naviya

It’s morning.

But the night hasn’t fully let go of you.

It lingers—quiet, persistent—like smoke clinging to your skin.

The warmth of him.

The way everything shifted.

It makes your stomach flutter—soft at first, then sharper, almost overwhelming when you let yourself think about it too long.

You press your lips together, like that might steady it.

It doesn’t.

So you get up.

You step outside—

And there he is.

His eyes immediately find yours.

You freeze for half a second, caught between instinct and memory, unsure what face you’re supposed to wear for this version of him—the one that exists in daylight.

Last night flashes somewhere at the edge of your mind.

You push it down.

Before you can fully react, he’s already walking toward you, naturally closing the distance like it belongs to him now.

“Did you sleep well?” He asks.

You clear your throat.

“Yeah. Of course.”

It comes out a little too fast.

“Oh yeah?”

You blink, noticing the way his eyes shift slightly.

Like he’s remembering something you’re actively trying not to.

“I didn’t,” He adds.

Your heart stutters—just once.

“It’s a shame,” He says.

Your stomach tightens slightly. “A shame?”

His gaze flicks—briefly, deliberately—to your lips.

Then back to your eyes.

“Let’s go somewhere more private,”

Your breath catches slightly, “R-Right now?”

He shakes his head slightly with a soft chuckle, eyes still on you.

“Tonight,” He adds, tone calm but teasing. “be patient until then.”

His gaze lingers for a beat longer than necessary, like he’s enjoying the way you’re holding your breath without realizing it.

Then he turns away, just like that—leaving the words hanging behind him while he walks off as if he didn’t just completely derail your thoughts for the entire day.

You stay there for a moment before turning around, realizing you probably look a little stupid just standing there like that.

So you move.

“Tuk!”

You call her name, and she turns around instantly.

“Oh!” She turns, spotting you, and immediately starts running over.

You hadn’t really spent much time with her lately.

Not since…that day.

Since everything changed.

The day Eywa allowed you to breathe Pandora’s air.

Something had shifted after that.

Not just in you—but in how others looked at you.

You noticed it in Neytiri too.

At first, you knew you were somewhere in the middle for her. Not fully inside, not fully outside either—just…there.

But now?

It feels different.

More closed off.

Like she’s drawn a line you can feel even when she doesn’t say it.

And Tuk—

Tuk is still Tuk.

Bright, fast, unburdened by all the things adults carry.

She reaches you now, stopping in front of you. “You were calling me?”

You nod, “Yeah. I just—wanted to see you.”

Her eyes light up immediately, “Really?”

“Why were you hiding from me then? I thought you were mad at me.”

Your brows scrunch, confused.

“Mad? No, never—I wasn’t hiding,”

“I…was just busy, Tuk.”

Tuk looks at you, slightly unconvinced—but she doesn’t argue. She just shrugs like it doesn’t really matter anyway.

“It’s okay,” She says. “you’re here now.”

And just like that, she grabs your hand without hesitation.

“Come on, I wanna play!” She adds, already pulling you forward.

You stumble half a step to keep up with her, letting out a small breath that turns into something almost like a laugh.

“What are we playing? Another game I’ll win?” You tease as you let yourself be pulled along.

. . .

The sky had dimmed, the camp settling into something quieter, softer.

You spot Neteyam near the edge of the camp, just where the light starts to fade into shadow.

You walk up to him.

You clear your throat. “Soooo,” you try to sound casual,

“…about earlier?”

“Of course,” He says.

“I just need to speak with my father first,” He adds.

You nod quickly, trying not to look too eager.

“Meet me at the clearing. Our spot.”

Our spot?

You try not to smile at his words.

You know exactly which one.

Of course you do.

You nod again, softer this time.

“I’ll be waiting.”

He gives a small nod and turns, heading back toward where he’s needed.

You get there first.

The clearing is quiet, wrapped in that deep blue-violet evening light, the kind that makes everything feel a little unreal.

You find yourself smiling—actually smiling—at nothing, just thinking about it.

About him.

About tonight.

Time stretches.

A little too long.

You pace once, then stop.

Footsteps.

You turn immediately.

Neteyam steps into the clearing.

Your face lights up before you can stop it, the smile you’d been trying to hide earlier slipping free without hesitation.

“You’re here!” you say, a little too quickly. “I mean—you’re here, finally. Thought you ditched me…” You let out a small laugh.

He slows as he approaches.

There’s something in his expression—subtle, just beneath the surface.

It flickers there for a second—

then disappears the moment he sees your face.

Like whatever it was gets tucked away, and replaced with a smile.

“Did you wait too long?” He asks.

You shake your head quickly. “No, not really. It’s okay.”

He nods once before glancing upward and letting out a sharp, familiar call.

In a beat, the rush of wings cuts through the quiet.

His ikran dives down, landing nearby with a heavy thrum of air.

Neteyam walks up, giving it a quick, practiced touch before looking back at you.

“Come on.”

You step closer, climbing on first. He steadies you without hesitation—like he always does.

His hand lingers for just a second—then he climbs on behind you.

And then—you’re in the air.

The ground drops fast, wind rushing past, the forest stretching endlessly below.

Instinctively, his arm comes around your waist.

Something he’s done before, always.

Your heart kicks hard against your ribs, fast an uneven, and this time it has nothing to do with height or the speed.

If anything, you barely register the flight.

All you can think about is the warmth of his hand against you.

The way you’re aware of him behind you in a way you never were before.

Every small shift.

The wind rushes past, loud enough to swallow most sound.

Behind you, Neteyam shifts slightly.

Then he leans in—closer, so his voice can reach you over the rush of air.

“Are you okay?” He asks near your ear.

His voice is low, almost lost in the wind—but you feel it more than you hear it.

The warmth of his breath.

The closeness.

The way he’s suddenly right there.

“I’m fine—” you manage, your voice strained.

There’s a small pause.

Like he’s listening—not just to your answer, but to everything else.

“I can feel your heart,” he adds, quieter now.

“It’s racing.”

You freeze for half a second.

And then—

a faint shift in his tone.

“Is it the height?” He asks, just lightly enough to sound innocent.

Then, softer—

“Or something else?”

Your lips part, but no words come out.

But before you can find them again, he moves.

His lips brush lightly against the side of your neck, planting a soft kiss.

You flinch, your breath catching instantly as your whole body tenses, overwhelmed in a way you’re not prepared for this high up in the air.

“Answer me,” He murmurs softly against your neck.

“Don’t do that—Neteyam, not up here!” You blurt out, fingers tightening hard around the ikran's harness.

He pulls back just slightly.

“Relax,” he says, chuckling softly.

The wind rushes for a few more heartbeats—your pulse still completely out of rhythm, your thoughts not catching up fast enough to the moment that just happened.

You notice the ground begins to rise to meet you as the ikran descents.

The landing is smooth, Neteyam dismounts first, then reaches up for you without a word—steadying you as you climb down.

You avoid his gaze, feeling embarrassed from earlier.

His hand lingers just long enough for you to feel it before he lets go.

For a moment, there’s only the forest again—quiet, still, like nothing in the sky just happened.

“Come,” he says simply before stepping forward.

You follow, walking side by side through the trees, the ground soft beneath your steps, until the forest begins to change.

A hidden grove opens up ahead—quiet, almost secret.

A grotto wrapped in bioluminescent plants, glowing in soft blues and greens that ripple gently across stone and water.

You come to a stop, completely caught in it.

“It’s…beautiful,” you say quietly, taking it in, the glow reflecting across your face and everything around you like the place is breathing light.

Neteyam watches you instead of the grotto for a moment.

“Yeah."

He continues to watch you for a moment longer, then shifts his weight and lowers himself down onto the ground near the edge of the grotto.

You follow after a second, smoothing your hands over your knees as you sit beside him.

The glow from the bioluminescent plants spills across both of you, painting everything in gentle blues and greens. It makes the silence feel warmer somehow, less empty.

Neither of you speaks, just the soft ripple of the light across the water.

Neteyam leans back slightly on his hands, his posture relaxed.

Your eyes keep drifting to him. You find yourself tracing the line of his jaw, the strength in his shoulders, the way the blue light catches the gold in his eyes.

You're captivated.

As you steal another glance, his head turns softly. His eyes lock onto yours.

Instantly, a fierce heat rushes to your cheeks. You feel the burn of embarrassment prickling at your skin, a frantic desire to look away, to hide, to pretend you were looking at the moss behind him. But you are frozen.

Oh shit. He caught me staring—I'm still staring. Should I look away? What do I do? Why is he looking at me like that? I'm gonna melt into the ground.

Your heart hammers against your ribs, a frantic rhythm that is loud enough to echo off the cave walls.

Should I? Could I?

The thought of him, the warmth of his presence, and the sheer, intoxicating pull of his gaze culminate in a single, breathless realization.

The fear of embarrassment begins to lose its battle against the hunger in your soul. You don't want to look away anymore. You want to move closer.

You lean forward, narrowing the distance between you two.

Your eyes flutter shut just before your lips meet his. The first contact is feather light a soft, tentative brush of lips that feels like a question. But the moment you feel the warmth of him, the hesitation breaks.

Neteyam lets out a small, sharp intake of breath, a sound of pure surprise that vibrates against your mouth. For a split second, he is still, caught off guard by your sudden boldness. But the surprise doesn't last; it melts instantly into a deep, hungry yearning. He lets out a low, guttural hum of approval, and suddenly, he isn't just receiving the kiss he is returning it with a ferocity that leaves you breathless.

His large hand slides from your jaw to the back of your neck, his long fingers tangling in your hair to pull you closer, as if he can’t get enough of the contact. The kiss deepens, turning heavy and feverish, the gentle bioluminescence of the grotto blurring into a haze of blue and green as your senses focus entirely on him.

The world tilts. In the heat of the moment, your movements become uncoordinated and desperate. You lose your balance, your breath hitching in your throat as you tumble backward onto the soft, mossy earth. Before you can even process the sensation of the ground beneath you, he is there, hovering over you, his weight a delicious pressure as he follows you down.

The air between you is thick with heat and the scent of the forest. His lips move from yours to the sensitive line of your jaw, then down to the pulse point at your throat, making you arch your back slightly as a soft gasp escapes you.

It’s as if a fever has taken hold of you, a sudden, wild instinct that bypasses your human logic and takes over your entire being. You feel almost possessed, driven by an animalistic hunger.

In a blur of sudden, frantic movement, you press your hands against his chest. In this moment of messy and uncoordinated movement, your bodies sliding and pressing together, you manage to shift positions.

You force him back, and with a low, surprised grunt, Neteyam allows himself to be overtaken, his back hitting the soft earth as you tumble upward.

Driven by a frantic, desperate need to strip away every barrier, your hand slides down the firm, warm muscles of his abdomen. Your fingers reach the edge of his loincloth, your touch hurried and impatient as you begin to fumble with the knot.

Your mind is a blur of him, him, him, wanting to lose yourself in him before the responsibilities of his world pull him away again.

"Y/N,"

His voice doesn't break through the haze you are in. You are too far gone, consumed by the heat radiating between your bodies to truly hear the tremor in his tone. To you, it is just the sound of his desire, and it only makes you move faster, your fingers tugging at the fabric with a singular, hungry purpose.

"Y/N—”

He says your name again, just as you're about to undo the final knot, his warm hand shoots up, his fingers wrapping firmly but tenderly around your wrist. He catches your hand mid-motion, halting your descent and forcing you to pause.

The sudden stillness is jarring. The heat is still there, thick and suffocating, but the physical halt forces your brain to catch up to your body. You look down, blinking through the haze of your own heat, to find his eyes locked onto yours. They aren't just dark with hunger; they are clouded with a profound, aching sadness that makes your heart stutter.

His grip on your wrist is steady, a grounding force that pulls you back from the edge of your trance. He is looking at you as if he is memorizing your face, as if he is trying to hold onto this moment before everything changes.

"Y/N," he whispers, his voice thick and strained. "I…there is something I need to tell you."

The sudden shift in his tone sends a chill through you, instantly dousing the fever that had been consuming you. The "animalistic" confidence you felt moments ago vanishes, replaced by a sudden, stinging wave of self consciousness. You freeze, your heart still hammering, but the rhythm has changed from passion to a frantic, nervous beat.

A hollow feeling opens up in your chest. You pull back slightly, the heat in your cheeks turning from desire to a painful, burning embarrassment. "Do you...not want this?" you ask, the words barely a breath. The thought that you had been too much, too wild, or that you had misread every single look he had ever given you, feels like a physical blow.

"What? No—” Neteyam reacts instantly. "It is not that at all. I want this too.”

He lets out a long, shaky breath, his eyes searching yours with an intensity. "But, you must know that there is a path being laid out for me. A path that does not just belong to me, but to the survival of our people.”

You frown, the confusion momentarily overriding the hurt. "A path? What are you talking about, Neteyam?"

He swallows hard, "The Aranhae clan, they have agreed to form an alliance with us. To help us fight this war. But an alliance of this magnitude…it requires a bond, a permanent one.

"It is an arranged marriage."

The silence that follows is deafening. The soft ripple of the water and the distant hum of the forest seem to fade away, leaving nothing but the heavy, suffocating weight of his confession. The bioluminescent light of the grotto, which had felt so warm and intimate only moments ago, now feels cold and mocking, casting long, dancing shadows between you. You sit there, straddling him, but suddenly you have never felt more distant from him in your entire life.

The intimacy of the moment the way you were just moments away from losing yourselves in each other now feels like a cruel joke. You feel a sudden, sharp ache in your chest, a sense of vertigo as the ground beneath you feels less stable than ever.

"How long?" The question escapes you before you can stop it, your voice small and fragile. You pull your hands back from his chest, creating a sliver of space between you that feels like a canyon. "How long have you been carrying this, Neteyam? Was it today?"

"It has been in talks for a while," he says softly, his voice a low, steady murmur that feels far too calm for the storm he has just unleashed. "It was not a sudden decision, but a necessary one."

You feel your shock settling into a cold, hard knot in your chest.

"So you just looked at me and touched me like this..." you say, your voice steady despite the ache in your heart. "Knowing? You let this happen, knowing you already belong to someone else?"

Without waiting for his response, you push off from his chest. You stand up, your movements quick and decisive, and turn your back on him.

You head toward the edge of the grotto, your footsteps heavy on the forest floor. But you don't get far before you hear the frantic rustle of leaves behind you.

"Y/N! Wait!"

His voice is urgent. You hear him scramble to his feet, his footsteps hurried as he chases after you.

You don't stop. You keep your eyes fixed on the path ahead, your jaw set, ignoring the way your heart aches at the sound of his voice. You refuse to give him the satisfaction of a glance.

But he isn't letting go that easily. You feel his hand reach out, his fingers closing around your wrist to steady you.

"I understand you're angry." He says, his voice low and strained, trying to sound patient even as his own composure begins to fray. "And you have every right to be. But please, don't walk off like this. It’s not safe to be out here alone. Let me take you back—"

Before he can finish his sentence, you yank your arm back with a sudden, sharp force. The movement is so decisive it almost catches him off guard.

"Don't touch me.” you snap.

Your voice is firm, cutting through his plea with a coldness that leaves no room for argument. You don't wait for the hurt to register on his face. You don't wait to see if he'll try to grab you again. You simply turn and walk off, your footsteps fast and heavy, leaving him standing in the dark, his hand still hovering in the empty air where yours had just been.

You walk. You don't look back, and you don't look at the path beneath your feet. You just move, your legs carrying you deeper into the tangled shadows of the forest, driven by a desperate, primal need to put as much distance between yourself and Neteyam as possible. You don't even know where you're going; you just know that as long as you are moving, you don't have to face the reality of what he just said.

But the forest is vast, and the silence is heavy, and eventually, the momentum begins to fail.

The adrenaline that fueled your anger starts to fade away, leaving a hollow, aching void in its place. Your pace slows, your footsteps becoming heavy and uneven on the mossy ground. The silence of the woods, which once felt peaceful, now feels suffocating, pressing in on you from all sides.

And then, the first sob breaks through.

It’s a small, jagged sound, one you try to swallow as you keep moving, but it escapes anyway. You don't stop walking, but the tears begin to fall, hot and relentless, blurring the bioluminescent glow of the plants around you.

Stupid, so incredibly stupid.

It's all your fault. Why would you think there could ever be something between the two of you? A young warrior, and…a human?

The thought is a bitter pill to swallow, a final realization that settles in your bones as you stumble through the dark. You are a creature of a different world, a different scale, and you had dared to believe you could fit into his.

The forest seems to blur around you, the bioluminescence fading into a hazy, indistinct smear of light. Eventually, the walk becomes a blur, a long, stumbling journey through the shadows that feels more like a dream than reality.

The first thing you feel is the throbbing.

A sharp, rhythmic ache pulses behind your eyes, making every flicker of light feel like a needle pressing against your brain. You groan, shifting under your blanket, but the movement only makes the tension in your temples tighten.

You don't remember much of the walk back. The memory of the forest is a fragmented shadow, the sound of your own uneven breathing, and the crushing weight of your own thoughts. It feels as though you moved through a thick, dark fog, your body operating on autopilot until you finally reached the safety of your hut. You remember the sensation of collapsing onto the floor of your hut, the exhaustion so sudden and heavy that you must have fallen into a deep, dreamless sleep almost immediately.

As you slowly blink your eyes open to the soft morning light filtering through the entrance, the reality of the previous night begins to seep back in, heavy and undeniable. The headache is a constant reminder of the emotional storm you weathered, and the silence of the hut feels far too loud.

Days pass, though "days" is a generous term. To you, time has become a meaningless, hazy blur.

Most of them are spent within the familiar, dim safety of your hut. You become a shadow, a ghost in your own life, only stepping outside when it is absolutely necessary to eat, to wash, or to move through the village when the paths are clear. You are avoiding the eyes of the others, but most of all, you are avoiding him.

It is easier now, because Neteyam is rarely seen. He is constantly by his father's side, consumed by the heavy weight of his duties. Whether he is guarding the perimeter or flying high above the forest canopy, he is always where he is needed most, leaving you to your own thoughts.

The silence of your isolation doesn't go unnoticed. Lo'ak, Kiri, and Spider all sense the shift in your energy. They hover at the edge of your space, their eyes filled with a quiet, confused concern, but you are a master of the mask. Every time someone asks, you offer the same practiced, hollow response: "I'm fine. Really."

Kiri, with her intuitive spirit, is the only one who truly senses the cracks within you. She doesn't push; she doesn't demand the truth that you aren't ready to give. Instead, she simply shows up. She leaves extra fruit for you, or sits silently near you, her presence a gentle, wordless comfort that says I know something is wrong, and that's okay.

But eventually, the world outside calls. You can't hide in the shadows forever.

The group is restless, the air thick with the spirit of adventure that always seems to pull the younger ones toward the unknown.

The group is restless, driven by the thrill of discovery. You find yourself joining them as they trek through the forest.

As you all cross a massive log, Tuk falls behind, captivated by the strange insects and glowing flora of the forest.

"Tuk! Keep up!" Lo'ak calls out, his voice echoing through the trees.

"Okay, okay!" Tuk chirps, hurrying to catch up with a playful grin.

"Bro, why'd you bring her anyway?" Spider asks.

"She's such a crybaby." Lo'ak responds, turning around to face the rest of the group. "She's all, "I'm telling. You're not supposed to go to the battlefield. I'll tell mom if you don't let me come.""

"Don't pick on her." Kiri nudges in.

The group continues moving, the playful energy slowly shifting into a sense of awe and unease as you begin to explore the ruins. The forest here feels different older, more haunted. You pass the skeletal, rusting remains of RDA machinery. The air is cooler here, smelling of damp iron and old shadows.

As the sun begins to dip lower, casting eclipse, the atmosphere grows heavy, the silence of the forest becoming more profound, more watchful.

Suddenly, Lo'ak and Spider freeze. They've stopped dead in their tracks, hunched over something in the dirt. You and Kiri slow your pace, moving closer, with Tuk and you trailing just behind.

Lo'ak leans down, his eyes narrowing as he examines a massive indentation in the soft earth. "It's way too big for a human," he says.

Spider leans in beside him, his brow furrowed. "Avatars?"

"Maybe," Lo'ak murmurs, his gaze shifting toward the dense treeline. "But they're for sure not ours."

Other avatars? The thought echoes in your mind, sending a sudden, sharp prickle of fear through your chest: could it be…?

Without another word, the boys begin to move, tracking the prints with practiced stealth. You and Kiri follow close behind, instinctively dropping low, your bodies moving in sync with the rhythm of the forest. You slip behind the tall, swaying grasses, the blades brushing against your skin.

As you move, you keep a watchful, protective eye on Tuk, making sure she stays low and doesn't let her curiosity lead her into the open.

Then, you see them.

Through the gaps in the vegetation, the clearing comes into view the very place where the battle between Jake and Neytiri once raged. You recognize the setting immediately; Lo'ak has rambled and spilled almost every single detail about the Sully family's history to you so many times that the landscape feels familiar, even if the mood is anything but.

And there, standing in the center of the clearing like a dark omen, is the Recom team. At their head stands Quaritch, his massive Avatar body imposing and lethal, his eyes scanning the landscape with a predator's precision.

As you stare, the world begins to tilt. The sight of him the man who nearly took your life, the man who took your father sends a wave of pure, unadulterated terror through your veins. You freeze. The sounds of the forest fade, replaced by a sharp, piercing ringing in your ears that drowns out everything else. You are paralyzed, a statue of flesh and bone, as the others begin to whisper urgently to one another.

You snap out of the trance only when you hear Lo'ak’s voice, hushed and threatening to tremble, as he speaks into the comms device on his neck. He is reporting back to his father, explaining whose "we" that were just exploring, but the device is a little too loud in the silence. You hear Jake’s voice crackle back through the mic, urgent and commanding, telling Lo'ak to get everyone out of there, quickly and quietly.

The spell is broken. Kiri immediately moves, her hand firm on Tuk’s back to guide the small girl away, while Lo'ak reaches out to grab your arm, pulling you into motion. Spider follows close behind, his eyes darting around to keep guard.

As you scramble to retreat, Kiri whispers a frantic, "You're going to be in so much trouble," to Lo'ak.

Tuk is a few steps ahead, her small feet stumbling.

Then, out of nowhere, a Recom lunges from the foliage, his massive hand snatching Tuk. Immediately, Lo'ak and Spider whirl around, drawing their bows and aiming with shaking hands. You and Kiri stand frozen for a heartbeat, caught in the sudden, violent shift of the atmosphere. Before you can even react, the rest of the Recom team swarms out of the shadows, weapons aimed at all of you.

Lo'ak has no choice; his shoulders sag as he lowers his bow. "Put it down," he commands Spider, his voice low and urgent in Na'vi. "Put it down."

In the chaos, the Recoms seem to overlook one glaring detail: you are the only human without a mask. Unlike Spider, who is safely tucked behind his breathing pack, your face is bare, your breathing shallow and terrified.

The soliders move with a brutal efficiency, sweeping in and knocking the group down. You feel a violent tug at your hair, ripped backward as you are forced to your knees. The pain is sharp, a stinging heat against your scalp, but it’s nothing compared to the cold, suffocating dread pooling in your stomach.

The heavy thud of boots approaches, rhythmic and terrifying, like a heartbeat echoing through the clearing. More soldiers emerge from the shadows of the rusted RDA ruins, their weapons gleaming in the fading light, encircling you.

And then, there is...

Quaritch.

The moment his shadow falls over you, an instinct takes over. Before you can even process the sight of him, you jerk your head down, your chin pressing against your chest. You tuck your face away, trying to hide behind the curtain of your hair, desperately wishing you could simply vanish into the earth beneath your knees.

The silence that follows is deafening. You can hear the ragged breathing of Lo'ak across you as he recognizes your fear, and the heavy, metallic clatter of the Recoms gear, but all you can feel is the weight of Quaritch’s gaze examining everyone.

Quaritch looms over the group, his shadow swallowing you whole. "What have we here?"

"Colonel," Lyle, one of the Recoms, calls out, holding up Kiri's hand. "Four fingers. We got a half-breed."

Quaritch eyes Kiri with a cold curiosity before turning his attention to Lo'ak. "Show me your fingers," he commands. Instead of obeying, Lo'ak defiantly flips him off.

A low chuckle escapes Quaritch's throat. "You're his, aren't you?"

Lo'ak snarls, a feral sound of pure hatred, but Quaritch just grins. "You're his alright."

Suddenly, his hand shoots out, gripping Lo'ak’s braids and yanking him upward with such force that a groan of pain escapes the boy's lips.

Quaritch leans in, his voice a dangerous growl as he demands to know where Jake is. He is about to shift his attention to Kiri, in an attempt to get Lo'ak to speak.

"Colonel," the soldier behind you speaks. "You might wanna check this one out." His grip on your hair tightens, a sharp, punishing tug that forces your head back just a fraction.

You keep your head bowed, your eyes squeezed shut, praying that if you don't look at him, he won't truly see you.

The heavy, deliberate thud of boots approaches. Each step feels like a hammer blow to your nerves. He’s standing right in front of you now. You can feel the heat radiating from his massive body, the sheer presence of him overwhelming your senses.

Just as the silence becomes unbearable, the Recom holding you grows impatient with your bowed head. With a brutal, sudden jerk, he yanks your head back even harder, forcing your face up toward the light, earning a pained cry out of you.

"Stop!" Lo'ak's voice cracks through the air, a desperate, raw scream of pure agony and rage.

You are forced to look up. Your eyes fly open, wide and glistening with unshed tears, and you find yourself staring directly into the cold, piercing eyes of Quaritch.

A slow, dark grin begins to spread across his face, one that sends a fresh wave of ice through your veins.

Your eyes blink slowly, adjusting to the light spilling into your hut.

A groan slips from your throat as the full weight of your head settles in. Your mouth tingles faintly, a strange numbness lingering on the tip of your tongue, and the rest of your body feels heavy and loose. Like warm sand. Or like you’d been thrown down a flight of stairs.

Sitting up proves to be a mistake.

The world tilts dangerously and you immediately drop back down onto the mat with another groan.

Outside, you can hear the village already moving through the start of the day. Voices drift through the air. Footsteps pass nearby.

You build up the strength and push yourself up onto your elbows.

It takes a second attempt and a very dramatic pause halfway up, but eventually you manage to sit.

Victory.

Your hair is a mess, your body feels loose and heavy, and your brain is still swimming in something foggy, but at least the world isn’t spinning as violently anymore.

Water.

Your body suddenly decides that water is the most important thing that has ever existed.

You feel so insanely dehydrated you might actually shrivel up where you sit.

You push yourself to your feet.

The hut tilts slightly.

You freeze.

After a few seconds the ground settles enough that you trust your legs again.

You shuffle toward the entrance, pushing aside the woven flap and stepping into the morning light.

You make your way toward the central area where the gourds are usually kept, moving slower than usual because every step feels slightly…delayed.

When you reach one of the filled gourds, you grab it immediately and tilt it up.

The cool water hits your mouth and you drink like someone who just crawled out of the desert, nearly finishing the whole thing in one go.

Your shoulders drop as relief finally starts creeping in.

You lower the gourd, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand.

Then turn around—

—and walk straight into someone.

Your forehead bumps into a firm chest and you bounce back slightly with a startled sound.

“—ow..”

You blink up.

And immediately freeze.

Neteyam.

You quickly straighten, fixing your posture like that might somehow undo the collision.

“…sorry—” you start, rubbing your forehead lightly. “I didn’t see—”

Your words trail off.

For a brief moment, Neteyam is just looking at you.

Not in the usual way either.

His eyes linger a little too long, like he’s searching your face for something. Waiting.

Your stomach tightens slightly under the weight of it.

“…what?” You ask, brows pulling together.

He blinks, like he’s snapping out of something, then straightens a little.

“Are you feeling okay?” He asks.

You hesitate.

Why would he ask that?

Unless…he knew you got intoxicated last night—

“Yeah,” You say quickly. “why wouldn’t I be?”

Neteyam studies you quietly.

You suddenly feel like you’re standing in front of someone who already knows the answer to a question you’re about to lie about.

“So,” He says slowly, “you…remember yesterday?”

Your stomach drops.

Oh.

You nod immediately.

“Of course.”

His ears flick slightly.

He looks at you, waiting for you to continue.

Your eyes tear away from his, drifting nervously around the village as you try to piece together the pieces of last night.

“It was a feast,” You say, the words coming out like you’re half asking the question yourself. “everyone was talking, eating, and…I got tired and went back to my hut. Then I slept.”

You shrug.

Silence hangs between you.

Neteyam doesn’t respond right away.

He’s just watching you again.

That same searching look.

Then something in his expression shifts. Subtle, but final. Like a quiet conclusion has been reached.

“I see,” He says.

You nod quickly, trying to look completely normal.

“Yeah.”

Another pause lingers between you before he finally steps around you.

He walks past you.

You stand there for a moment, still holding the gourd, slightly baffled.

Confused and still swimming in a haze, you groan, letting your unsteady legs guide you back to your hut.

You push the woven flap aside, stumble inside, and collapse onto the mat, face-first. A long, shaky breath escapes you—but it’s cut off almost immediately by a soft rustle at the entrance.

You turn your head just enough to catch who’s there,

Lo’ak.

“Look who survived!” He says, Spider popping out behind you.

“You poisoned me, Lo’ak,” You groan, flopping back onto the mat.

Your eyes flick to Spider. He actually looks fine—just a little ruffled.

“I should’ve known it wasn’t your first time, Spider…you both set me up,” You mumble, your voice muffled by the mat beneath you.

Spider lets out a laugh. “Hey, you’re the one who decided to take more than you could handle.”

You roll your eyes weakly before asking.“Where’s Kiri?”

“She’s fine,” Spider says quickly.

You squint at them, suspicion creeping in despite the fog in your head.

“…I didn’t do anything weird, did I?” you mumble. “Like—nothing crazy happened, right?”

Lo’ak lets out a short breath. “Pfft. No…other than you disappearing without telling anyone.”

You blink. “…I did?”

“Yeah,” he says. “We came back and you were just gone. Later we found you knocked out in your hut.”

You frown slightly, trying to recall it—and coming up with nothing.

“You nearly got us caught though. Neteyam was practically right there, standing off near the huts,” Lo’ak adds, shaking his head.

You don’t notice how Spider shifts at that, his posture tightening just slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features.

Spider glances at you, “Well um, you probably should get some fresh air. Might help…you know, feel better.”

You nod and push yourself onto your feet. You drag yourself toward the hut’s entrance, tilting the woven flap aside and stepping into the morning light.

The sun hits your face, warm and blinding for a moment. You turn around to see Lo’ak and Spider still standing there.

“Um…are you guys not coming?” You ask.

Spider scratches the back of his neck, “Uh, we’lll catch up. I just…need to do something first.”

Lo’ak just gives a lazy shrug, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Go ahead, enjoy the fresh air.”

You blink at them in confusion before turning back around.

The warmth of the morning sun feels nice on your face. You’re half-lost in your foggy thoughts, drifting along the path, barely paying attention to the details around you.

Your steps are slow, unsteady, mind swimming somewhere between yesterday’s haze and the present.

Then your eyes snap open.

There he is—Neteyam.

Only he’s not alone.

There’s a girl standing next to him—

—the same one from last night.

Your brows furrow, eyes narrowing as you watch them.

Neteyam’s gaze lingers on her, soft but focused, almost too attentive.

Suddenly, he seems to sense you.

His head turns in your direction, and his gaze immediately locks onto yours.

Your heart races as his gaze snaps to you, but you snap out of that trance when suddenly, you trip over a stump you hadn’t noticed in your path.

You tumble forward, landing with a soft thud on the ground.

Neteyam immediately turns around fully towards your direction.

You scramble up, cheeks flaming, and practically bolt in the opposite direction. Your feet pound the path, and you don’t dare glance back, desperate to put distance between yourself and the awkwardness.

You don’t stop running until the huts blur back into view.

You cut around the side of a hut—

—and collide straight into someone.

“Hey—whoa!”

Hands catch you before you fully crash. You stumble back slightly, blinking hard.

Spider.

He steadies you, brows knitting together immediately. “What’s going on with you?”

You straighten too fast. “Nothing.”

“That’s not really believable.”

“I said I’m fine!” You insist with a half-assed cheerful tone.

He tilts his head, studying you in that way that makes you feel way too seen. “You’re acting kinda weird.”

“I’m not.”

“You are.”

A beat.

Then he squints harder. “Is it because of Neteyam?”

Your stomach drops.

“What? No—why would it be—what are you even talking about?”

“I mean, other than the fact that you’re kinda into him—”

“I am not?!” You scoff loudly cutting him off.

Spider doesn’t look convinced. Instead, his expression shifts slightly, like he’s remembering something. “…Or is it because of the kiss?”

Silence.

“…What?” You say instantly.

“…You don’t remember?”

Your face goes hot again, but now it’s different—confusion mixing in, panic flickering at the edges.

“I—no. I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

You’re missing something.

Something important.

Spider lets out a short laugh, like he still can’t believe you’re arguing this.

“We saw you,” He says again. “You kissed him.”

Your eyes snap wider. “We—? Spider, stop messing with me—”

His grin fades when he realizes you’re not playing along.

“I’m not messing with you,” He says, slower now.

“I was walking with Kiri back to your hut,” he continues, “and we saw you and Neteyam,”

“you leaned in…”

Your mouth opens slightly, but nothing comes out.

“We left—thought we should give you privacy…”

Spider is still watching you, waiting for something—an answer, a reaction, anything.

Spider tilts his head, concern starting to edge into his expression.

“…Are you okay?”

You don’t answer.

Because suddenly—

A voice.

Faint. In the distance.

Your head snaps up instinctively.

Neteyam.

“You should talk to him—”

You turn on your heel and bolt before Spider can finish the sentence.

ohmygoshohmygosh—

Your thoughts trip over each other as you run, heat still flooding your face, heart pounding so loud it feels like it’s chasing you.

Suddenly you slam straight into something solid.

“Ow!”

Your hands fly to your nose, clutching it in pain as your eyes tear up on instinct.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

Lo’ak.

“Lo’ak!” you say, a little too fast, too relieved.

“Yeah?” He looks you over, brows pulling together. “Are you good? Why were you running?”

“I—” You inhale sharply, still trying to steady your breathing. “I’m looking for Kiri! It’s urgent. W-where is she?”

Lo’ak blinks, confused, but answers anyways. “She went to the high camps.”

“Oh,” you say quickly.

Lo’ak watches your face shift. “Why? What’s going on?” He asks again.

“Can you take me there? Please.” You ask, completely ignoring his questions.

“Yeah…sure? Come on.”

And just like that, he turns, already leading the way.

When you reach the clearing, Lo’ak whistles sharply.

His Ikran swoops down gracefully, wings slicing the morning air, and lands before him.

“Hop on,” He instructs.

Carefully, you attempt to hoist yourself onto the Ikran, trying to get your leg over its sleek, muscular back.

Suddenly, a strong hand presses against your hip, steadying you.

Before you can fully react, Lo’ak gives a firm, upward push, and for a heartbeat you feel weightless—like you’re floating—before settling onto the Ikran’s broad back.

You grip the harness tightly, your stomach fluttering from the sudden lift.

“There,” Lo’ak says. “little baby.”

He swings himself onto the Ikran behind you, settling in securely.

The creature shifts beneath you, muscles rippling under your hands, and with a powerful beat of its wings, you’re lifted into the sky.

The wind rushes past your face as the forest drops away beneath you, everything shrinking into a blur.

The Ikran lands with a solid thud.

The moment it steadies, you move too fast.

You practically throw yourself off its back, scrambling down in a rush, nearly losing your footing as your feet hit the ground. You stumble forward a step, arms flailing slightly before you catch yourself at the last second.

“Whoa—easy,” Lo’ak says, already stepping in beside you.

Your eyes are already scanning the high camp, darting past platforms and moving figures, searching for one person.

“She’s probably at the lab with—”

You begin making your ways towards the lab.

“Hey, wait up.”

You don’t slow down.

As you quickly make your way to where Kiri is, a shadow passes overhead.

Neteyam lands on his Ikran, right next to Lo’ak’s.

His eyes immediately go past Lo’ak as he pushes off his Ikran.

“What are you doing here?” Lo’ak asks, confused.

Neteyam doesn’t answer right away.

His gaze lingers on the entrance you just vanished through, something tightening in his expression.

“Why’d you take her up here?” Neteyam asks.

“She wanted to s—” Lo’ak starts, then cuts himself off, catching the shift in Neteyam’s tone.

He straightens slightly, expression changing. “why does it matter?”

Neteyam’s eyes flick back to him, sharper now. “I asked you a question.”

Lo’ak holds his gaze this time, not backing off.

“And I asked you why does it matter.”

Neteyam’s jaw tightens. “You don’t just take her anywhere without saying anything.”

Lo’ak lets out a short breath, almost a laugh—but there’s no humor in it. “And why would I need your permission?”

Neteyam steps closer, not aggressive—but firm enough to close the space. “Because you’re reckless.”

Lo’ak lets out a quiet scoff, stepping forward just enough to close the gap right back. “You’re acting like she can’t think for herself.”

Neteyam’s eyes flash, something sharper underneath the surface now.

“That’s not what I’m doing.” He says, voice tight.

Lo’ak doesn’t move. “Then what are you doing?”

Neteyam’s jaw works like he’s biting back the first thing he wants to say.

Instead, he turns around and walks towards the lab.

———

“Kiri?” You call out as you step inside.

“Over here.”

Kiri’s voice comes from deeper within the space.

You follow it quickly, relief when you spot her.

The second her eyes land on your face, her expression shifts.

“Are you okay?” Kiri asks, instantly more alert.

“No, actually,” you blurt out, words spilling before you can stop them. “I’m so embarrassed, I shouldn’t have drank with you guys last night, I didn’t realize how stupid I’d act—Spider told me what happened and—”

“Wait,” Kiri cuts in quickly, holding up a hand.

You stop mid-breath.

Kiri’s brows lift slightly. “Because of what happened in the hut?”

“Yes,” you say, voice shrinking with embarrassment.

Kiri doesn’t respond right away.

“But I thought you liked Neteyam?” She says slowly.

Your brain stutters.

“Wha—no,” you say immediately, too fast. “No, that’s not—I mean—”

Your words trip over each other before you finally cave, shoulders dropping a little.

“I was not myself…” You say, face heating again. “I didn’t even remember anything until Spider told me that you guys saw it happen.”

You groan softly, covering part of your face. “And now I just—I’m so embarrassed. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do.”

Kiri watches you for a moment.

“Okay—um,” she says, “first of all, calm down.”

“You can stop panicking for a second, it’s not like he’s just gonna walk in here all of a sudden.”

She has a point.

You exhale slowly, steadying your breath.

“Right,” you mutter. “Yeah. Okay. I’m fine.”

Kiri nods—when suddenly, the door slides open.

Footsteps follow.

You don’t turn around, assuming it’s Lo’ak.

You notice the shift in Kiri’s expression first—like the air itself just tilted in the wrong direction.

“Y/N.”

Your name lands behind you, steady and unmistakable.

Your body freezes.

You try to move—turn, speak, anything—but it’s like your brain forgets the instructions.

Nothing happens.

Why is he here?

You can’t even face him.

The silence stretches.

Kiri’s eyes flick between you and the doorway.

“I need to talk to you,” He says quietly.

You still don’t turn.

Your shoulders are tight, stuck somewhere between running and melting into the floor.

Behind you, there’s a pause.

Then—

A slow step closer.

“Hey,”

And then—barely there—

His fingers brush your wrist.

Not grabbing.

Just enough to ground you. Enough to make you realize he’s right there.

“Look at me,” he says.

You look at Kiri for help.

But she suddenly becomes very interested in a random object on a table.

Slowly…you turn.

Neteyam’s hand is still near your wrist, like he isn’t sure if he should move it yet.

His eyes are on you.

“…I was speaking to Kiri.”

The words come out small, almost defensive without meaning to be.

Kiri immediately becomes extremely invested in the ceiling now.

“It can wait.” He says simply.

Before anyone can speak again, the lab entrance fills once more.

Lo’ak.

He stops near the doorway, taking in the scene in one sharp sweep—Kiri suddenly fascinated with absolutely anything except eye contact, Neteyam standing just a little too close to you, and you frozen like a deer in headlights.

“What are you doing?” Lo’ak blurts, stepping in.

Neteyam doesn’t move right away. He just exhales slowly through his nose, like he’s trying very hard not to react.

“…Talking,” he says simply, finally glancing toward Lo’ak.

“Looks intense for ‘talking’.”

Neteyam’s jaw tightens a fraction.

Lo’ak’s eyes flick to you next, then back to him, reading the space between you all in a single glance.

“You don’t have to hover over her like that if you’re just talking,” Lo’ak says, tone edging into something cocky.

Neteyam straightens, turning to face Lo’ak.

“I’m not,” he says. “I’m just trying to talk to her.”

His gaze flicks briefly to you again before returning to Lo’ak.

“Why don’t you mind your business, baby bro?”

Lo’ak’s expression shifts instantly, like he’s about to fire something right back—

when Kiri cuts in.

“Okay, I’m done!” She says quickly, stepping between them. “I’m heading back down. Y/N, let’s go.”

She turns to you, forcing a bright smile.

You nod immediately and quickly fall into step beside her.

———

After you returned, you stayed tucked away with Kiri.

The hut became a kind of hiding place.

Kiri stayed with you, unsure what to really say about the whole situation.

“Listen,” She says finally, breaking the silence. “Just…act normal? You said you told him nothing happened, right?”

You nod.

“Then just keep it like that,” She adds. “if you act weird, it’ll get weird.”

Easy for her to say.

“Okay.” You mutter.

“That means we stop hiding too. Let’s go outside.”

You hesitate.

“Nothing happened, right?” She reiterates.

“Fine, right,” you say quickly.

Kiri holds your gaze for a second longer, then nods.

“Good,” She says, softer now. “Then we’re done thinking about it.”

She stands first and you follow her out.

Kiri leads the way toward the fire circle.

She finds a spot near the edge of the gathering and drops down first, patting the ground beside her.

The fire crackles in the center, throwing warm light across faces, weaving everything in gold and shadow. For a moment, you try to just focus on that—on anything that isn’t your own overthinking.

Then your eyes drift.

And land on Neteyam.

Right across the circle.

He’s there, seated slightly turned toward the group beside him, listening more than speaking.

And next to him—

That same girl.

Leaning in slightly as she talks, comfortable in a way that makes something in your stomach tighten before you can even name it.

Normal.

It should feel normal.

But it doesn’t.

You force your gaze away.

Whatever. Focus on something else.

Lo’ak? Not here. Spider? Also not here.

Great.

You turn toward Kiri instead.

She’s already mid-conversation with another Na’vi, nodding along like she’s been pulled into something casual and easy, completely unaware you’re currently trying to remember how to be a functional person.

You sit there for a second, hands in your lap, staring into the fire like it might offer instructions.

Don’t look again.

Don’t—

Your eyes flick anyway.

Across the circle.

Straight back to him.

You can’t pull away.

Your gaze drifts over his face without permission, like your focus has stopped taking orders.

And then your eyes drop.

To his mouth.

His lips move as he speaks—calm, steady, completely unaware of the way your brain suddenly stops cooperating.

Something in your memory stutters.

Heat. Close space. A moment you don’t have full access to, but your body remembers anyway like it never forgot.

Your breath catches—small, involuntary.

And in that exact second—

Neteyam looks up.

Straight at you.

Like he felt the shift before you even realized you made it.

The noise of the fire circle dulls in your ears, like someone turned the world down a notch just for this.

He doesn’t look away.

He holds your gaze across the fire.

Still. Steady. Unmoving.

The girl beside him keeps talking, unaware, her voice still threading through the space between you two—but he isn’t really listening anymore.

She leans in a little closer, trying harder now to catch his attention properly, fingers brushing over his chest and then up to his biceps as she speaks again—closer, more insistent, like she’s trying to physically pull him back into her space.

Across the fire, your brows pinch before you even realize you’re reacting.

It’s subtle.

But it’s there.

He barely responds.

Just a small shift in posture—aware of the contact, acknowledging it without resistance—but not drawn in by it either.

His attention doesn’t break from you.

Not even for a second.

The girl tries again, angling closer now, smile tightening at the edges as she speaks more directly to him, voice clearly meant to reclaim his focus.

This time, Neteyam finally moves.

Your chest rises a little too sharply before you catch yourself, like your body is reacting faster than your thoughts can keep up.

Then—

a sound behind you.

Footsteps.

You turn—

Neteyam is there.

Still. Grounded. He followed, but not close enough to corner you.

“I wasn’t done talking to you.” He says, trying to pick up exactly where he left off earlier at the high camps.

“Nothing to talk about.” You respond a little too quick, a little too sharp.

The words land in the space between you both.

Neteyam doesn’t move right away.

His eyes stay on you, steady, like he’s waiting for you to take them back.

You don’t.

Instead, you turn around and walk into your hut.

The woven entrance sways softly as you slip inside.

You stand there for a second, processing what just happened.

For a moment, there’s only silence.

Then—

the woven entrance shifts again.

You turn around.

Neteyam steps inside.

As if he’s decided the space between you two doesn’t matter anymore.

The woven entrance settles behind him, and suddenly the hut feels smaller—like the air itself had to make room for him.

“You kissed me,” He states, his voice low and tinged with a hint of accusation.

Your heart hammers wildly against your ribcage, your eyes widened. You had hoped, foolishly perhaps, that you could simply walk away and leave that stolen, heated moment behind you.

“and then you act like none of it happened.”

He takes another step,

“But you’re walking away like this bothers you?”

It was if his eyes held you captive, you remained frozen as he slowly closes the distance between you.

He hovers over you, his warmth looming over you. All you can do is look up at him, unable to move or even think.

He finally closes the last whisper of distance between you. His lips meeting yours, in a gentle kiss, at first.

His hand cups your cheek, his rough palm calloused against your soft skin. He feels the way you practically melt against him, and it tells him all he needs to know.

The gentleness in his kiss shifts, his grip on your cheek tightens slightly, forcing your mouth to part slightly, allowing him to claim you even more as he pushes his tongue past.

His tongue delves past your teeth, invading and conquering.

His other hand snakes to the back of your head, fingers curling into your hair holding you in place.

A soft moan escapes past your mouth, muffled against his.

His fingers tighten in your hair, the slight tug pulling your head back at an angle that exposes the vulnerable line of your throat to him.

He’s so strong, your mind is trapped in a haze as the oxygen in your lungs dwindle.

Your hands instinctively push on his chest, not to push him away, but to hold yourself steady as your legs threatened to buckle.

As if sensing your impending collapse, his hand on your cheek slides down onto your back.

His fingers splaying across the small of your back, his hands were huge compared to your size.

He breaks the kiss for a moment, you gasp for air. But before you can properly catch your breath, you find yourself being pushed down onto the floor of the hut.

You don’t actually fall, as his hand cushions your back and the base of your skull, a gesture that speaks of a tenderness that belies the hunger in his eyes as he crawls over you.

He kisses you again, his lips claiming you. His hand is still gripping your hair, his fingers tightening once more, tugging your head back, exposing the long line of your throat to him.

He kisses down the column of your neck, his lips trailing fire across your skin. You moan softly, the sound dying in your throat as his teeth graze your jawline.

“Neteyam—” You gasp out, breathless. He ignores your protest, he keeps going his mouth hot and open against your throat.

His free hand slides down your side, his fingers splaying across your hip, digging into the soft flesh.

Suddenly, the utterance of his name from just outside the hut cuts through the thick haze of desire and heat.

“Neteyam!” Jake calls out.

The sudden intrusion jolts you. Startled, you instinctively sit up, your forehead crashing hard against Neteyam’s chin. The impact sends a jolt of pain through your skull, and you wince, your hands flying up to clutch at your head.

Neteyam grunts softly, his head snapping back from the collision. He blinks, momentarily dazed, his pupils blown wide from the adrenaline and the interrupted intimacy.

“Yes—Sir?” Neteyam responds, his voice sounding strained. He clears his throat, “Comimg.”

Neteyam’s gaze lingers on you for a moment before he forces himself to pull himself up.

He rises in one fluid motion

The air feels different immediately.

Like the moment shattered but didn’t fully disappear—just lingering in the space between you, unfinished.

He moves toward the entrance, pushing the woven flap aside.

You’re left there—

still on the ground, barely realizing you never moved.

Sitting back on your heels, hands braced at your sides to hold you up, like your body forgot how to do anything else after that.

Your hair’s a mess, slightly tangled from the way everything just unraveled so fast.

Your lips…still warm. Slightly swollen.

You swallow, breath uneven, staring ahead without really seeing anything.

Outside, you hear his footsteps.

A few steps away from the hut.

Then—

Jake’s voice again.

“I knew you’d be here. What are you even doing at her hut?”

Silence.

For once—Neteyam doesn’t answer right away.

“I was—” He starts.

And then stops.

Like whatever he was about to say doesn’t sound right the second it leaves his mouth.

Jake instinctively takes a quiet breath in, like something in the air caught his attention.

Another beat of silence.

Jake looks at Neteyam, not saying anything, but there’s a chance he may have clocked the situation.

“I was speaking with her…” Neteyam speaks up finally.

Jake’s head tilts just slightly.

“…Speaking,” He repeats.

Not mockingly—just testing the word.

Another pause.

Then a small exhale through his nose.

“Must’ve been an important conversation, yeah?” He says, tone firmer now.

Neteyam doesn’t respond.

Doesn’t look away either.

He just stands there, jaw set, like saying anything more would make it worse.

Jake watches him for another second.

Then exhales—short, decisive.

Like he’s filing it away for later.

“Alright,” He says, tone shifting, business taking over. “leave it.”

“Come. We’ve got things to handle.”

Neteyam straightens slightly at that, instinct kicking in.

Jake turns, already starting to walk.

“You’re the eldest son. You should be more responsible.” He adds over his shoulder.

And just like that, whatever almost got unpacked—

gets buried.

For now.

Neteyam lingers for half a second longer outside your hut.

Then he turns—

and follows.

okurr the end of this chapter haha i hope you guys enjoyed it hehe.

i was giggling sm writing this especially when writing the lab scene because all i was thinking about was this image:

“he’s right behind me isn’t he?”

The beeping drills into your skull, mixing with the frantic shouts and movements of everyone around you.

Your chest heaves, shallow and desperate, but no oxygen seems to reach your lungs. Your vision blurs at the edges.

Without thinking, your hands fly up.

“No—!” Someone shouts, but your brain can barely process words. It’s instinct.

If you passed out now, there might still be a chance. But ripping off the mask? That’s death. Pandora’s air is toxic to humans—you’d be gone in twenty seconds.

Still, your fingers hook under the straps, and before anyone can stop you, the mask is gone.

The first breath hits your lungs like fire.

You choke, a raw, violent sound ripping from your throat. Your chest convulses, shaking with the shock of the foreign air. Your body folds over itself, knees hitting the floor as every muscle strains.

Frozen stares from the group cut into you. No one can move.

But somehow, you’re still breathing. Ragged, burning, painful breaths, each one sharper than the last.

And slowly, agonizingly, your body begins to steady—though your chest still heaves and your arms tremble from the effort of staying upright. Every inhale leaves a harsh taste of metal and panic on your tongue.

You’re alive…

Your breathing, ragged and violent only moments ago, begins to slow.

Your forehead rests against the woven floor of the hut. The world feels distant, muffled, like you’re underwater.

Your fingers twitch weakly against the floor as awareness creeps back in.

What—

How are you breathing?

Were you hallucinating?

You should be dead.

For a terrifying second, you wonder if you are.

Another breath slips into your lungs.

It burns.

Not the violent, searing fire from before. Not poison.

Just raw. Sharp. Like your lungs are stretching for the first time in their life.

You cough once, weakly. Then again.

Sound comes back when Neteyam’s voice cuts through the haze.

“Y/N…”

It’s soft and careful. Like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he says it loudly.

Your name pulls you back fully.

You blink hard and slowly push your palms against the floor, lifting yourself upright. Your arms tremble, but they hold.

Your lips part. You want to ask if this is real—but no sound makes it past them.

You’re afraid that the moment you do, it’ll stop. Afraid that if you speak, the air will vanish.

It seems everyone felt the same way, as they stood there in silence, stunned.

After that, everything blurs.

Voices overlap.

Hands move.

Someone lifts you.

The world tilts sideways, then upright, then sideways again.

You remember the cold rush of night air against your skin.

You remember Jake’s voice giving orders.

After that—

Nothing clear.

It’s like your mind shut a door.

Maybe from the lack of oxygen.

Maybe from the shock of almost dying.

When awareness finally settles back in, it isn’t the hut.

It’s fluorescent light.

Too bright.

Too white.

You’re seated on one of the examination tables up at High Camp, the smooth metal cold beneath you. A thin blanket rests around your shoulders.

Machines hum quietly around the room.

Norm stands in front of you, one hand pressed to your chest with a stethoscope, his eyes flicking between you and the monitor beside him.

Max sits at a nearby console, typing quickly, glancing between the screen and a projected image of your lungs.

Their voices blend together in the background, muffled and distant, like you’re underwater.

Norm shifts, lifting a small penlight.

“Y/N, look at me.”

You don’t respond at first.

He gently tilts your chin upward and flashes the light into your eye.

The sudden brightness snaps something loose inside your head.

You blink hard.

Norm exhales quietly. “There you are.”

You swallow. Your throat still feels raw.

The door slides open.

Jake steps inside. His eyes going straight to you.

“You okay?” He asks, voice low, taut with worry.

You nod faintly.

Norm leans back, glancing at the monitors. “This is really strange.” He mutters.

Jake narrows his eyes, taking a few steps closer. “Explain.”

Norm exhales, choosing his words carefully. “From what we can gather, her lungs carry the cellular blueprint of a Na’vi. Embedded within her is a respiratory genome designed for Pandora’s dense, CO₂-rich atmosphere.”

Jake’s jaw tightens, his expression firm, though it’s clear he’s struggling to process the implications.

“Look…Y/N wasn’t born on Earth, right?” Norm continues, his tone measured. “So my theory is that during her time in the womb, her genetic code adapted—responded to the surrounding atmosphere.”

“She’s basically hybridized.” Max adds, walking up with a tablet in hand displaying scans of your lungs.

Max gestures to the scan, swiping through layers. “Structurally, her lungs are human,” He explains. “but there are subtle differences, not obvious to the human eye—or anyone’s eye, really. Tissue density is slightly altered, and some of the structures are denser than usual. It all points to adaptations for Pandora’s atmosphere.”

Jake furrows his brows, glancing down at you, clearly trying to wrap his head around it. “So… she can breathe both?” He asks, voice tinged with disbelief.

Norm nods slowly. “Yes. Her lungs—her entire respiratory system, carry the Na’vi cellular blueprint, but within a human frame. She can function in Earth’s air, but Pandora’s air… it’s where her body finally gets the fuel it’s designed for.”

Jake exhales, looking at you with a mixture of slight awe and concern. “That’s… insane.”

“And that explains the burning sensation. After relying on filtered human air and then suddenly breathing Pandora’s air, it’s like putting high-octane racing fuel into a car that’s been running on water.”

Soon enough, the cold, sterile metal surface you’d been sitting on is replaced by the firm, muscular back of an ikran.

Jake sits behind you, steadying you with one hand on your waist.

It feels different now, without the exopack glued to your face. The warm air brushes against your skin, tangling your hair and lifting it into your face.

Every breath fills you completely, dense and alive, like your body is finally catching up to itself.

The ikran’s landing is smooth, wings folding neatly as it settles to the ground.

Jake swings off first, then reaches for you, steadying you as you climb down.

As soon as you reach the village, Kiri rushes forward, wrapping you in a tight hug.

“You’re okay… you’re really okay,” She whispers, holding on like she doesn’t want to let go.

Your small arms wrap around her back, clinging just as tightly.

A few steps back, Neteyam and Lo’ak stand silently, their faces etched with relief, eyes fixed on you as if making sure you’re truly safe.

You glance behind Kiri, eyes scanning for Spider, but he’s nowhere to be seen.

Eventually, the group begins to disperse, giving you a little space as Jake had ordered.

You make your way back into the hut; the village feels quieter now.

You sink down onto the mat, letting your shoulders slump, still catching your breath.

Moments later, Neteyam slips inside. He kneels beside you, close enough that you feel the warmth radiating from him.

“Are you okay?” He asks quietly. “Does it hurt anywhere?”

You shake your head, your voice barely above a whisper. “I’m okay.”

He studies you for a moment, eyes soft but unreadable, and you catch the way his gaze lingers just a second too long—like he’s silently holding back words, or worries, or maybe both.

“I was worried.” He admits, his voice low, carrying a weight you don’t quite expect.

You glance at him, unsure how to respond. Part of you wants to brush it off, another part wants to say something, anything. But the rawness of the moment, the closeness, leaves you momentarily frozen.

After a few moments of quiet, he straightens up.

“I’ll let you rest.” He says softly.

He gives you one last lingering glance before slipping out of the hut, leaving a calm silence behind him.

. . .

Later, the light in the hut had softened, painting everything in muted twilight tones.

You lay there, drifting in and out of your thoughts, letting the quiet wash over you as memories and sensations tumbled through your mind.

The soft sound of the huts entrance shifting pulls you from your reverie.

You look up to see Neteyam stepping inside, a small bowl cradled in his hands.

“I thought…you might want something to eat,” He says quietly, setting the bowl gently beside you.

“I picked them for you,” He adds, and you notice how each piece looks deliberately chosen—bright, vibrant, carefully arranged—as if he’d taken extra time to make sure they were just right for you.

Your stomach twists, your heart suddenly hammering in your chest.

Why are you getting so nervous?

Neteyam kneels down beside you, careful not to crowd you, yet close enough. His hand hovers over the bowl for a moment, then he picks one of the brighter fruits—smooth, ripe, perfectly round.

He holds it out to you, and you force yourself to move your fingers toward it quickly. When your hands meet, brushing against his larger one, a jolt runs through you. You freeze for a heartbeat, heart skipping another beat, before gently taking the fruit and holding it.

“T-thanks.” You murmur, voice barely above a whisper.

Why does your chest feel tight? Is it your breathing again?

Neteyam watches you carefully, eyes soft but unreadable. He tilts his head slightly, almost imperceptibly, and simply says, “Eat.”

You’re almost taken aback by his sudden command, looking a little dumbfounded.

You take a slow breath, letting the tension in your shoulders ease just a fraction, and bring the fruit to your lips.

You bite into the ripe fruit, your lips wrap around the edge. Sweet juice dribbling down the corner of your mouth onto your chin.

Glancing up instinctively, you notice Neteyam watching you. His gaze fixed in a way that makes your stomach twist. Heat floods your cheeks, and you nearly choke on the bite.

Quickly, you look away, swallowing as fast as you can, heart hammering in your chest, trying to hide how flustered you feel.

Neteyam smiles, tilting his head slightly. He doesn’t need to ask if you’re enjoying the fruit.

“Careful,” He murmurs, reaching forward to wipe the juice from your chin, his thumb brushing lightly over your bottom lip. “you’re making a mess.”

You practically enter a state of shock. Heat explodes in your chest, spreading to your cheeks, neck, and even your ears. Your heart hammers like it’s trying to escape your ribs, and your fingers tighten around the fruit without even realizing it.

Neteyam watches you carefully. Before he can say anything more, the hut’s entrance shifts once again.

Spider steps inside, shoulders tense, eyes flicking nervously between you and the floor.

“Can I… talk to you, Y/N?” He asks quietly.

Neteyam’s gaze sharpens as he turns toward Spider, a flicker of upset crossing his face.

You notice the sudden shift in energy, the way the air feels heavier, more charged.

Neteyam exhales softly, his eyes lingering on you for a moment before he stands, stepping aside and slipping out of the hut, giving you space.

You stand, moving to meet him at eye level.

Spider shifts under your gaze, shoulders hunched, looking almost ashamed—guilty, like facing your eyes is punishment enough.

“I…I forgot the masks,” He admits quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

“when I stormed off, I completely forgot about them. I didn’t mean for any of this to happen,” He continues, fidgeting with his hands.

He swallows hard, eyes flicking to yours before he meets them again. “I’m sorry, Y/N. I really am. I was an ass to you…and I caused you danger.”

Silence hangs between you, heavy and tense.

Finally, you speak, your voice quiet but steady.

“…I accept your apology, Spider.”

He lets out a small, almost relieved breath, shoulders loosening slightly. The tension in his posture eases just a fraction, though the guilt still lingers in his eyes.

“You were an ass to me,” You continue, voice firmer now. “you completely ignored the fact that me ending up in this situation was completely out of my control.”

“I never intended to make you feel the way you did, and I still do not.” You add.

“I know,” He says quietly, looking down, eyes a little glassy—not crying, but close enough that you can see how much it hit.

You notice how he struggles to find his words, jaw tightening slightly. Before he can force anything else out, you step forward.

Your arms wrap around him.

For a split second, he freezes—like he wasn’t expecting it, like he doesn’t think he deserves it. Then his arms slowly come up around you, careful at first, hesitant before holding you properly.

His grip tightens just slightly.

“I’m sorry.” He murmurs again, this time into your shoulder.

You rest your chin against him. The tension that had been sitting between you finally begins to dissolve—not fully gone, but softer.

. . .

When you finally step outside, the woven flap falls closed behind you.

The village is calm. Bioluminescent plants glow low and steady. Night sounds hum in the distance.

And then you notice Neytiri.

A little farther off, she’s speaking quietly with another Na’vi. Her gaze flicks once in your direction, then to Spider, who had followed behind you.

Her expression is complex—unreadable. You can’t tell what she’s thinking.

She turns her attention back to the Na’vi in front of her.

Spider shifts slightly beside you.

You exhale softly, watching her for another moment before murmuring, almost to yourself—

“You were saying she liked me…well. I’m pretty sure she despises me now.”

You had learned quickly that Neytiri wasn’t very fond of humans.

And honestly…she had every right.

Your species had come to Pandora like a sickness. Drilling into the earth, cutting down trees older than history, calling it progress. Colonizing land that had never belonged to us.

Humans were an invasive species. You knew that.

That was why it had taken her so long to even tolerate you.

You weren’t loud like Spider. You didn’t argue. You kept your head down. You helped where you could—carrying baskets, tending to the younger ones, staying out of the way when tension ran high. You tried to be useful. Respectful.

And maybe—just maybe—she had started softening.

But now…

You had practically experienced a miracle.

Eywa had chosen you—that’s what most of them thought.

Saved you.

While others had died.

While the forests still burned in places. While the sky still carried the sound of human machines. While Pandora continued to bleed.

Why you?

What made you worth saving?

If Eywa has balance,

then what were you?

A mistake?

Or something else entirely?

While it seemed Neytiri had taken a step back around you, others in the village were becoming increasingly attentive.

Your days without an exopack seemed to encourage more interactions.

The women marveled at your small hands, how delicate they were compared to theirs—it made it effortless to work on intricate weaving or paint detailed markings, and they often sought your help.

Some of the men glanced at you now with quiet, lingering interest, watching the way you moved.

You went through the days mostly as normal, though now you found yourself a bit more careful around Neytiri.

A few days had passed, and a low hum of anticipation spread through the village.

Soon enough, the distinctive victory call rang out across the valley—a series of loud warrior cries that echoed through the trees.

You froze for a moment, your chest tightening. The RDA…? Were they attacking?

Around you, villagers were cheering, clearing a space in the center of the village. Confusion twisted in your stomach as you took a step back.

Spider appeared at your side, his voice calm but excited.

“It’s the hunters returning,” He said, glancing at the crowd. “they had a successful hunt!”

You blinked, relief flooding through you as the realization sank in.

You stay back for a moment, watching curiously. Your eyes widen as several hunters drag the massive Sturmbeest toward the central fire, its dark, bristled hide glinting in the low light.

Usually, the Olo’eyktan led these hunts. Jake held that role—but with the ongoing coordination against the RDA, he wasn’t able to lead this time. A loyal warrior named Tasrem was put in charge instead.

The crowd falls silent as Jake kneels beside the animal. He places a hand on its broad flank, closing his eyes in a deep, reverent bow. The air is still; the moment sacred. You watch as he murmurs a prayer, thanking Eywa for the gift of the animal’s life.

For several minutes, everyone stands quietly, paying respect. Even from your spot on the outskirts, you can feel the weight of the ritual—the transition from the serious, dangerous hunt to the joy of the feast.

When the prayer concludes, the village bursts into motion. A group of Na’vi quickly begins butchering and skinning the Sturmbeest, preparing it for the fire. Others tend the central hearth, stirring coals until they glow white-hot, ready for roasting.

Lanterns and glowing fungi are hung around the camp, casting warm, shifting light over the gathered crowd. The scent of roasting meat drifts through the air, drawing murmurs and delighted gasps from onlookers.

You watch it all with wide eyes, trying to take in every movement, every sound—the rhythm of the drums, the low hum of voices, the rich, smoky scent of cooking meat. The celebration is in full swing, a blur of color, light, and motion.

Eventually, the activity and noise become almost overwhelming, and you slip back into the hut, seeking a quiet moment away from the chaos.

A little while later, voices reach you outside. Lo’ak and Kiri appear at the doorway, smiling but insistent, and gently pull you out. The music, the drumming, and the aroma of roasted meat flood your senses. Villagers dance, laugh, and recount tales of the hunt.

As you step fully into the village square, you spot Neteyam standing beside his father, speaking to the hunters who returned. The responsibility on his shoulders is evident, yet he moves with calm, precise control.

You settle nearby alongside Kiri, watching the feast, the dancing, the music. The rhythm of the drums seeps into your chest, stirring a pulse of energy you haven’t felt in weeks.

Lo’ak plops down next to you, carrying a couple of chunks of roasted Sturmbeest meat. He hands one to you and one to Kiri.

“Here, eat it while it’s fresh,” He says.

You take a bite, savoring the smoky, rich flavor. “Mmm…this is really good,” You say, eyes lighting up.

Kiri giggles at your reaction before digging into her own serving.

Spider quietly slides down next to Kiri. “Mind if I join?” he asks, nodding toward the meat.

“Go ahead,” Kiri replies around a mouthful, smiling.

Spider grabs a chunk for himself and lifts his mask up momentarily to chomp down, chewing thoughtfully. The four of you settle into an easy rhythm, eating and chatting quietly amidst the bustling village.

“Is Neteyam not going to join us?” You ask, glancing toward where he had been standing earlier. This time, a young pretty Na’vi stood closely by him, her presence drawing his attention as he listened intently to something she was saying.

“Looks like he’s tied up with all his responsibilities.”Lo’ak says, shrugging.

You nod, a little disappointed, but still curious, your eyes drift to the edge of the fire. A small group of Na’vi is gathered nearby, clapping and cheering as someone lifts a carved gourd and chugs its contents in one smooth motion. The others clap and whistle, counting him down like a game.

You furrow your brow. “What’s that?” You ask, leaning toward Lo’ak.

He smirks, glancing at the group. “Swoa,” (Kava) He says, a mischievous glint in his eye. “It’s a special drink. Makes them feel… relaxed. Celebratory, I guess.”

Spider snorts beside you, catching Lo’ak’s glance. “It’s basically alcohol.” He mutters, a sly grin tugging at his lips. “Not the for the little ones, of course…but, well…”

Lo’ak meets his look, and the two of them exchange a mischievous grin.

“Oh my Eywa,” Kiri mutters, wide-eyed.

Before you can react, Lo’ak gets up. He disappears into the crowd for a moment and comes back holding a small gourd, keeping it hidden at his side.

You blink, confused, as he walks past you and slips quietly toward the hut.

“What—”

Spider nudges you before you can finish. “Come on, let’s go.”

He stands, grabbing your arm and pulling you to your feet.

Kiri, still seated, looks up at Spider, worry in her eyes. “We’re gonna get in trouble.”

Spider smirks. “We won’t. Come on…don’t be a party pooper.”

He tugs on Kiri’s arm, forcing her to stand up.

Kiri tries to fight the smile tugging at her lips, letting out a small laugh. “You’re so annoying,” She says, shaking her head, though the amusement in her voice is obvious.

The three of you quietly slip into the hut.

Lo’ak sits on the floor, the gourd set carefully in the middle.

Spider plops down excitedly next to him, barely able to contain his grin.

You follow, and Kiri sighs, “Eywa help us…” but still joins the small circle.

Lo’ak leans forward first, lifting the gourd. He takes a sip, eyes widening at the sharp, earthy taste.

“Whoa,” He chuckles, shaking his head in surprise, the warmth spreading quickly through him.

“Alright, my turn.” Spider snorts, snatching the gourd from Lo’ak.

“Careful…” Kiri mutters, eyes wide.

Spider lifts his mask and takes a careful sip, while holding his breath. The burn hits him more sharply than Lo’ak, his human body reacting faster, but it settles quickly into a light, pleasant buzz. He laughs softly, clearly amused, and hands the gourd to Kiri.

“I’ve got a feeling this isn’t your first time trying this,” Kiri says, eyeing Lo’ak and Spider suspiciously.

She hesitates, then takes a cautious sip. Her ears perk down as the liquid burns down her throat. She coughs slightly, waving a hand in front of her face, cheeks already tinged a dark purple hue.

She passes the gourd to you, a soft giggle escaping her lips as she does.

You lift the gourd carefully, curiosity winning over caution. As the liquid touches your lips and tongue, a strange numbness tingles across your mouth, making it feel oddly heavy and tingly. The earthy, bitter flavor hits immediately—strong, muddy, and far more intense than you expected.

In your nervousness, you accidentally tilt the gourd a little too much. A larger gulp than intended slides down your throat, and the burn hits sharper, your stomach twisting slightly at the unexpected intensity.

“Whoa—“ You nearly choke, placing the gourd down.

“Damn you really went for it.” Lo’ak snickers.

Within minutes, your head feels light, your limbs a little loose, and a giddy, dizzy haze begins to cloud your thoughts.

Lo’ak leans back, a lazy grin on his face, the warm of the kava settling into a comfortable buzz.

Spider shorts beside him, clearly feeling it too. “No one can know about this.” He murmurs.

Kiri licks her lips, standing up carefully. “I need some water.” She walks out of the hut.

You can’t really process much as you clutch the woven mat beneath you.

You softly collapse onto your back, the world around you a haze of light and warmth.

Lo’ak and Spider exchange a few words about getting some more food, before walking out.

You’re left alone in the hut, the giddy warmth of the drink hitting full force.

Minutes pass—or maybe only moments—and the dizziness pushes you to move. You wobble to your feet, legs unsteady, before staggering out of the hut. The forest beyond the village seems to sway gently with your vision.

Neteyam was finally walking back after finishing up with his father and the others. When something—or other someone—caught his eye.

You, wobbling unsteadily, were making your way into the forest alone, arms out slightly for balance.

“Y/N?” He called softly, frowning in confusion. He quickened his pace, careful not to startle you.

Neteyam reached out and gently grabbed your wrist.

“What are you doing out here?” He asked, his voice low, cautious.

You turn to face him, and the forest light catches your flushed cheeks—a soft, pretty pink that immediately betrays your tipsy state.

He blinks, frowning slightly, then his gaze narrows just a little. “Nga rou srak?” (are you drunk?)

“I’m going to the hat,” You slur, swaying slightly despite his steady grip on your wrist.

Neteyam blinks, raising an eyebrow. “Hat—The hut?” He asks.

You nod, glancing down at his hand as if silently asking him to let go so you can stumble your way there.

He tilts his head slightly, subtly indicating the direction back toward the village. “You mean…back there?”

You wave a hand dismissively, a small giggle escaping you. “Yeah, yes. I know that.”

Neteyam lets out a soft sigh, “Alright, I’ll take you back. Come on.” He says as he gently tugs on your wrist as he starts to guide you back toward the village.

But you dig your feet lightly into the ground. “No. I…I’ll go myself.” You insist.

He glances at you, eyebrow raised, a faint smirk tugging at his lips. “You really think you can?” He asks, amusement and concern mingling in his voice.

You huff softly, trying to maintain your independence despite the haze of the kava. “Yes. I can—obviously,” You mumble, cheeks warming, more annoyed at him than anything else.

With a determined effort, you finally free your wrist from his grip, taking a few unsteady steps forward.

Your legs wobble violently, and suddenly you stumble, your balance giving out entirely.

Neteyam’s hand shoots out instinctively, catching you before you can hit the ground.

You blink up at him as your back is steadied against his chest.

“I’m fine,” You mumble.

“Sure you are,” He says, a teasing smirk tugging at his lips, before scooping you up effortlessly into his arms.

“Hey! Put me down, Teyam!” You shout, wriggling in his grip, your slurred state making the nickname stumble past your lips.

“I don’t think so,” He replies calmly, looking down at you.

“You… you’re so… so annoying!” You snap, voice rising slightly, cheeks flushing deeper—not just from the kava, but from being carried against your will.

“You’re very upset.” He chuckles softly as he walks steadily through the forest, the trees swaying gently in your kava-induced haze.

You huff, crossing your arms weakly against your chest. The exhaustion and warmth from the kava make your head tilt back against his chest, and you grunt softly, trying to keep your eyes open.

But the sway of his steady walk, the gentle sounds of the forest, and the lingering warmth in your limbs are too much. Your eyelids droop…then lower.

Before you even realize it, your head slips fully against his shoulder, and your body relaxes completely.

When your eyes open again, you’re back in the hut, still cradled in Neteyam’s arms. The warmth of his chest seeps through your clothes, his steady heartbeat grounding you even in your tipsy haze.

He begins to gently lower you onto the woven mat, careful not to jostle you.

But the warmth, the closeness, and the lingering giddiness from the kava make your senses tingle. On impulse, without fully thinking, you lift your face toward his.

Before he can react, your lips brush against his—a soft, bold, tipsy kiss, brief but charged with unfiltered emotion.

Neteyam freezes, a sharp intake of breath escaping him. His arms pause mid-motion as he processes the sudden, unexpected gesture.

He quickly pulls back, straightening slightly, eyes wide as he looks down at you.

You let out a sleepy, contented sigh, slumping back lightly onto the mat as the last of your energy slips away, the warmth and haze of the kava finally carrying you fully into sleep.

The days feel shorter now, practically flying by.

It’s become part of your routine to help around with chores—sorting herbs, carrying bundles, learning which knots hold and which unravel under pressure.

Right now, you’re in the hut, braiding Tuk’s hair. The little girl is buzzing nonstop, chattering about everything—from the plants outside to how she wants to put specific charms in her braids. “Oh! And then Lo’ak ended up falling, and—oh! You won’t believe it—” She yaps, words tumbling over each other in a nonstop stream.

You laugh softly, weaving each strand while tossing in your own observations and jokes. The chatter isn’t overwhelming—it’s easy, fun, and you’re perfectly in sync.

You hold the final finished braid, gently bringing it close to Tuk’s vision, showing her the results with the beads you chose together.

“All done. What do you think?”

Tuk’s eyes light up, and she claps her hands excitedly. “I love it! It’s perfect!”

Before you can react, she jumps up and flings her arms around you in a silly, happy hug, giggling as she squeezes tight. “You’re the best! I love it so much!”

Interacting with Tuk felt more natural to you, since she was closer to your own height.

You laugh, hugging her back, letting her excitement fill the hut. Her laughter bounces off the walls, bright and contagious.

She was impossibly cute, and you adored her. You thought of her like a baby sister. She’d always tug on Neteyam, begging him to make Lo’ak go away so the two of you could play.

It’s only then that you notice Jake standing quietly near the doorway of the hut, watching the two of you. He had walked in sometime while you were showing Tuk the braid, but neither of you had noticed.

He shakes his head in quiet amazement, a small smile tugging at his lips. “I’m surprised,” he says softly, “you had her sitting still, talking your ear off, and you kept her happy the whole time. Didn’t think anyone could do that.”

Tuk beams, bouncing in your arms. “She’s my B-F-F!”

Jake chuckles softly at Tuk’s newfound word. “Go show mama your new hairdo.”

Tuk squeals with delight and bounces out of the hut, practically skipping as she races toward Neytiri.

You shift onto your knees to gather the extra beads, tucking them carefully away.

“You’re fitting in really well,” Jake says, glancing at you with a small, approving smile, “better than I expected. I’m glad.”

You look up at him, a little surprised, a soft smile tugging at your lips before you look back down to stand onto your feet.

“Even Neytiri’s warming up to you.” He adds.

You immediately whip your head back at him in shock “…She is?” You say, blinking. “Really?”

Jake nods. “She is, even if it seems like the complete opposite.”

You let out a quiet laugh. “Wow. I don’t even want to imagine what it would be like if she wasn’t warming up to me.”

He chuckles, voice low. “I’m serious. I think she’s even opening up to you a little more than,”

“…Spider.” His name comes out almost in a whisper.

“Don’t tell anyone I said that, though.”

You blink, momentarily taken aback, unsure how to respond. The words settle heavier than you expect. You can’t tell if his tone is fully serious or carries a hint of sarcasm.

You quickly smooth over your almost-telling expression, replacing it with a soft, slightly uncertain smile.

Jake lets the silence linger for a second, then straightens. “C’mon,” He says, already turning. “everyone’s outside.”

You follow him out of the hut, the sounds of quiet chatter and laughter growing clearer as you step into the open.

The family was gathered around the fire, sitting in a loose circle. Except for Jake who went off to talk to someone.

Neytiri sat behind Tuk, hands resting gently around her waist as the little girl bounced with excitement.

Kiri crouched closest to them, inspecting and admiring Tuk’s new braids. “Wow, Y/N,” she said smiling, “I didn’t know you could braid this well!”

You smile as you take a seat beside Lo’ak, the warmth of the fire brushing against your skin.

Kiri glances between the two of you, a teasing smile tugging at her lips. “Maybe you could do Lo’ak’s hair next.”

Lo’ak blinks, clearly caught off guard, but before he can recover, Kiri adds on, “It could use some help.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes as he leans back. “Hey-there’s nothing wrong with my hair.”

You let out a light laugh, shaking your head. “No, no-he’s fine. He looks good.” You say, trying to reassure him.

Lo’ak huffs, clearing his throat and glancing awkwardly to the side, as if that would erase the faint warmth rising in his cheeks—or the flicking of his tail.

Suddenly, his tail flicks out, smacking your shoulder, causing you to flinch.

You look over at him, confused.

Lo’ak jerks his tail back immediately, ears twitching, clearly trying to act like that just didn’t happen. He accidentally glances at you, noticing your staring.

You blink at him, unsure how to react. The moment is confusing, slightly awkward.

Neytiri, sitting quietly behind Tuk, tilts her head just slightly, her gaze lingering on the two of you for a moment.

Before either of you can say anything, Neteyam and Spider arrive, breaking the moment.

“Hey.” Neteyam smiles at you as he and Spider settle near the fire.

“Hi.” You smile back softly, letting your gaze linger on Neteyam as he sits across from you.

Your eyes flick toward Spider, who slides down onto the grass next to Neteyam.

He doesn’t greet you. He doesn’t even spare a glance in your direction.

Weird.

Maybe you’re overthinking it.

Before you can decide, Tuk bounces over to Neteyam, vibrating with excitement.

Neteyam takes in the sight of Tuk’s braids, each carefully adorned with beads.

“Did Lo’ak do this?” He asks, teasing her just a little.

Tuk spins around, indignation written all over her little face. “What? No! Y/N did!” She exclaims, a hint of offense in her voice.

Neteyam laughs softly, shaking his head. “I’m just kidding. They’re beautiful.” He says, his smile warm as he looks at you.

You feel your cheeks flush slightly at the praise woven into his words, and at the warmth in his gaze. His golden eyes—amber in the firelight—hold a quiet intensity that makes your stomach flutter just a little.

The moment quickly ends when Spider finally speaks—to Lo’ak, of course.

You sit mostly quiet, listening to Lo’ak and Spider talk. Their friendship is adorable, like two peas in a pod, the easy banter filling the space. You feel a small sense of relief seeing Spider finally engaging, even if he doesn’t say a word directly to you.

Neteyam joins in here and there, chiming lightly into their conversation, but also glancing toward Kiri and Tuk, joining their laughter or responding to Tuk.

Kiri nudges you into the chatter, giving you a chance to add your own words lightly.

Even Neytiri, mostly observing while holding Tuk, speaks up a few times, her gentle voice quietly joining the banter.

You’re enjoying the moment, it’s comfortable, and for a moment, you forget about everything else on your mind.

Until slowly, you notice it—the air feels different. Each breath takes more effort than the last, your chest tightening slightly.

Your brows furrow in confusion as you glance down at the pack strapped around your waist, the small device that feeds your mask.

Everything looks normal—the indicator still shows full. Not even the first warning mark has dropped.

What’s going on?

A knot of unease tightens in your stomach. You adjust the straps, tapping at the controls, trying to coax it back to normal. But the air still feels thinner, harder to draw in.

Panic begins to creep in, though you barely notice it at first, your lungs rapidly consuming the small reserve of breathable air that remains.

You quickly stand, your heart hammering in your chest, hands instinctively gripping the straps of your pack.

The sudden movement immediately draws everyone’s attention.

Neteyam is the first to speak, his voice calm but alert as he rises. “Y/N?”

Kiri follows quickly, concern written across her face. “Y/N, are you okay? What’s happening?”

“I—I can’t breathe,” you manage to say, voice tight. “I think my pack is malfunctioning.”

Neytiri stands, letting Tuk slip from her arms. Her eyes latch onto you, alerted.

Your chest rises faster with each shallow breath.

“I need a spare—”

Lo’ak quickly rises to his feet, his hands hovering near your pack as he tries to figure out what’s wrong. “Is it stuck? Can I—?” He asks, unsure if he can fix it without making things worse.

Neteyam sprints to where the spare packs were stored.

At the same time, Jake rounds the circle, noticing Neteyam moving with urgency. Concern flickers in his voice as he calls out, hurrying closer. “What’s going on?”

As Jake jogs up to you, Neteyam returns almost immediately, spare pack in hand.

“Give it here.” Jake says, taking the spare from him.

Your hands tremble as you fumble with the straps to unclip your mask. Neteyam’s hands quickly cover yours, helping undo it with swift efficiency.

Instinctively, you force yourself to hold your breath—not consciously, just because you know you can’t breathe Pandoras air without it.

Jake presses the spare pack to your face, and you gasp for air before he even has a chance to fully adjust the straps. The sharp inhale fills your lungs, relief flooding through you, and your knees threaten to give out under the tension.

Once the pack clicks into place and seals, your breathing begins to even out, and a quiet calm washes over you.

“Okay…” You breathe out, “I’m okay.”

You finally lift your eyes, and realize the entire group is hovering around, silent, watching every move. Spider lingers slightly apart, his gaze fixed on you, unreadable but intense, the weight of it making your chest tighten just a little.

Jake looks back at you, his expression softening. He reaches out, running his fingers gently through your hair—a grounding gesture that slightly catches you off guard.

“You sure you’re okay?” He asks.

A faint flush rises to your cheeks as everyone’s eyes linger on you. You feel a little embarrassed but nod, forcing a small, shaky smile.

Jake steps back, though his gaze lingers on you for a moment longer. He then hands the malfunctioning mask to Neteyam.

“Take this to the material rack,” He says, his voice firm but calm. “I’ll have Norm check it out tomorrow.”

Neteyam’s eyes linger on you, concern clear in his expression. He hesitates, then quickly forces his gaze away before nodding.

Jake exhales quietly, then shifts his attention to Spider. “Hey,” He says, gesturing lightly toward the huts. “from now on, keep the spares near. Just in case.”

Spider nods without question. “Yeah. Got it.”

The village has settled, the night wrapped in soft bioluminescence. Everyone is asleep except you.

You lie in the hut with Kiri, flat on your back, staring up at the woven ceiling. Too many thoughts race through your head. Mostly Spider. Not the fact that your mask could have killed you.

You sigh quietly and sit up, careful not to wake her, then slip outside toward the low fire. To your surprise, you spot Spider nearby.

He’s standing there with two spare masks hooked loosely in his hands.

He looks up when he hears you, surprise flickering across his face before it smooths away.

“Oh. Hey,” you say softly. “Why’re you up?”

He lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug. “Jake told me to bring these around. Extra spares. Just in case.” His eyes flick briefly to the masks, then back to you.

“Oh,” you say. “I can help with that.”

You step closer, reaching out.

Before your fingers can touch the strap, he pulls them back slightly, his grip tightening.

“No,” he says, a little too quickly.

You pause, your hand hovering awkwardly in the air. He seems to realize how it sounded and exhales.

“I mean… it’s fine. I’ve got it.”

Your lips part, but nothing comes out. You’re not sure what to say, caught somewhere between confusion and something heavier.

“Spider,” you finally ask, quiet but direct. “are you mad at me?”

Spider doesn’t answer right away.

He looks past you instead, toward the dark stretch of huts, jaw tightening just slightly. One of the masks shifts in his grip as he adjusts the strap, buying himself time.

“Mad?” he repeats, a little too casual. “No.”

You don’t let it go.

“Then why are you acting like this?” you press, stepping closer. “You’ve been acting weird towards me. You won’t even look at me.”

That does it.

He finally turns, frustration flashing across his face. “Do you think there’s a reason I should be mad?” He snaps.

The words come out sharper than he probably means, but he doesn’t stop.

“You show up, and suddenly everyone’s fine with that. Everyone likes you. They worry about you.” His grip tightens on the masks. “Even Neytiri.”

He laughs once, breathless, not amused. “I’ve been here my whole life. Since I was a baby. And she’s never looked at me the way she looks at you.”

Silence hangs between you, thick and glowing in the low bioluminescence.

He looks away again, jaw set, like he’s already said too much but can’t take it back.

You stare at him, completely taken aback. For a moment, you don’t know what to say at all.

“Spider… I didn’t know,” you say finally, voice quieter, careful. “I didn’t mean to make you feel that way. I never—”

He cuts you off.

“And I don’t even know why,” he says, frustration spilling over. “you don’t even try. You don’t try to fit in.”

He gestures vaguely at you, irritation flashing. “You still act human. You wear those stupid boots, human clothes. You don’t even pretend.”

His words come fast now, like he’s been holding them in too long. “And somehow it doesn’t matter. They still accept you. They still look at you like you belong.”

The bioluminescence flickers as he steps back, jaw clenched, eyes hard. “So yeah. Maybe I am mad.”

Before you can say anything else, he turns sharply and stalks off into the forest, disappearing between the glowing roots and shadows.

You’re left standing there, hand half-raised, words stuck in your throat.

The fire crackles softly beside you, the village asleep, and you feel completely dumbfounded, the weight of his words settling in long after he’s gone.

A dull pang settles in your chest, something tight and aching. You don’t realize you’re tearing up until your vision blurs slightly, the bioluminescence smearing at the edges.

You stay where you are, rooted to the spot, staring at the space where he disappeared.

Your throat tightens as your thoughts spiral. You replay his words over and over, trying to make sense of them, trying to figure out where you went wrong. Guilt pricks at you, quiet and uncomfortable.

But underneath it, something else stirs. Frustration. Hurt.

It’s not your fault, you think, the realization landing heavier than you expect. What am I supposed to do? Just… die?

The thought startles you with how bitter it sounds, even inside your own head.

You swallow hard, blinking the tears away, forcing yourself to breathe as the night hums around you, indifferent. The village sleeps on, unaware, and you’re left standing there alone with emotions you didn’t ask for and a problem you don’t know how to fix.

You bite your lip, trying to hold back the emotions threatening to spill.

You push yourself upright and slip back into the hut.

Curling onto your side beside Kiri, exhaustion drags you under faster than you expect.

You’re deep in sleep.

Completely unaware of how sharply your chest has begun to rise.

Not breathing.

Trying to.

Your body reacts before your mind can catch up. Muscles strain, heaving as if pulling harder could somehow summon air.

Then the mask starts to beep.

Soft at first.

Then louder.

Insistent.

Kiri stirs beside you, blinking awake.

The sound cuts through the stillness of the hut, and her eyes snap to you.

Your breaths are shallow and useless, fingers twitching against the mat.

“Dad!” Kiri shouts, scrambling upright. “Dad!”

She grabs at the mask, eyes wide, then scans the hut frantically.

Was it not attached properly?

No.

Was the pack empty?

No.

“The spare—” her voice cracks as she scrambles through the hut, pushing aside woven bags and searching the hooks along the wall.

The beeping grows frantic, echoing through the hut.

Jake bursts in, eyes wide at the chaos. “What’s going on?!” He scans the room, instantly noticing the way your chest is jerking beneath the mask.

Kiri whirls back to Jake, pointing at the empty hooks and scattered bags.

“The spare—it’s not here! I can’t find it!”

Footsteps rush in behind him.

Lo’ak appears first, skidding to a stop when he sees you. “What—?” The color drains from his face.

Neteyam is right behind him, already scanning the hut with sharp, practiced focus. His eyes snap to the wall, the floor, the hanging straps.

Your eyes spring open.

Your body reacts before your mind does. Air won’t come. Your chest heaves harder, muscles straining as if pulling more force will make oxygen appear.

You lurch forward, slipping off the mat and dropping to your knees. A broken, choking sound scrapes out of your throat, empty and wrong. Your hands claw at your chest as your head bows, head nearly hitting the floor, your whole body folding under the strain.

Your lungs burn. Your vision fractures at the edges.

“Dad—!” Lo’ak shouts, scrambling to your side, panic sharp in his voice. He grabs your arm, holding you upright as your body trembles.

Neteyam drops beside you, one hand firm on your shoulder, the other already reaching for the mask’s connection, to try and somehow fix it.

“Spider, where the hell did you put the spare?!” Jake snaps, turning sharply toward him.

Spider stands frozen near the entrance, unresponsive.

————————

The others were gathered inside one of the huts, voices overlapping loudly. You sat with them for a while, listening, until hunger slowly crept up on you. You realized you hadn’t eaten much at all—too caught up in everything else.

You slip away without drawing attention, moving toward the edge of the firelight.

Near the entrance, a woven bowl rests on a low surface, filled with round, shell-covered fruits. Their smooth surfaces are slightly warm, faintly glowing in the dim light. They remind you of coconuts—hard on the outside, promising something softer within.

You sit yourself down before picking one up, turning it in your hands. A thin seam runs around the middle, subtle but visible. You remember seeing others twist them open so easily.

You press your thumbs into the seam and twist.

Nothing.

You frown and try again, applying more force. A quiet groan slips from you as you strain, fingers aching, feeling like they’re going to snap before the shell ever does.

You gasp as your finger suddenly breaks through the shell—too hard, too fast. There’s a sharp crack, and before you can react, the fruit splits unevenly in your hands.

Warm liquid and soft flesh spill out immediately.

“No—” you whine under your breath, scrambling to catch it, tilting your palms together as if that might somehow fix it. The contents slip through your fingers anyway, dripping onto the ground by the fire. You stare at the mess, shoulders slumping, frustration flashing across your face.

You let out a quiet, defeated huff, staring down at the ruined fruit.

As you’re groaning in defeat, your eyes lift—and meet a figure standing at the other edge of the firelight.

Neytiri.

She stands still, posture straight, her expression unreadable as the fire casts flickering shadows across her face. Her gaze drops briefly to the mess at your hands, then back to you. For a moment, the only sound is the crackle of the fire and your own uneven breathing.

Heat rushes to your face. You instinctively pull your hands closer to yourself, fingers sticky, embarrassed at having been caught mid-struggle.

Neytiri exhales softly through her nose—not quite a scoff, not quite a sigh. Then she steps forward, closing the distance with quiet, measured strides. Without a word, she crouches beside you and reaches for another fruit from the bowl.

She turns it once in her hands, then presses at a specific point along the seam. The shell splits cleanly with a dull crack.

She separates the outer layer and places the edible part gently in front of you.

“For humans,” she says calmly, “this part only.”

You hesitate, looking dumbfounded, then nod. “Thank you.”

Her gaze flicks down at you for just a moment, sharp and assessing, before she straightens and walks away.

You stare down at the fruit, cheeks still warm. Lifting your mask carefully, you take a small, cautious bite—sweet, grounding—trying hard not to think about how clumsy that must have looked.

When you swallow, you push your mask back down quickly, inhaling through the exopack.

Suddenly, you notice Spider from the corner of your eye, standing near one of the hut’s support beams, arms crossed, watching from a distance. He doesn’t say anything, just observes quietly, his brow slightly furrowed as if he’s trying to figure something out.

“Want some?” you ask, holding out a piece of the fruit toward him.

He glances at it, wrinkles his nose, and shakes his head. “No. That stuff’s disgusting.” He mutters, turning and walking away without another word.

You watch him go, a little confused but you turn your attention back to the yummy fruit in your hands.

-

It was the next day and you wandered through the village and discovered Neytiri alone in a hut. Bundles of herbs were neatly arranged around her, and she was weaving small, intricate pieces of rope. She worked silently, every movement precise, almost meditative.

A faint twitch of her ear immediately senses your presence, and she turns sharply to face you before you even speak.

“Oh—hi,” you say, a little flustered. “can I help with what you’re doing?”

She stops, one brow slightly raised, and studies you for a long moment. Her gaze is sharp but unreadable—like she’s measuring you, trying to decide if you’re worth her attention.

“…You can,” she finally says, her voice calm but deliberate. “but pay attention. Do it carefully.” Her tone carries a firmness that makes you straighten immediately.

You kneel beside her as she hands you a small bundle of herbs. Your fingers fumble slightly at first, tangling the strands, but she doesn’t correct you.

“You must be gentle,” she murmurs, eyes on her weaving. “everything has balance. Too much force, it is ruined.”

You nod, concentrating, trying to mirror her movements. She doesn’t speak again, but her presence is steady, like a quiet anchor.

When you finish, she glances at your hands briefly, then looks away, her expression impossible to read. You’re left wondering if you did well—or if she even noticed.

Surprisingly, your smaller, softer human hands made weaving the tiny strands easier than you expected.

But she wasn’t about to let you sense a drop of approval for those stupid little pink human hands.

You finish the last of the tiny strands, setting your hands aside. You glance at Neytiri, still focused on her work, unreadable as ever.

“Y/N!”

You turn around, hearing Kiri calling your name.

You step outside, blinking against the sunlight and see her waiting there, bright and bubbly, with Spider by her side.

“We’re heading to the high camps,” Kiri says, her voice full of excitement. “you coming with us?”

The high camps are where the other humans reside—scientists, some of whom even have avatar bodies. They help Jake with defending against the RDA, managing supplies, and conducting research.

“Sure.” You nod, falling in step beside Kiri and Spider.

At first, you’re confused by the path they take.

The path opens into a wide clearing, and you spot Neteyam and Lo’ak waiting a few steps ahead. Three ikrans shift restlessly nearby, wings stretching and heads tilting curiously.

Kiri glances back at you with a grin. “It’s not really a destination you can reach on foot.” She says, her voice teasing.

She steps forward, reaching up to the Ikran before her, her fingers brushing the creature’s scales. With practiced ease, she performs Tsaheylu, and in one smooth motion, swings onto its back.

Spider follows without hesitation, hopping onto the same Ikran, settling in front of Kiri.

You stand frozen for a moment, taking it all in—the clearing, the Ikrans shifting beneath the sunlight, and the sight of Kiri and Spider already poised for flight.

You shift awkwardly, unsure where to put yourself, your gaze flicking between Kiri and Spider already mounted, and Neteyam and Lo’ak standing before their own Ikrans.

Lo’ak steps up to his Ikran and pats its back. “Hop on.”He says, grinning.

You freeze, your stomach twisting. “…You want me to ride that thing?” Your voice wavers, caught between awe and panic.

He chuckles. “It’s not going to eat you.”

“If you wanted to kill me, you could’ve just said so,” you scoff. “that thing is huge—and I’m not exactly a fan of heights…”

Lo’ak shakes his head, smirking. “Relax. It’s not that bad… and I’ll be behind you.”

You hesitate, taking a slow step toward the Ikran. It shifts beneath Lo’ak’s hand, wings flexing slightly.

Before you can protest again, there’s a sudden rustle from behind the trees.

Tuk?

Lo’ak spins around, eyes wide. “What are you doing here?!”

Tuk pops out from her hiding spot, grinning like she’s won something. “Mom said I could go with you,” she says proudly. “I didn’t wanna miss it.”

Lo’ak groans, rubbing his face. “You are so annoying.”

Tuk sticks her tongue out at him, letting out a quick, playful sound of triumph.

Neteyam, on the other hand, doesn’t look annoyed at all. He looks calm as ever, already adjusting the straps on his ikran. He glances at Tuk, then at Lo’ak, like the decision’s obvious.

“Then she rides with you.” He says simply.

Before Lo’ak can argue, Neteyam turns to you instead. He pats the space in front of him on his Ikran—firm, reassuring.

“Come on,” he says, steady and confident, a small smile tugging at his lips. “you’ll be fine.”

You blink, surprised, glancing between him and the Ikran. For a split second, you catch Lo’ak’s expression shift—barely there, just a tightening of his jaw before he looks away.

You swallow and step forward.

The Ikran lowers its head, turning slightly as it sniffs you causing you to flinch.

“It’s okay,” Neteyam says calmly. “it’s just curious.”

He steps closer, one hand steadying the ikran while the other reaches for you. “Here—put your foot here.”

You take his hand, your fingers small against his as he helps guide you up. Your heart pounds as you settle onto the saddle, suddenly very aware of how massive the ikran is beneath you. Your legs barely manage to straddle its back, stretched awkwardly, and you can’t tell if the creature is just enormous—or if you’re simply that small.

Before you can spiral, Neteyam moves smoothly behind you, mounting the ikran with practiced ease.

You peek a glance to the side and spot Lo’ak mounting his own ikran, Tuk already settled in front of him, practically buzzing with excitement as she grips the reins.

You don’t watch for long.

Your gaze snaps back down, hands tightening instinctively around the Ikrans harness. Your heart is already racing, thudding so hard it feels like it might leap out of your chest before the ikran ever does.

Kiri lifts first.

Her Ikran lets out a sharp sound before launching forward, wings beating hard as it surges upward. Spider laughs as he leans into the movement in front of her, already used to the rush.

Lo’ak watches them go, then glances back at you and Neteyam. His eyes linger for half a second longer than necessary before he turns away, urging his own Ikran forward. Tuk cheers loudly as they take off, her excitement echoing through the clearing.

That leaves you.

Your breath comes shallow, fingers trembling but locked tight around the harness. The Ikran beneath you tenses, muscles coiling, wings spreading wide.

Before it moves, Neteyam shifts closer. One arm slides firmly around your waist, the other grips the straddle in front of you.

“I’ve got you.” He says quietly, close to your ear.

The Ikran launches.

The force is instant and brutal—your stomach drops as the ground falls away, air ripping past you as it shoots upward. A startled gasp escapes you, your body instinctively pressing back into him.

Neteyam tightens his hold without a word, anchoring you as the Ikran climbs hard into the open sky.

You cling tighter, knuckles white, your heart pounding so loud you swear Neteyam can feel it.

And he does—he can hear it, feel the frantic rhythm against his chest, too fast, too sharp.

His grip tightens just a little, instinctive and protective, grounding rather than restraining. He leans in closer so the wind doesn’t steal his voice.

“Breathe,” he murmurs near your ear, low and steady. “I’ve got you.” He reassures you again.

The Ikran glides, wings stretching wide as the air smooths out beneath you. Your heartbeat is still racing, but not spiraling anymore—held in place by the certainty in his voice, the warmth of his presence at your back.

Against your better judgment, curiosity nudges past the fear. You tilt your head and steal a glance downward.

Your stomach flips instantly.

The forest stretches endlessly below, a sea of glowing green and blue, rivers like threads of light weaving through the canopy. It’s dizzying—terrifying in a way that makes your breath catch—but it’s also breathtaking. Beautiful in a way you’ve never seen before.

You suck in a shaky breath, torn between wanting to look away and wanting to see more, your fear tangled tightly with awe as Pandora opens up beneath you.

The Ikran glides straight toward the high camp, cutting cleanly through the air. The floating Hallelujah Mountains rise around you, but the camp is right there, perched on one of the larger platforms.

By the time you arrive, the others have already landed—Kiri with Spider near the edge, Lo’ak helping Tuk down.

Neteyam’s ikran eases to a steady hover above the platform. He reaches around you, helping guide you safely to the surface.

Around you, the high camp buzzes with activity—humans and avatar bodies.

You and Neteyam move carefully along the platform, following the others as they begin heading inside one of the labs. The interior is humming with energy—supplies stacked neatly, consoles blinking softly.

You guys step into the lab, the filtered air humming quietly around you. Lo’ak grabs a breathing mask and hands one to Tuk, who giggles as she slips it over her nose for a cautious breath. One by one, the others—Kiri and Neteyam included—put theirs on, inhaling deeply before letting drop on their neck.

Spider leans against a console and smirks, peeling his mask off. “In here, the roles are switched.” He grins.

You lift your mask, feeling the clean air fill your lungs. The relief is instant, and you can’t help but take a careful, deep breath, enjoying the simple luxury of breathing without an exopack.

You watch as Kiri moves swiftly through the lab, weaving easily between consoles and equipment. Your eyes follow her until she stops in front of a glass tank, the soft hum of machinery filling the room. Inside rests an avatar body, still and serene, bathed in dim, blue-tinted light.

The others drift behind you, Neteyam and Lo’ak flanking the way, Spider lingering near Kiri. Tuk, curious as ever, wanders off a few steps, inspecting gadgets and beeping screens, momentarily distracted from the main group.

Kiri doesn’t take her eyes off the tank. Her voice is quiet, reverent. “That… that’s my mother.” She says, a whisper more to herself than anyone else, as though speaking it aloud helps make the reality tangible.

You blink, confusion written all over your face.

Kiri turns to you, a small, wry smile tugging at her lips. “Oh, I’m actually adopted,” she explains softly. “it’s a bit complicated.”

You nod slowly, trying to process it, your gaze flicking back to the avatar in the tank.

“So… who do you think knocked her up?” Lo’ak asks, half‑grinning.

Spider snorts.

“Pretty sure it was Norm.”Lo’ak adds.

“Totally.” Spider agrees.

You let out a quiet, breathy laugh before you can stop yourself, more out of surprise than amusement.

Kiri lifts her head, eyes sharp. “You do not deserve to live.” she says flatly, staring at both of them.

“No, no—think about it,” Lo’ak says quickly, raising his hands. “I mean, he’s the teacher’s pet. He was always at the lab with her.”

“I would kill myself,” Kiri spits. “I would drink acid.”

Lo’ak presses on, unable to help himself. “I’m just saying—two avatars, out in the forest, all alone—”

“Gross!” Kiri snaps, shoving him playfully.

“Guys,” Spider cuts in, voice suddenly quieter, stripped of humor. “sometimes… it’s not so great knowing who your father is.”

The room goes still.

Kiri and Lo’ak both turn to him, their expressions changing—something sober and heavy settling between them.

Spider shifts, uncomfortable. “Whatever.” He mutters, stepping off to the side.

Kiri watches him for a moment, then moves after him, slipping her arms around him from behind. “You are not him.” she says softly.

You stay where you are, silent.

Only then does it hit you.

————————

A week had passed.

The days weren’t quiet, but you were. You spent most of that time inside the village, staying in the hut you shared with Kiri. Tuk drifted in and out, but more often than not, it was just the two of you.

Surprisingly, you didn’t get many stares when you stepped outside to switch your exopack from Jake. The Na’vi had already lived alongside humans before—Spider, the scientists—so your presence wasn’t treated as something unheard of.

Even so, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you didn’t belong.

You felt like an intruder.

And you weren’t the only one who felt that way.

Neytiri did too.

She didn’t say anything to you directly. She didn’t need to. You felt it in the way her gaze lingered a second too long—sharp, assessing.

You understood it.

You’d learned why Jake had taken so long that first day. He’d been speaking with her. Arguing, from what you’d heard. And she hadn’t been happy—about you, about having another vrrtep (demon) in their home.

So you kept your distance.

You stayed quiet. Careful. As if making yourself smaller might make you easier to tolerate.

And Kiri noticed all of it.

Kiri noticed the way you linger near the edge of things.

The way you always choose a spot slightly apart. The way you speak only when spoken to.

One afternoon, you’re sitting inside the hut, legs pulled in close, hands wrapped around your knees.

The light filters through the woven walls, dappling the floor in warm patterns. Kiri settles beside you without a word.

You shift into a more relaxed position, not wanting to reflect the heavy emotions you felt.

For a while, she says nothing. She just sits there, close enough that you can feel the warmth of her presence.

“You don’t have to do that,” she says eventually, voice gentle.

You glance at her. “Do what?”

She tilts her head slightly, eyes studying you the way she always does—like she’s listening to something beneath the surface.

“Disappear,” Kiri says. “you keep trying to make yourself smaller.”

The words land quietly. Not accusing. Just… true.

“…I think that’s out of my control.” You joke.

Kiri’s lips twitch into a faint smile as she rolls her eyes at you playfully.

“You’re not in the way,” she adds. “even if it feels like you are.”

“Some people just need time,” Kiri continues. “my mother included.”

Then she looks back at you, something soft and certain in her gaze.

“But Eywa does not make mistakes.”

And for the first time since you arrived, the tightness in your chest eases—just a little.

That peace lasts exactly three seconds.

The curtain of the hut flies open.

“Come on,” Spider’s voice cuts in, loud and impatient. “you guys have been in here all day!”

Lo’ak follows right behind him, grinning like he’s already decided this is happening.

“We’re going into the forest,” he says simply.

“And you’re coming,” Spider adds, pointing between you and Kiri, “because you can’t just sit around forever.”

They glance between the two of you, clearly expecting agreement.

“Before anyone says no,” Spider says quickly, “we’re not going far.”

Kiri exhales through her mouth, a smile breaking through the serious composure she tried to maintain.

And just like that, the quiet is gone.

You and Kiri exchange a glance. Kiri tilts her head, silent encouragement in her eyes, and you realize there’s really no way to say no.

Stepping outside, the warm glow of Pandora’s bioluminescent flora surrounds you. Spider bounds ahead like he owns the place, and Lo’ak follows close behind.

You still couldn’t get used to the Na’vi clothing. Sure, maybe it looked normal on them—but on a human?

Every time Spider turned his back, you had to bite your lip to keep from snorting.

Stop being immature, you told yourself. just…pretend they’re wearing bikinis.

You trudge after Spider and Lo’ak, trying to keep up as they move deeper into the forest, Kiri close behind. The glowing plants and twisted vines make it feel like you’re in another world entirely. They climb over fallen logs and scale small inclines like it’s nothing, while you stumble over roots and branches, your exopack weighing you down.

“Honestly,” Spider says, glancing back at you, “human clothes make everything harder out here. Especially those boots.”

You huff, trying not to let your embarrassment show. “Thanks for the helpful observation,” you mutter.

Lo’ak snickers from a few steps ahead.

Suddenly a rustling sound from the side makes all four of you freeze.

Neteyam emerges from the trees, walking toward you with calm, steady steps. He arches an eyebrow, eyes sharp. “What are you all doing out here?”

Lo’ak groans, throwing his hands up. “Bro! Don’t tell me Tuk snitched that we went without her?”

“She did,” Neteyam says, shifting his gaze from you to his brother, eyes sharp. “but mom made her stay back with them.”

Everyone continues moving.

Spider and Kiri move ahead, weaving easily through the glowing forest, their laughter echoing faintly among the trees. Neteyam follows a few steps behind, his gaze watchful but calm, occasionally turning back to make sure you’re keeping up—though you don’t notice, focused on your footing.

You trail behind him, careful with each step, and Lo’ak rambles behind you, talking your ears off.

“You’re moving way too slow,” Lo’ak teases as you approach a fallen log stretched across a small ravine. “Need some help?”

“No, I’m fine,” you reply, feeling a little too confident.

I got this.

You take a careful step forward, the log slick from the forest moisture. Oh yeah, I’m fine, you think.

A couple more steps in, your striding with confidence until in an instant your boot slips.

You screech, arms flailing, but before you can fall, strong hands grab you from behind.

Lo’ak lunges, wrapping his arms under yours and lifting you just in time. Your feet dangle above the ravine as he steadies you, a grin tugging at his lips.

“Oh my god!” you gasp, eyes wide as you take in the drop beneath you. Your hands clamp around Lo’ak’s arms, holding on for dear life.

“I told you so,” Lo’ak says, a teasing grin tugging at his lips.

“Pull me back up!” you shriek, panic making your voice higher than usual.

Neteyam had turned toward the sound of your screech, quickly moving to grab you—but Lo’ak was faster.

Carefully, he sets you back on the log, but doesn’t let go. “I don’t think I should,” he mutters, his tone almost casual, though his grip is firm. “better safe than…not.”

You stay pressed close to him as you take the next steps across the log, his hands steadying you just enough to keep from slipping again.

Your heart skips a beat. Not from the height, not from the slip—but from the closeness, the warmth of his hands anchoring you in a way that feels…unexpected.

You clear your throat, forcing yourself to focus on the log instead of him.

Finally, you make it across the log, the tension easing as your feet touch solid ground.

“You survived,” he says from behind you, in a mock-serious tone, “barely.”

Spider snorts from a few steps ahead, shaking his head. “Drama queen. It was one log.”

“Oh, shut up, Tarzan,” you fire back, rolling your eyes. Your words are sharp, but teasing.

Spider laughs, turning around. “What, jealous?”

You fling a glare at him, still playful. “Please.”

Neteyam’s gaze sweeps toward the commotion, eyes narrowing slightly.

“Are you going to keep your hands on her the whole time, or…?”

You blink, suddenly realizing Lo’ak hasn’t let go—your legs brushing against him as he adjusts his grip, casual but firm.

Lo’ak glances toward Neteyam, just for a moment, before letting his hands fall away. He doesn’t say anything, but there’s a subtle shift in his posture, and in the air.

Kiri seemed to notice, her head tilting slightly as she glanced between the brothers, a knowing expression in her eyes.

“Come on, let’s go.” Spider says, breaking the silence, his voice loud and eager. He turns, already moving forward through the glowing undergrowth.

……

Another week passed by.

You had grown more comfortable around them. You still felt awkward around Neytiri, keeping your distance, but you didn’t confine yourself entirely.

Most of your time was spent in the forest now, moving through the glowing trees with the others.

Lo’ak and Neteyam often ended up on either side of you—or sometimes one in front, one behind.

To your surprise, Neteyam started opening up more. He pointed out details in the forest you would have missed, asked questions, and even offered advice on how to navigate through the forest.

You found yourself often in the forest with just the two.

You crouch low, the soft glow of the forest casting shifting patterns across the ground. Ahead, a hexapede grazes nervously, ears twitching at every sound.

Neteyam leans forward, pointing with a careful hand. “There. See it? It’s over there.”

Lo’ak snorts quietly beside you. “She can obviously see it.”

Neteyam glances at him, a flicker of annoyance crossing his face, “I’m just trying to help.”

“By stating the obvious?” Lo’ak shoots back.

“I’m—”

“You’re trying to be a show-off,” Lo’ak cuts him off, smirking. “relax, Mighty Warrior, we get it.”

Neteyam stands up abruptly, towering over Lo’ak with a sharp glare. The sudden movement startles the hexapede, and it bolts through the forest.

“Seriously?” Neteyam says, his voice tight with frustration.

-

A few days later, you found yourself walking through the forest with Neteyam. He had been assigned the task of collecting fruits and bringing you along to learn.

The morning light filtered through the glowing leaves, casting soft, shifting patterns on the forest floor. You felt a spark of excitement bubbling up inside you. Most days, you were just tagging along, watching, learning, trying not to get in the way.

But today felt different—it was a chance to do something useful, something you could actually contribute.

You had collected a few fruits already, the woven basket cradled in your arms.

Eventually, you reached a tall tree, its branches heavy with clusters of glowing fruit.

“Ooh, what are those?” you asked, curious.

Neteyam reached up effortlessly, plucking one and holding it out for you. “Try it.”

You hold your breath as you lift your mask up slightly. You bite into it, before quickly putting your mask back in place.

The sweet, juicy flavor made you grin. “Mmm… so sweet.”

He nodded, a small, satisfied smile tugging at his lips. Without a word, he began picking more fruit, handing them to you one by one as you filled your basket. The quiet rhythm between you felt natural, easy, as if the forest itself had softened around you.

As Neteyam reached for another cluster of fruit, his back turned to you for a moment. You couldn’t help but notice his tail swaying slightly with his movements.

For a fleeting second, you realize how much it reminds you of a cat. Your hand twitches, almost reaching out to touch it, but you stop yourself, catching the thought before it leaves your lips.

Neteyam grabbed the final cluster of fruit and turned back towards you. Only to see your hand lifted towards him.

He froze mid-step, eyes narrowing just slightly as he followed your movement. “What are you doing?” he asked.

You froze, heat creeping into your cheeks. “I… I was just—”

“Just what?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I was just curious,”

“you’re like a cat.” The words slip out before you can stop them.

Neteyam’s eyebrows lift slightly, and for a moment, his usual calm demeanor flickers with mild amusement. He tilts his head, studying you with a quiet intensity.

“You think so?” he asks, voice even, but there’s a hint of curiosity in it.

“Can I touch… your tail?” you ask.

Neteyam freezes, his eyes meeting yours quietly. After a pause, he slowly shifts, bringing his tail closer toward your outstretched hand.

You quickly plop the basket of fruits onto the ground.

“Fine,” he says softly, his voice calm but steady. “just… careful.”

You reach out, your fingers brushing along the smooth, swaying tail. It twitches slightly at your touch, surprisingly warm and alive.

“Wow… that’s so cool! I honestly wish I had a tail—yours is super cute. I used to love watching videos from Earth of kitties—” you gush, words tumbling out faster than you realize.

You don’t notice how intently he’s watching, the way his ears twitch slightly at the sound of your voice, or the faint crease forming between his brows as he follows your hand hovering near his tail.

After a moment, you look up, a spark of curiosity in your eyes. “Can I touch your ears too?” you ask, the words spilling out naturally, without hesitation.

Neteyam stiffens, clearly taken aback. He’s not used to anyone being this close, this familiar. For a heartbeat, he doesn’t move, brows slightly furrowed. Then, slowly, he relaxes just a fraction and lowers his head slightly toward you, giving you access without breaking his guarded composure. “…I guess… if you really want to,” he murmurs, his voice quiet, cautious, like he’s letting you in just a little.

You reach up tentatively, your fingers brushing the soft, velvety surface of his ears. They twitch slightly under your touch, a subtle, almost feline reaction that makes you grin.

“See?” you murmur, almost to yourself, “Just like a cat.”

His tail sways low, brushing the forest floor with soft, uneven flicks—subtle, tense movements that betray how alert he still is, even as he lets you touch his ears.

Neteyam shifts slightly, a quiet exhale escaping him. “Okay… that’s enough,” he says, his voice calm but firm. He gently guides your hands away from his ears, then straightens, standing back up with measured, deliberate movements.

Neteyam picks up the woven basket of fruits with a careful grip, the muscles in his arms flexing as he balances it effortlessly. He starts walking, moving with that fluid, precise gait that makes everything look natural.

You trail behind him, words tumbling out in a steady stream. “Cats are so funny, you know? The way they pounce, and sometimes they just… stare at nothing. And their tails! I mean, they flick it when they’re annoyed or happy or whatever, it’s adorable. They also use it for balance, I bet you guys do too right? I wish I had a tail too, honestly. The human body is lowkey lame. You know, like—”

He glances back at you, a faint crease between his brows, but says nothing, letting you ramble as you fill the quiet forest with your excitement.

———————

The sound of mumbling is faint in your ears.

You feel the surface beneath you—soft mats, woven furs, warm and surprisingly comfortable. For a moment, it feels calming, but then it hits you—the roar of the thanator.

Your chest tightens. The terror of the fall, the chase, the bullets—all of it comes crashing back in an instant.

You hoped it was all a dream, that you’d wake up back inside that cold base you resented.

Your eyes snap open. You spring up, sitting upright, heart hammering, letting out a loud gasp.

But your eyes meet three Na’vi figures standing at the edge of the room.

Their heads whip toward you at the sound of your gasp.

You stare at them, mouth hanging slightly open.

As quickly as you rose, you flop back down.

whatthehelldoidoohmygodohmygod-

You lie there, staring at the ceiling, hoping maybe if you stay perfectly still, they’ll just… go away.

Your train of thoughts panic is interrupted as you feel the surface beneath you shift slightly. Someone’s moving closer.

A shadow falls over you, blocking the faint glow above. One of the figures steps up, stopping just beside you. You can feel his presence before you look—tall, solid.

The much taller Na’vi of the three looks down at you, posture relaxed, hands at his sides.

“Hey,” he says, voice calm, careful. “there’s no need to be scared.”

You looked like your soul had left your body.

The Na’vi who spoke looks slightly concerned now. His brows knit together as he rubs the back of his neck.

You’re still laying there, gripping the mats beneath you like if you let go he’d snatch you up, eyes wide and unblinking.

Wait.

Is he speaking—

Did he just speak English?

“My name’s Jake Sully,” he continues, “I’m also human.”

“—or well, I was.” He chuckles awkwardly.

Your fingers loosen around the mats. Just slightly.

Jake Sully.

You’ve heard that name before. Whispers in the base. Stories.

The RDA wasn’t one single unit. There were different bases, different divisions. Your parents were assigned to a specific operation, one that focused on extraction and resources.

Quaritch’s group had been different and very private.

You weren’t supposed to know what went on there. It was confidential but, you snuck around and you heard some things.

That’s where you’d first heard the name. Jake Sully.

A traitor to humanity.

A deserter.

A target.

Slowly, you lift yourself to sit up. “Wait,” you breathe.

Your eyes widen even more.

“…the Jake Sully?”

Jake blinks, clearly caught off guard. His ears twitch slightly as he straightens, surprise flashing across his face. “You… know me?”

There’s something unreadable in his expression now—cautious, almost wary. Like he’s bracing himself for whatever comes next. “Where did you hear that name?”

You notice the two other figures fully turn toward you now, their backs straightening as their bodies go alert.

You had learned about this man—Jake Sully.

The one who switched sides. The one who betrayed them. The RDA wanted his ass.

He was responsible for the failure of their first plan, for disrupting everything they’d worked toward on Pandora. His name was always spoken with rage, with blame.

And now he was standing right in front of you.

Jake watches you closely, taking in every small reaction—the way your fingers twitch against the mats, how your breathing grew shallow and uneven.

He already knows.

He wanted to see if you’d lie, or be honest.

That would immediately tell him everything. If you were innocent, or a danger.

You open your mouth to speak, but you hesitate. Nothing comes out except the shallow breaths that fog your exopack.

“I—…” The word catches in your throat. Your chest rises and falls too fast, and every second feels heavier than the last.

Jake’s eyes stay locked on you, calm, patient, but unyielding. He doesn’t push. He doesn’t speak. He just waits.

“…the RDA…” you whisper, barely audible, the words almost lost in the fog of your mask.

His jaw loosens slightly,

“Alright,” he says, voice low. “you’re with them. That doesn’t… automatically mean you’re against us.”

“No! I’m not—” you blurt, voice shaking. “I’m actually against those fuckers—”

You rush the words out, barely pausing. “I didn’t have a choice. I was born here, stuck in all of it, and all I could do was watch them carry out their corrupt plans!”

His eyes soften a little as he takes in how panicked you are, how real your fear is.

“You’re not one of them,” He crouches down, “I can see that.”

You look at him, your eyes glistening.

Jake’s gaze stays steady, calm, soft now. “I can see you’re not one of them,” He says again, almost as if he was reassuring you.

“I wanna understand how you ended up in this situation. You almost-“

He turns around glancing at the two Na’vi’s standing afar, “…died.”

He turns his head back to face you.

“They… they tried to kill me,” you mumble, voice low but firm. “…after they killed my dad.”

Jake’s eyes widen sharply, his jaw parting slightly as if he’s about to speak. For a moment, he doesn’t know what to say, caught off guard by your words.

He opens his mouth again, searching for the right words, but before anything comes out, the curtain of the hut bursts open.

“Hey!” a voice cuts through the tense silence.

Your attention snaps to the noise, completely forgetting you were on the verge of tears.

It was another human!

The hell?

Why wasn’t he wearing human clothes?

He looks as if he’s cosplaying Tarzan.

“Spider!” one of the Na’vi says through clenched teeth, grabbing him. You notice he’s slightly taller than the other figure standing near him.

“Bro, what? Lo’ak told me what happened and to come quick—” Spider blurts out as he yanks his hand out of the Na’vi’s grip.

You notice Jake’s gaze shift from Spider to the other Na’vi—Lo’ak.

He looks guilty, like he knows he’s in trouble.

“Bro! You stumble across a human and don’t even think to call me?!” Spider exclaims, hands waving. “I’m the one who should be dealing with this! You know, same species, best person for this situation!”

Jake’s eyes narrow as he watches Spider flail. After a beat, he finally speaks, voice low and controlled,

“Spider… this is exactly why I didn’t call you.”

Lo’ak speaks up, voice tight with a hint of concern.

“Where’s she going to go?”

Jake stays silent for a moment, eyes scanning you as if measuring everything at once. Then, slow and deliberate, he finally says,

“With us.”

The words hang in the air, heavy but steady. You blink, processing, unsure if relief, disbelief, or something else.

The other Na’vi runs his fingers through his braids with a subtle sigh.

Jake lets out a small, almost wry exhale. “Well… I better talk to your mother about this.” He says looking at the young Na’vi’s.

The two Na’vi’s glance a certain look at each other, a look that’s unsettling in its intensity.

“You three,” Jake says, voice calm but firm, “keep her company, will you?”

You watch as Jake stands, the weight of his presence filling the hut, and makes his way toward the curtain.

In exchange, the three boys move toward you—Spider first, Lo’ak following, and the taller Na’vi, he was more serious, and brought a quiet, watchful presence.

You quickly cross your legs.

You watch as they plop down in front of you, all except the taller Na’vi.

You glance up, and his eyes meet yours immediately. You feel your heart skip a beat. He doesn’t move, doesn’t break eye contact—just watches, patient and calm, like he’s trying to figure you out.

Spider speaks first, voice loud and sharp. “So… a human, huh?”

His words grab your attention to him.

“Are we not the same species?” You say, sarcastic, eyes narrowed, giving him the are-you-dumb? look.

Lo’ak snorts beside him, shaking his head a little. The other Na’vi’s expression softens—he looks down, trying not to laugh, but you can see the faint amusement in his eyes.

Spider throws his hands up, exasperated. “Hey! I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking! Don’t give me that look!”

Lo’ak lets out a short chuckle. “I’m Lo’ak,” He says, voice calm but steady. “And that’s my brother, Neteyam.”

You look up at the Na’vi, Neteyam huh?

You glance at Spider, curious. “How did you end up here? Were you with the…RDA?”

Spider blinks at you, slightly caught off guard. “Uh… that’s… complicated.”

He starts talking, words tumbling out as he begins to explain, rambling a bit, jumping from one detail to the next.

Neteyam, standing nearby, lets out a quiet sigh. “You don’t have to talk her ear off,” he says, a teasing edge in his voice. “she didn’t ask for your whole life story.”

Before Spider can respond, the curtain of the hut shifts—and another young Na’vi steps in, her presence quiet but immediately noticeable.

“Hi! I’m Kiri.” She says, her voice gentle and bright, like she’s genuinely happy to see you.

Lo’ak’s lips twitch into a small smile. “That’s our sister,” he says.

Before you can react, another blur of motion bounces into the hut. “I’m Tuk!” the little one shouts, practically vibrating with energy.

You blink, caught between surprise and a strange sense of comfort, as the hut suddenly feels a lot warmer—and a lot more chaotic.

“I’m Y/N.” You say softly, “Nice to…meet you all?” The sentence felt awkward in this scenario.

You wait, glancing toward the curtain, expecting Jake to come back—but he doesn’t.

In the meantime, the others start talking all at once. Spider and Lo’ak bounce from one topic to another, words tumbling over each other. Kiri chimes in too, though she seems more interested in talking to you—but Tuk barely gives her the chance, interrupting with his own excited chatter.

However, Neteyam stays quieter, just observing, his calm presence a sharp contrast to the chatter.

You mostly stay silent, letting them ramble around you, feeling a mix of confusion, amusement, and slight overwhelm. The minutes stretch on, and still, Jake doesn’t return.

———————————————

You were born on Pandora’s soil.

Yet you were human—just like your mother.

It was strange, really.

Your parents worked with the RDA. Both were scientists, eager to be part of the project in its early stages, convinced they were contributing to something groundbreaking.

They didn’t realize how deeply corrupt the operation truly was. When the truth began to surface, they reacted differently. Your mother, perhaps, underestimated just how cruel your father could be.

And by then, they were light-years away from Earth.

So what could they do?

. . .

Your father continued working with the RDA as if nothing had changed. He adapted easily, falling into routine, into obedience.

Your mother didn’t.

She pulled back from the project, slowly at first, then completely. The corruption, the way the land was treated as expendable, weighed on her. Watching something innocent be exploited hollowed her out, and the depression settled quietly.

Pandora, to her, wasn’t a resource. It was sacred.

At the RDA’s base that stood on the land, she would wander beyond its boundaries, stepping into the forest whenever she could. The air felt alive as it hit her skin. The light filtered through the trees in ways she had never seen before.

It was beautiful—undeniably so.

And for the first time in a while, she felt something close to peace.

But good things never last.

. . .

Your mother fell pregnant with you—somehow, it was impossible.

Fucking whore.

That’s what everyone whispered,

since, your father and she hadn’t engaged in anything that could have caused the pregnancy.

Maybe it was some rare scientific anomaly?

No.

She had to have cheated.

Of course, every single person on that ship immediately jumped to that conclusion, even your father.

And they shamed her. So much.

Every day, every moment, up until she went into labor.

It was sudden. She was alone when it happened. That’s how you were born on Pandora’s soil—and how she died giving birth to you.

Your father was disgusted. He didn’t have a choice but to take you.

From there, you spent your whole life inside the ship.

You didn’t have a place to call home. You didn’t know comfort—only the cold metal all around you.

Sixteen years passed.

During those years being cooped up inside that ship with nothing to do, you taught yourself the Na’vi language.

It pained you to watch the corruption of the RDA. They tried to shove their propaganda down your throat, but something in you refused to accept it.

Meanwhile, your father’s relationship with the RDA was fraying. He grew tired of their methods, frustrated with the arrogance and stupidity of their plans. He had his own ideas—still self-serving, still cruel—but they refused to listen.

. . .

Your father’s defiance didn’t go unnoticed. The RDA saw him as a liability.

Even he knew he was fucked.

“They’re gonna kill me,” he said quietly.

You looked up, eyes wide. “What?”

He didn’t answer, just shook his head, a bitter, resigned twist to his lips. The air between you felt heavy, charged.

The sun was setting, painting the sky in strange, beautiful hues of violet.

You were outside, like usual, a little deeper in the forest, examining the flowing flowers. Crouched down, brushing them gently with your fingers, letting the quiet of the forest fill you.

Then you heard it—the soft crunch of boots on the soil. Your father stepped out of the base. Right behind him came Quaritch, moving with that calm, dangerous precision he always carried.

He was an avatar. Tall, imposing, obviously intimidating.

“You’re a smart man,” Quaritch called, his voice cold and steady. “and I actually like you. Which is why I’ll ask you one last time—stop fucking around and listen.”

Your father didn’t flinch. He straightened his shoulders, tilting his head slightly, a smirk forming. “Do as you say? You know, that’s funny coming from someone cosplaying a dead man.”

Quaritch’s eyes flickered with anger as he clenched his jaw.

“We’ve been patient with you. We even let you throw a damn tantrum,” he said.

He stepped closer, looming over your father. “but I’m not playing your games anymore.”

Your father’s smirk didn’t fade. “You failed the first time. You’ll fail again.”

Without another word, he walked past Quaritch, his stride calm, almost defiant.

Quaritch’s voice cut through the air like a whip. “F/N,”

He turned out to his name,

“Don’t think you’re walking off this one.”

Before he could process the gun pointed at him,

BOOM

—shots rang out. He crumpled to the ground.

Your eyes widened, a terrified gasp escaping past your mouth. You would have instinctively covered your mouth if it weren’t for the exopack strapped to your face.

You froze, paralyzed with fear, hoping Quaritch hadn’t noticed you.

His eyes scanned the forest—and then landed on you. Before you could move, a bullet whizzed past.

You screamed, snapping out of your frozen state, and bolted deeper into the forest.

Your exopack fogged up as you ran, every breath labored, every step sending thorns and roots scratching at your legs.

More shots rang out, ricocheting through the trees. You stumbled, your foot catching on a root, and tumbled down a steep hill.

Branches and rocks scraped against you as you rolled, the world spinning around you. Pain shot through your body, and for a moment, darkness threatened to swallow you whole.

When you finally hit the bottom, you lay there for a heartbeat, gasping, nearly knocked out—but alive.

Your mask was cracked now. Your body ached, bruised, elbows and knees scraped and bleeding.

You forced yourself to your feet, looking up before pushing further into the forest, terrified he was still hunting you.

Quaritch stood at the top of the hill you had just tumbled down. He couldn’t see you anymore, but he didn’t need to.

A slow, dangerous smirk crossed his face. Why bother killing her myself? he thought. This forest will do it for me before her exopack does.

With that, he turned and walked away, letting the shadows of Pandora swallow the silence behind him.

You finally came to a halt, deep within the forest.

It was getting darker by the second, the only light coming from the faint bioluminescent glow scattered around you.

You slowed, bending over to catch your breath, your mind racing as reality set in. What the hell were you doing?

You were going to die out here. You had only one mask, and you’d already burned through half its oxygen from running.

A whimper escaped your throat as you held back tears, afraid crying would drain the mask even faster.

Suddenly, a sound in the trees made you whip your head up. The bushes in front of you rustled.

You’re going to die. Oh my god.

You took a small step back, eyes wide, bracing yourself for what was about to emerge.

The animal burst out—a hexapede.

Deer-like in shape, clearly a herbivore.

You let out a shaky sigh of relief, watching the beautiful creature stare at you. It tilted its head slightly before suddenly sprinting past you, disappearing into the trees.

“Um… okay,” you muttered, confused by the interaction.

You turned back around—and nearly shit yourself at what stood there.

A thanator.

You’d learned enough about Pandora to know exactly what it was. The most dangerous predator.

So this is how you die. Not from suffocating—your limbs are going to be torn apart instead. Wonderful.

You’re frozen as it slowly moves closer, each step making the ground tremble beneath you.

Suddenly, arrows rain down from above, striking it. It screeches in pain before letting out a deafening roar and charging straight at you.

You sprint, diving under a fallen log just as it slams into it. Your small size finally being of use on this planet.

You take off again, running in a random direction. You can hear it charging behind you, its guttural screeches echoing through the trees. Then, from the side, another arrow flies. A figure perched high in the trees strikes again, hitting the predator. You can’t make out exactly what it is as you run.

Distracted by the figure, you don’t notice the uneven ground ahead. Your foot catches on a root, and you scream as you tumble down a steep hill. Rocks and branches tear at you as you roll uncontrollably, the world spinning.

When you reach the bottom, you land hard, and everything goes black.