the Sarentu.” Alma said. “But—”

A voice from behind her, sharp and male and mean. 

“Hey! No time for cold feet now,” Mercer snapped. 

Here, Tamtey-Alma split momentarily. Tamtey felt her gut flood with fear at Mercer’s grating voice. Alma, strangely, was able to push aside her unease, beginning to settle at Mercer’s command. 

“We’re just talking to them,” Alma pressed. “Do we need this many soldiers?”

That’s right. A swell of body heat from within the Dragon, the air ripe with body odor from an entire platoon of RDA soldiers. 

“They’re too primitive to understand what we can do for their children,” Mercer insisted. 

Alma turned to face the man, his features stern beneath his mask. She saw…something there, something that made her stomach twist, but she pushed the feeling aside. 

“It’s for the children,” she agreed, nodding. 

“Exactly,” Mercer said with a grin. “Just think what we can achieve. Finally.”

Alma returned his grin, nerves dissipating. “Yes. We’re helping them. They’ll see it…in time.”

Tamtey’s vision whited again, and she returned to herself. 

She stood before the bonfire, the laughter of her clanmates ringing in her ears. She hadn’t noticed it before, but the stony walls of the clearing were bright with painted murals, illuminated by firelamps. Stories were painted onto the surfaces, vibrant depictions of adventures and journeys, of lessons and life. 

“It used to be beautiful here,” Alma said sadly. She sniffled. “And then we came.”

Tamtey didn’t want to leave this area, not yet. She was being pulled toward another stony channel on the other side of the bonfire, but she resisted. She explored the Moot site further, kneeling down to examine the finely carved wooden bowls, and the exotic spices and dried herbs displayed therein. She inhaled deeply, savoring the scent of bitter herbs, floral notes, and warm spice. She saw another bowl of dried and cured meats, salted and seasoned with spices from their respective biomes. Dishes from several cultures were being cooked and sampled, accompanied by fond retellings of stories surrounding each unique cuisine. Tamtey saw zangke and other drinks being passed around, and she saw wheels of hard zakru cheese. Gifts from the Zeswa. 

She stood, smiling, and continued to observe. She felt her spirit soar with delight at the sight of silk tapestries being displayed by ornate wooden frames. She recognized the distinct sheen of kinglor silk, and the detailed embroidery depicting swooping ikran, a pack of hunting nantang, and even an ‘angtsik with its calf. A knitted tapestry incorporated zakru wool, brightly dyed and depicting a herd of pa’li galloping across the plains. At the base of the tapestries, she saw wooden statues, carved from various woods. Another pa’li, a zakru, and…was that a sea creature? She saw a flute made of bone, carvings of a graceful palulukan arching across its surface. Hanging alongside the tapestries were rope cords, interwoven with polished wooden beads in a Kame’tire style. She also saw a string of the most gorgeous pearls and shells, their smooth, iridescent surfaces shining in the firelight. 

She continued around the bonfire, glancing at each face, seeing the joy in their eyes, the delight in celebration and tradition. Up on a rock shelf, she saw a storyteller deep in the middle of a tale, his movements expressive and flowing as he narrated a journey. Around him, rapt with attention, was a group of young children. They hung on his every word, gasps of shock and peels of laughter escaping their lips with each twist and turn of the tale. 

One laugh in particular drew Tamtey’s attention. There. 

It was Aha’ri, young and small and smiling. She was doubled over as she laughed, clutching a handcrafted doll in her lap. 

Tamtey had never seen her sister laugh so freely nor smile so widely. Her eyes were bright, her shoulders loose and movements easy. This Aha’ri was unburdened, safe and happy like a child should be. Tamtey so badly wished to hold little Aha’ri, but she knew she couldn’t. Instead, she stared a few moments longer, eyes misting. Then she turned away, back towards the bonfire. 

She froze again. 

Tamtey saw her, sitting a few paces away from the bonfire, laughing as she cuddled the baby in her lap. 

Sa’nu. 

Her mother was even more beautiful than Tamtey remembered, her laughter a melodious chime that soothed every ill feeling in Tamtey’s heart. She was so happy. And so was baby Tamtey, swaddled in her soft woven blanket, safe and secure in sa’nu’s arms. 

She could hear her mother humming, the melody that lived in Tamtey’s memory. 

Please, what are the words?

Eywa did not answer, but the melody grew in volume, soothing her distress. Tamtey was again pulled across the clearing, urged to continue. Very well. 

With no small amount of longing towards the Moot and the bonfire, she continued onward, into another stony channel. 

“Figures from my past…” Alma said quietly, her voice troubled. “Shadows. I see them.”

Tamtey could see them, too. Soldiers, lurking in the darkness. The flash of muzzles as rifles were loaded, the quiet clink of bullets in the countless ammunition magazines being passed around. 

“So much pain.” Alma whimpered. 

Tamtey’s vision whited again. 

The Moot was on fire, sparks hot against skin as the RDA used flamethrowers to confine the Sarentu. Soldiers were shouting, orders and threats alike, driving boots into the backs of knees to force the Sarentu to kneel. 

Alma was aghast, still unable to fully comprehend how things had gone wrong so quickly. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected, but it hadn’t been this. 

“No, let—let me talk to them,” she begged. “What are you doing?”

They wouldn’t listen to her. Why wouldn’t they listen to her?

“Don’t let them run!” Colonel Harding snapped, leveling her rifle at a Sarentu boy, a youth, who surged towards his baby sister, her kuru held tightly by a soldier in full tactical gear. Harding’s finger pressed the trigger, and the boy fell, blood spraying. 

Across the clearing, a Sarentu man roared, tearing from the grips of soldiers so he could rush Harding. With a curt order from Harding, another soldier depressed his own trigger. Flames spewed from the flamethrower, catching the Sarentu man in the front. The inferno was bright and hot, and the man was dead before he hit the ground. 

“We can’t find them in the forest,” Harding shouted. “If they move, drop them.”

Alma’s pleas with the soldiers were falling on deaf ears. Desperately, she switched tactics, appealing to the Sarentu. 

“Please,” she cried in broken, stunted Na’vi. “Stop running! Don’t fight them!”

The Sarentu paid her no heed, struggling and jerking against their restraints as they tried to reach their children. 

“Harding!” Mercer boomed above the fray. “Nobody gets out!” 

The Sarentu were too strong to contain for long. Soldiers were dying by Na’vi hands. The Sarentu may be pacifists, yes, but a parent had an obligation to protect their child, and a clan had an obligation to protect its own. They would not be restrained while their children were taken. 

The Sarentu fought back. 

Then the bullets started flying. 

A Sarentu woman caught a peel of gunfire in the back as she surged toward her weeping child. 

Older teens tried to wrestle the guns from a squad of soldiers. Gunfire ripped through their bodies, sending them toppling lifeless to the blood-soaked soil. 

Men, hunters, fought with arrow and dagger. They died beneath flames and sprays of bullets.

Anyone old enough to fight back, old enough to object, died. Children slightly older than Aha’ri were forced to kneel, executed by a bullet between their wide, fearful eyes. 

Screams, horrible piercing screams, filled the night air. Alma’s nostrils were clogged with the scent of blood and death. 

Tamtey’s vision whited, and she was back to herself. She tried to hurl, but apparently the spirit realm was not conducive to vomiting. 

Keep walking. 

So, Tamtey stepped over the bodies of her clan, her eyes lingering on lifeblood leeching out of countless bullet holes. The smell hung heavy in her nose, making her head swim. 

“I—I always said I didn’t know,” Alma said, her voice solemn. “But I did. I hungered for glory. Recognition. At any cost.” She sniffled. “Our dream began with a massacre.”

A new smell choked the air, sharp and chemical. 

Soldiers were upturning barrels into the lake. Barrels upon barrels upon barrels. What used to be fresh water became something different. Pungent and terrible. 

Sodium hydroxide, by the ton. 

Soldiers, airways protected by their masks, tugged each bullet-torn body to the lake’s edge, then rolled it in. Liquid splashed as men, women, and children were lost to the chemical depths. Their bodies would never be returned to Eywa. The sacred balance had been skewed—utterly and unforgivably. 

“No…Aha’ri,” Alma choked. “I…I had to focus on you. The children. Protect you.” She inhaled shakily. “But now I know that we were the ones you needed protection from.” Her voice hardened. “We wanted our school. Our program. So we stole you. Your clan tried to stop us, so—” The next words were barely a whisper. “So we killed them.”

Briefly, Tamtey felt a surge of agony in her abdomen. Alma’s wound. 

“Even this death won’t absolve me of the crime we committed here,” Alma said quietly, voice tight with pain. “I accept that.”

Tamtey’s vision whited once more. 

She was Alma again, hands trembling as she beheld the pile of bodies before her, one by one being disposed of. 

“The Na’vi will never forgive us,” Alma said shakily, tears blurring her vision. “Never.”

“The Na’vi will never know,” Mercer sneered, nudging the body of a Sarentu woman with the toe of his boot, shoving her corpse into the alkaline lake. 

“Here,” Harding interjected, shoving a small mass into Alma’s side. “Take this.”

Alma gasped at the sight of the child, dirtied by soot and blood, that had been pushed toward her. 

“Don’t worry, little one,” Alma breathed, pulling the girl to her. The girl—Aha’ri—took fast, shallow breaths, her eyes wide with panic. She shook as Alma tugged her against her body. “I’ll protect you.”

Aha’ri began to cry—thin, broken sobs. Tears wetted Alma’s shirt, right above the place she now bled from a Sarentu blade. 

Alma heard a soft thud as a doll, well-loved and soaked with blood, fell to the forest floor. She paid it no heed, her focus only on the child she clutched to her body. 

I’ll protect you. 

Tamtey came back to herself, really came back to herself, with a strangled cry. 

She was holding Alma’s hand. With an anguished shout, she disengaged her hand from Alma’s as if the appendage was diseased. 

“No…” Alma whimpered at the loss of contact, but Tamtey didn’t care. 

When Ri’nela broke tsaheylu seconds later, she fell away from Alma’s supine body. 

Alma opened her mouth, trying to speak, but her lungs rattled inside her chest. The blood pooling beneath Tamtey’s knees was beginning to cool. Alma’s Avatar had clung to life long enough. Yellow eyes widened, trying to catch Tamtey’s, Ri’nela’s, anyone’s. Then they dulled, chest falling still. 

Tamtey stared down at the body, looking for signs of life, however small they may be. She found none. 

Her radio crackled. 

Alma, human and sullen, her voice barely a whisper. “I—I’ve lost the connection. I’m—I’m glad I got to show you before…” Her voice trailed off. 

None of the Na’vi in the room bothered to respond. 

“We should bury her,” Ri’nela said flatly. Then, she clamped her eyes shut. “This. We should bury it.” She swallowed roughly, pulling her trembling hand from Tamtey’s so she could scoop Alma’s body to her chest, lifting it. “I’ll take it.” 

Anufi stood as well, eyes sad as she faced the two remaining Sarentu. 

“Bring it to the healers’ cavern,” Anufi said quietly. “I will accompany you. We will wrap the body in linen, as tradition dictates.” 

Ri’nela nodded, eyes dull as she ambled after the tsahik, leaving the Circle of Ancestors with Alma’s body in her arms. 

Tamtey let her head fall, shoulders curling inward as she slumped onto her hands. Moss, soft and cool beneath her palms, was the only comfort she found after Alma’s revelation. That, and the footsteps padding quietly as they approached her form. 

“You knew about the massacre,” So’lek murmured as he knelt before her. “I felt Ri’nela’s horror, Anufi’s shock. But you knew. When did you find out?” His tone wasn’t accusatory, just curious. That was one of the many things she appreciated about him. 

“I found out yesterday,” she croaked. “I was able to enter the yavä’, I found the Moot site. I saw the bullets and the—the chemicals. I knew.” Her breath hitched. “I just—I just—”

“You didn’t know the degree of Alma’s involvement.” So’lek finished solemnly. 

She shook her head, tears slipping from the corners of her eyes. “We thought she was just a teacher. She wasn’t always nice, but she protected us. In a skewed way. To know that she was part of it from the start…”

She felt more than saw So’lek’s nod. 

“They tried to fight back,” she whispered. “They died because they tried to protect us.” 

“It’s not your fault.” So’lek told her gently. 

“I know,” she said. “I’m torn up about a lot, but that I know. It’s Mercer’s fault. Him, Harding, and—and Alma. The RDA. It all boils down to them, doesn’t it?” 

She heard So’lek’s tail swish against the moss, but the man said nothing. 

“I saw them killed, So’lek!” She cried. “I saw—I saw the bullets enter their bodies. The light leave their eyes. All of them. The elders, the—the children. Children not much older than Aha’ri and Nor had been. And—and now Nor is gone, and—and Teylan, too. And I don’t know if Ri’nela will come back from this…” 

“She will,” So’lek said with surety, catching her eyes. “And so will you. This is not the end.”

“It feels like it,” she whispered, a broken cry escaping her. The emotion of the last few days caught up to her. Tamtey pitched forward into So’lek’s chest, letting him hold her. 

He did more than hold her. He wrapped his arms around her body, holding her tightly and securely. He tucked her head under his chin, pulling her close until she was almost in his lap. Then, he let her cry. She began softly, the silent, suppressed sobs she’d learned at TAP. Barely a hitch of the breath, lest she be beaten for her weakness. Then, her mind slowly registered So’lek’s warm scent. His strong arms. His presence. 

In the safety of his embrace, she allowed herself to break. 

Minutes or hours later, she had no way of knowing, she found herself curled in So’lek’s arms. His vest and the skin of his neck was wet with her tears, the smell of salt and grief thick in the air. 

Her hair was damp. Not all of it, of course, but patches of her scalp. He’d cried, too. 

She looked up at him with puffy, red eyes. His cheeks were wet, his eyes heavy with grief. So’lek mourned the Sarentu alongside her. 

It meant more to her than he knew. 

“Thank you,” she breathed, pulling herself up so she could wrap her arms around his neck, hugging him properly. 

His hands settled against her back, and he tucked his head into the space between her neck and shoulder. 

“Do you still want to talk tonight?” Tamtey asked, breath warm against his hair. 

He hummed, lips twitching against her skin as if resisting the urge to kiss her there. “I made a promise, did I not?” 

Tamtey smiled, rubbing her cheek against his braids, marking him with her scent. “And I said I’d hold you to it.” 

His nose brushed her jaw. “Good. Shall we?” 

She sniffled one last time, clearing her nose. Bringing a hand up to cup the side of his face, she let her thumb trace the edges of his scar. 

Tamtey could barely keep her grip on the leather harness as she directed Telisi to land at Anufi’s Refuge. She rested her forehead against her ikran’s neck, wincing as she slid from the saddle. She’d been flying for less than a half hour, but she’d stiffened up during the flight. Her back seized as her feet touched the ground, a pained shout ripping from her lips. 

Immediately, Telisi had her head braced under Tamtey’s chest, providing stability as Tamtey struggled to stand. 

“You’re my best girl, you know that?” Tamtey gritted as pain flared up her spine and down her legs. 

Telisi rumbled a purr, keeping herself perfectly still as Tamtey gathered her feet beneath her. 

“Thank you, my darling,” Tamtey said breathily as she finally straightened, pain ebbing as her spine realigned. She sighed. “I really hope this is a temporary thing. We’re in the middle of a war; I do not have the time to get old.” 

Telisi just chuffed, wings ruffling as she watched her rider get her bearings. 

“Zamhil?” Tamtey called as she hobbled up to the entrance of the refuge. “Anufi? Are you there? I have news.” 

Silence. 

Frowning, Tamtey triggered the gateway lily, slipping inside the side entrance of the refuge. 

“Zamhil?” She called again. “Anufi?” 

The refuge was quiet, the fire pits cold and dark. Anufi’s scent still lingered in the air, mingling amongst the dried herbs, but it was staler. She hadn’t been here for at least a couple days. 

Tamtey wilted, shoulders drooping as she groaned. Where could Anufi have gone? The tsahik had supposedly holed herself up in the refuge for over a decade. Why does she disappear the moment Tamtey needs her? 

“To The Hollows, ma Telisi,” Tamtey exclaimed with a longsuffering sigh. “Okul should be there, now. Maybe they know where Anufi could be.” 

As Telisi flew them high into the skies once more, Tamtey could see the sun beginning to dip lower on the horizon. Soon, dusk would be upon them. And with it, the final day she was granted to seek the help of the Kame’tire. Stomach twisting, Tamtey wordlessly urged Telisi to fly faster. If she was destined to fail in this mission, it certainly wouldn’t be for lack of effort. 

This time, Tamtey flew straight into the heart of the Kame’tire, instructing Telisi to cling to the stony wall of the ravine instead of landing on the ground. The Kame’tire gathered in the clearing next to the wooden spire cried out at the sight of an ikran flying fearlessly into The Hollows. Features hard, Tamtey slipped from the saddle, landing in a crouch amongst glowing ferns and lichens. There was an abnormal abundance of Kame’tire gathered at the mouth of the Circle of Ancestors, standing on the tips of their toes to see over one another, chattering nervously amongst themselves. 

As she approached the crowd, she saw a familiar figure standing on the outskirts of the group, hands twisting and tail lashing anxiously. 

“You are back!” Okul exclaimed when they saw her, smile bright and relieved as their nerves momentarily melted away. “I thought you were lost to the yavä’.” They embraced Tamtey, tugging her close for a brief moment before releasing her. “So the experiment worked.” A wink. “Now that is interesting.”

Tamtey tried to smile back, but she feared her face twisted into an awkward wince instead. The sight of someone familiar inside The Hollows brought tears to the corners of her eyes, and she could see Okul’s instant worry. 

“Sorry,” Tamtey said, taking a deep breath. “Yes, the tea worked. I found…a lot in the yavä’.” 

A lull of concerned voices from the Kame’tire gathered around the cave entrance to the Circle of Ancestors drew Tamtey’s attention once more. 

“What’s happening here?” Tamtey gestured at the crowd. 

Okul, face still pinched with worry, shifted anxiously on their feet. Ears folding, they began to ramble. “Everything is bad. She’s in the Circle of Ancestors. Searching. And everyone is asking why, and Mokasa—”

“Slow down,” Tamtey said gently, placing both hands on Okul’s shoulders. “Who is in the Circle of Ancestors?” 

“Anufi!” Okul whisper-shouted, leaning close. “Seeing a Sarentu. You. Alive. It awoke something in her.” The herbalist inhaled deeply. “She’s in Eywa. Scouring her memories to find why you are alive, but it’s been days now.”

Tamtey’s eyes widened. Anufi, here? 

“Don’t worry, Okul.” She assured. “I have news for Anufi.”

Okul didn’t seem reassured, a low whine slipping from their throat. “Maybe Mokasa was right. She was too fragile.” The herbalist’s shoulders hunched, guilt weighing them down. “But I sent you to her. And I—it seemed like the correct thing…” Okul’s yellow-green eyes were wide, glancing up at her helplessly. 

Tamtey couldn’t help herself. She tugged the herbalist close, providing comfort while seeking it herself. She felt Okul’s small tremors, and could sense their worry. This close, she was sure Okul could smell the sour scent of grief clinging to her skin, the salty remnants of tears. They clung to each other for several heartbeats. 

“Okul,” Tamtey said quietly, placing a hand on the herbalist's cheek so she could look them in the eye. “I have proof. I found vials of her medicines. Unopened. And remnants of Sky People and their guns. It was Sky People who killed the Sarentu, not Anufi.” 

Okul gasped, eyes flying wide. Their mouth opened and closed as they tried to find the words. “You found—of course you are in such pain—that is troubling news—” They took a breath, shaking their head. With clearer words, the herbalist spoke, “It is horrible, do not mistake me. But what consolation for Anufi. I am both sad and relieved. Is this really true?”

Tamtey nodded. “Yes. I have the vial.” She placed a hand over her pouch. 

Okul grabbed her hands, pulling her towards the Circle of Ancestors. “Mokasa—he will come back. We must tell Anufi before he stops us. Hurry.” 

The crowd of Kame’tire outside the cave was thick and unyielding, so Okul moved them aside with a firm hand or, if needed, a jab to an exposed side. The Kame’tire moved, not seeming to mind as Okul shoved through them. A few of their gazes lingered on her, but their concern for their tsahik overpowered their suspicion. 

Tamtey let Okul drag her along, coming to a stop beside the whispering greatcap, its glowing tendrils casting soft light upon their faces. 

Anufi knelt before the whispering greatcap, face drawn as she held her kuru to the tendrils. The soft mosses glowed beneath her, reacting to the motion as the tsahik rocked back and forth, quiet mutterings tumbling past dry, cracked lips. Okul had been right—Anufi was in a worrying state. 

“Anufi,” Tamtey breathed, kneeling beside the tsahik. Tentatively, she placed a hand on the woman’s upper arm. 

As if emerging from a daze, the woman’s eyelids fluttered, blinking blearily as she pulled her mind from the spirit realm. Her eyes remained unseeing as Okul helped her break tsaheylu, pulling her gently to her feet. 

“Okul,” Anufi croaked, leaning on the herbalist. Her eyes flickered to Tamtey’s. “The Sarentu.” 

“Yes,” Tamtey said softly, holding the tsahik’s gaze. “I have news, Anufi—”

Kame’tire cried out as they were shoved aside, Mokasa pushing past them to stalk into the Circle of Ancestors. 

“Leave her!” Mokasa spat, tail lashing. “All of you.” 

The advisor pried Okul’s hands from Anufi, instead reaching his own arms around the tsahik to bear her weight. 

“Can you not see she is exhausted?” Mokasa demanded. To Anufi, he softened his voice, nectar-sweet and dripping with concern. “Anufi, you need to go home. Back to the safety of your solitude and meditation.”

Tamtey had enough of this man interfering. It was against tradition to threaten a leader, but she couldn’t bring herself to care after the day she’d had. 

“Move aside,” she growled, placing a hand in the center of Mokasa’s chest and pushing him away from Anufi. He was taller than her, and he glared at her from over his nose. When he pushed against her palm, testing her resolve, she bared her teeth, posture straightening. “You will not disrespect me.” 

Mokasa’s glare only sharpened, but she tore her gaze from his. Her focus was on the troubled woman before her. 

“Anufi, please listen to me,” Tamtey said, keeping her voice strong despite the desperation leaking in. Her touch was gentle as she turned the tsahik to face her. “You did not kill the Sarentu—”

“This one is nothing but lies!” Mokasa sneered, projecting so all the gathered Kame’tire could hear. 

“You will stay silent as I speak!” Tamtey hissed, fangs on display. She let the man see the grief in her eyes, the rage and horror. How close she was to snapping. Keeping her voice low, so only the three Na’vi nearest to her could hear, she said coldly, “Interrupt me again and I will rip out your tongue.” 

Mokasa drew back, as she’d expected. He was a man accustomed to striking fear into those who opposed him, who questioned him. He’d spent years tearing down the Kame’tire, making them rely on him just as much as they feared him. He was not stronger than them, but he’d made all the Kame’tire believe they’d be powerless without his leadership. 

It was exactly what Mercer had done with the Sarentu. 

Tamtey would never allow herself to be treated like that again. 

She glared at him, holding his gaze until he dropped his eyes. The briefest display of submission. It wouldn’t last, of course. Mokasa was stunned by her tenacity, but he was not one to allow it for long. In his eyes, she was an inferior. She’d be surprised if he didn’t interrupt her again.  

“It was the Sky People,” Tamtey told Anufi, projecting her voice. The Kame’tire gathered closer, peering at her curiously. 

Mokasa scoffed, making sure to look her in the eyes as he interrupted her, gesticulating wildly. “I wish that were true. But I saw her vials clutched in their cold hands. Lips blackened.”

“No, that is a lie!” Tamtey declared, wrapping her fingers around the vial and holding it high. She heard gasps from the Na’vi around her. “I found them. Unopened. Among the spent bullets used to murder my people!” 

Without leaving any time for Tamtey to react, Okul surged forward and grabbed the vial from her hands. In one smooth motion, the herbalist uncapped the vial and downed the contents. 

Tamtey stared in shock. 

Mokasa lunged forward in an attempt to stop the tiretu, but he was too late. 

Anufi gasped, frantic cries falling from her lips as she rushed towards Okul, arms outstretched as if prepared to catch them. 

Okul just waved them off, grimacing at the taste, then swallowed. 

Tamtey held her breath. 

Then, Okul smiled, widely with teeth on full display. Evidently, they were feeling just fine.

“Child, how did you know it would not harm you?” Anufi breathed, placing her palm against Okul’s chest, right above their heart. 

Okul grasped Anufi’s hand in their own, tail swaying. 

“Our people have always been healers,” the herbalist said softly. “I never stopped believing that.” 

Anufi smiled, the first genuine smile Tamtey had ever seen on the woman. It was the mark of something new in the tsahik, a change Tamtey was watching take place before her own eyes. Anufi’s back straightened, a sense of surety returning to her form. Her breathing settled, tail untucking from between her legs. She raised her chin, eyes soft as she rubbed her thumb over Okul’s hands. 

Tamtey wasn’t the only one to witness the change. The Kame’tire around her, frenzied and unsettled by the conflict, directed their gazes to Anufi. Their movements calmed, silence falling over them as they awaited her next words. Even the ones who had looked to Mokasa for guidance stepped back from him, allowing their tsahik’s presence to soothe them. Gone was the troubled woman who had been lost in her own mind; this Anufi moved with an air of regality and authority. It felt…right.

Mokasa’s eyes widened in alarm as Anufi turned her gaze towards him. 

“It was you who found the evidence that condemned me, Mokasa,” Anufi declared, voice hard. With steady steps, she walked up to him, reaching behind to grasp her kuru. “Show me.”

Mokasa blanched. “Anufi, do you really believe this stranger? I am your advisor, and you ask me to—”

Anufi leveled her prosthetic at him, fangs flashing. “I am not asking.” 

One of the Kame’tire surged forwards, pushing Mokasa towards Anufi, holding him in place as the tsahik approached. Mokasa’s ears folded. Wordlessly, head lowered in submission, he brought his own kuru forward. 

Tamtey watched in utter bewilderment as the tsahik and advisor made tsaheylu. 

Immediately, Mokasa winced, a pained groan escaping his lips. Anufi grit her teeth, breaths shuddering as grief flit across her face. The tsahik hissed suddenly, tail lashing. Her eyes opened, locking on Mokasa’s as she threw a hand out, breaking their bond. 

“I have seen enough,” Anufi said, teeth bared, looking down her nose at her advisor. “Mokasa, it was you who gave up the Sarentu.”

Tamtey inhaled sharply, grasping Okul’s hand for comfort. She couldn’t tear her gaze from the Kame’tire man, his head lowered. 

“It was their children or ours,” Mokasa stressed. “I had no choice.” He extended his hands desperately, eyes flickering from face to face as he addressed the crowd. “I carried the burden. Unable to connect to Eywa to hide our truth. And now you judge me?”

Anufi pursed her lips. “You made us doubt our traditions. Our purpose.”

“I saved you!” Mokasa pleaded. 

“You killed them!” Anufi snarled. “An entire clan.” She swallowed, voice breaking. “Our friends.”

Unable to bear looking at her advisor any longer, Anufi shifted her gaze to Tamtey. Her eyes softened at once. 

Tamtey stood, shaking, grasping Okul’s hand like a lifeline. The grief of the day threatened to spill from her eyes and pour from her lips, but she held it back. There would be time to break—later. 

She held Anufi’s eyes for a heartbeat. Despite days without food or water, the tsahik looked stronger than Tamtey had ever seen her. Tamtey was in need of that strength, and she did her best to convey such with her eyes. Anufi nodded, turning toward her advisor. 

“Mokasa,” Anufi addressed the man, her voice ringing through the cavern. “You are cast out of Eywa and the Circle of Ancestors.”

Mouth agape, Mokasa fell to his knees. His eyes, once full of spite and indignation, dulled under the reality of what was happening to him. 

“If you disobey, we will know,” Anufi continued, voice firm. “Now leave our clan, cloaked in your shame.”

Mokasa stumbled to his feet, limbs jerking intermittently as he ambled through the crowd. The gathered Kame’tire hissed at him, stepping back from the man as he passed. 

“Traitor!” One man snarled. 

“How could you?” A woman demanded. 

Tamtey watched Mokasa walk away, her heart heavy, anger simmering in her blood. She wanted to tear after Mokasa, kill him for what he’d done. But mostly, she just wanted to sleep. She felt a tear slide down her cheek. Anufi turned, regarding Tamtey with sad eyes. 

“Oh, my child,” Anufi breathed, cupping Tamtey’s cheek with a warm hand. 

Tamtey choked on a sob, leaning into the tsahik’s palm. 

“You discovered this truth alone, did you not?” While posed as a question, Anufi wasn’t asking. She knew. 

“Yes,” Tamtey croaked, another shudder wracking her frame. 

“You will stay with us tonight,” Anufi said with finality. “We Kame’tire have much to make up for regarding our treatment of you. Allow us to care for you and soothe your grief.” 

Unable to speak past the thickness of her throat, Tamtey nodded. At her side, Okul pressed in close, their body a comforting heat against her side. The herbalist held Tamtey’s hand tightly. 

“You have given us a great gift,” the tsahik finished softly, tucking a braid behind Tamtey’s ear. “Restored faith in our traditions. I cannot thank you enough.” Tearily, Tamtey nodded. 

Anufi shifted her gaze to the herbalist at Tamtey’s side. “And now those traditions will live on in you, Okul.” The tsahik placed a hand above Okul’s heart, smiling at the herbalist. “You would honor me by becoming tsakarem.” 

Okul gasped softly, squeezing Anufi’s hand. They nodded, eyes misting. 

Anufi inclined her head, turning to address her people. “Today, we are full of sorrow. But we push this aside to heal the Sarentu’s warriors.”

“I will tell you where they are.” Tamtey said, relief loosening her shoulders. 

“Child,” Anufi smiled, cupping Tamtey’s cheek. “We know. I shall join you there.” The tsahik inclined her head. “Oel ngati kameie.”

Tamtey sniffled, returning the gesture. “Oel ngati kameie.”

The tsahik nodded one last time at Tamtey and Okul, then approached the whispering greatcap once more. 

“I must convene with Eywa,” Anufi said softly. “But I will rejoin you later tonight. The Kame’tire will help care for your warriors—and for you.”

Tamtey inclined her head. “Irayo.” 

Then she let Okul tug her gently away, leading her out of the Circle of Ancestors and into the Commons of The Hollows. Night had officially fallen, the colors of dusk leeching away. Mosses and lichens glowed underfoot as they walked, passing groups of Kame’tire who looked upon Tamtey with a strange mix of sympathy and appreciation. Some tried to approach her, words blooming on their lips, but were quickly dissuaded by Okul’s pointed looks. 

“Where are we going?” Tamtey asked quietly as Okul pulled her into one of the cave entrances of The Hollows. The floor was made of polished wood, smooth and cool beneath her feet. Firelamps cast soft light over the hallway, and rope decorations hung over her head, feathers and strings of wooden beads rustling in the faintest breeze that entered the cave system. 

“Anufi’s chambers,” Okul replied, leading them into a beautiful cavern. Glowing lichens hung from the ceiling, casting a soft blue light over woven mats and cushions. At the back of the cavern, a wooden platform had been built, and Tamtey could see furs and blankets for sleeping. Baskets lined the edge of the platform, containing more blankets and cushions, various tools, and miscellaneous belongings. 

“This is where the tsahik worked?” Tamtey asked, peering around the room. “It doesn’t look like it.” 

Okul shrugged. “It hasn’t looked like a true space for a tsahik since Anufi left for the Refuge. She took most of her materials with her. Anything that remained, Mokasa ordered destroyed.”

Tamtey blinked, running a finger along a shelf. “But this space is so homey. And clean. Why wasn’t this place dismantled alongside with the rest of Anufi’s possessions?”

Bumping her shoulder with their own, Okul smirked. “Mokasa wanted this space originally, but…well, there are certain perks to being tiretu. I’ve kept it maintained for Anufi.” 

It was the truth, Tamtey realized as she stepped deeper into the cavern. The furs smelled of Okul, and the place was spotless. The herbalist had taken great care of Anufi’s chambers. 

“You’ve done a wonderful job,” Tamtey remarked as she watched Okul light shell candles and incense. The soft flickering of firelight and the scent of calming herbs helped settle her spirit. 

“I knew she would return.” Okul said honestly, fluffing cushions for Tamtey to sit on. “Siul slept in the herbalists’ space. Sometimes I would join him, but…it gave me purpose, looking after this chamber.” 

Tamtey hummed, pulling Okul down to sit next to her. “Where will you stay now that Anufi is back?”

Okul’s smile widened. “Here. As tsakarem, I have the privilege to live alongside the tsahik.” The herbalist’s tail curled with pleasure. “Though, I wonder if she’ll let me keep the platform. It can get so warm and cozy up there.” 

“Of course I will,” Anufi said warmly as she stepped into her chambers, her voice deep and rich. “It is big enough for two.” Her yellow-green eyes fell on Tamtey, softening. “Or three. Will you let us delight in your company tonight, Sarentu?”

Tamtey smiled. “I’d like nothing more.”

Anufi crossed her chambers, settling across from Okul and Tamtey. She pulled a woven blanket into her lap, fingers tracing the fibers. 

“I sent Kame’tire to the cave where your Resistance dwells,” Anufi told Tamtey. “They will help make it livable. I sent a group to fetch my supplies, as well. They will be ready for us when we arrive tomorrow.” 

Tamtey felt her eyes well with tears, relief causing her shoulders to loosen. “Irayo.”

Anufi just smiled gently. “Our cook, Tuntu, is preparing us a meal. Okul will show you our bathing spot, and I will prepare you some clothes.”

Not-so-discreetly, Tamtey sniffed herself. Both Anufi and Okul chuckled at the pinched look on Tamtey’s face when she realized just how badly she stunk. 

“Yeah, okay,” Tamtey said sheepishly, standing from her cushion. “A bath sounds lovely.” 

Anufi rose and placed a hand on Tamtey’s arm, stilling her momentarily. 

“And when you return,” the tsahik said gently, her yellow-green eyes imploring. “I would like to hear about your life, ma Tamtey, and how your journey has led you to us.”

Tamtey met Anufi’s eyes. Okul came up behind her and placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She was blanketed by the scent of rich herbs, warmed by the glow of candles and firelamps, and surrounded by softness. 

“Very well,” she said with a nod. “After a bath.”

Okul grinned cheekily, miming a gag as they pulled away. “Yes, please bathe. I fear you’ve taken my sense of smell away!”

Tamtey narrowed her eyes at the herbalist. “Run.” 

Okul ran. 

The next morning, Tamtey was roused even earlier than she normally awoke. And, considering she woke before the sun…well.

“I’m pretty sure even Eywa isn’t awake at this time,” Tamtey groused, tempted to bury her face back into the warm furs. 

“I am sure you will live,” Anufi said blithely, handing her a clay mug of steaming tea. 

Tamtey hummed, placing her face directly above the mouth of the cup, allowing the steam to warm her skin. Tentatively, she took a sip of the blend. 

“Oh,” Tamtey said in surprise. “This is good.”

Anufi was turned away from Tamtey, pouring a still-slumbering Okul a cup of tea from the kettle on the fire, but her tail batted at Tamtey’s outstretched legs. 

“I am tsahik,” Anufi told her. “Of course it is good.” Then, the tsahik turned toward the pile of furs Okul still slept beneath. “Tsakarem.” 

Okul awoke with a flail and a muffled squeak, locs disheveled as they poked their head out of the furs and blankets they’d piled atop them in the night. “Yes, tsahik? What can I do?”

Anufi shared an amused look with Tamtey. 

“Drink your tea, for one.” Anufi instructed, handing Okul the mug. 

“Yes,” Okul grasped at it, taking a long sip. 

Tamtey’s eyes widened. “Wait, it’s—”

Okul made a high whining sound as the tea scalded their throat. The tiretu sputtered. “Hot.” 

Anufi sighed. 

A half hour later, they were dressed and prepared to leave The Hollows. Tamtey was delighting in her new Kame’tire clothes, a chestpiece and waistcloth made of soft leather and thick woven fabric. The chestpiece and waistcloth cinched at the waist, allowing her to wear decorative waist beads made from polished wood and smoothed stone. Then hems of her garments had dark feathers and thick fur sewn into the material, keeping her warm in the cool mists. Even more spectacularly, the neckline of her chestpiece was enforced with malleable wood coiled around the throat, held in place with ties of thin rope. The wood would shield her neck and throat from surprise attacks by any daring echo stalkers. Her outfit was completed by a matching headpiece gifted to her by Okul, a lightweight band adorned with carved wood in the shape of a mimikyun. Pearlescent shells accented the wood around her eyes, shining in the firelight. Ankle guards made of thick leather helped protect her feet from the sharp rocks of the forest floor, the very tops secured with cords and decorated with the same pearlescent shells. She felt like a Kame’tire, beautiful and protected against the dangers of the forest. 

Anufi had instructed Okul to stay behind and help refresh the herbalists’ space, easing the Kame’tire into the official practice of healing once again. As it was their first duty as tsakarem, Okul was ecstatic. While Anufi gathered the last of her supplies, Tamtey and Okul trekked to where Telisi perched right outside The Hollows. Tamtey got right to work on showering her ikran with love as she checked the straps of the harness. She was in the middle of securing her guns to the harness when she heard Okul clear their throat. 

“I am glad to have met you,” Okul said as she turned to face them. “Eywa herself blesses our friendship.” 

Tamtey smiled. “I agree. Even if my arrival did cause some…tension.”

Okul shrugged. “Tension, yes. But along with it, much needed change. Mokasa stifled the Kame’tire for almost my entire life. Kept us from our tradition and culture. Hid such a terrible secret.”

Nodding, Tamtey eyed the herbalist. “Are you glad he’s gone?”

“He buried us in lies,” Okul said after a heartbeat, voice quiet in the darkness. “You dug us out. Now, it falls to me to tend our future. Feed it, make it grow. Flourish.” The tsakarem shuffled on their feet, hopeful eyes flicking to meet Tamtey’s. “Anufi and I. And you, perhaps?” Another shuffle, now excited. “Now, there’s a thought. More people will return, now that the truth is out. We will be whole again. You could stay here, too, if you’d like?”

Tamtey smiled. “You’d offer me a home here?”

Okul nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, yes. The Sarentu and Kame’tire, together once again.” 

Tamtey hummed, genuinely considering it. The Clouded Forest was the home of the Sarentu Moot—a tradition her People had kept for generations upon generations. It could be argued that the Clouded Forest was as special to the Sarentu as it was to the Kame’tire. Yet…it was the place her entire clan had been murdered. Even after spending a pleasant evening in The Hollows, experiencing a warm welcome by the Kame’tire…she couldn’t abandon the Kinglor Forest or the Upper Plains. 

Nodding to herself, Tamtey met Okul’s eyes. “I am a Sarentu. We are travelers. I fear I cannot make this place a permanent home, but…I’d be honored if you’d allow it to be one of them. A home to all the Sarentu, perhaps.”

Okul smiled. “And maybe even home to the Sarentu Moot?”

“I’d like that,” Tamtey said softly. “Thank you. For asking, for offering.” 

Okul patted her shoulder. “You are my friend.”

“And you are mine,” Tamtey agreed. “I’ll come back, once Anufi is able to heal the wounded.” 

“Yes,” Okul nodded. “They will be made whole as well. And when you come to see us, stay a while. You could be at ease here.”

“I will,” Tamtey said honestly, touched. “Irayo.”

Okul embraced her one last time, then retreated back into The Hollows. Mere moments later, Anufi emerged, carrying with her a singular basket full with cloth bandages, small wooden bowls, and healers’ tools. Tamtey took the basket from her and clipped it to Telisi’s harness. 

Anufi regarded Tamtey, a small smile tugging at her lips. “I see you are ready to return. Your face is stone, your heart, set. An admirable determination to fix the broken. This is something I must relearn. To take care of my people as you care for yours.” She rested a palm on Tamtey’s shoulder. “But do not fear for your friends, child. The old ways will renew them.”

“What can I do to help?” Tamtey asked, turning from her ikran. 

“When we arrive, I will prepare my tools. For you, the hunt beckons. There is a certain creature in these parts—the meer deer. You may put its hide and meat to great use, I am sure, but the fat of this creature is a gift. Ensure the deer leaves this life with peace in its heart.”

Tamtey nodded. “I’ve seen them before.”

“Good.” Anufi slung a canvas bag over her back. “They will retreat to their dwellings once the sun is risen. You can hunt in the dark?” 

Casting her gaze towards the sky, Tamtey eyed the dense fog and mists swirling around her legs. “I’ll figure it out.”

Anufi chuckled. “You will. Now, I believe it is time for me to meet this lovely ikran you’ve told me about.”

Tamtey’s smile lit her face, and she moved aside, allowing Anufi a full view of her beloved ikran. “Telisi. You’ll love her.” 

Once suitable introductions had been made between tsahik and ikran, Tamtey helped Anufi into the saddle. When the woman was secure, Tamtey climbed into the saddle in front of her, instructing Anufi to hold onto her waist. They’d decided last night that it would be much more efficient to fly to the Resistance Hideout, especially considering the urgency Tamtey felt to return. 

Anufi, surprisingly, took to flight well, despite not having bonded an ikran herself. She copied the movements of Tamtey’s body almost exactly, leaning into the wind to reduce drag as Telisi flew. 

Through tsaheylu, Tamtey was able to aid Telisi’s flight through the dense fog, having memorized the aerial route from The Hollows to the Resistance Hideout. In less than twenty minutes, they were landing at the entrance to the grand cave. 

It was at the entrance that Tamtey and Anufi split ways. As eager as Tamtey was to see her clanmates and her friends, she had a syìl to hunt. Slinging her longbow over her back, the one that had been a gift from So’lek, she crept into the misty forest in search of a meer deer. 

Tamtey had found a small herd of the creatures almost immediately, the animals pecking at the rocky ground to extract mushrooms and small roots as sustenance. Their tails, flared to detect the subtlest vibrations in the air, sensed her just as quickly. Heads raising in alarm, they chirped in fright and ran from her. 

She tracked them for many kilometers, desperately wishing she could make use of Telisi’s infrared vision. Alas, the Clouded Forest was too dense to hunt from the back of her ikran. Tamtey settled for her own vision instead. After a while, she memorized the specific bioluminescent pattern on the sail-like tail of one of the syìl, and was able to pick it out amidst the mist and syuratan of the forest. When she made her kill, finally, she’d done it in near total silence, shooting her arrow into the swirling mists. As the rest of the herd fled, Tamtey quickly ran up to her kill. She’d shot perfectly, piercing the lungs through the creature’s operculum. It had been a swift, merciful death. 

“I See you,” Tamtey said quietly, running a hand over its hide as she drew her knife. “Your spirit goes with Eywa and your body stays to become part of the People. Thank you for these gifts.” 

Tamtey dressed the syìl she’d killed, gathering its meat and its hide into one bag which she slung over her back. For the fat, she cut out the choicest portion around the kidneys, working quickly before the rest of the body was shrouded in a swarm of loiyokx, the beetle-like creatures encasing the body. When she rinsed the fat in the creek, she saw how brilliantly white it was. Beautiful. She was no tsahik, but she could only imagine how many salves and creams could be made with such an ingredient. When the fat was clean and dry, she placed it in its own wax-sealed canvas bag and tied it to her belt, retracing her steps back toward the Resistance Hideout. 

Anufi was terribly clever, Tamtey realized as she approached the familiar path that would lead her to the cave’s front entrance. Even after a good night’s rest, Tamtey had felt…unsettled. Restless. Anufi, with her keen eyes, had seen that. And in the short time the tsahik had known her, Anufi knew Tamtey would want to help immediately, even if it was to her own detriment. So, she’d given her an important task, something to realign her mind and spirit before seeing her friends again. Tamtey shook her head fondly, smiling. The Kame’tire tsahik had known Tamtey for less than a week, and had been borderline crazy for most of it, and now she was almost…motherly. 

“Tamtey, are you there?” The radio on her chestpiece crackled. 

“Priya,” Tamtey greeted. “I’m on my way back. What’s up?”

“The Kame’tire healer showed up!” Priya exclaimed excitedly. “She’s just—wow.”

Tamtey smiled. “Anufi.”

“Right!” Priya chirped. “She’s really something, isn’t she? She kind of just…drifted in. Super regal looking, you know? I guess she thinks we’re in pretty bad shape. I wish she could’ve seen the old HQ.” The human woman sighed. “But we’ll make this place better. Some Kame’tire arrived last night—scared the shit out of me, I’ll have you know—and this place already looks loads different. I can’t wait for you to see it.”

“I can’t wait to see it, either,” Tamtey said fondly. 

When Tamtey returned to the Hideout, she recognized the Na’vi man standing at the cave’s back entrance, emotion swelling in her chest long before his scent washed over her. 

So’lek. 

It was almost humiliating, how quickly her eyes welled with tears. She opened her mouth to call his name, but a choked cry escaped her lips instead. 

Immediately, he was holding her. 

Where would she be without him, really? His arms encircled her, pressing her close to his body. She’d tucked her nose into his neck, inhaling his warm resin scent. His braids tickled her cheek, the wooden beads clinking softly against each other. This was so close, too close for just friends, just mentor and mentee, but they’d never been just anything to each other, had they? 

She twined her arms around his neck, carding a hand into the hair at the base of his neck. His hands splayed over the base of her spine, pulling her even closer. 

“So’lek,” she breathed, rubbing her cheek against the underside of his chin. She felt him exhale, curling around her as if he could shield her from the world. 

I love you, she wanted to say but couldn’t.

“I missed you,” she said instead, marking him with her scent. 

“It’s only been a few days,” he rumbled against her. 

She stilled. A few days. That’s right. In the span of hours, her entire world had tilted on its axis. 

“So much has happened,” she whispered. “There’s so much…”

“Tell me tonight,” he suggested, resting his chin on the top of her head. “You needn’t burden yourself alone.” 

She nodded, settling against him. “Okay. Tonight.” 

He leaned back just enough to bring his arms up and cup her face in his hands. They were almost nose-to-nose, breaths mingling. She could scarcely breathe as his golden eyes flicked down to her lips then back up to meet hers. She shivered as his thumb brushed the corner of her mouth. Then he leaned forward, pressing his forehead to hers. Her eyes fluttered shut. 

“Tonight,” he whispered again. “I promise.” 

She smiled, feeling his thumbs ease perfectly into the indentations of her dimples. 

“I’ll hold you to it,” she breathed, leaning into his touch. 

He smiled back at her, tattoos crinkling gorgeously. When he leaned back from her, she nearly sighed at the loss. 

“Come,” he said with a swish of his tail. “Let us bring the tsahik what she needs.” 

Tamtey brought her hand to the bag at her belt. “Yes, let’s.” 

Immediately upon entering the cave, Tamtey could see the improvements the Kame’tire had made. At the base of the metal stairs, the Kame’tire had constructed wooden platforms and flooring made of the same polished wood slabs she’d seen at The Hollows. Using strong rope, they’d bent malleable wood into dome-like structures and covered them with moss, creating cozy sleeping spaces for the Na’vi Resistance members and areas to cook and craft. A Kame’tire woman was hanging decorations from the wooden platforms, bringing the space to life with polished beads and vibrant feathers. In some of the natural inlets, Tamtey could see baskets of blankets and cushions being delivered, as well as much-needed supplies like bowls, utensils, and tools. Thick fabric canopies, made waterproof with wax, had been hung on the cave’s ceiling to redirect water into the lake, keeping the woven floor mats on the walkways dry. 

“All this,” Tamtey gasped, gesturing to the brilliance around her. “Done in one night?” 

So’lek hummed. “The Kame’tire were enthusiastic. You made quite the impression, apparently.” 

Tamtey flushed. “I just did what needed to be done.” 

“And yet,” So’lek waved a hand at the Kame’tire working alongside masked humans, laughing and joking. “They love you for it.” 

A Kame’tire man smiled at Tamtey as they walked past, greeting her with an inclination of his head. She returned the gesture, a small smile on her lips. 

“They’re good people,” Tamtey said to So’lek as they entered the airlock chamber to the oxygenated portion of the cavern. “They were just lied to for so long. Anufi told me that many Kame’tire scattered after what happened, and what remains is a mere sliver of what they used to be. The ones here, they need to relearn what it is to be Kame’tire.” 

So’lek’s eyes met hers. “They are finding their identity. Like you.” 

Tamtey considered this, then nodded. “I suppose so.” 

They stepped into the oxygenated space of the Resistance Hideout, nodding greetings towards several bustling humans. Already, she could see an increase in morale. Smiles came easier, laughter flowing. Many humans had cloth bandages wrapped around burns, smelling of medicinal herbs. Anufi had been busy, then. 

They found the Kame’tire tsahik outside the makeshift infirmary, grinding dried herbs into powder in a mortar and pestle. Other Kame’tire herbalists moved around her, delivering more herbs and bandages. 

“Ah, the fat,” Anufi exclaimed as Tamtey approached. The tsahik accepted the block of pure white fat, nodding approvingly. “See how rich and smooth it is? A healing salve to soothe their burns. It is gentle, yes, but powerful. Watch.”

Tamtey and So’lek gathered around the tsahik, watching as Anufi placed the block of fat into a clay bowl. She then placed the bowl atop a stone stand in the midst of a small fireplace hanging from the ceiling at waist-level. Within minutes, the fat melted into a beautiful yellow-gold. Using an ornately carved wooden spoon, Anufi stirred the powdered herbs into the fat along with a few small bowlfuls of herbal extractions. A rich aroma emanated from the clay bowl, its color now a deep verdant. Anufi removed the bowl from the heat, pouring the liquid into several smaller stone bowls. The coolness of the stone bowls prompted the liquid to solidify almost immediately upon contact, and soon Anufi had before her numerous small batches of the strong healing salve. She distributed the bowls to the surrounding Kame’tire herbalists, instructing them to find Resistance members with burns and treat them. As one of the herbalists slipped behind the makeshift cloth curtain between them and the infirmary itself—no doubt to treat Alex and Alma who were in the worst condition—Anufi regarded Tamtey and So’lek. 

“Your people will heal,” Anufi told them. “There is enough of this salve for all.” She smiled at Tamtey. “Now, this warrior—” She gestured at So’lek. “—tells me of your clanmate. A tsahik in the making, I hear?”

Tamtey grinned. “Yes. Ri’nela.”

Anufi hummed. “I’d like to see her. Perhaps together she and I can treat the worst of your wounded.” 

Tamtey nodded. Then, when she noticed both Anufi and So’lek looking at her expectantly, she straightened. “Oh, you mean for me to—got it.” She smiled sheepishly, turning to leave. “I’ll be right back.” 

She ended up fetching both Ri’nela and Nor, the latter of her clanmates interested in meeting the Kame’tire tsahik and the herbalists that attended her. 

“Do you think she’ll allow me to learn alongside her tsakarem?” Ri’nela asked, tail swishing with excitement. 

“I think so,” Tamtey hummed, a grin tugging at her lips. “You are technically a tsakarem yourself, I guess. You just don’t have a tsahik to train you formally.” 

“Until now,” Nor added, bumping Ri’nela’s shoulder with his own as they walked. 

Ri’nela ducked her head, a blush darkening her cheeks. 

Tamtey chuckled, delighting in the twin smiles on her clanmates’ faces. After Teylan…she feared she’d never see them smile again. Nor took the news of Teylan’s betrayal the worst—so badly, in fact, that he and Tamtey had nearly entered into a heated brawl. Where Nor had always seen the worst in their youngest clanmate, Tamtey had seen the best. The two clashed—violently. It had taken Ri’nela snarling at them both, placing a hand against their chests as Tamtey and Nor hissed insults at each other. Seeing their happiness, however brief it may be, was a balm on Tamtey’s heart. 

When the trio approached the makeshift infirmary, Tamtey saw Anufi and So’lek immersed in a hushed conversation. When the Sarentu neared, however, their exchange was cut short, ending with a respectful nod from So’lek to the tsahik. 

“Is everything okay?” Tamtey asked, coming to a stop before them. 

“Of course, child,” Anufi assured her, resting a hand on Tamtey’s shoulder. 

So’lek just inclined his head at Tamtey, tail flicking. 

“You must be Ri’nela,” Anufi greeted Tamtey’s clanmate warmly. 

“I am,” Ri’nela said with a respectful inclination of her head. “And this is my clanmate, Nor.” 

Anufi smiled, eyes lingering on their marks. “What a blessing it is to see the Sarentu again.” 

“She’s awake!” A voice cried from behind the curtain, drawing their attention. Nalin, smiling widely, popped her head out. She looked exhausted, dark eye bags showing how tiresome the last few days have been for the human woman, but in this moment she looked radiant. “Alma is awake!”

At once, the Na’vi gathered outside the makeshift infirmary shared glances, ducking past Nalin as the blonde beckoned them inside. 

Alma was sitting up in her cot, wincing as her healing skin pulled with the movements. The burns looked slightly less severe than when Tamtey had first seen them, but they still seemed to be terribly painful. The pinched expression on Alma’s face proved that. 

They gathered around Alma’s bedside. Ri’nela smiled, relieved. Though So’lek didn’t show his relief as clearly, Tamtey could see it in the lines of his body. Nor, too, looked as if he’d lost some of his tension, though Tamtey believed it was because at least part of Alma was present to answer his questions. Her human self had been forced to set up her linkbed a short ways from the Hideout, and she had yet to visit the cave in her real skin. As the Kame’tire tsahik stepped into the space, she froze, yellow-green eyes widening. 

“Dreamwalker,” Anufi gasped, taking a step back from the cot. “I know you.”

Alma sat up further, a pained hiss escaping her as she did so. In a rather pointed manner, Anufi did absolutely nothing to offer aid. 

“You brought the Sky People,” Anufi continued, lip curling. “You wanted our children.”

Nor sucked in a breath, stiffening. Ri’nela grasped his hand, confused. 

Alma said nothing, ears lowering as she maintained eye contact with the Kame’tire tsahik. 

Anufi leveled her prosthetic at the Avatar. “I saw you, in the depths of Mokasa’s memories. He told you where to find the Sarentu clan.” Her tail lashed. “To end them.”

Only then did Alma speak. 

“No, no,” the Avatar insisted, shallow gasps of pain making her words breathy. “Not to end them—”

“Alma?” Ri’nela gasped, eyes flying wide. “You were there? You—you led Mercer to us?”

Alma made to stand, a groan slipping past her lips as she put weight on her burns. Nor let go of Ri’nela’s hand, moving to stand protectively in front of both Sarentu women. 

“The school,” Alma croaked, straightening on shaky legs. “The Ambassador Program, it was supposed to save lives, both Na’vi and human. I only tried to help—”

“You stole our lives,” Nor growled, tail lashing, breaths heaving. “Like you stole everything else!”

So’lek eyed Nor, moving closer to the agitated group. He seemed to be the only one with any modicum of control. Ri’nela had tears pooling in her eyes, backing away from Alma as if the Avatar was a disease. Tamtey found herself backing towards Anufi, the Kame’tire tsahik glaring at Alma as if daring the Avatar to make a move. 

In the end, it wasn’t Alma who moved. 

“I tried to stop them!” Alma cried desperately, arms outstretched and pleading. “I—”

With a roar, Nor unsheathed the knife from his vest and buried it in Alma’s exposed gut. 

Alma screamed, hands flying to the hilt of the blade still embedded in her abdomen. Blood welled and dripped from the wound, its coppery tang filling the air. The Avatar dropped back onto the cot. 

“No!” So’lek shouted, surging forward to put pressure on the injury, hands quickly becoming red with sticky, hot blood. 

Ri’nela attempted to grab Nor by the shoulders, to pull him away from the fray, but Nor pushed her back. 

“Get off me!” He snarled. 

Anufi, the instincts of a healer overwhelming her disdain of Alma, gathered bandages and rushed toward the cot. Tamtey moved as well, but Nor pushed them both back, baring sharp fangs.

“Let it bleed,” Nor hissed, eyes flashing between them. 

Ri’nela, eyes locked on Nor, extended a trembling hand. “Do not become what you hate, Nor,” she pleaded. 

“Listen,” Alma gasped from her curled position on the cot, blood spreading below her. 

Nor hissed again, waving at the Avatar. “It needs to die.”

Tamtey pushed her way forward, baring her teeth. “Let her speak.”

“Why?” Nor demanded, sneering at her. “She is the reason for every bruise and broken bone.” His voice broke. “She murdered our families. Aha’ri.” He leveled a finger at Tamtey. “You should know! You saw what remains of our clan—of our home.”

That drew a confused look from both Ri’nela and So’lek. Nor hadn’t told them.

“I never—I never meant to hurt you,” Alma gasped brokenly.  

“Then tell us why!” Tamtey cried, desperation leaking into her voice as she directed her attention to the Avatar. 

“We know why!” Nor shouted, eyes flicking between Tamtey and Alma. Frantically, he turned to So’lek. “This is what you wanted, yes? Revenge against the humans?”

“Revenge?” So’lek echoed, voice hard. “This is not revenge.” The man’s ears pinned, golden eyes searching Nor’s. “You are being consumed. Where does it end? These are our allies. Would you kill them all?”

Nor’s nostrils flared, ears flicking downward in disappointment. Evidently, he expected something different from them all. He scoffed, baring his teeth a final time, then he ran from the infirmary. 

“Allow me,” Anufi ordered at once, replacing So’lek’s bloodied hands with her own. The knife Nor had used to stab Alma was the Sarentu blade he’d discovered the night of the party at HQ. Its blade was long and curved, its edge sharp. Even Tamtey with her extremely limited healing knowledge knew the only thing keeping Alma’s Avatar from imminent death was the fact that the blade was still lodged deeply into her abdomen. 

“I need to show you the truth,” Alma said weakly, extending a hand toward Ri’nela. 

Ri’nela averted her gaze, conflicting emotions warring within her. 

“Please,” Alma cried, tears rolling down her cheeks, wetting the blood-soaked sheets beneath. 

Anufi made a noise deep in her throat, drawing the attention of the Na’vi and Avatar. 

“The past is not hidden from the Circle of Ancestors,” the tsahik told Alma. “Walk with Eywa through her memories. Before that shell of skin fails you.”

In a daze, Tamtey helped Ri’nela carry Alma’s Avatar body outside, ignoring the gasps and cries of the Resistance members as they passed. Telisi protested as Tamtey and Anufi helped load Alma onto her back. Tamtey murmured apologies to her ikran, feeling exactly how much Telisi despised Alma touching her. So’lek helped Ri’nela onto Ìley, his ikran seeming just as unhappy with an unexpected passenger. Still, the two ikran could understand the urgency of the situation and flew with haste towards The Hollows. 

Tamtey directed Telisi to land, feeling blood wet her back where Alma was secured between her and Anufi. Poor Telisi had the Avatar’s blood streaming in rivulets down her flank, its coppery smell overpowering any other scents clinging to the ikran’s skin. 

As they gently extracted Alma from the harness, Tamtey was struck by the tempest of emotions within her. She felt nauseated, uncomfortable with the feeling of Alma’s blood rapidly cooling against her spine, unable to get the Avatar’s weak, pained gasps out of her head. Part of her felt afraid and frantic, unmoored at the sight of an authority figure—someone who at a point in her childhood had seemed larger than life—frail and dying. Another part of her, the violent and cruel part, saw her agony as retribution for the lies. Even if Tamtey didn’t quite know the full truth, it was evident that Alma had lied to the Sarentu throughout their entire lives. And that was unforgivable. 

There was no time to process any of the emotions warring inside her heart. Ri’nela carried Alma in her arms, and the group followed Anufi into The Hollows. With a command Tamtey hadn’t quite heard, Anufi ordered the curious Kame’tire to give them space as she led them into the Circle of Ancestors. 

Alma gasped at the glowing tendrils of the whispering greatcap, bright blood bubbling from between her lips. They had so little time.

As Ri’nela placed the Avatar against the soft mosses of the cavern, oh-so-gently so as not to aggravate the wound, she and Tamtey shared a look. Tamtey felt her heart pound against her sternum. 

Tamtey sat on a boulder outside the Analysis Center, watching colors bloom on the horizon as the morning sun eased the Clouded Forest into wakefulness. 

Okul was a heavy sleeper, it seemed, and she’d let the herbalist sleep, tucked into a makeshift bedmat of worn tarps and the few furs Siul had left behind. Tamtey had taken one look at Okul—their nose tucked into their mentor’s old furs, tear tracks dried on their cheeks—and decided to let the Kame’tire sleep. 

She’d made a small fire outside the Analysis Center, preparing herself some tea and a breakfast of scrambled kite manta egg wrapped in a broad leaf. She’d drunk all the tea, but made an extra wrap for Okul which she left next to the herbalist’s bedmat. When she was done, she doused the fire and climbed atop a boulder to watch the sunrise, her mind racing. 

What if Okul’s tea didn’t work? Would she die in the yavä’? What if the tea did work? What would she find within the dense, noxious fog? 

Sighing wearily, Tamtey unclipped her radio from her vest, toggling the dial to Nor’s private frequency. 

“Nor, are you awake?” She asked quietly. 

After a few heartbeats, her clanmate responded. “I’m awake. What have you found? Last night, you told me you were safe, but that was all.” 

Tamtey fiddled with the moss growing on the boulder, tracing the tiny leaves and green ferns with the pads of her fingers. “The healer Siul is dead. I met his apprentice, a Kame’tire named Okul. They’re an herbalist, and they’ve been helping me. Last night, I—I found a strange logo at Siul’s workshop. ‘TAP Con-1’. Do you know what that means?”

She heard a sharp intake of breath over the radio, then nothing. She blinked, looking down at her radio, then shook it. Still nothing. 

“Nor? Do you copy?” 

“I’m here.” Nor took a shuddering breath. “Con-1. That’s what I see. In my nightmares.”

Tamtey stilled. “What? I don’t understand.” 

“I see that name.” Nor stressed. “It’s dark, and then a light flashes across it. I never knew what it meant.”

“None of this makes sense,” Tamtey groaned, running a hand through her braids. “It’s so far from our school.”

“I can’t remember.” Nor sighed. “I just know I was there. We were there. It was in a mountain or …I don’t know. This must mean something.”

After Aha’ri, Nor was the oldest of them all. He’d been four or five years old when the RDA had taken them—old enough to remember the tiniest details about their clan, and even some from the weeks following their arrival at TAP. Most of his memories immediately following their abduction, however, were lost to him. He’d lamented over the fact several times, but try as he might, he’d never been able to recall those days. 

At times, Tamtey was envious of his memories, however limited they were. At least he had memories of their clan. Of his parents. He may be able to barely recall their faces, but at least they were there. Tamtey had been a little over two years old—much too young to recall any memories from that time. 

“Somehow we’re connected to this place.” Tamtey said, nails digging absentmindedly into her legs. As pain bloomed, she took a deep breath, refocusing. 

“Yes.” Nor said firmly. “You need to find it.” 

Tamtey let loose a shaky breath. “I know. Okul told me where Siul used to find old RDA stuff. I’m going to try and find it.”

“Do you think it’s TAP Con-1?” 

Brushing dirt and loose leaves from her legs, Tamtey stood. “I guess I’ll find out. How are the wounded?” 

Nor was silent for a moment. “The ones with the most serious injuries have succumbed. The ones left…they’ll last until you get here.” 

With a furious shout, Tamtey kicked a loose rock, sending it tumbling down the cliffside. “I should come back. This is taking too long. I shouldn’t waste time on selfish endeavors.” 

“No,” Nor insisted. “This is your only chance at getting the Kame’tire to help us. It’s not just for us. If you can find out what happened at TAP Con-1, maybe you can find out what happened to our clan. That’s the hold up, isn’t it? The Kame’tire won’t help because their tsahik killed our clan.” Nor took a deep breath, his next words a growl. “I think that’s bullshit. This could be our one chance at the truth.” 

“And what if I don’t find anything, Nor?” Tamtey exclaimed, frustration coloring her voice. “This path could end with nothing—no new knowledge, no answers, nothing. What then?” 

Silence. “Then we accept defeat and bury our dead. That is all we can do.” 

Tamtey bared her teeth, fangs drawing blood as she snapped at the air. “Fine.”

She clicked off the radio, rage and fear and hopelessness churning within her. She tilted her head to the sky, crying out for her ikran. In less than ten minutes, Telisi was landing in front of her, fallen leaves billowing into the sky as she flapped her wings. 

“My dear,” Tamtey breathed, pressing her forehead against Telisi’s. “I need your steadiness, beloved. Your strength. I fear mine has deserted me.” 

Telisi crooned, kuru twitching towards Tamtey’s waiting hand. With slow motions, Tamtey made tsaheylu with her mount, breathing a sigh of relief as Telisi’s familiar spirit washed over her. Her ikran had a way of smoothing the sharp edges of Tamtey’s heart and mind, filling her instead with purpose and belonging. She continued to stroke her ikran’s neck as Telisi absorbed Tamtey’s most recent memories, attempting to understand as much as she could. When she was done, Telisi rumbled, sending Tamtey a wave of lovepurposedetermination. 

“You think I should do this?” Tamtey asked, looking into her ikran’s keen eyes. Another rumble. Tamtey sighed, swinging herself into the harness. “Very well. You know I must leave you again, right? You cannot follow me into the yavä’.” 

Displeasure coursed through her ikran’s body, but it did nothing to change the determination Telisi felt. 

“Stubborn girl.” Tamtey said fondly, a bittersweet smile flashing across her face. “Let’s go, then.” 

With a shrill screech, Telisi leapt into the sky, mighty wings carrying them high and fast towards the Kame’tire camp Okul had mentioned. As they flew, they gave a wide berth to RDA aerial patrols, staying silent and steady as the dense mist kept them hidden almost completely from sight. Having spent the last few days searching the Clouded Forest, she was able to spot the Kame’tire’s camouflage from kilometers away, locating the hunting camp that had been constructed between a hollowed fallen log and a massive boulder. 

A forest of giant, red-leaved trees surrounded the camp, their trunks braided around one another, creating a dense biome of towering scarlet canopies and a forest floor alive with brightly colored lichens, fungi, and large, coiling root systems. The vibrant crimson canopies, however, faded to a pale yellow inside the largest cloud of yavä’ Tamtey had ever seen. While the hunting camp seemed to be safe from the toxic fog, it was unnervingly close. 

This was it. 

“We part ways here,” Tamtey told her ikran as she dismounted. With trembling fingers, she unwound Teylan’s songcord from her wrist, brushing her lips over the beads before tucking it into the leather pouch secured to Telisi’s harness. If anything happened to her, she didn’t want the proof of Teylan’s life to be lost in the yavä’. With a strained smile, Tamtey patted Telisi on the rump, watching as her ikran flew up and perched on the thick branch of a nearby braided crimson tree. Telisi trilled down at her, settling against the mossy branch. 

Tamtey nodded to herself, then walked inside the Kame’tire camp. 

Unlike The Hollows, the Kame’tire staying at this camp were much more welcoming. Some not-so-secretly made themselves scarce as she walked into the enclosed space, but most pointed her towards the cooking station and the baskets where they kept dried meats and fruits. When she explained her intentions, to walk into the yavä’ without harm, their eyes grew wide. Soon, they were insisting that Tamtey take more food. One Na’vi, an elder hunter, filled her quiver with new arrows, stone-tipped and terribly sharp. A Kame’tire woman insisted that

Tamtey change her clothes, providing her with a simple chestpiece and waistcloth in traditional Kame’tire style. The clothing, made with thicker woven fabric and dense leather, helped protect against the chill. Feathers and fur, inlaid in the hems, helped soften the dig of leather against her skin. It was only after a young child wove wooden beads into Tamtey’s hair that she realized the truth. 

These people were expecting Tamtey to die, and they were dressing her and feeding her as tradition demanded. The realization was like slipping into a frigid lake. In the back of her mind, she knew the sacred death practices of certain Na’vi clans. The Zeswa had them, so did the Aranahe. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that the Kame’tire do, too. In some clans, the elders near death find themselves preparing for one final journey—the journey to their death. They dress in their finest clothing, cherish their final moments with their family, then they venture into the wilderness of Pandora, traveling until their spirit returns to Eywa. 

I’m not going to die, Tamtey wanted to shout. But when she opened her mouth, the words on her tongue, she found she couldn’t say them. She wasn’t certain she would live. She could walk deep into the yavä’ before feeling its effects, find herself deaf and blind without any way of escape. A shuddering breath left her, and she found herself picking at the skin around her nailbeds. Swallowing roughly, she let them dress her, feed her, and care for her. When they were done, staring at her with sad eyes, she inclined her head respectfully and left them, walking straight into the dense wall of yavä’.

The first thing she noticed was how bitter the air was, and how it stung with each inhalation. It didn’t burn, however. With each breath she took, it became more and more evident that she was only uncomfortable, not actively dying. 

“Okay…” Tamtey muttered, heart thumping against her sternum as she continued to walk. “I think the tea worked…” 

Okul had said the site Siul used was right inside the yavä’, a clearing in which towering boulders formed a circle, connected by fallen logs, with a small lake in the middle. With those descriptions, the site was simple enough to find. 

The yavä’, thick and green, twisted around her as she walked through it. Her eyes, stinging as they did, were not nearly as irritated as they’d been during her first brush with the yavä’. Without tears blurring her vision, she saw the salvage site as soon as she came upon it. As she climbed atop one of the tall boulders, she noticed the lack of moss. Some lichens grew along the stone, allowing her some purchase as she climbed, but no moss grew at all. The patches of fungi she came across were thinner, almost shriveled. She walked carefully along the fallen logs and trees forming precarious bridges between the boulders, noting how the wood creaked and groaned under her weight. The wood of the Clouded Forest was strong, and lasted several years. Why did the yavä’ have such a strong effect on its integrity? 

Tamtey yelped as bark fell away beneath her, lunging forwards onto the boulder in front of her as the tree she’d been walking on cracked, sending large chunks crashing to the ground below. She sucked in large breaths of the stinking air, adrenaline causing nausea to roil in her gut. When she was certain her legs wouldn’t give way beneath her, she stood. 

There it was. 

The salvage site wasn’t really a salvage site at all—it was a crash site. Judging by the lichens stretching up the rusted steel, it had been many years since the aircraft had crashed into the rock structure. Most of the debris had since been buried under sparse foliage and fungi, but she could still see the jagged edges of aircraft components. It had been a Samson, she realized as she got closer to the wreckage. She was uncertain what had caused the crash, but it was clear from the damage that there had been no survivors. Still, the machinery was undoubtedly RDA. 

Tamtey grunted with effort as she overturned one of the larger slabs of scrap metal—a part of what had to be the siding of the Samson—observing the faded logo. TAP Con-1. 

“This is definitely the place.” Tamtey said quietly, brushing dirt from the logo. She let it fall back to the ground, stepping over it as she walked around the rest of the wreckage. Curiously, she found a large steel contraption that had been lodged between two now-dead trees. It was a cage. The steel frame had bent in the crash, and was dented in several other places, but it had been well-made. Even after being flung from a Samson, it kept its shape. Standing on the tips of her toes, Tamtey peeked inside. 

The skeleton inside caused a cry to tumble from her lips, tears springing to her wide eyes. 

It was a child. A Na’vi child. 

The skeleton was hunched in the far corner of the cage. Lichens and fungi grew on the tiny bones, helping keep its shape. The child had died hugging themselves, curled as tight as could be managed. Alone. 

Despite herself, Tamtey looked closer at the remains. The bones themselves looked…brittle—as if the yavä’ had eaten away at the cortical bone, exposing the cancellous layer beneath. Swallowing roughly, Tamtey ran her hands along the cage, searching for weak spots. The steel had degraded over the years, rust turning it brittle. A few sharp tugs on the door of the cage broke the internal pieces of the locking mechanism. When it came free, Tamtey crawled inside. Her foraging bag would have to do for now. 

With gentle, reverent motions, Tamtey pulled the tiny bones free from the lichens holding them in place. She felt tears dripping from her chin as she placed the brittle bones inside the canvas foraging bag. Rifling through the dirt and debris, she made sure she got every single bone—even the small bones of the wrists, feet, and fingers. As she gently placed the pelvis into the bag, she realized the child had been female. She sighed mournfully. 

A little girl, left to die alone in a cage. 

It was monstrous. 

If Tamtey made it out of the yavä’, she would bury this girl—return what little of her body remained to Eywa. 

“Great Mother,” Tamtey croaked, cinching the bag shut as she climbed from the cage. She observed the wreckage around her, the scorched metal, the yavä’ twisting around her. “Give me strength.” 

In the worst of the wreckage, underneath a pile of charred, jagged debris, Tamtey found the Samson’s black box. Unclipping SID from her belt, she felt the slighted glimmer of hope unfurl between her ribs as she tried to hack the device.

It worked. 

“Nor?” Tamtey called into her radio. 

“Tamtey,” Nor breathed, relieved. “Did you find TAP Con-1?” 

“Not yet,” Tamtey replied. “It’s a very old RDA crash site. But the Samson also had the TAP Con-1 logo. This must be where Siul got that RDA crate and took it back to his workshop.”

Nor hummed. “It means the facility of whatever it is must be nearby, then. You have to find it.”

“Yeah,” Tamtey huffed as she scaled the boulder, stepping carefully to avoid slipping on the slick rock as she descended to the ground. “I managed to get coordinates from the black box. I’m going there next.” She grunted as she hit the ground, making sure to avoid jostling the bag on her back. “I found some…pretty disturbing stuff here, Nor. I’m—I’m scared.”

She hadn’t admitted her fear to Nor since Aha’ri’s death. She heard his breath hitch at her words. 

“I can come to you.” He said at once. 

“You can’t,” Tamtey said sadly. “Okul only made one batch of the tea. Who knows how long it would take for them to make more? Right now, I’m the only one who can do this. And…” She sighed. “We can’t afford to waste any more time.” 

Nor made a frustrated sound. “Keep me on the radio, then, if you can.” 

“Will do. What—what do you think TAP Con-1 even is?”

Nor was silent for a heartbeat. “I don’t know. Memories of my childhood fade more each day. But…the name ‘Con-1’ is seared into my nightmares. One thing is certain…” A shaky breath. “Nothing good happened there.” 

Tamtey became hyperaware of the weight against her back, the soft sound of the bones jostling with each step. 

“No,” she agreed. “Nothing good.” 

She continued to walk through the yavä’. The coordinates, programmed into SID, were deep in the yavä’. As she walked, the fog got thicker. Unbidden, she felt her breaths come quicker. Each noise in the sick forest made her jump, hands twitching towards her rifle. 

She knew she was close when she saw RDA machines and equipment, rusted and worn with time. She climbed a pile of cargo containers stacked against a hillside, the metal flaking as her feet brushed against it. When she found an empty crate, discarded amongst piles of trunks and miscellaneous equipment, she carefully eased the canvas bag from her back and placed it inside. She didn’t know what she’d find as she got closer to TAP Con-1. She’d return for the bones on her way back. 

When she was satisfied the bag was safe and secure, she continued onwards. She crested the hill, climbing through another yard full of cargo containers. Evidently, the RDA had been planning to move them. Something had prevented that from happening. 

She emerged at the entrance to TAP Con-1. 

Immediately, her steps stilled and her breath froze in her lungs. Her heart began to race, cold sweat beading on her back and face. She dug her nails into her thigh. 

“Nor,” she gasped through the onslaught of fear. “I’ve found TAP Con-1. It looks abandoned.”

The base, built into the mountain exactly like Nor described, had been ravaged by the elements. Its logo, while decipherable, had faded with age. Lichens grew across every surface, and fungi bloomed in the darker corners of the structure. The steel grates leading up to the entrance had been twisted by thin root systems, the metal cold beneath her feet. 

“Find a way inside,” Nor said, his voice loud in her ear. “Our past may be buried in there.” 

I don’t want to, she wanted to cry. I want to go home. Please, I want to go home.

But what was home? Her people, the Sarentu, had disappeared long ago, and this place had something to do with it. 

Gritting her teeth, Tamtey forced herself forward. She could see the dim glow of emergency lights on the right side of the structure, red light mingling with the sickly green of the yavä’. A door, small and human-sized, was stuck half-open. Crouching, she crawled through the doorway and into TAP Con-1. 

It was dark. Even with the emergency incandescents on, the darkness loomed over her like a tangible force. She seemed to be in some kind of loading bay—a wide, open room with broken machinery and large crates stacked along the walls. 

“I need to get the lights on,” she muttered, her voice sounding impossibly loud in the silence. It was so strange to not hear the wildlife outside, the constant chitter of some creature. The silence was eerie. 

She climbed through a ventilation shaft and into a small control room. Thankfully, the terminal turned on as she flipped a switch. If the emergency power worked, it was highly likely that the main power grid still functioned. Equipping SID, Tamtey overrode the security clearance and, with bated breath, activated the main power. 

The entire structure seemed to come alive as electricity flooded the walls. The lights above her flickered on, their brightness temporarily blinding her. 

“Systems online,” the PA system boomed. “Attempting reconnection to Resource Development Administration services.” 

Tamtey froze. 

“No, no, please don’t do that,” she pleaded with the computer. “Don’t contact the RDA, don’t contact the RDA…”

She fiddled with SID, attempting to hack the software before the signal went through, but it was too late. Tamtey pursed her lips, staring at the terminal. 

“Well, fuck.” 

What was the likelihood of the RDA coming to investigate this place, anyway? It was deep in the yavä’. Surely the fog would corrode their aircraft or something, right? 

She should be fine. 

Still, an instinct told her to move with haste. 

The upside of the electricity being on was that the ventilation system cleared the yavä’ inside immediately, pumping clean air into the building. A flashing warning on the terminal told her that the oxygen levels weren’t optimal for humans, meaning somewhere within TAP Con-1, there were places letting Pandoran air in. The doors, however, were functional, so she entered the interior of TAP Con-1 through an airlock door on the far end of the wall. 

Immediately, Tamtey could tell there were several places the mountain had pushed into the structure. Lichens and mushrooms grew along the floor, and soft soil cushioned her feet as she walked. She stepped over tree roots that had pushed their way through the walls and ceilings, water dripping from eroded pipes. The electricity mostly worked, but it was evident that some connections had been severed by roots or destroyed by water. 

The floor was littered with broken glass, torn papers, and several miscellaneous items that had been knocked from shelves, desks, or carts. It was evident that the RDA had left in a hurry. As Tamtey walked through an office room, she saw old coffee cups and notebooks on some of the desks. She even saw jackets thrown over the backs of chairs. Materials had been hastily packed into trunks, only to be left open on the floor, deserted. The packing process, interrupted. Why?

The growth of fungi and ferns and lichens was somewhat a comfort to Tamtey as she kept walking through TAP Con-1. Her entire body was tense, ears swiveling at the slightest sound, but the soft glow of syuratan helped keep her from a full-blown panic. Sure, the place was creepy as fuck, but why was she so scared?

The doors hissed open for Tamtey as she entered another room. She stilled as her gaze fell upon the contents of the room. How odd…

The room was stacked with empty cages from floor to ceiling. A loading vehicle had been parked, ready to move them. It was now rusted with age, its tires deflated. What caught Tamtey’s attention wasn’t the cages, as strange as they were, but the fact that this had been a supply storage room originally. Tamtey could see the gouges on the floor from where crates and equipment had been carelessly dragged out, replaced by the large cages. As she walked further into the room, she saw that a thin, makeshift wall had been constructed along the far edge of the room, forming a smaller room within. It was as Tamtey approached this area that she froze, nostrils flaring. The room had been abandoned for decades. Why was she picking up the faintest lingering scent of fear? Inhaling deeply, Tamtey followed the smell. 

She’d been wrong. 

Most of the cages had been unused, empty. Except this one. 

In the furthest corner of the room, a cage lay open, its steel walls speckled with old blood. A heap of clothing, Na’vi clothing, lay in the center of the cage, the stench of fear still clinging to the decades-old fibers. Immediately to the right, inside the makeshift room, Tamtey saw standard issue RDA restraints tossed haphazardly onto a table. Most were unused, but some were torn and flecked with blood. 

“Nor?” She whispered into her radio. “I found cages. And restraints.”

Nor responded at once. “For animals or people?”

“People. They had Na’vi in cages. I knew we were just animals to them, but…it’s bad, Nor. The Na’vi in these cages…they were interrogated. Tortured.” 

Nor sucked in a breath. “A prison. But who did they bring there?” 

“I don’t know. There’s a door up ahead. I’ll see what else I can find.” 

Tamtey continued through the door along the wall, shoving through doors that wouldn’t give. She emerged into another large room that had been a supply room but was changed into something else. This one was worse. 

The entire room stank of old fear, but it was mostly empty. The only items in the room were pushed along the far wall; small cots with worn blankets and pillows, and three trunks with bedding shoved inside. She saw restraints on the floor. Tamtey stepped over the clothes and peeked inside the trunks. Her heart stuttered in her chest. 

“Nor, these are Sarentu toys.”

“What?” Her clanmate gasped. “What do you see?” 

Her voice wobbled as she spoke. “Tiny cots. Bedding in trunks. I think—I think they’re makeshift cribs, Nor. They had Sarentu children here. Sarentu babies.” 

Nor was silent for a moment. When he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper. “Keep looking.”

Tamtey was starting to shake, a tremor building in her core. The sour stench of her own fear was beginning to join the lingering smell that seemed to be ingrained in the walls themselves. 

The next room was different. Long and narrow, with large drains along the center of the sloped floor. Rusted shower heads dripped, and the room stank. 

“Ma Eywa,” Tamtey gagged, bringing a trembling hand to her mouth. Bottles of disinfectant littered the shower floor, and a huge drum of the stuff sat in the corner. 

“Showers,” Tamtey told Nor. “Like the ones at school. Those disinfectant bottles are everywhere—the ones they used to spray us with.” She loosed a shaky breath. “The soap that stings.” 

She remembered the first soap they’d been forced to use, the one that smelled exactly like this. The chemicals had been strong, burning the nose and skin. For the longest time, it had caused their skin to dry out, to crack and bleed. They’d complained about it several times, and been beaten for their insolence. The soap had only been changed to a slightly gentler variety when their skin was so thin, so damaged, that they’d bleed onto their sheets each night. A change had only occurred because the laundry had become an inconvenience. 

Nor hissed. “They always said we were dirty.” 

“I remember Teylan got so afraid of being dirty,” Tamtey said. “He kept washing his hands.”

“Mercer wanted to scrub the Na’vi off us.” Nor snapped, his anger at their treatment evident in the sharpness of his tone. “Wash away Pandora. Looks like it all started here.” 

“They treated us like animals,” Tamtey agreed, a sneer on her lips. “Disinfected and showered. We never deserved that.” 

“No,” Nor sighed. “We didn’t.”

As she entered the next room, Tamtey gasped. There was more makeshift bedding, but what caught her eye was the design drawn upon the wall. Old, chipped paint depicted a swooping ikran, the bright sun, and swirling clouds. 

“A Na’vi child’s drawing,” she breathed. “Memories of home. Nor, there were Sarentu children here. They did a drawing on the wall.” 

“So it’s another TAP school?” Nor asked. 

“No, I don’t think so,” Tamtey replied. “It doesn’t feel like a school. There’s makeshift bedding, hastily constructed rooms…Nor, I think this is where they had us before TAP.”

A gasp. “Are you sure?” 

“No,” she admitted. “Everything is old and broken. It’s hard to tell. But…something about this place. The fear…the smells…it’s familiar.” 

“My memories are hazy,” Nor told her. “Keep going. We need more answers.” 

The cold from the concrete floor seemed to seep into her body. The smells on the air, the lingering scent of fear… 

A shudder wracked her frame. 

“Nor? I…” She trailed off. 

“What is it?”

The smallest whimper escaped her throat. “This place was a prison, not a school. They brought us here in restraints and took our clothes and belongings.”

“Like animals.” He growled. “Taking everything that was Na’vi away from us. Including our family.”

“We must have been so scared, Nor.” Tamtey croaked, her mind suddenly recalling the taste of salty tears, tremors that never ceased, and wide eyes that could barely comprehend the horrors they witnessed. 

“I don’t want to remember.” Nor took a shuddering breath. “But maybe I should.” 

She didn’t know what to say to him. If being here was stirring up hazy memories for her—memories of pain and despair—she couldn’t imagine what it was doing to him. But again, he wasn’t here with her. She took a deep breath. “I’m going to see what else is buried in here.” 

“Okay.” Nor said quietly. “Be safe.” 

Tamtey mumbled an agreement, leaving the fear-drenched rooms with no small amount of relief. 

She continued exploring, coming across a flight of stairs and a corridor that led to a series of laboratories. A voice echoing in the walls of the hallway made her freeze. She dropped to the ground, hand reaching towards the hilt of her knife. 

The voice, however, wasn’t from a physical being. It was a recording, warbled and corrupted, coming from deeper inside TAP Con-1. It was faint—so faint, in fact, that she couldn’t even make out the words with her sharp Na’vi hearing. Could it be coming from one of the labs?

Curious, Tamtey stepped over fallen carts and broken glass, entering into a decently sized room. Dusty medical beds were along the farthest wall of the room, hooked up to broken monitors and equipment. Along the right wall, she could see fume hoods and enclosures, along with storage cabinets for chemicals supplies. She saw a centrifuge, an autoclave, various instruments and glassware, and an entire subsection filled with hematology equipment, blood culture supplies, and testing reagents. She shivered. 

“I’m in a lab.” She told Nor. “That chemical smell reminds me of pain and fear.”

A datapad, relatively damage-free, lay under a stack of rotted notebooks. It was an audio log. It was common for researchers and scientists to keep audio logs, Alexander had told her. They were much more reliable than paper files. Judging by the disintegrated paper on the desks around her, Tamtey supposed he was right. She picked up the datapad, surprised when the screen lit up. With an interested hmph, she played the most recent entry. 

Alma’s voice filled the space, younger and shaking. 

“Female. Uh. Approximately five years. Weight…fifty-one kilos.” A teary breath. “No injuries. Name…Aha’ri. I think. She stopped talking after we got her here.”

Tamtey dropped the datapad, hand flying to her lips. What? 

“Nor, did you—?”

“I heard.” His voice was thick. “That’s where they brought us, then. TAP Con-1. We were processed there.” 

Tamtey swiped at her eyes. “There’s blood samples here, Nor. This is where it began, they—they took our blood.” She sniffled. “Some of us cried every time.” 

She’d been one of them. Each time the needle pierced her skin, drawing her blood from her veins, she’d whimper and shake. She’d received many slaps for that weakness. 

She shook her head roughly, tearing herself from that dangerous train of thought. She needed to refocus. The laboratory had a second floor—a computer room. She climbed up the walkways towards a broken window leading into the room full of blinking technology and screens mounted on the ceiling. 

The distorted recording wasn’t coming from this room, but somewhere beyond. Still, a computer in a lab…could contain valuable information. She kicked papers out of the way, using SID to hack past the encryptions. The screens above her flickered to life, showing their most recent data. 

A strangled cry escaped her. 

“What is it?” Nor asked hurriedly. “What did you find?” 

“It’s Aha’ri,” Tamtey cried, tears leaking from her wide eyes as she stared at her sister’s face on the screens. It was Aha’ri, from the day they’d been taken. All her biometrics were there on the screen, next to her picture. The results of her bloodwork, her genetic makeup…and notes. 

“Aha’ri?” Nor asked, voice thin. “What do you mean?” 

“I found a photo.” Tamtey choked. “All her records. With notes…they called her ‘disruptive’…‘insubordinate’.” 

Nor’s voice was grave. “They could see her strength. It frightened them.” He snarled suddenly. “That’s why Mercer destroyed her. Was Alma part of all this from the start?”

“I thought she was just a teacher,” Tamtey exclaimed tearily. “She looked after us. What is this—why—why!”

“That’s what we all thought,” Nor told her, voice hard. “But maybe we were just kids. And maybe there’s a lot more to this that we don’t know.”

“Do you think so?” Tamtey asked, inhaling shakily. “Like what?” 

“Something isn’t right about that place. Why did they abandon it? What happened?”

“You’re right,” Tamtey said quietly. “I have to go deeper.”

Tiny, human sized doors led her out of the control center and into another corridor. She descended the flight of stairs, eyeing the crumbling walls and ceiling worriedly. The place seemed to weaken the deeper she went. 

A growl shook the halls. 

Tamtey whipped her gaze towards a hole in the concrete wall ahead of her. She met a set of wide, enraged eyes. 

“Oh, no!” She gasped as the creature roared, swiping at the hole. When it couldn’t reach her, it hissed menacingly, retreating into hallways beyond. 

“What is it?” Nor demanded. 

“There’s a thanator in here, too. One of the Severed.” 

“That’s bad. Are you sure you can handle it? You can pull back.” 

Tamtey gritted her teeth. “No. I’ll handle it, if I must. This is too important to turn back now.” 

She continued on quiet feet, holding her rifle at the ready, her finger hovering over the trigger. 

The next room she entered was smaller, its recessed floors flooded with water. Lichens and fungi grew up the walls, casting a soft glow over the space. The only light that worked was inside a glass chamber, where a familiar structure lay. Where had she seen that before? A giant glass enclosure, hooked up with wires and tubing…

She crept closer, fingering the switch for a terminal hooked to the machinery inside the glass room. Her eyes widened. 

“You won’t believe this, Nor.” 

“Try me.”

“It’s Alma’s grow tank,” Tamtey said. “You know, where they made her Na’vi self.”

Nor scoffed. “Her Avatar, you mean. She’s not Na’vi. She just wears us like a coat.”

“Right, right.” Tamtey nodded. “It’s just—why is this here?” 

“I don’t know. Keep going.” 

She continued through the lower levels of TAP Con-1, curiosity spurring her motions. She found more labs, more supply rooms. Bunk rooms for staff, offices. A cantina, ravaged and littered with broken glass and upturned tables. 

Continuing down a corridor, she used SID to hack an authorized door. As it hissed to life, a mass slammed into the reinforced glass windows of the double doors. 

Tamtey cried out, stumbling backwards as the thanator tore at the glass, clawing deep gouges into the steel, the sheer mass of it and the force behind its blows shattering the glass. The door held, however. With a fury-filled roar, the thanator stalked down the hall. It was trying to find a way to get to her. 

As soon as it was out of sight, Tamtey released a huge breath, heart pounding. She stood on shaky legs, assessing the damage to the door. Repairing it was out of the question. The metal frame was bent beyond repair, the electronics shot. She sighed. 

“Now I’m gonna have to climb through these goddamn, filthy-ass vents. Great.” 

Backtracking towards the nearest ventilation shaft cover, she kicked it in. Dust billowed and she coughed, crawling inside. The metal around her was rusted, groaning in protest under her weight. But she could hear the recording, louder and clearer. She was close—

The ventilation shaft gave out beneath her feet. 

She shrieked, falling into the room below. It was only her instincts that kept her from a broken ankle, tail flaring for balance as she landed in a crouch. 

The fall had been a long one, and the room she landed in was cavernous—high ceilings and vast. It was an atrium of sorts, various doors along the walls leading to more corridors and hallways. 

Roars erupted across the room from her, and Tamtey snapped her gaze up at the feral thanator stalking towards her from atop a raised platform in the very center of the atrium. She had her rifle pointed at it in an instant. 

Snarls pierced the air, and two more feral thanators prowled out from beneath the platform. 

Tamtey moaned in pure, unadulterated fear. 

All at once, they lunged. 

Tamtey was backed against a wall. Not good. She dove to her left, narrowly missing a swipe from one of the thanators. She brought up her rifle, screaming as she pulled the trigger. Bullets sprayed at the thanator nearest to her, taking it in the eyes. It stumbled, blinded, but righted quickly. It flared its sensory quills, hissing as it located her. It lunged again. She fired. This time, it did not rise. 

The second thanator leapt over the body of its fallen brethren, snarling. She fired, catching it in the flank. It slipped in its own blood but kept moving. Tamtey backpedaled, dodging at the last minute as it swiped at her. She was a hair too slow. 

Its claws nicked her outer thigh, tearing into the fabric of her waistcloth and sending her blood spraying. Tamtey cried out, stumbling. She pulled the trigger. Nothing. With a furious, pain-filled shout, she threw her rifle to the side, drawing her shortbow and three arrows. She turned, sprinting away from the two thanators as she notched them, leaping atop the platform. As she hit the ground, she whirled, loosing two arrows in quick succession. 

Her first arrow took the injured thanator in the opercula, exposed as it favored its side. It dropped, wheezing as it died. Her second arrow lodged into the shoulder of the third thanator. It howled, rearing and biting at the air. Tamtey pinned her own ears, baring her fangs and hissing in response, amber eyes locking on those of the enraged thanator. They circled one another. 

She let the thanator attack first. It lunged upwards at her, head tilting as it made to clamp its jaws around her legs. Tamtey leapt from the platform, pulling the bow taut as her feet left the ground. As the thanator whirled, intent on lunging again, she loosed her final arrow, sending it straight into the thanator’s opercula. As its breath left it, she surged forward, pulling her knife from her belt and using her momentum to plunge it into the softer tissue beneath its jaw. Its eyes met hers as it died, wide and wild. Then it was gone. 

Tamtey panted, slumping backwards onto her bottom. With trembling fingers, she poked at her wound. It fucking hurt. 

“Just my fucking luck,” she groused, pulling her knife free from the corpse. She wiped its blood on her waistcloth, opposite her wound, and sheathed her blade. Then she rose and pulled her arrows from the other corpse, doing the same before putting them back in her quiver. She hobbled across the room, picking up her rifle and replacing the magazine. She’d have to find more bullets in here, somewhere. It was an RDA base. She’d be surprised if she didn’t find more ammo. 

She toggled her radio. “Guess who didn’t die, Nor.” 

“I’m glad to hear it,” he responded immediately, relief coloring his voice. “The thanator?” 

“Three thanators.” 

Silence. Then, “Damn.” 

“Yeah. I took care of it, though.” 

“Are you hurt?” He asked. 

She glanced down at her leg. The cuts weren’t too deep, and they hadn’t pierced or severed anything important. “Marginally. I’ll be fine.” 

Then she perked up. With her heart no longer pounding in her ears, she was able to hear the recording, its volume clearer and crisper than she’d ever heard it. She followed the noise. 

“The recording I told you about,” she said into her radio. “It’s coming from an office.” 

There was a glass wall between the atrium and the interior of the office. She found a flight of stairs leading up to a door. It was locked. 

“Just my luck.”

Using SID, she followed the electrical wiring to paneling in the wall, hacking through the authorization firewalls. When she saw the light above the door flash green, she started walking towards it. 

The floor beneath her shook slightly. 

If she’d been any more exhausted, any less alert, she wouldn’t have paid it any mind. She wasn’t born yesterday, however. 

That was a sign of aircrafts landing. 

The RDA had arrived. 

A slow smile, sharp and wicked, curled across her face. She’d brought her trip grenades for a reason. 

“I’ve been in too many fucking ambushes, you bastards,” she sneered aloud, placing a trip grenade at the foot of each door and in the middle of the walkways. She covered them with loose paper and debris. “It’s time to get a taste of your own goddamn medicine.” 

Then, when she was satisfied, she wiped her hands on her waistcloth and ascended the stairs towards the office. She’d get what she came here for. 

The office doors slid open for her and she crouched inside. The recording was coming from the terminal in the center of the room. This close, she could recognize the voice, as garbled as it was. 

Alma. 

“Nor, I think I’m in Alma’s office,” she whispered to her clanmate. “There’s a broken recording of her voice. I’m gonna recover it before the RDA gets down here. Then I’ll leave, I promise.”

Nor hummed. “Perhaps Alma has some answers for us. Be safe.”

The terminal was heavily encrypted, but she breached the firewalls easily enough. The computer had files upon files of audio logs. There was no way she could listen to them all, but the last few…

She chose one. Alma’s voice, clear and uninhibited, filtered through the office’s speakers. 

“Someone took my mug again. I know it’s petty, but it’s the big one, so I can wrap my hands around it—”

She skipped to the next one. 

“The air conditioning is always so high in here. Yeah, I think I know who it is—”

Skip. 

“We’ve gone as far as we can with the Kame’tire.” Tamtey’s ears perked. “TAP has no future if we can’t sign up willing students. We just have to make them see what benefits it could bring to the Na’vi, to share cultures and outlooks. We have so much to teach each other. So much to give to the Na’vi.”

The recording ended, so she brought up the next one. 

“Incredible news. A Kame’tire told us about another clan: the Sarentu. Not much is known at this point, other than they are nomadic. Will update when we get more intel, but…yes!”

She clicked to the next one. 

“We’re about to make first contact with the Sarentu. We’ve been told by our Kame’tire contact they’ll be at a location southwest of here for their Sarentu Moot. I’m so excited to meet them and welcome the children to our school.”

The next one. 

“Mercer is leading the party. I think I should be there. He’s not sure. We’ll see. I don’t know when my next log will be—”

She heard voices in the hall. Heavy steps. Soldiers and AMPs. 

Tamtey cursed, hurriedly scanning the files, snagging the coordinates Alma had listed in her entry, then backed away from the glass wall. She ducked behind a desk just as the doors to the atrium opened, RDA pouring in. 

“Time to go,” she whispered to Nor, then clicked off the radio. 

The RDA stepped right in her traps. 

Body parts flew as her trip grenades detonated. AMPs tore apart, metal and blood flying. Soldiers screamed as fire licked up their bodies and shrapnel embedded itself in skin. The air soon smelled of metal and death. 

Not a single human remained. 

She flipped off their corpses as she stepped over them, leaving through the door they’d come in. She walked down a series of corridors, emerging into another loading area. The door to a small office was open and she peeked inside. Seeing a datapad on the desk, she snagged it. 

Another audio log. Interesting. She pressed play. A female voice, an officer if she had to guess, filtered through the tiny speakers. 

“Hey. Anyone know anything about this surprise shipment of hazardous chemicals? This is some seriously amped up corrosives. And now I have eighty barrels taking up space in my warehouse? Someone get me answers.” The log ended. 

Tamtey ducked back out of the office, standing in the middle of the warehouse. She didn’t see any barrels of anything. Strange. 

She crept onwards, drawing her shortbow as she heard voices in the next room. 

A pair of RDA soldiers, complaining to each other as they patrolled the loading bay. 

“What is this place?” One groused. 

“Beats me.” The other responded. 

“It’s creepy. Let’s make a sweep and get out of here.”

“Roger that.” 

Tamtey took them out simultaneously with an arrow to the throat. 

She heard more RDA outside in the courtyard and the heavy stomp of AMPs. Like hell if she was going to let them leave here alive. 

It was a smaller patrol, thankfully. Four humans on foot, three AMPs, and two Combat Exos. She had three trip grenades left. She’d have to get creative. 

Outside, the courtyard was littered with cargo containers and shipping crates. They provided the perfect cover as Tamtey prowled right through their patrol, silent and unseen. She picked off the soldiers one by one, clamping a hand over their mouths as she dragged them behind a crate, breaking their necks with a sharp twist. Using the stomps of the AMPs as cover, she tossed her trip grenades into the path of the AMPs and Combat Exos as they patrolled near a set of propane tanks. The resulting explosion took out both Combat Exos and an AMP. Her arrows found the rest. 

When she’d downed them all, she crawled over the cargo containers and opened the crate she’d hidden. A sigh of relief left her. The bag was untouched. 

She flicked on her radio. “I made it out, Nor.” 

“What happened?” 

“RDA,” she told him, walking back into the yavä’. The sting was unwelcome, but she was glad to be leaving TAP Con-1. “They were alerted when the power came back on. Sent a patrol. I took care of it.” She sighed. “That place was awful, Nor.” 

“I’m sorry you had to be there alone,” her clanmate said, regret thick in his voice. “But we needed to know.” 

“Alma left some old audio diaries. Did you hear?”

“A little.” 

“She mentioned a meeting place called the Sarentu Moot.” 

Nor sucked in a breath. “The Sarentu Moot. I—I remember. A tattered memory they made me forget.” 

Tamtey’s steps slowed. “I think that’s where they took us from. It’s close, in the yavä’. I’m going there now.”

“You get to go home,” Nor breathed. The wistful tone of his voice gave her pause. 

Home. What could be left of home, so close to TAP Con-1? So deep in the yavä’? She didn’t dare get her hopes up. 

“Maybe.” She said, her voice even. “Let’s see what I find there first. We’re so close.”

Walking to the Sarentu Moot site was the longest walk she’d needed to take alone since escaping capture when she’d first arrived in the Clouded Forest. The yavä’ grew even thicker as she got closer and closer, dense and heavy as it twisted around her. Its chemical stink overpowered her senses, and she was tempted to shield her eyes and nose from the noxious fog, Okul’s tea or no. 

She climbed a steep hill, weaving through the winding roots of yellow-leaved braided crimson trees, dodging sick eyethorn, and padding over barely-glowing lichens and fungi. The forest had doubtlessly been beautiful before the yavä’, and the home to countless species of wildlife. 

Not anymore. 

As she neared the site, she had to descend a steep slope into a valley. Huge tree roots arched over the valley, providing cover and creating natural channels. A lake wound through the channels, and she could see rocky alcoves and flat clearings. At the entrance to the valley, she saw a familiar structure of coiled wood. 

A Sarentu totem. 

She made it to the Sarentu Moot site. 

Taking a shaky breath, she crossed through a natural corridor made of stone and roots, emerging into the valley. 

By all rights, it had to have been a gorgeous site years ago. She could almost picture it. Delicate mosses, glowing lichens, and trees that housed flora and fauna of all species. Her people, telling stories by the fire. Children splashing in the water. 

Not this—this chemical decay. The yavä’ was thickest here, denser than anywhere else she’d seen the noxious fog. She curled her lip. It was disgusting. 

Tamtey continued to walk into the moot site, peeking inside a small cave entrance. With most of the foliage gone, she could see the devastating sight within. A tarsyu, dead and shriveled.

“Nor, I’m at the location, and…” She trailed off, heart aching. 

“And what?” He asked. “What is it?”

“It’s a sad, desolate place, Nor. Did our people really come here? It’s thick with yavä’ and nothing grows.”

“I wish I could see.” Nor sighed. “Is there anything from our people? Why did Alma go there? Did the Kame’tire lie to her?” His rambling questions slowed, voice growing quiet once more. “It was so long ago. There might not be anything left to find. Another dead end.”

“I’ll have a closer look.” She assured him. “Don’t despair yet.”

She resumed her search, wandering into the heart of the Sarentu Moot site. It was then that she saw evidence of Na’vi presence, decades ago. She saw old bonfire sites, gathering places fashioned in a Zeswa style—that brought a small smile to her face—worn cushions for storytelling, baskets and wooden bowls, and so much more she didn’t quite have names for. She climbed a rock shelf, brushing dangling lichens away from a flat surface of the wall. Her breath caught. 

“Oh, Nor!” She gasped. “There are rock paintings and children’s toys. It all feels strangely familiar.”

“You’re in the heart of it, then.” Nor said, voice faint. “I remember…rocks decorated with our stories. The figures danced in the firelight. We played among our families.”

She ran a finger over the faded paint of the mural she stood before. “Touching these things…it’s like reaching a hand back in time.” 

“I wish I could be there,” Nor sighed again, longing thick in his voice. 

“I wish you could be here, too,” Tamtey agreed. “Some of these things…they’re beautiful.” 

She gazed at the mural one last time, then continued onward. She saw even more Sarentu items, some very obviously gifts from other clans, others inexplicably Sarentu. Then, a basket, woven in Kame’tire style, caught her eye. Curious, she opened it. Her eyes widened. 

“I found something wonderful,” she breathed. 

“Tell me.”

Tamtey’s smile stretched across her face. “Gifts from the Kame’tire. Beautiful artifacts.”

“The other clans always gave gifts when we left.” Nor said with a fond chuckle. “As kids, we got excited to see what they were.”

“I wish I remembered.” She confessed, a bittersweet smile crossing her face. Then her tail curled in excitement. “But the best bit is that I found Anufi’s vials. Untouched in baskets.”

“So, they didn’t even use the medicines Anufi gave our clan.” Nor mused. 

“Exactly.” Grinning, Tamtey tucked the vials into her pouch. 

She continued onward, examining all the things her clan left behind. It was like discovering the pieces to a puzzle without knowing what the puzzle should look like. Exciting and hopeful, but just as lost as she’d been when she started. 

She stepped into a stony corridor, roots coiling above her, and exited into another clearing by the lake. She took a step without looking, then cried out as metal cut into the soles of her feet. The yavä’ was so thick, she had to crouch down to see what she’d stepped on. 

Shell casings. 

Rifle, shotgun, pistol…there were hundreds—if not thousands—of shell casings littering the ground. Crates of ammunition were stacked partially behind a tree, their contents empty. Likewise, she saw trunks of stun grenades and tear gas. Like the ammo, they were mostly empty. The shell casings clinked as she walked through them. A sea of metal. 

“So many spent bullets…” She gasped in horror. “RDA and Sarentu clashed here, Nor.”

“Mercer.” Nor snarled. 

“This must be the place Alma mentioned.” She exhaled shakily. “The Sarentu were all here…”

“The perfect ambush.” Nor finished.  

“I think so,” she agreed, eyes misting. “And now—” A sob built in her throat. “And now it’s just remnants of everyone we loved.”

She heard a choked cry from over the radio. 

“I need—” Nor croaked, voice breaking. “I need a minute. Just—I’ll be back.” 

“I—Nor?” The radio went silent. “Damn it!” 

Without Nor’s constant presence on the radio, she felt even more alone. The yavä’ seemed to press against her, making her breath hitch and icy fear run down her spine. Desperate to distract herself, she kept exploring the site. Near one of the storytelling areas, she saw an alcove in the stone wall. Sarentu toys were placed upright against the wall, worn with age. A feeling pulled at Tamtey’s heart. With tentative steps, she walked towards the alcove and knelt before it. Something about this space in particular…

Tamtey reached towards an overturned basket. Partially buried in long-dried mud, the elements had practically sealed the basket. She tugged the wicker lid sharply to open it, pulling free a leather pouch and a woven blanket. She tucked the leather pouch alongside the vials, but held the soft fabric of the blanket in her hands. Scent wafted towards her nose, faint and barely noticeable through the stench of the yavä’. And yet…

“Is this…my blanket?” 

She pulled the blanket to her nose, inhaling deeply. That scent…it’s her.

Tamtey curled in on herself, a broken cry escaping her lips. 

“Sa’nu!”

Mama. 

A memory, sudden and vibrant, overtook her. 

Her mother’s voice, their clan’s melody. Tamtey, two years old and oh-so-small, reaching towards her mother with tiny, grasping hands. 

Her mother’s voice, singing softly as she wove an ornate hairpiece, silk thread and colorful feathers. 

Her mother’s voice, softening as she pulled Tamtey into her lap, her scent warm and soothing as her braids tickled Tamtey’s skin. 

Her mother’s voice, rich with affection as she said, “What are you doing awake, my child? You should be asleep.”

A smile, wide and bright. Eyes, the softest yellow that crinkled at the edges as she looked down at Tamtey. 

“Where’s sister?” Tamtey asked, tail curling with happiness as she was swept into her mother’s embrace. 

A warm laugh. Sa’nu’s ears—long like Tamtey’s own—twitched, making her feather earrings rustle. “Aha’ri is out enjoying the moot.” 

An excited chirrup from Tamtey as sa’nu pointed out Aha’ri’s tiny form seated upon one of the rock shelves, listening intently to a Sarentu storyteller. 

Sa’nu leaned close, rubbing her cheek over Tamtey’s head, purrs rumbling. 

Tamtey reached towards gently clinking beads, enraptured by sa’nu’s beautiful songcord. 

Her mother’s voice, her musical laughs. “You love my songcord, don’t you? One day you will have a long and beautiful songcord of your own to tell your story.” 

The way Tamtey absolutely glowed at those words, reaching now towards her mother’s face so she could pepper love-drenched kisses on sa’nu’s cheeks. 

Then, the sense of safety fades. 

There are screams and sa’nu’s eyes are wide with fear. There are loud sounds—they hurt Tamtey’s ears. She doesn’t know what they are, but people are falling. They don’t get back up. 

Sa’nu is there, shielding Tamtey’s eyes. She’s holding her tight, chest heaving with frightened breaths. There are tears dripping onto Tamtey’s head, wetting her hair. 

Tamtey is being wrapped in her blanket. She loves her blanket, and its colors that remind her of sa’nu’s feather earrings. But she doesn’t want the blanket right now, she wants sa’nu. But sa’nu is putting her in a basket, pushing her beautiful songcord into Tamtey’s tiny hands. 

“My child,” Sa’nu says, but her voice is sad. Her eyes flit over Tamtey’s face, as if committing her features to memory. 

Sa’nu smiles, but it is a sad smile. Then she puts the lid on the basket. Tamtey is lost in the darkness. All she hears are screams.

Then silence. 

Silence that followed her into the yavä’, even now. 

Tamtey lowered her blanket from her face, weeping. She remembered it all. 

Well, most of it. But the details she wanted to know the most…her mother’s name, the words to her clan’s melody…it remained lost to her. 

Tamtey tried the radio, hailing Nor, but he didn’t answer. He must’ve walked away without it, as he was wont to do. 

A question ate at her. She’d stepped over hundreds—no, thousands of bullet casings. Her entire clan had been slaughtered in one place, at one time. Yet, Tamtey saw no bones. No clothing remnants. Nothing. What happened to their bodies?

She found her answer at the lake. 

Chemical barrels, littering the site. Sodium hydroxide, highly corrosive and alkali. And the lake—water. 

Tamtey fell to her knees on the lakebed, vomiting into the soil. A scream, high and piercing, ripped from her throat. 

The RDA—they’d dissolved her clan. Dumped sodium hydroxide into the lake, disposing of the hundreds of bodies through alkaline hydrolysis. Everything of the Sarentu—gone. 

Shaking so violently she feared she might keel over, Tamtey looked into the water—into the murky, brown depths. 

There. 

A white, ashy silt spread across the bottom of the lake. The only remnants of alkaline hydrolysis. Soft, porous bone, reduced to powder. 

It was true. 

But the RDA—Mercer—they’d messed up, hadn’t they? 

Alkaline hydrolysis was a common practice on Earth. Controlled, predictable. But not on Pandora. Not with Na’vi bodies. 

Tamtey gagged, dry heaving as another realization dawned on her. 

The yavä’. 

A gaseous byproduct Mercer hadn’t expected from the massacre—and he had expected a massacre, hadn’t he, considering the preorder of several barrels of sodium hydroxide. 

The yavä’ was the right color, too, wasn’t it? A sickly green, dense and caustic. An unfortunate reaction with the sodium hydroxide—amino acids, peptides, sugars, and salts that should’ve liquified but didn’t, morphing into a chemical gas instead. 

What a shock it must’ve been, Tamtey thought numbly. To have to evacuate TAP Con-1 because of a toxic environmental hazard the RDA created. A side effect of their own senseless cruelty and sadism. 

Tamtey moaned again, a thin, wild sound. She felt faint; like she, too, could topple into the chemical-laden water and dissolve alongside her mother and the rest of her clan. 

She wanted to kill someone. She wanted to die. 

Suddenly, she was gasping, clawing at her throat. By Eywa, she was in the yavä’, breathing it. She was breathing it.

Another shriek tore from her and she stood, pulling the blanket close to her chest as if she could shield it from the yavä’ twisting around her. 

She ran. 

She ran from the Sarentu Moot site. Ran from the murals, from the remnants of grand bonfires, from the toys and the artifacts. Ran from the chemical barrels and bullet casings littering the soil. Ran from the source of the yavä’. Ran from the slaughter ground. 

She tripped several times, scraping her legs, knees, and elbows. Low-hanging branches tore at her hair and her clothes. She bled from countless cuts, but couldn’t bring herself to care. 

Monsters. The RDA, Mercer, all of them. Monsters. 

How could they—?

Why—?

Her mother. 

They’d stolen so much. Memories, a future, a culture—now, hope. Despite the signs, despite the gut feeling, she’d hoped the Sarentu were still out there. Hiding, perhaps, or even in captivity. Tamtey would find them, welcome them home. They’d relearn their culture, become the Sarentu the clans treasured and missed. It had been a fool’s hope, yes, but it had been hope nonetheless. 

That hope evaporated. 

Gone. They were all gone. 

She ran. 

Above her, she saw floating rock clusters, large roots stretching across them, twisting down, down, down into the yavä’ below. The large tree, however, at the highest floating rock, spread its canopy in clean Pandoran air. 

Tangled Heart is what the tree was called, a braided crimson tree floating high above the forest. Okul said it had been a popular landmark before the yavä’. It, too, had been taken from the Kame’tire. 

Her breaths coming in short gasps, Tamtey leapt onto one of the roots, climbing with all the ferocity she could muster. 

She needed to get out. Out of the yavä’, out of the fog. 

She climbed recklessly, making foolish jumps and taking risky steps. She slipped a few times, grasping at coiling roots at the last second. The canopy of the forest below got smaller and smaller. 

Then, she emerged from the yavä’.

By Eywa, the air was so sweet. Its coolness kissed her cheek, a gentle breeze ruffling her hair. She almost stopped climbing, the desire to rest against the mossy roots nearly overpowering the limited rational thought Tamtey was capable of at the moment. 

It took all her willpower, but she continued to climb. 

Finally, she reached the top of Tangled Heart. The giant braided crimson tree was even larger up close, a behemoth of a tree, its thick, winding roots forming a sanctuary at its base. She stumbled towards it, exhaustion weighing heavily on her bones. 

Then, tears sprung to her eyes. 

A tarsyu sapling, surrounded by fluttering glimmer cloud moths, opened as she approached, delicate tendrils curling towards the sky. 

“Oh, ma Eywa,” Tamtey cried, falling to her knees before the sapling. She had no further words, just wrenching sobs that tore from her chest. She wailed her horror, her despair, her hopelessness. She screamed her frustration, her rage, her disgust. She wept for her fallen clanmates, her mother, her sister. She cried until her head throbbed, until her throat was sore, until her eyes burned. Then, body shaking with pain and sorrow, she lost consciousness. 

Hours later, she came to, bruised and sore and numb. She coughed, pushing herself up into a sitting position. With trembling fingers, she fumbled with the clasp to her waterskin, taking deep drinks. Only then did she stand. 

Her vision swam briefly but she righted herself, stumbling towards the canvas bag she’d placed gently against a tree root. It was there, underneath the canopy of Tangled Heart, that Tamtey dug a hole in the soft earth. 

“You’ll be safe here,” Tamtey whispered, her voice barely a croak from her ravaged throat. “Next to the ancestors. Our clan will protect you.” 

She filled the hole with soil, watching as the brittle bones of the Sarentu child disappeared beneath the rich earth. A proper burial. At least, she hoped it was a proper burial. 

When she was done, she crawled back to the tarsyu sapling, bringing her kuru to the waiting tendrils. 

“Ma Eywa,” she pleaded upon connection. “See my memories. Look into my heart. Know my sincerity when I ask you this, Great Mother: look after my clan. My mother, my sister, this child I’ve buried. Hold them close to your heart, ma Eywa.” A tear slid down her cheek. “If my Teylan is with you, watch over him, too. Please.” 

She could say no more as her throat closed up, sobs overtaking her once again. She simply lay at the base of the tarsyu sapling, sheltered by the great braided crimson tree, allowing Eywa’s presence to fill her. The Great Mother did not offer solutions nor condolences, but she was there—her love a balm on Tamtey’s bleeding heart. 

When Tamtey’s breaths came easier, she gently broke tsaheylu, standing once more. She gathered her things, pausing once to open her bag and trace the vial, the leather pouch, and the woven blanket. Then she took a deep breath, sat on a root, and radioed Nor. 

This time, her clanmate responded. 

“Nor,” she said softly. “I remember it all.”

“What do you mean?” He asked. 

She sighed sadly, fiddling with the torn fabric of her waistcloth. “I was in my mother’s arms. Her smell is still on the blanket I found. She wrapped me in it as a child.” She took a deep breath, settling her racing heart. “It took me back. We played at the feet of our parents.” 

Nor’s voice was quiet. “The last time we were all together. I’ve seen it in my dreams…the happiest I’ve ever been.”

“Yes. Happy.” Tamtey couldn’t bring herself to recall that feeling of carefree joy. “Aha’ri was there…mother was smiling. But then…she looked scared. She shielded me. And then it went dark.”

Nor was silent for a heartbeat. Then, “We need to know what happened next.”

“Yes.” Tamtey agreed, voice hardening. “And Alma? How does she fit into all of this?” 

A growl. “She has questions to answer.”

“I agree,” Tamtey told him, anger stirring in her chest. “But first I should tell Anufi that she didn’t poison the Sarentu. It was the RDA all along…and someone from the Kame’tire helped them.”

She heard Nor sigh deeply, an audible release of his frustration. “The Kame’tire will be free from this betrayal at last.” He paused. “When will we say the same about Alma?”

“I don’t know,” Tamtey said honestly. “That will depend on her answer.”

They sat in silence for a moment. 

“You’re okay, though?” Nor asked. “Nothing happened after I…left, right?” 

Tamtey sat still. “Physically, I’m fine. Just a few scrapes. But…Nor? I’m really not okay right now.” 

“Come back to us,” Nor pressed. “Right after you see Anufi. You deserve a break from all this.” 

Swallowing roughly, Tamtey nodded. Then, remembering he couldn’t see her, she croaked, “Yeah. I’d like that.” 

The radio clicked off. 

Tamtey stood, clipping the device to her vest. Then, she cupped her hands around her mouth, a cry piercing the air. 

When she heard a screech in the distance, she tensed her muscles. At the sound of wingbeats, Tamtey sprinted across the floating rock. 

She flung herself from Tangled Heart. 

“Back to The Hollows, I suppose.” Tamtey murmured against her ikran’s warm skin. 

Telisi chuffed, fog swirling around them with each wingbeat. The flight back to The Hollows would be simpler, Tamtey having navigated the route before. As she directed Telisi through the dense fog, she radioed Nor. 

“There’s another healer,” she told him. “Siul.” 

“And he will help?”

“I hope so.” Tamtey muttered. 

Nor just sighed, the radio clicking off. 

Groaning, Tamtey rested her head against Telisi’s neck. 

“This is exhausting, dearest. I’m running in circles, searching for a miracle, all while Alma and the others get worse. Who knows who may have died already?” 

Telisi crooned, sending a wave of lovefaithconfidence through the bond. 

“I’m glad you believe in me, my girl.” 

This time, Tamtey directed Telisi to land directly outside one of the entrances to The Hollows. As she walked inside, the Kame’tire eyed her—some with curiosity, others with suspicion. Yet, custom prevented them from turning her away. They didn’t have to be warm or jovial, but they couldn’t shun her either—so long as she was a sojourner in their forest, she would be treated as a guest. 

She didn’t want to ask for directions to the herbalists’ space, especially considering the practice was forbidden, but she found the cavern in less than an hour. The fact that it looked completely deserted was a sign, but it was the herbs drying on the ceiling and the makeshift herbalist’s stand in the corner that gave it away. Wax-filled shells littered the space; fetching one, Tamtey held it up to the flame of one of the torches in the stony corridor connecting this cave to the others. The wick of the shell candle caught, and Tamtey used that flame to light several more candles distributed amongst the room. 

“Hello?” Tamtey called softly. “Siul?” 

When she didn’t get a response, however, Tamtey wasn’t surprised. The room smelled stale, and the thin layer of dust on the surfaces hinted that this space had gone unused for some time. 

“Nor, I’m at Siul’s workshop,” Tamtey said into her radio. “It’s deserted, and looks like it has been for a while.”

“Why have so many Kame’tire disappeared?” Nor asked, exasperated. “Do you think it’s the yavä’?”

“I’ll take a look around.” Tamtey promised. 

Nor grunted. 

As she looked around the space, she saw baskets of used flasks and beakers, and a large wooden bowl filled with samples of eyethorn. The plant looked…off, however—shriveled and grayish, and it stunk. She described it to Nor. 

“I think Siul was trying to make something with this eyethorn. Some sort of extract.” she told him. 

“With sick eyethorn?” Nor asked incredulously. “He is a healer. He would know better.”

Tamtey shrugged, observing the shelves lining the walls. “And—oh, here’s something.” She peered closer. Painted on the stone wall was what appeared to be the map of a canyon. “This shows where Siul was working, I think. Siul is trying to make something…but Anufi’s guardian said herbalism is forbidden. Maybe Siul couldn’t hide it here anymore.” 

“So he went to the canyon?” 

“The strange eyethorn might be there, too. If it’s near the yavä’. I’ll try to find it. Maybe if I find the eyethorn…”

“You could find Siul.” Nor finished. “Go. Be careful.” 

Ignoring the looks of the Kame’tire, Tamtey left The Hollows at once, mounting Telisi and flying her high into the sky. 

When giving her directions to Anufi’s refuge, Sa’ney had mentioned the canyon, particularly the collapsed arch which they used as a landmark. All Tamtey had to do was find it. 

The collapsed arch was easy to see from a ways away, and Tamtey directed Telisi to land underneath it. A cloud of yavä’ loomed in the distance, and Tamtey was hesitant to land her ikran anywhere near the poisonous fog. 

Through tsaheylu, Tamtey could feel Telisi’s unease. The yavä’ smelled sharper to her, its chemical stink burning the sensitive membranes of her nose and the lining of her throat. The ikran seemed to curl in on herself, angling her operculae away from the caustic fog. She chittered uncomfortably. 

“Go, ma Telisi,” Tamtey instructed gently. “Fly away from the yavä’. I will call for you when I’m done.” 

Telisi purred, a quick sound, and butted her head against Tamtey’s chest. She sent a wave of lovethanksworry through the bond. 

“I’ll be okay, dearest.” Tamtey crooned, pressing a kiss between Telisi’s eyes. “The yavä’ is not the first chemical gas I’ve had to protect myself against.” 

That did not reassure Telisi in the slightest, but she just huffed, nipping at her rider’s hand. 

Tamtey chuckled. “Go explore the Clouded Forest, beloved. I’ll see you soon.” 

With a final toss of her head, Telisi let out a piercing screech and flapped her mighty wings, rising into the sky and away from the cloud of yavä’. 

Immediately, Tamtey felt her anxiety return. She’d become familiar with Telisi’s near constant presence, so much so that she felt as if a piece of her heart had flown away with her ikran. 

Where it belongs. 

Yet, Tamtey had made her leave for her own safety. Doubtlessly, her ikran would’ve pushed through the pain and discomfort to stay near Tamtey as she explored near the yavä’. But Tamtey wouldn’t be a very good ikrana maktoyu if she allowed that, now would she? The thought of Telisi being injured by the yavä’ made her more nauseous than even the chemical smell of the noxious fog. 

Sighing deeply, Tamtsy turned and made her way down the canyon. Dense clouds of yavä’ consumed the sparse groves of trees and surrounding foliage in the canyon. Unlike RDA pollution, however, the plants were not rotting or dying. They looked…different, yes, but they still lived. Some insects braved the clouds, flitting in and out of the yavä’, but Tamtey couldn’t see any wildlife within the toxic fog. 

Then she saw the eyethorn. 

Aptly named, the plant’s leaves looked like eyes—eyes with long, spiky protrusions. Normal eyethorn was a rich azure color, its spines a bright red. The eyethorn within the yavä’, however, was a pale, almost white color. 

“Nor, there’s a whole lot of eyethorn here in the yavä’,” Tamtey said into her radio, drawing back from the cloud so she could dig a thick linen cloth from her pouch. “It really doesn’t look right.” 

“Siul must have been there,” Nor insisted. 

“I think so,” Tamtey confirmed, wetting the cloth with water from her waterskin. Making sure it was thoroughly soaked, Tamtey tied the cloth over her nose and mouth. Her voice was slightly muffled as she spoke. “I’m picking up Kame’tire scent. The trail leads into the yavä’. I’m going to follow it.” 

“Into the yavä’?” Nor demanded incredulously. “Are you mad?” 

“Desperate.” Tamtey corrected, stepping into the fog. With the cloth over her face, she could barely pick up the scent trail, but the fog wasn’t quite fire in her lungs, just a low burn. For now. 

Nor made a frustrated sound. “Just—get out quickly, okay?” 

“I will.” She promised. 

As she jogged through the yavä’, following the scent of Kame’tire, she could feel the yavä’ wreaking havoc on her body. In the denser areas, she couldn’t help but cough, each inhale allowing the yavä’ to sear her airways. Her skin, too, was protesting. Thinner skin, like behind her joints, was starting to grow irritated. Her eyes burned as tears streamed down her cheeks. 

Thankfully, the clouds of yavä’ were small, and she had areas of fresh air as reprieve. She muffled her coughs in her elbow, determined to keep Nor from worrying. Her clanmate continued to voice his opinions over the radio. 

“What do you think Siul is doing out there?”

“Trying to fix his clan’s problems,” Tamtey guessed, blinking rapidly to clear her tears as she stepped into another cloud of yavä’. Her jaw began to ache with how hard she clenched it between words. “How is everyone back at HQ?” 

“They’re hanging on,” Nor sighed. “We had a human pass this morning. There was internal bleeding that was missed, or something. And…Alma’s Avatar isn’t doing so well.”

“I’ll find Siul,” Tamtey assured him. “Just give me a chance.”

“A chance.” Nor said firmly. “That’s it. No unnecessary risks. Your life is the most important.” 

Tamtey stilled, taking a moment to lower the cloth and suck in deep breaths of clean air. “I have to do what I can, though.” 

Nor grunted, displeased. “Just don’t let it end in your death.” 

Pursing her lips, Tamtey eyed the cliffside she had to climb. The scent trail had led her to a series of lift vines. At the base of the cliff, though, yavä’ loomed. She’d have to hold her breath the entire way up. 

“I won’t take any…unnecessary risks, Nor. The plan is not to die today.” 

“Keep it that way.”

The radio went silent. 

Tail swishing anxiously, Tamtey placed the cloth back over her mouth. The fabric scraped against her lips, raw and irritated from the toxins. As she jogged back into the yavä’, her lungs seemed to spasm on their own, thin coughs escaping her as she allowed the lift vines to carry her up, up, up. 

At the top of the cliff, when she was clear of the noxious fog, Tamtey tore the cloth from her face and doubled over, hacking and spitting. She wiped tears from her eyes, blinking rapidly as her blurred eyesight sharpened and cleared. 

An RDA base, run down and overgrown, lay before her. Smaller clouds of yavä’ surrounded the facility, but Tamtey was able to weave through them with ease. 

“There’s an RDA facility here,” Tamtey whispered into her radio, automatically softening her steps as she neared the downed fences of the site. There were Na’vi footprints in the soil, old and new. She passed a mound of earth, recently disturbed, and continued into the perimeter. “It’s quiet…no RDA around.”

“Do you think Siul is inside?” Nor asked. 

“Only one way to find out.” 

The main doors to the facility were locked shut, the power having likely shorted after years of neglect and environmental damage. The scent trail led her up a stack of crates to the roof, and from there she could see an area of the roof that had caved in under the weight of vegetation and water. She dropped into the hole, landing in what used to be a maintenance room. The walls were slick with moss and organic material. Fungi glowed beneath her feet as she walked, ducking into a ventilation shaft. 

“Why would Siul subject himself to metal things?” Frustration seeped into Nor’s tone. “He is Kame’tire.” 

The weight of the rifle on Tamtey’s back seemed to increase at his words. She sighed, crawling on hands and knees through glowing lichens. 

“Maybe he’s desperate.”

Nor scoffed. “No real Na’vi would surround themselves in metal. This doesn’t make sense.”

“Yet here I am,” Tamtey argued testily. “Surrounded by metal. Talking to you through metal. These are different times.” 

Not just sighed. “It isn’t right.” 

Then the radio went silent. Again. 

Tamtey rolled her eyes, annoyance and fondness warring within her. “What a moody motherfu—whoa.”

She dropped into a corridor of the facility. The place wasn’t just overgrown—it was actively being reclaimed by Eywa. Roots had grown inside through holes in the walls or ceiling, reaching around doorways and windows, climbing through openings, and engulfing equipment. Mushrooms of all sizes grew along the floor and walls. Lichens softened her footfalls, pulsing with each step she took. Electricity still ran to some of the emergency lights, blanketing the corridor in a soft white glow. This was a true merge of technology and nature. In its own way, it was beautiful. 

As she continued to creep through rooms and hallways, Tamtey heard a familiar voice, muffled but audible. 

“No, no, that isn’t right,” the voice groaned. “Look at the rust! More moldy metal, that’s all.” 

“Okul?” Tamtey asked, poking her head into the adjacent corridor. 

The Kame’tire herbalist jerked backwards from a huge pile of RDA crates and trunks, yelping as they tripped over an old, broken crate and fell right onto their tail. 

“Oh, ow.” Okul straightened, smiling sheepishly at Tamtey as they rubbed their backside. “Okay…I know it looks bad, but I didn’t collect this stuff!” The herbalist sprang forwards, grasping Tamtey’s hand to tug her towards the pile. “It’s research. To fix the yavä’! My mentor, Siul, he found most of it.” 

Okul gestured at the pile, then to a glass window that peered into a laboratory. Yavä’, thick and green, swirled within. The visibility was low, but Tamtey could see wooden bowls, flasks, dried herbs, and more of the sick eyethorn. A Na’vi had been working inside. 

Okul placed a palm on the glass, eyes sad. “I thought, maybe, I could continue his work, now he’s passed…”

Tamtey stiffened. “Siul is dead?”

Okul clasped their hands over their chest, eyes downcast. “He is. The yavä’ breached his workspace. By the time he escaped, it was too late. I found him the next day.” 

Eyes widening, Tamtey recalled the patch of fresh earth she’d seen just outside. 

“Oh, Okul, I’m sorry.” Tamtey placed a hand on the herbalist’s shoulder. “I—I hoped he could help me. After Anufi seemed so  afraid to see me…”

“What?” Okul’s ears perked up. “You spoke to Anufi? Siul never believed it was her fault, you know? What happened to…uh…”

“My people.” Tamtey finished. 

Okul nodded. “I mean, if he was right, then maybe Anufi will finally…I do not know. Stop blaming herself. Teach people the old ways again. Like me.” The herbalist ran a hand over their face. “Siul kept coming here. He was so sure the yavä’ had secrets about the Sarentu. He wanted to…how did he say it…expose the truth.”

“The truth?” Tamtey echoed. “About what really happened to my clan. What Anufi did?” 

Okul wagged a finger. “Or didn’t do! Siul was trying to make something to protect us in the yavä’. But all his work is in there.” The herbalist gestured at the laboratory. “I can’t get in. And now the yavä’ is in there, too.” 

Shuffling closer, Okul’s hopeful eyes met hers. “Do you think, maybe…some of this Sky People stuff could help us get in?”

Tamtey hummed, eyeing the surrounding rooms. “Maybe…”

Unclipping SID from her belt, Tamtey crossed the corridor to the electrical room. A huge generator, attached to numerous wires and pipes and smaller machines, made strange clunking sounds as she turned it on. Fluorescent lights flickered above, overriding the emergency incandescents, and Tamtey could hear the wiring hum within the thick walls as power was restored. 

“Attention.” The overhead PA boomed. Tamtey heard a startled yelp from Okul in the adjacent room. “Electrical fault detected. Electrical fault detected.”

“Is it going to keep doing that?” Okul asked as Tamtey rejoined them in the corridor. The herbalist had their hands clamped over their ears as the PA system continued to blare. 

“Probably, yeah,” Tamtey admitted. “Until I fix the problem, at least. Good news is I think I can clear the yavä’ from here. This generator is linked to the ventilation system, but it needs new electrical components.”

“Oh! Well, you know…” Okul grinned. “There are Sky People near here.”

Tamtey huffed. “And you think if we’re polite enough, they’ll give us what we need?” 

“Hah!” Okul chortled. “A joke. Funny. Maybe you can sneak in? We need to get to Siul’s research. It will show us all the yavä’s secrets.” They blinked. “I think. No. I know.”  

“Very well,” Tamtey said, a small smile on her face. “Are you coming with me?” 

Okul blinked, color fading from their cheeks. “Uh, no…? I’d probably just slow you down, anyhow—”

“It was a joke, Okul,” Tamtey laughed. “I’ll be back with the parts.” 

Okul was still shuffling awkwardly as Tamtey left the facility, in search of the Sky People.

“What the actual fuck.” 

The RDA base hadn’t been far at all. In fact, she’d made the entire journey on foot in under twenty minutes. How had she not seen this thing earlier? 

The base was absolutely massive, sending smoke and steam billowing into the air from several different buildings and towers. It looked to be some kind of processing plant, equipped with barracks and on-site facilities as well. What was something this big doing in the Clouded Forest? And how the fuck was she supposed to sneak in and out unseen?

“Priya,” Tamtey called into her radio. “I know there was a lot of data lost in the move, but do you have anything on this place?”

The human woman responded at once. “Let me look…you’re at Gas Extraction Plant Bravo. The RDA is so original with their names, aren’t they? Let’s see…yeah, this is a little big, isn’t it?”

“‘A little’?” Tamtsy scoffed. “It’s huge!”

“That’s the RDA. Why have just a little awful when you can have a lot of awful instead?” 

“Awful indeed,” Tamtey hissed in disgust as she stepped over rotted ferns, decayed organic matter a sludge beneath her feet. 

“Found the schematics!” Priya chirped in her ear. “If you disable the generator and the draining pipes, there’s going to be more pressure than the system can handle.” She huffed a laugh. “Reminds me of college.”

Tamtey couldn’t relate to the joke, but she chuckled. “Any way to take it down quietly?” 

“Sure there is,” Priya assured her. “Just follow my lead.” 

In retrospect, Tamtey absolutely should not have followed Priya’s lead. 

“I said I’m sorry!” Priya cried through the radio as Tamtey wiped blood from her knife, staring at the heaps of smoking AMP suits and the bodies of soldiers around her. 

“You said it was a FLAK cannon, Priya. Not a fucking flame-thrower turret. Obviously, I can’t sneak around that.” 

“Well, the plans said FLAK cannon—”

“The plans can go fuck right off—”

“Hey, at least I was able to direct you to their comms tower before they called for reinforcements—”

“Yeah, after a bunch of soldiers saw me. I had to lure them to a propane tank and blow their asses up. I think some of my hair singed off.” 

“Stop bitching. You got what you needed, didn’t you?” 

Tamtey glanced at the trunk at her feet, containing wires, circuit boards, clamps, and other odd tech things she’d needed in-depth descriptions from Priya in order to find. 

“Yeah.” 

“And no bullet holes?” 

Tamtey gave herself a once-over. She had scrapes and bruises and burns, and she'd been grazed a couple times, but she hadn’t been shot. 

“No bullet holes,” Tamtey verified. Then her nose wrinkled. “But I do think I have brain matter stuck between my toes.” 

A gag from over the radio. 

“Tamtey?” 

“Yeah?”

“Don’t ever say shit like that to me again. I was hungry, you know. But now? I don’t think I’ll eat for a week.” 

“Sorry, Pri.” 

“Yeah, yeah. I better get that apology in writing.” 

With a huff of exertion, Tamtey hoisted the trunk into her arms. Her legs wobbled as she carried it out of the remnants of the destroyed base. She’d taken it down, in the end. Blown the infrastructure and rendered it useless. After collecting what she needed, of course. 

Now, she looked up at the large root system she needed to climb in order to get back up to the old RDA facility where Okul waited. She grunted, shifting her weight so the trunk could rest on a hip. 

“This is some bullshit.” 

At least the airlock doors worked now, Tamtey mused as she dragged the trunk into the facility. Her muscles burned and she had several new bumps and bruises from bashing against the trunk as she’d walked. 

“This should work,” Tamtey wheezed, depositing the trunk in the center of the small electrical room. 

“How curious,” Okul observed, cocking their head as Tamtey opened the lid, revealing the materials within. “This is all for…what did you call it? Eletripty?”

“Electricity. It gives energy to all the machines in here.” Tamtey unscrewed a panel on the generator and began fiddling with it, pulling free damaged parts and doing her best to replace them. Okul watched her curiously, asking questions each time Tamtey tampered with a new piece. 

“The moment of truth,” Tamtey told Okul, pulling the metal lever on the generator. This time, it hummed to life, electricity coursing through the walls and into the machines and terminals throughout the facility. 

“Yes!” She crowed, batting her tail against Okul’s waist. 

The herbalist grinned, returning the gesture. “Do you think the…what did you call it…laboratory is safe?”

“Let’s go find out.” 

The laboratory was not clear. Yavä’ still swirled within, dense and dangerous. For some reason, the laboratory still wasn’t receiving adequate power, and the ventilation system was down. 

“It isn’t clearing it?” Okul asked. “Strange machines. How do they work?”

“I guess that was just the power,” Tamtey said, using SID to hack and reroute power to a nearby terminal. “This should work.” 

Okul hummed. “If you say so. Now what happens?” 

“That should turn on the ventilation.”

“The ventilation? A peculiar sounding word. What is that?”

Tamtey chuckled, finalizing the hack. “It will let the yavä’ out. Just watch. I need to get the system started.”

The terminal came to life, colored buttons and switches vibrant and flickering. With it, came a plethora of blaring lights and alarm tones. Oh no.

The PA system boomed again as the power successively rerouted. “Warning. Overheating detected. Temperature reduction advised.”

“Shit, shit, that was supposed to work. Maybe—maybe the other terminals?” Tamtey scurried around the room, peering through glass windows to try and find a control panel, a switch, something. 

“Do you always talk to yourself when you’re stressed?” Okul asked innocently from the other room. She glared at them through the glass, tail flicking anxiously as she continued to search. 

“Ah! Here.” The warning continued to blare as she hacked a control room terminal, rerouting power to the ventilation fans. It hissed as it came to life, powerful fans sucking stale air from the room she was in. It worked, but not for the laboratory. She’d have to find the other terminals. 

An obnoxious clunking seemed to echo in her ears as the facility grew dangerously close to overheating. The PA system continued to bellow its warning, and sweat beaded on Tamtey’s brow. With how run-down the facility was, she had to resort to climbing through hatches, swimming through flooded pipes, and shimmying through torn holes in the ceiling in order to reach the other rooms with control terminals. By the time she reached the terminal for the laboratory, sweat was dripping from her nose and flicking from her tail as she walked. She performed the hack, and when the ventilation kicked on, sucking the sweltering air from the facility and the yavä’ from the laboratory, Tamtey breathed a deep sigh of relief. 

Tentatively, she tried the door to the laboratory. It hissed open; cool, filtered air kissing her sweat-damp skin as she walked into Siul’s workplace. Crossing the room, she opened the door to the corridor, letting Okul enter. 

The herbalist immediately rushed to the center of the room, to a spread of tables containing bowls and flasks of experimental medicines and research. Okul rifled through baskets and flaxen bags, pulling free dried herbs and herbalist tools. 

“Yes! It’s all here. I knew it!” Okul’s smile was bright and bittersweet, their eyes misty as they met Tamtey’s. “He was so close, I can tell.” A sniffle. “Want to help me with an experiment, Sarentu?” 

Tamtey smiled, crossing the room so she could stand across the table from Okul. 

“Put me to work, ma ‘eylan.” 

Dusk came and went without either Na’vi noticing. Tamtey only knew night had fallen when she took a break and peeked out the windows. With the electricity working inside the facility, they were able to work under light, conversing and trading theories well into the night. Tamtey was no scientist, but she was somewhat familiar with RDA toxins and chemicals. She explained the compounds she knew of, as well as their effects, and let Okul use their expertise to locate the herbs best for counteracting the toxic substances. 

“Okay…let’s see…” Okul muttered, grinding various dried herbs into a fine powder and adding them to a large flask. “Looks like he mixed in this one…I think this had spartan leaves. It really looks like it.” They wafted the vapors. “Smells like it too, when they go bad, they have this kind of sour tang? But you don’t want bad ones. I have fresh ones, hold this for me…”

Tamtey obeyed Okul’s instructions, holding tools and fetching ingredients while the herbalist concentrated. 

“Extracting the properties with swoa would be best, yes…considering how it affects the mucous membranes, let’s add this…” Okul’s tail curled as they gasped excitedly. “Oh! You know, I think he made a tea with it, actually. Yeah, that makes sense. With eyethorn.” Okul’s voice was breathy with anticipation and the thrill of the experiment. “This could really work. Fetch that vial for me, yes?”

Tamtey nodded, following Okul’s gaze to a stack of crates. She rounded the stack, reaching to grab a basket of earthen vials, similar to the one she’d seen at Anufi’s refuge. As she strained, a logo caught her eye. She froze. 

“What is this?” She gasped. “TAP Con-1?”

Okul glanced over, then shrugged. “I don’t know. Probably something Siul found. The Sky People leave behind the most interesting things in their deserted camps.”

“But this,” Tamtey floundered. “The symbol…”

“I suppose it’s kind of pretty,” Okul said absentmindedly, swirling liquid in a flask. “There’s a few of them around here.”

She whirled to face them. “There are more?” Her voice was strangled. “TAP, all the way out here…it—it doesn’t make sense. I need to find them.”

Hearing the anxiety coloring her tone, Okul looked up, brows furrowing. “You are troubled.”

“I am,” Tamtey admitted shakily. “TAP…that’s what the Sky People called the program they used to justify taking me from my clan. I was supposed to be a—a bridge between the humans and Na’vi. If there’s a place around here—maybe there’s answers—maybe I can figure out why—”

Okul’s hands were on her shoulders, pushing her down so she could kneel on the cold floor. When had her knees gotten so weak? 

“Breathe, Sarentu,” Okul instructed gently. “Breathe. No harm will come to you here.”

Tamtey nodded, tremors wracking her frame. “Why—why haven’t I seen any of this stuff?”

“It’s all in the yavä’,” Okul said steadily, thumbs rubbing circles into her skin.

Inhaling deeply, Tamtey pointed. “That TAP symbol. Do you remember where you saw it?”

“Yes,” Okul nodded. “In the flatlands. A big rock, with fallen trees twisted by metal wings. There is a Kame’tire hunting camp near there; I will direct you to it.”

Tamtey sat on a crate, knee bouncing as Okul described the route from the facility to the site in the yavä’, as well as the hunting camp nearby. She listened, preserving the landmarks in her memory, but couldn’t fully focus. 

TAP. Out here, in the Clouded Forest. Why? Why have a separate facility so far from the Kinglor Forest? Were there more Sarentu children out there, kidnapped by the RDA? Or was it something deeper? 

Would she finally find out what happened to the rest of her clan? 

“Tamtey?” 

Okul was crouched in front of her, hands hovering over her bouncing knees as if unsure whether touch would be welcome. 

“Okul.”

Tamtey’s voice was so thin, so weak. 

This time, Okul did place their hands firmly on her knees, yellow-green eyes catching her own. Her frantic movement was soothed under the herbalist’s touch. Okul had smooth hands, Tamtey observed subconsciously—lacking the calluses from heavy weapon usage. Okul’s work required them to be able to feel the subtlest textures, sense even the most minute details that the eye would miss. Those hands sought to provide comfort in this moment. 

“I am not a warrior, and I do not claim to be,” Okul began. “But I am a healer—at least, I try to be. This symbol, this TAP, it is causing you pain.” It wasn’t a question. Okul reached up and placed a hand on Tamtey’s forehead. “It is causing illness here.” Then they pressed the hand onto her sternum, right above her heart. “And here.” Then Okul grasped both of Tamtey’s hands. “Will pursuing this symbol cause you more illness?”

Tamtey swallowed. “Maybe. It could make things worse, or it could be a dead end. But, if I have the chance to find out what happened to my people, I need to take it. My clanmates—we’re so lost. To find answers…it may be worth the illness.” 

Okul nodded slowly. “I see. In that case, you have my support. Here, this might help. There’s just enough for one.” The herbalist stood and fetched the flask of the medicinal tea they’d prepared, pouring it into a vial. It could barely be called a tea, as dark and viscous as it was, but…if it helped Tamtey traverse through the yavä’…it’d be worth it, right?  “You take it. You deserve to know what happened to your people.” 

“I hope this works,” Tamtey breathed. 

“Siul was never wrong. You can enter the yavä’ now, without harm. I’d bet my life on it.”

“Okay. I trust you.”

“Drink,” Okul instructed, holding the vial to her lips. Tamtey did as she was bid, opening her mouth so the liquid could slide down her throat. 

It was vile. 

Tamtey jerked, tears springing to the corners of her eyes. She tried to turn her face away, but Okul kept a firm grip on the back of her head. 

“I’m sorry, Tamtey, you have to drink it all.” 

Working her throat, Tamtey did her best to swallow the medicine. It didn’t hurt, nor did it cause pain, but oh it was disgusting. When she’d finished swallowing it, she clapped a hand over her mouth, eyes pinched tight as she willed herself to keep it down. 

Okul sat beside her, rubbing her back as she shook with effort. 

“—I’ll have to make note of this reaction.” Okul was mumbling. “Severe, indeed. But necessary?”

After several heartbeats, Tamtey gasped in lungfulls of air, tilting her head back as her nausea slowly ebbed. 

“That was horrid,” she croaked. 

Okul began to pat her back. When Tamtey burped, they withdrew their hands immediately. 

“Don’t throw up,” Okul pleaded. “I am not good with that.” 

She fixed them with a pointed stare. “Aren’t you a healer?” 

Okul held up a finger. “Healer in training.” 

“Semantics,” she groused. “Besides, I think I’m good.” 

Okul eyed her suspiciously for a few moments, then patted her on the knee. “Good. Are you ready, then? To face your past?”

Tamtey hummed. “Yes. And no. I’m ready to know, but I’m not ready to find out, if that makes sense? But I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready, so I guess…I’m ready as I’ll ever be.” 

“A decent answer,” Okul said, tail flicking Tamtey’s side. “I’ll add to it. Stay the night here. Entering the yavä’ is unnerving enough. Don’t torture yourself by doing it at night.” 

Grinning, Tamtey bumped Okul’s shoulder with her own. “You just like my company. Admit it.” 

Okul rolled their eyes. “Are all Sarentu so full of themselves?” 

Tamtey huffed a laugh. “Maybe.” Then she narrowed her eyes. “Please tell me you have bedding here, or something.”

Okul wouldn’t meet her eyes. 

“You’re going to do great tomorrow.” The herbalist said with a too-wide grin. “Good luck.”

“Okul.”

The sun was high in the sky, its warmth kissing Tamtey’s skin as she flew through the fog. In the heat of the day, the mist and fog almost seemed to withdraw slightly, allowing Tamtey to witness the colors and hues of the forest below. 

She guided Telisi towards a hilltop, instructing her to land in a clearing surrounded by groves of pines and ragtrunk trees. Towering boulders surrounded her, pinkish ferns growing in their shade. The hilltop itself consisted of several large rock shelves, covered in mosses and lichens. And right in the center of the clearing, on the highest rock shelf, was Anufi’s refuge. 

The refuge itself was built between and around two large boulders. It was shaped like a den, the roof consisting of malleable wood twisted in decorative spiral patterns and held together by strong rope. Certain areas of the roof had been made watertight, protecting the interior, while other areas let warm rays of sunshine in. The entrance to the refuge, Tamtey saw, was blocked by a rib plant, its front-facing side pointing inwards. Can’t enter through there, then. 

Seeing a small column of smoke rising from further up one of the boulders, Tamtey went to investigate. Making sure not to lose her footing on the slick moss, she pulled herself onto the top of the boulder, coming face-to-face with a Na’vi woman working beside a small fire. She seemed to be cleaning flasks, warming water over the flames. 

“Hey, what are you doing here?” the woman called, her ears folding in confusion. “Are you lost, stranger?” 

“I am looking for Anufi,” Tamtey said softly. “Are you her?” 

The Kame’tire woman stood, the dangling wooden ornaments on her chestpiece and waistcloth clanking against each other with the movement. “I am sorry you traveled so far for nothing. I am Zamhil.”

“Oh,” Tamtey’s ears lowered. “Sa’ney said she lives out here. I need a healer and I hear Anufi is the best.”

Zamhil sighed, her tone low and apologetic. “Our tsahik doesn’t see anyone, lately. Mokasa forbids it. I stay around to make sure she is cared for.”

Tamtey was beginning to find Mokasa extremely irritating. Just a mention of the man’s name had her ears pinning and a hiss on her lips. Feeling her ire rise, Tamtey took a deep breath. Then she spoke, her voice even. 

“If I could just talk to her, please. My people need her healing.”

Pursing her lips, Zamhil’s gaze fell to Tamtey’s face. 

“I noticed the mark, stranger.” The woman said, nodding to herself. “Perhaps Anufi would make an exception. But maybe you can help her, too.”

“I can try,” Tamtey said sincerely, hope unfurling in her chest. “How do I get inside?” 

Zamhil moved to the side, gesturing to a small doorway behind her. The opening was covered by a gateway lily, its purple, petal-like structure concealing the entirety of the doorway. “She created a barrier using these mushrooms. I don’t know how it works, and she’s sure to use it when I’m not looking. I cannot help, but I won’t stop you if you figure it out.” 

Grinning, Tamtey traced the gateway lily’s thick roots with a light touch. “This is a gateway lily. I’ve dealt with one before—in the Kinglor Forest. Do you want me to show you how it works?” 

Zamhil nodded eagerly. “Sometimes Anufi is inside for days. No food, no water. I worry for her. This knowledge will help.” 

Beckoning for the Kame’tire woman to follow, Tamtey trekked along the winding root systems, showing Zamhil the right stimulations to urge the large plant into folding its petals. 

“This is wondrous!” The Na’vi caretaker breathed as they returned to the doorway, watching as the thick petals began to fold, pink spores drifting down from the plant as it revealed the doorway to them. 

“It is,” Tamtey agreed. “She must’ve planted it here, nurtured it to grow in such little sun.”

A faint smile flickered across Zamhil’s face. “Our tsahik is burdened, but in her heart she is good. I am hopeful that you can help her see the good in herself, Sarentu.” 

Tamtey inclined her head respectfully, then stepped through the doorway. Zamhil did not follow. Alone, Tamtey descended into the Kame’tire tsahik’s refuge. 

The small stony hallway she entered led her into a midsized room, cozy with small lanterns illuminating the space. The floor was made from typical slabs of smooth wood, and the walls and roof were insulated with dried brush and mosses. A small opening in the woven wall, decorated with rope designs, let in fresh air. The small firelights, however, kept the room warmer than the forest outside. Large flasks lined the walls, holding various infusions and tinctures. A medicine stand, similar to the one she’d seen Okul using, was propped against the rock wall. Tamtey saw herbs—fresh, dried, and powered alike—labeled and organized in small wooden bowls. A workspace table had unfinished remedies strewing the surface. Wicker baskets contained clean supplies and herbalist tools. In the center of the room, a clay fire pit was hanging from the ceiling with thick ropes. Notches had been carved into the wide clay bowl, and Tamtey imagined they were used to prop flasks upwards as the heat from the fire helped facilitate infusions. 

This room, she could tell, was well cared for. Even in seclusion, it seemed the tsahik continued her sacred craft. Reassuring indeed. 

As Tamtey continued into the lower level of the refuge, she gasped at the sight of a long species of lichen growing from the ceiling. It glowed vibrantly, speckled blue and white bioluminescence making it seem as if stars were descending from the wood ceiling. They brushed the top of her head as she walked beneath them, their glow intensifying with touch. 

“Beautiful,” Tamtey breathed, feeling a bit of her anxiety dissipate. 

She continued to walk through the refuge, following the natural curve of the stone hallway. She passed the main entrance, the one covered by the rib plant, and filed its location into her mind. Then, she stepped into the second wing of the refuge. 

Here, she could see more of Anufi’s materials. The room was still clean, but it was more disorganized than the first room she’d seen. Herbs, drying on thin ropes, were strung across the ceiling. Incense burned in small stone bowls, the herby and resinous aroma evoking a sense of calm. Wooden shelves lined the walls, full of tools and equipment that Tamtey had no name for. An unmade bedmat was shoved in the corner, shielded in part by a wooden teepee-like structure. Along the wall, partially open to allow airflow, animal hides were in various stages of being cured and tanned. Baskets of tools made from shell and bone were laid at the base of the wooden frames. Flasks, some half-full and some empty, lined the wooden stairs that led to a platform constructed by even larger slabs of wood.

Atop this platform, a woman crouched over a basket, rifling through tools. She muttered under her breath, testing the sharpness of a tool on the pad of her thumb. Supposedly dissatisfied, she placed it to the side and kept searching. 

“Anufi?” Tamtey asked tentatively, inching closer. 

The woman stiffened in surprise, standing. Her clothes were of typical Kame’tire fashion—soft leather adorned with polished wood, feathers, and shells. Her ornate headpiece, the carved frontal image of an echo stalker, signified her importance and status. She squinted her eyes, chartreuse and sharp, and peered at Tamtey. 

“Step into the light, where I can see you.” 

The tsahik’s voice was commanding. Tamtey found herself obeying automatically, stepping into a ray of sunshine filtering in through an opening in the ceiling. 

Her eyes falling on Tamtey’s face, the tsahik jerked backward, a strangled cry on her lips. Anufi’s breaths came in shallow pants and she averted her eyes from Tamtey, as if afraid to even acknowledge her existence. 

“I was told you are the greatest Kame’tire healer,” Tamtey said hurriedly, bending her knees so she could lower herself to Anufi’s eye level, the older woman having hunched over. 

“Those are lies, spirit,” the tsahik choked, avoiding Tamtey’s gaze. A whine, thin and high, built in Anufi’s throat, and she tucked her right arm against her torso. 

Her arm, Tamtey realized, ended in a wooden prosthetic, made of intricate carved wood. The loop-like structure on the end of the prosthetic was doubtlessly used to assist in the tsahik’s medicine-making. 

“Yes, there was once pleasure in healing,” Anufi admitted shamefully. “And power, too. The power to harm.” Shakily, she extended her hands—prosthetic and real alike—as if bringing light to a dark secret. “These hands are proof of that.” 

Stare as she might, Tamtey saw nothing wrong with the woman’s hands. The prosthetic was well cared for, and her flesh hand was meticulously clean. 

“And…” Anufi continued, reaching with trembling hands towards a basket at her feet. She grasped at something small, fumbling it several times before she was able to use her wooden arm to push the object into her left palm. “…a tiny thing I made. Like this.” 

The older woman extended her hand, showing Tamtey the small object. It was a tiny flask, sealed shut, but Tamtey could hear liquid within. Curious, Tamtey reached out to take it. 

With a sharp inhale, Anufi hugged the small flask to her chest, ensuring Tantey could not grab it. 

“I made it to heal,” Anufi cried, “but it only did harm.” A lone tear slid down her face. “And now your people lie in the fog.” 

Tamtey felt icy cold slither down her spine. 

“What?” She gasped. “What did you do?”

“Spirit, you know this. Must I confess this sin again and again?” Anufi exclaimed tearily, tail lashing as the sour scent of her anxiety filled the space. The woman pressed her flesh palm to her face and cried out, her voice torn with frustration and sorrow. “I killed you! All of you.”

The woman wept, fangs drawing blood as she bit down on her lip in an attempt to muffle her cries. 

“No, the Sky People came for us.” Tamtey insisted, reaching forward to grasp the woman’s hands. Her prosthetic was smooth in Tamtey’s grip, and her other hand trembled mightily. At her touch, Anufi’s eyes flew wide. 

“You are no spirit.” 

“No,” Tamtey said gently, squeezing the woman’s palm. “I am real. I am Sarentu. The Sky People took me when I was a baby. They came for me.” 

“No,” Anufi said sadly, shaking her head. “It was me.” Another whine as the tsahik lowered her eyes, pulling her hands from Tamtey’s grip. She began to mutter again. “So many dead already. No. I told you. It is too dangerous. I cannot risk trying to heal any other innocents.”

On a whim, Tamtey reached out and grasped Anufi’s elbow. Again, at her touch, the woman seemed to settle, her muttering ceasing. The tsahik’s gaze fell on Tamtey’s hand, lingering as if determining the realness of it. 

“Our wounded will die without your help.” Tamtey pleaded softly. 

At Tamtey’s words, Anufi stood, her back straightening. She was taller than Tamtey, and the tsahik’s panicked breaths slowed as she regarded her. Then, Anufi spoke, her voice even and authoritative. 

“Then they will die.”

With that, Anufi turned her back on Tamtey, kneeling once more to continue rifling through the basket on the floor. 

Tamtey felt bitter disappointment course through her. She’d felt the tiniest spark of hope, then it had been immediately doused. It was clear that the Kame’tire tsahik would be no help. Not only was she adamantly unwilling, she was also halfway convinced that Tamtey was a spirit. Had she been in seclusion for so long that she’d descended into madness?

Her ears folding, Tamtey sighed and stepped out of Anufi’s room, descending down the wooden path until she was at the refuge’s main entrance. With a light touch to the rib plant, it curled in on itself, allowing her to walk out. 

Sunlight warmed her face as she left the refuge, but it did little to quell the overwhelming feeling of failure. With another sad sigh, Tamtey unclipped her radio from her vest. 

“Nor?” She called. 

“I’m here,” he answered at once. “Did you find them?” 

“I just spoke to the tsahik Anufi,” Tamtey told him. “It wasn’t easy.”

“I told you they’re reclusive.” 

“It’s not just that,” Tamtey pressed. “There’s something more going on here. She’s confused. She thinks she killed the Sarentu. Can that be true?”

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Nor said confusedly. “What else did she say?”

“Just that she can’t help us and that we’re lost in the fog. I don’t know.”

Not hummed, considering. “Perhaps they’re hiding something.”

“I don’t know,” Tamtey groaned. “Nobody wants to help me. They all seem afraid.”

“Why did Alma say we couldn’t trust them? The Kame’tire were always good to us.” Nor sighed. “It doesn’t feel right. There must be another Kame’tire healer. Or someone.”

“There’s Anufi’s guardian.” Tamtey suggested. “She helped me earlier. I’ll see what I can find out.” 

Nor hummed an affirmative, and Tamtey clipped the radio back to her vest. 

She found Zamhil sitting in the clearing where Tamtey had left Telisi. While her ikran was nowhere to be seen, Zamhil sat silently, sharpening a bone knife. 

“Why wouldn’t Anufi help me?” Tamtey asked as she crouched next to Zamhil, desperation leaking into her voice. “I thought she was a healer.” 

“Anufi is troubled,” Zamhil told her, looking her in the eyes. “It may take her time.”

“But I don’t have time,” Tamtey insisted. “The Sky People attacked us. Many of us died. Others are sick. Please. I don’t know where else to go.” 

Zamhil twisted her hands together. “Fine. No one can know I helped, but…there is another healer. His name is Siul.”

“Where can I find him?” 

“Herbalism is forbidden, but Siul persists.” Zamhil explained. 

“Why is it forbidden?” Tamtey asked, ears pinning. “My clanmate said you are famed herbalists.”

Zamhil averted her eyes. “When you find Siul, he will explain.” 

“Why will nobody tell me what’s happening!” Tamtey cried, throwing her hands in the air. At every turn, Tamtey had been blocked. She kept running into more and more problems, and not one person she met had been able to offer a solution. 

“Talk to Siul,” Zamhil insisted. “The herbalists have a space in The Hollows. He might be there, though I haven’t seen him in a while.” 

Tamtey opened her mouth to retort, but stiffened when a thin wail rose from inside the refuge. Zamhil straightened immediately, eyes snapping towards the refuge’s entrance. 

“That’s all I can say.” Zamhil said hurriedly. “Please go. Now.” 

With that, the woman ran inside the refuge, returning to the care of Anufi. 

Tamtey scrubbed her hands over her face, hearing the troubled cries of the tsahik inside. The Kame’tire didn’t just have a leadership problem—they lacked any formal leadership at all. They had no olo’eyktan to steer them and no tsahik to guide them—the only authority at all rested in a man who struck fear in the people. 

It was no way to live. And unchecked, this negligence would lead to the permanent downfall of the Kame’tire. 

Tamtey sighed, kicking at the rocky earth.