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All the Difference (Freckles + Blond)

Part 2 - Broken

Chapter 6

Freckles version - chapter 1, Blond version - chapter 1

agedup!Neteyam x fem!Omatikaya!reader

Summary: You and Neteyam have been mated for about a week, and you're having a hard time keeping your hands off each other.

During Jake's scouting mission, they'd found an RDA base very close ... too close. And the clan is now preparing for the upcoming raid the next day, with a big meeting at sunset. But before that, you have your practice session with Tuk to get to, and Neteyam has the hunt to lead.

While he's out, he notices some familiar tracks ...

Chapter warnings/tags: MDNI 18+, Explicit smut, kidnapping, violence, blood, agedup!Neteyam, parental death, grief, canon-typical violence, fluff, minor original characters, major original character Story warnings: rape/non-con, assault, psychological trauma, physical trauma, power imbalance, forced tsaheylu, loss of limbs, torture, self-harm, angst ("Story warnings" are basically what I have planned for the work atm, "chapter warnings/tags" are what is in the chapter.)

a/n: I'm so happy with this chapter! But how did it turn out even hornier than the previous one ...? (smut right after the read more.)

We're getting into part 2 now, which will include a lot more of the story tags. Therefore, for transparency's sake, I've made a separate post to explain them and the OCs.

For the Neytiri scene: did I learn the guitar when I was a teenager? Yes. And was I forced to learn Sweet Home Alabama? Yes. Did I absolutely hate it and this is now a fun but weird outlet for me to get my frustration about it out? … Also yes.

This fic exists in two versions because of reasons. I do not use AI in my writing.

Read Blond Version on AO3

Read Freckles Version on AO3

Chapter 6

“One.”

You gasped, shaking violently in his arms. His hands held your lower back gently while his tongue worked in controlled and precise strokes—hitting just the right spot.

“Two.”

Still unsatiated, he pushed in a finger, making short work of the buildup and then the release. You opened your mouth wide, but not a single sound escaped you.

“Three.”

You melted in his arms, hands grasping for the grass underneath you, unable to think of anything, feel anything, but the heat surging inside you.

“Four.”

He let his tongue fall down to your entrance and slide upwards on the inside of your folds, greedily lapping up your slick. Then he pushed in another finger.

“Five.”

He dug deeper, furiously rubbing, sucking, and licking between your legs, while letting his other hand trace along your stomach and your breast.

“Six.”

He crawled on top of you and pushed in, letting his hips work you up into a euphoric frenzy underneath him.

“Come on, let me have a seventh.”

He slammed into you, rocking you back and forth beneath him, and you grasped for his arms, his neck, his braids—anything you could get a hold of.

Then you both moaned in ecstasy as the rising heat claimed you.

You’d only been mated for about a week, and he’d already made it into a sport to see how many times he could get you to come for him before neither of you could take it anymore.

Elated and exhausted, he rolled off and lay on his back next to you, panting heavily in the glade by the small outcropping where you had almost had your first kiss—long ago during your first night with the Omatikaya.

But really, you weren’t supposed to be here right now. Neteyam should be on his way out soon with the hunting party, before helping Jake prepare for the opsync [operations synchronisation] at sunset, and you had the practice session with Tuk and the other musicians to get to. But it was hard to keep away from each other. Just like it had been for the whole week.

Before that fateful day—the day of your reunion—your future had always felt unpredictable. With your inability to settle down with anyone, and the war still raging all around you, your future had been obscured, lying in wait behind the fog wall of the unknown. But after the toruk attack—and the cave—the mist had finally parted. And what lay waiting in your future had suddenly become clear as day: it was Neteyam.

It had always been Neteyam.

And the more time you spent with him, the more certain you became of his love for you, and of your own love for him.

Throughout your first week as his mate, three truths had cemented themselves in you. The first one had settled in your very bones: that Neteyam really was the missing piece that made you whole. Even though there could be no doubt that the hole in your chest was still there, forever reminding you of the loss of your mother, Neteyam filled that hole to the brim with his love. Every day, effortlessly, he patched you up and made you feel safe in a way you hadn’t done since before your mother lost her life.

Since before they killed her.

And even though the second truth scared you every time you thought about it, every time you felt it, it had manifested itself all the same: that you would probably never be rid of the anger smoldering inside the hole in your chest. You could still feel it, threatening to emerge again, to alight the fire inside you and boil your blood with its furious flame. Just like it had done ever since your mother’s death.

At first, the anger had been directionless, erupting at the most inopportune times—whenever that hole in your chest opened wide. Then, it had been directed towards Neteyam, blaming him for the loss of the only piece of your mother that you had left. And once the anger towards Neteyam had settled, growing into indifference, you’d ultimately found a dangerous outlet: being on the battlefield—killing easily, and without remorse.

And it still scared you.

But whenever you looked at Neteyam, the safety that radiated from him quickly calmed down the raging inferno inside you, until it was no more than cinders glowing with their low steady light.

And then, finally, the third truth had solidified deep inside your heart, unyielding like the mountains themselves, and stronger than any of the other two:

That you loved him, more than life itself.

And once that truth had become clear to you both, you had wasted no time; it had only been two days after your reconciliation before you’d made your way down to the spirit tree together, to take each other as mates before Eywa.

When you’d formed the tsaheylu with him, you’d finally been able to see all that he was for yourself—who you’d always known he was. That serious, confident man that you saw at every council of war, every briefing, and every hunt, was still a part of him. But instead of the coldness he’d exhibited throughout the years you were apart, the kindness he’d shown you when you were younger had emerged again—him still being that caring and considerate man that you loved.

As was custom, you and Neteyam had stayed connected the whole night through, solidifying the bond between you as you looked into each other’s minds and hearts. At first, you’d just talked, laughed, and shared memories together. But soon, the urge to connect not only spiritually, but bodily, had made itself known.

And for a long while, he’d just stayed inside of you.

At the start, he’d entered you, and then he’d refused to disconnect from you in any way. Of course, he’d let you have your release a few times: whenever he noticed that you needed it. And whenever you had come, he’d whimpered almost painfully from the pleasure of your tremblings. But he’d still refused to move.

When you’d asked why, he’d laughed and admitted that he was just as surprised as you were by his own actions. But that being connected to you, body and mind, was the greatest feeling he’d ever known. And he didn’t want it to end. At least not too quickly.

And so, except for a few thrusts every once in a while—reminding you of exactly where he was—he’d stayed still, anchored to you throughout most of the night, before he’d finally moved and almost instantly gotten his release.

After that divine night, you’d spent the rest of the week in a daze, full of Neteyam and the plans you’d made together. And just the thought of him being such a steadfast part of your future still warmed your heart.

You looked over at him as he lay there next to you in the dry, soft grass, panting from his exertion, with a big smile on his lips. But he was also focused, eyes narrowing and mouth moving slowly. Like he was contemplating something—counting something.

“How many times have I made you come today, ma yawne [beloved]?” he asked.

You laughed. “I don’t know … I lost count.”

He swiftly switched position, laying on his side with his elbow on the ground to keep his head up. Slowly, he traced his fingers from your thigh, over your hip and towards your chest. “Would you humor me then? Count them.”

What is he up to now …?

You sighed. Then you tried to recall: “What was that—like the fifth time today?”

And the afternoon eclipse hadn’t even started yet.

“Yes,” he confirmed, taking your hand in his and counting on your five fingers. “First behind the lab, then in your marui, then in the forest—twice—and now here.”

He looked at you intently, waiting for you to keep going.

“Okay. So, maybe … four times first? Then two, since sempul [father] was coming back soon. Then one, since we got interrupted by those syaksyuk [prolemuris]. Then five. And now seven. So … what’s that, like, nineteen?”

He snapped his fingers. “Bingo,” he said smugly.

You furrowed your brows. “Bingo? What’s that?”

“I don’t know,” he said, shrugging his shoulders. “It’s just something dad says … But it means you’re spot on.”

You giggled, and he leaned in, giving you a sweet kiss that you didn’t bat an eye at. But then he suddenly stuck his tongue in, quickly letting the kiss grow wild and out of hand. And when he finally let go of your lips, you gasped for air.

Then he smiled brightly at you, his tail wagging excitedly behind him: “Wanna shoot for an even twenty?”

You laughed at him.

And then he evened it out.

Back at high camp, Neteyam landed close behind his mate as she got off her ikran and started unstrapping her guitar from the saddle. Since he was going out on the hunt soon, he told his own ikran to wait by the opening while he strode off to help her settle in Tiram.

Well … he helped a bit at least. But most of the time he was just standing behind her, touching her lightly and smelling her hair as low satisfied sighs escaped him.

And he could already feel how he grew stiff—always unsatiated when it came to her.

Throughout the week, each time he’d entered her, the pleasure he’d felt had sent a shiver down his spine all the way out to the tip of his tail. And even now, after having had her so many times throughout the day, it was still hard to control the pressure against his loincloth.

Because feeling her, entering her, and filling her up, felt cathartic in a way he didn’t think he could ever describe. Like he was finally himself again when he was inside her. Finally accessing the piece of his heart that he’d given to her so long ago. The piece that was hers to hold for forever.

And he couldn’t be happier.

“Neteyam,” she whined as she leaned closer to him, contradicting her next statements with her whole body. “Tuk’s gonna meet me here soon. Maybe you should keep your hands to yourself for a second.”

“What’s she gonna do about it?”

“I’m gonna throw up is what,” Tuk said behind him, making a few gagging noises while sticking her finger in her mouth.

She’s learned well from Lo’ak …

While his mate finished untying her guitar and strapped it to her back, her mother’s tuners shone brightly in the sunlight of the early afternoon. They had needed some readjustments, seeing as they were a bit too small for her guitar. But after Norm and Max had helped to resize them, they’d fit perfectly.

Then she turned around and greeted Tuk, about to walk up to her. But before she could take a step, Neteyam grabbed his mate and pulled her in to kiss her goodbye: an innocent kiss, just something to tie him over before she left with his sister.

Tuk tutted and whined: “Come on, Neteyam, you’ve been glued to her the whole week. I need my teacher back at some point.”

He scoffed. “You’ve had her for years. It’s my turn now,” he said and gave his mate a loving kiss on her temple.

Tuk pretended to hurl again.

Oh no … She really is turning into Lo’ak, isn’t she?

But his mate quickly changed the subject, being too perplexed by Tuk’s new nickname for her: “Teacher? You play better than me now, Tuk. You don’t need a teacher.”

Tuk lit up at her kind words. But Neteyam got a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Uh-uh, nobody plays better than you, ma yawne [beloved] … Besides, I think she’s got the upper hand on this one, Tuk,” he said and grabbed hold of one of his mate’s pinkies while winking at his sister.

His mate rolled her eyes at his stupid joke, and Tuk stuck out her tongue. “Like you could play any better. You’re in the same boat as I am.”

Neteyam laughed. “I’m just teasing, Tuk. You know I could never pick between my two favourite girls,” he cooed. Then he lunged at Tuk and pinched her cheek.

She yelped and swatted away his hand. “I’m not ten anymore, Neteyam. Come on.”

He put his hands on his hips. “Maybe not … But you’ll always be my baby sister.”

And this time he tried to go for both of her cheeks.

She yelped again and took cover behind his mate, who laughed at Neteyam’s antics. “Leave her be, Neteyam.”

“But her cheeks are so pinchable.”

“She’s not a baby anymore.”

“Oh, so you’re on her side now?”

“In these matters, I’ll always be …,” she said frankly. But then she also got a mischievous look in her eyes, mirroring his expression. “Besides, you have the same pinchable cheeks,” she said and leapt towards him.

He tried to duck, but she was too quick, catching his cheek just in time and pinching it lovingly.

He swatted away her hand and rubbed his cheek. “Hey, that hurt!”

“Ha! Now you know how it feels,” Tuk said, sticking out her tongue again.

Then he laughed. As the eldest brother to three younger siblings, he was used to getting ganged up on. And he’d learned to take it with a pinch of salt.

While he’d been teasing Tuk, the hunters that were going out with Neteyam had started gathering in the aviary to get their ikran ready.

“I guess it’s time to leave,” Neteyam said, counting the hunters.

They had almost all arrived—except for his little brother. “Tuk, did Lo’ak come with you?”

Tuk gave his mate a meaningful look, and his mate nodded back at her.

“No. He left early. I thought he was already here?” Tuk said innocently. And his mate tried to hold in a snicker.

Neteyam narrowed his eyes. “Well, he’s not …”

“Are you sure about that?” his mate said mischievously.

“What do you mean …?” He started to look around, unawares of the little menace that was sneaking up on him. “Where’s that skxawng [idiot/moron]?”

“I’m right here!” Lo’ak said and jumped Neteyam, putting his big brother in a headlock from behind.

“Hey, quit it!” Neteyam said while dancing around with Lo’ak, trying to get out of his grip.

“I finally got you! Who’s the mighty warrior now, huh?”

“Unfair! They distracted me,” Neteyam whined, pointing at his mate and Tuk while breaking out of the grip Lo’ak had on him.

“Don’t try to blame it on us. You’re supposed to be one of our best hunters; you should have been more on your guard,” his mate said, standing there with her arms crossed, laughing at the brothers.

Neteyam hissed sourly at his mate. Then he touched his sore neck. “First my cheek and now my neck … Eywa, I’m getting bullied over here,” Neteyam said in a pretend-hurt voice. “Why are you always conspiring against me?”

“Becasue you’re such an easy target, bro,” Lo’ak said, and the girls concurred.

Neteyam scoffed. “Only because I’m too busy keeping your skxawng [idiot/moron] ass in line. I swear, why do I always have to keep an eye on you, bro?” he whined. But he was also smiling—that same big smile that always put an end to the sibling’s bickering.

Lo’ak smiled back: “You know you need me, bro. Your life would be too boring without me,” he said, while hitting Neteyam lightly on the arm and bouncing off to get his ikran: “Come on now. It’s time to leave. I’m getting antsy.”

Neteyam shook his head. But deep inside, he knew how right his little brother was.

Before running after Lo’ak, Neteyam said goodbye to his sister and his mate as they turned around to leave. But while Tuk started making her way towards the exit, Neteyam quickly took his mate’s hand and pulled her close again.

“Have fun now, yawne [beloved],” he said.

“You too, Neteyam. Be careful out there.”

“I will,” he promised. Then he leaned in slowly, making her tail flick nervously behind her, and whispered in her ear: “And don’t let Tuk tire you out too much. I still want to have you again after the hunt.”

“Again?”

“Again.”

He winked at her. And she giggled.

Then Lo’ak made a gagging noise behind him, and Tuk laughed from the entrance.

Shit, if I don’t try to stop it, she really is gonna turn into another Lo’ak …

But that was a problem for later. It was time to leave.

There was always that short moment. The moment when the forest quieted, laying in wait for the upcoming eclipse. A moment when the glowing plants of Pandora started shining their low light as the shadows grew longer, allowing hunter and prey to dance around each other in the age-old rhythm of the world.

The eclipse was a dangerous time of day. A time when newly-awakened nightly hunters scurried along, trying to satiate their hunger before the warm light of the sun returned yet again. It was a time of day when the apex predator of Pandora, the palulukan [thanator], roamed the forest, quickly looking for something to sink their teeth in: an easy challenge for such a skilled hunter. With its giant, soft paws dampening every sound, and its dark, smooth skin cutting soundlessly through the undergrowth, it quickly snuck up on its prey and sunk its teeth in its warm flesh, making quick work of the snuffing out of life.

And for a similarly skilled predator, the eclipse was indeed the perfect time to start his hunt.

Neteyam had quickly found the tracks of a yerik [hexapede]: deep cuts in the vegetation, the faint outline of hooves on the dry ground, and the familiar smell growing stronger as he crept along the path of his prey.

He treaded carefully and calmly through the glowing forest, doing what he was always meant to do: tracking, stalking—hunting.

And slowly, but surely, he was closing in on it.

But then he stopped. There was a break in the yerik’s [hexapede’s] tracks: a sudden interruption in the way the leaves bent—as if it had crossed paths with something. Something that wasn’t hunting it.

That’s curious.

Distracted, he stopped his pursuit and looked down the corridor of crooked leaves and broken twigs leading away from his prey. And, faintly, he thought he recognised the tracks.

He followed them slowly, studying them carefully as he went, step by step, keeping his eyes on the ground. A barely noticeable line cut through the dry mud on the path in front of him as it opened up into a small clearing. He sped across it, keeping up with the line, seeing how it shifted, stopped, and turned.

And then he noticed it: the distinct pattern of a Na’vi’s gait.

It was indeed the same type of tracks he’d seen a week ago, the day that they got stuck in the cave. But this time they led him away from the river, further into the forest—deeper than the hunt usually allowed them to get.

And that small line that cut through the dry mud … As if a leaf had been dragged over the ground.

Someone was trying to hide their tracks.

Neteyam called out to his brother: “Eagle Eye. This is Pathfinder. Do you copy? Over.”

“This is Eagle Eye. I copy. Over.”

“There are yerik [hexapede] tracks by the riverside. But I’ve found some other tracks, leading further into the forest. Going in pursuit. Make sure to get the yerik [hexapede] and take the rest of the hunters back in time. Copy? Over.”

“Sure, bro … But shouldn’t you—”

“You’ll do fine Lo’ak. I trust you.”

There was silence for a while.

“Okay. I copy. But don’t go too far, Neteyam.”

“It’ll be fine. I’ll be careful … over and out.”

Then he started tracking, carefully stepping through the forest in the same way that his mate always did when she hunted: a way of putting your toes down before your heel, letting your foot gently, bit by bit, grace the grass and moss, dampening every impact and making you move soundlessly through the woods.

He followed the tracks for a long while, climbing branches, jumping across trees, and then down again, running through the thick vegetation of the Pandoran rainforest. Sometimes the tracks broke off, and he had to search a large area before he found them again.

But sure enough, he did always find them.

Throughout his hunt, he glanced up at the sky, counting down the minutes—then hours—that he had been in pursuit of the lone Na’vi. The eclipse had ended a long time ago, and the sun was slowly but surely making its way across the sky again.

If he wasn’t careful, he’d miss not only the preparations for it, but the opsync itself as well. And his dad wouldn’t be happy about that.

He had to turn back.

But as suddenly as he had first noticed the tracks, he’d arrived at the end of them, standing in front of an opening to a cave, staring down at what he’d found.

A footprint. Definitely male—given the size of the foot. And all by its lonesome.

When he bent down to study it, he could clearly see the outline of the heel. But it was hard to make out anything else from it: whoever had left it had been careful to remove it. And on top of that, it had been an unusually dry week—whatever could actually leave such a deep footprint must either be a larger animal, like the yerik [hexapede], or have been standing there for a while. Watching. Listening.

Or contemplating, maybe? Digging their heels in.

He readied his bow, crouched down, and started creeping towards the cave. Big leaves were hanging limp at the entrance, obscuring it well, making it a neat little hidey-hole. He carefully folded down a leaf with his bow while he drew the string taut, ready for whatever he’d find inside.

But it was empty. And surprisingly beautiful.

Behind the wall of leaves was a small, enclosed hollow underneath the larger rockface above, angled down from the floor of the undergrowth, going further down the deeper it went. And it was bright: bioluminescent plants were littered all around, lighting up the walls and the ground, where rocks of many sizes were strewn about, moss slowly climbing up them. He looked up at the smooth ceiling and saw how the plants had made their way up there as well. Vines hanging down, flowers in full bloom.

This cave would be beautiful to stay in for the night … Maybe he could find his way back here with his mate sometime.

Then the trees shook behind him, and he spun around, bow ready, aiming up at the canopies.

But he quickly lowered it. It had just been the wind.

Throughout the afternoon, it had started to pick up again, heralding the incoming rain clouds. He saw them in the distance above the massive trees: thick and heavy—and numerous. Stretching out as far as the eye could see.

It would probably rain for weeks.

“We were not like that!”

“Oh, you were!”

“No, we definitely knew how to keep our hands to ourselves. Not like you and Neteyam. How are you always on top of each other whenever I see you?”

“You hypocrite. You and Spider did not hide as well as you think,” you insisted.

After the practice with Tuk, you’d gone to the aviary to wait for Neteyam. But when the hunting party had gotten back, only Lo’ak had returned, saying that his brother was still out hunting, not knowing when he would be back.

Seeing your disappointment, Tuk had invited you over to the Sully’s marui while you waited for Neteyam. And once there, Kiri had quickly joined you, killing some time before she had to help her grandmother prepare for the aftermath of the upcoming raid. So now you found yourself sitting in the marui, gossiping, joking, and laughing together with Kiri and Tuk.

In the corner, Neytiri was leaving her daughters to their business while she carefully cleaned her father’s old bow. A meticulous task that you’d seen her practice every time before a big raid.

“You two were always sneaking away somewhere. We never knew where you were … Frankly, we were pretty worried,” you said.

“For me? What for?”

“No, not you, for him,” Tuk answered before you could. “Just face it, you’re much bigger than him … We were both just wondering how it was gonna work, you know?”

Kiri looked shocked, trying to get a word out, but failing.

“But I guess you sorted it out just fine, huh?” you added. Then you and Tuk snickered.

Kiri shifted her expression into annoyance. “Well, I’m not gonna tell you how it works, that’s for sure. If I did, I’d never hear the end of it.”

“Right. Like we haven’t already found out …,” you said. “Like I said: you guys were not as good at hiding as you thought you were.”

Kiri blushed.

Then you all got distracted by Neytiri. She had finished her task, and having put away her father’s bow, she was now bent down, picking out her next project from her pile of sewings. And as she rummaged, you could hear her humming a familiar song. A song that had been stuck in her head ever since you played it at Jake’s behest on that first night at the bonfire.

And Tuk loved to egg her on.

As Neytiri finally found the piece that she’d been looking for, she started humming the chorus of Sweet Home Alabama, and Tuk chimed in on her guitar.

Neytiri wagged her tail happily to the music.

But then she noticed what she was doing, almost dropping her sewing project as rage took over. “Tuk! Again? Stop playing that horrible song! You know I hate it!”

Tuk laughed. “You started it, mom! You always start it.”

Neytiri tutted and put down her sewings. And then she turned to you. “Eight years of this torture! You should have never indulged him.”

“Well, he asked! And I was new …,” you said sheepishly, cowering a bit in front of your mother-in-law. But still, after having gone on so many raids together, you knew how to match her temper: “How did I know he was gonna beg me to play it for him at every feast after that?”

After he’d first asked you to play it, you’d caught on quickly to Jake’s intentions, figuring out that he hadn’t asked because he liked the song. He’d only asked to annoy his family, and then specifically to annoy his wife. But you’d obliged him all the same.

“But did you have to teach Tuk as well?” Neytiri whined.

“Yes,” you said, laughing as the memory of your mother’s words surfaced. And this time, the blame really was on you. “Unfortunately, when you pick up the guitar, ‘learning Sweet Home Alabama is inevitable’ … That’s what mom always said.”

Tuk and Kiri laughed. And Neytiri scowled at Tuk.

“Sorry, mom … But dad started it,” Tuk said.

Neytiri quickly shifted her blame.

“Where’s Jake? When I get my hands on him, Eywa knows I won’t be merciful anymore,” she said while storming out of the marui, searching for her husband. And Kiri and Tuk laughed even harder.

But as you watched Neytiri leave, you noticed how low the sun was getting on the sky. It was almost time for the opsync … “He still isn’t back yet, is he?” you said, tapping your finger gently on the body of the guitar seated in your lap.

Kiri leaned over and put a reassuring hand on your shoulder: “He’ll come back soon. He wouldn’t miss the meeting.”

“He better not. It’s a big one …,” Tuk said anxiously.

She’d only recently been let into the meetings together with the other warriors, as a sort of preparation for when she was ready to take part in the raids. At seventeen, she was around the same age as when you and Neteyam had joined your first raid, so it was about time. But she was, in a way, the opposite of how you had been at her age. Unlike performing, which had been no issue for her but taken you a lot of courage, being a warrior made her nervous, which had come naturally to you.

And you knew how much Neteyam meant to her. How much of a comfort he was to his little sister. But, in time, you had learned that so were you.

You hid your own troubles and smiled at her: “Don’t worry, Tuk. He’ll make it, I’m sure. But you can always stand next to me if he’s late, okay?”

She lit up again—going so easily from one extreme emotion to the next. “Thank you.”

Then you got up. “But I think I’d better go. I have to put away the guitar and find sempul [father] before the meeting. If Neteyam isn’t back by then, I can meet you outside the lab and we’ll go in together.”

“Okay.”

You said goodbye to your old friends—now sister-in-laws—stepped out, and started making your way back to your marui.

But you’d barely made it half-way before you saw your father already headed for the lab. He called out to you and waved for you to join him. You took a few quick steps over to him, greeting him warmly, bringing forth that loving smile that he always had when he looked at you—his one and only daughter.

“Hello, maite [daughter],” he said as he put an arm around you and squeezed you into a tight but gentle hug, careful not to ruin your guitar. “How was practice?”

“It went well. Tuk is really getting good …,” you answered. Then you giggled. “If I didn’t have ‘an upper hand’ on her, as Neteyam put it,” you said, showing off your pinkie, ”I think she’d have overtaken me a long time ago.”

He chuckled gently at your anecdote. “It’s just because she has such a great teacher, maite [daughter]. You should be proud.”

Your father was never one to exaggerate his praise. But you still suspected he did it sometimes—at least when it came to you.

“I am. She’s doing very well.” You smiled, beaming with pride over Tuk. Then you changed the subject: “Are you on your way to the meeting already, ma sempul [father]? Are you nervous about the raid tomorrow?”

“Yes, I suppose I am … I wanted to get there early to look over the maps again. Do you want to come, get a head start too?”

“No, I can’t. I have to bring the guitar back to the marui first … By the way, have you seen Neteyam? Is he back yet?

“No, I’m sorry, maite [daughter]. I haven’t.”

Now you were really starting to worry: “What is taking him so long …? Maybe we should go look for hi—”

But your conversation was cut short. Neteyam’s troubled voice carried over the rocks as he and Jake got closer, arguing with each other on their way towards the labs. Neteyam was still in his flying gear, bow strapped tight across his torso as he trailed after his father’s annoyed stomps—with Neytiri close behind, listening intently to the argument.

“… I’ve seen it twice now, dad. I’m not making it up. Someone’s in the forest. A Na’vi … We should check it out. Let me take a few warriors and we’ll track them down.”

“I just said that we don’t have time, Neteyam. We need to prepare for the raid … I really don’t like how close that outpost is.”

During Jake’s scouting mission, they’d found yet another outpost of the RDA, newly built, and hauntingly close. If left unattended, they might even be able to finally locate your base. And that simply couldn’t be.

Jake had been preparing the raid all week, and tomorrow it was finally time to attack.

“But what if it really is an RDA scout? What if they brought more avatars?”

“There are no more avatars in the RDA. They shut that program down a long time ago … Besides, how many toes did it have?”

“Well, it wasn’t a clear footprint. I only saw the heel …”

“Then we can’t know for sure if it was RDA or not, Neteyam,” Jake said, exasperated with his insistent son. “And we can’t worry about some footprint that anyone could have left … Ask around in camp. I’m sure someone was out there hunting.”

“I did. No one’s been that far out. And why would they anyway …? I’m telling you dad, it’s only me who goes out there.”

“Then maybe someone from the other clans wen—”

“No. I’ve never seen another clan go there to hunt. Not even the Ni’awve or the Tipani. It’s just me …”

After he’d given them back to you, while he’d been helping you make new strings for your guitar, Neteyam had told you about how he’d found your mother’s tuners. And about the tracks that had led him there.

You hadn’t given it much thought at the time, being too happy and too preoccupied trying to catch up on all the lost time with Neteyam. But as you listened to his insistent arguments against his dad, that pressing feeling that you’d felt intermittently for two weeks now crept up on you again: the feeling of something being wrong.

You looked up at your father, trying to find some reassurance. But he’d gotten an odd look in his eyes: staring at Neteyam with a veiled expression, trying to hold something back.

However, you knew your father well, having learned a long time ago how to see behind his mask. With his ears perked up and his eyes staring blindly in front of him as he hung on every one of Neteyam’s words, it did indeed seem like he took Neteyam’s worries more seriously than Jake.

But why did your father also look so terrified?

“Then one of your own hunters must have left them while you were out,” Jake rebutted.

“And tried to cover their tracks? I don’t think so, dad …”

For a moment, Jake hesitated.

Your father stood rigid next to you. Holding his breath. Waiting for Jake’s decision.

But Jake stayed firm: “There’s no time, Neteyam. I’ll need you for the preparations for tomorrow.”

“But, da—”

“I said no, Neteyam,” Jake said sternly, and far too loud.

Neteyam flinched.

When Jake had made his decision, he was usually unyielding. You knew it, and Neteyam knew it. But you could still see the frustration in Neteyam’s eyes as he slumped down, leaning in on himself in the same way that he always did when trying to show his father respect—not taking advantage of his superior height and trying to stay on the same level as Jake.

Then he shifted his gaze and ears to the ground. Defeated.

Neytiri gave Jake a disappointed look, and he softened up: “Look, we can check it out after the raid, okay son …? Now, be at the labs in twenty. We’re going through the plan with the others.”

“Yes, sir.”

Jake left, Neytiri arguing with him as he went. But Neteyam stayed, watching his father’s back and sighing deeply to himself.

Your father put a hand on your shoulder. He was staring hauntingly into the distance. Then he leaned down to whisper: “Be careful, maite [daughter].”

You met his eyes. He was serious. Very serious.

“Why? What’s wrong, ma sempul [father]?”

“Just … Be careful. Promise me.”

He gave you a stern look. And you fell silent. You knew what he meant.

They had been pursuing your father and mother for your whole life. Hunting your mother down to feed her to the flames. And then hunting your father for dissertation. But with the Omatikaya, you’ve been hidden, and safe, for a long time. And during that time, you’d both been far too busy helping Jake with the war against the RDA to pay any heed to your father’s old clan. You hadn’t even given it a thought in years. Not since you were sixteen.

Had they found you again? The Mangkwan?

“Yes, ma sempul [father] … I promise.”

Your father nodded solemnly at you. And you were both too deep in thought to see that Neteyam had noticed you. At the sight of you, his frustration vanished, replaced by a smile, a wagging tail, and a spring in his steps, as he made his way over to you.

But your father squeezed your shoulder again when he saw Neteyam approach, putting on a mask of reassurance and giving you a smile. “It’s probably nothing. Best not to worry them.”

“Hi! Sorry I’m late … How was practice?” Neteyam said, smiling brightly at you and giving his father-in-law the same polite greeting he always did: a short bow, while touching his finger between his brows.

“It was good,” you answered curtly. And when you only faintly returned his smile, he dropped it fully.

“Is something wrong?” he said, eyes narrowing and brows furrowing.

Ever since you first met him and got to know him during those long training days in the forest together, you’d known that you’d been able to trust Neteyam in a way you’d only ever done with your father and your mother. So with Neteyam, your immediate reaction had always been to tell him the truth, no matter what: “Well, about those tra—”

“We’ve just been talking about the raid,” your father cut in. “It’s a big one this time. And I think we’re all a little on edge.”

“Yeah. For sure …,” Neteyam answered. Still with his eyes narrowed. But when your father smiled at him, he seemed to ease up a bit. “You coming to the meeting too, sempul [father]? Dad’s all wound up about the plan. I think he wants to make some changes. Get some input, you know?”

“Yes, of course, ‘itan [son]. I’ll get a head start. See you both at the lab,” your father said, cutting the conversation short.

Your father squeezed your shoulder again, a bit harder than he usually did. Then he gave Neteyam a familiar pat on his upper back and left.

As your father walked towards the lab, Neteyam seemed to study his gait, and when he turned back to you, confusion had crept back onto his face. “What was that all about?”

For a split second, you hesitated. Would you really lie to Neteyam? Your mate. The man you loved more than anything in the world. No. You really shouldn’t … And you didn’t want to.

But the respect you had for your father ran as deep as Neteyam’s did for Jake. And if your father said to not worry the others, he was probably right …

Right?

You fibbed: “Sempul’s [father’s] worried about the raid is all. Wants me to keep my head on a swivel … But I think he’s just nervous that I won’t be able to focus properly. That you’re taking up too much space in here,” you said while pointing at your head.

Neteyam smiled, suddenly rowdy again. “Oh, yeah? Well, I don’t know about that … But I’ve sure been taking up a lot of space in here,” he said while biting his lower lip and tugging on the belt for your loincloth.

You giggled and gave him a small push. “Come on, Neteyam. We need to get to the meeting soon. And I still have to put away the guitar.”

He gave up his tugging, shifting his suggestive gaze into a sweet smile instead. “Yeah, you’re right …,” he sighed. But then he perked up, excited about his new plan: “I can come with you. To leave my stuff in your marui. Then I’ll have an excuse to see you after the meeting …”

Boy is he hard to satiate …

You smiled and shook your head at him as you started making your way towards you and your father’s marui together.

“By the way, what was all that about with Jake?”

Neteyam sighed deeply. “I saw the tracks again … You know the ones I told you about?”

You nodded.

And he continued slowly, pausing on every sentence, deep in thought. “They were in about the same spot. Maybe more inside your grounds this time … And there was a footprint. But it wasn’t completely clear. It can be hard to make it out on dry ground, you know? But it was definitely male … and definitely Na’vi. Not human.”

“And you think it’s the RDA? That they brought more avatars?”

“I don’t know what to think, really …,” he said, shaking his head. “It could be. But I don’t know why they’d not wear boots. Or why they’d be alone … But it can’t be any of our own, or any of the other clans around here. Why would they try to hide their tracks …? It just doesn’t make sense.”

He paused, deep in thought. Then he asked: “Do you know who it might be …? Your father seemed pretty shaken about something.”

“No … I’m not sure either,” you kept on fibbing, obeying your father.

But you felt it. Yet again. That feeling, pressing down hard on your shoulders.

Maybe something really was wrong …

“Maybe we could go check it out? I’m sure Jake would let at least us two go,” you suggested.

“I would. But we can’t miss the meeting, ma yawne [beloved]. And dad wouldn’t listen anyway … I swear, sometimes it’s like talking to thin air. I don’t know why he’d want me as the next Olo’eyktan if he refuses to listen to me,” he added, frustration slowly creeping back into his voice.

But Neteyam trusted Jake above anyone else. He quickly gathered himself again: putting his hands behind his head, closing his eyes, and breathing deeply. Then he let his hands down again while shrugging his shoulders. “Well, if he says it’s nothing, then it’s nothing … Let’s not worry about it,” he finished, smiling at you, reassuring you.

But as you continued on quietly together, you stole a glance at him. And you could still see the worry in his eyes.

When you got back to your marui, he seemed to finally have gotten over the argument with his dad, being back to his usual self—confident and calm.

Behind you, he removed his gear and put it and his bow right inside the entrance. Then he leaned against the supports to your marui, watching you intently as you bent down to put away your guitar.

He bit his lower lip again: “Too bad I didn’t make it back in time before the meeting, though … I don’t think we have enough time for another round now.”

When you glanced over your shoulder at him, he gave you a suggestive look.

You turned back to finish what you were doing. “Well … how long is it until the meeting?”

“Maybe fifteen minutes by now.”

“And how many times did you come today, ma Neteyam?”

“… Nine.”

You took his hands in yours, and pulled him deeper into the marui, away from all prying eyes. He leaned in to kiss you, his hands already grasping for your loincloth. But you put a finger to his lips and shook your head, stopping him short.

Then you got down on your knees.

Slowly, you let your hands trace down from his chest, over his abs, and to his loincloth, pulling it to the side, springing his throbbing cock free.

He was already ready for you.

As you took him in your mouth, he couldn’t help but let out a loud moan. He put his hand in your hair, stroking it gently. But when you started making your way down his cock, he clasped your strands—hard.

You pushed him in deep, pressing his length as far back as you could without completely choking, drawing out small needy whimpers from him. Then you let your tongue slide over the underside of his length, lapping up his precum and sucking on his tip before you allowed him to bounce back up again.

He let out a shaky breath as you looked up at him.

“Then let me even it out for you.”

When you and Neteyam arrived at the labs, Tuk had been waiting outside, pacing back and forth nervously. But she’d immediately relaxed again at the sight of her big brother. He’d given her a big hug, and apologised for being late. But Tuk had assured him that she wasn’t upset.

Together you’d entered the lab to join the other warriors in the opsync.

Now you stood ready around the table, with Tuk on one side and Lo’ak on the other, as Jake went over the plan again with the high-ranking warriors—Neteyam by his side.

But your mate seemed disinterested in Jake’s recap. Instead, he was studying the maps intently, letting his fingers trace over the screens and holograms in front of him. And you wondered if he was even listening to his father.

“… Me and Neytiri take the gruntwork, leading the charge over here. When we’ve got their attention, you sweep in from the side, Tao’. And Neteyam, from here … Spotters,” Jake said, looking at you and Lo’ak, “you make sure we don’t get any surprises.”

You both nodded.

Jake continued: “We’ll plant the explosives over here. Then we evacuate before w—”

“Here …”

The room went silent as Neteyam cut his dad off.

“… What about here? Their armory is right here in this building. Are we sure we have control of that?”

Jake didn’t answer.

Neteyam must be really annoyed with Jake, you thought. He didn’t usually cut his dad off like that. In the middle of the recap.

“If we don’t secure this point, they can easily pull out more of the AMP suits and overwhelm us. We need to make sure it’s inaccessible to them. I can take a few men and sneak up on them, make sure we’ve got that area under control when you charge … Sir.”

You held your breath. Neteyam’s interjection seemed sound: a stealth mission meant to ease Jake and Neytiri’s advance, and hopefully minimise your losses. But he’d be putting his squad—and himself—at risk: If they were found out, they’d have no immediate backup. And you knew he’d do anything to keep his men safe, even throwing himself in harm’s way—like he’d done when the toruk had attacked.

Neteyam … why are you always gambling your own life?

Jake stood quiet for a moment, weighing Neteyam’s plan. “That could work. But who’ll lead the left flank?”

“Let Lo’ak do it. He’ll handle it.”

Lo’ak seemed to light up at Neteyam’s trust. But Jake was unsure.

“So, just one spotter?”

“Yeah. Why not? You didn’t suggest that callsign for nothing, dad … She’s the Phoenix.” Neteyam smiled gently at you, his fate in you unbridled, knowing how many times your hawk eyes had saved them before. “She’ll pull through. No matter what.”

You smiled back at your mate.

When you had first joined the raids, at only seventeen, you’d got to pick your own callsign. And for a long time, you’d racked your brain, trying to come up with one that you liked—but without any luck. Eventually, Jake had piped up, suggesting the name of a strange animal from his home planet: a fiery bird that could rise again from its ashes. Beautiful and resilient. Persisting in the face of adversity. “Just like you,” Jake had said.

It had felt fitting.

Jake nodded. Then he stood quiet for a second, before suggesting his addendum to Neteyam’s plan.

“It’s a good plan … But we can’t just have one spotter. The area is too large. We need all the eyes we can get.” He looked at his daughter. “Tuk should help.”

Neytiri protested immediately: “Ma Jake. You want to throw her into battle the first thing we do? She’s too young.”

“Neteyam was a spotter at her age … She can handle it.”

“But Jak—”

“Look, it’s either that or we go back to the original plan. We can’t spare anyone else …” Jake looked his daughter in her eyes. She kept his gaze steady, jaw clenched. “Are you ready, Tuk?”

In your heart, you knew your own answer to the question.

Tuk’s iknimaya had gone smoothly. And her hunts were usually quick and seamless. She still had a lot to learn, but she kept a steady pace with the skills you and Neteyam had displayed when you were her age.

She was ready for this.

And she seemed to feel it too.

She nodded: “Yes … Sir.”

Neytiri swallowed hard. And then she looked at you.

She knew exactly what Tuk meant to you, being basically a little sister to you at this point. And you knew what Neytiri was silently asking you to do.

You nodded: I’ll make sure she’s safe.

Through your comms you listened in on the orders given by Jake, your father, and Neteyam during the raid. When Neteyam had moved in with his squad to take control of the area around the armory, your heart had pounded in your chest, cold sweat creeping down your back.

But your fear had been unfounded: he’d performed the stealth attack perfectly.

After that, the plan proceeded well: Jake, Neytiri, and the warriors had charged in, fighting to take control of the RDA outpost, with Lo’ak and your father on the flanks.

As the battle raged on below you, you were flying up high with Tuk, keeping radio contact and guiding her through the assignment when needed. Since it was her first time taking part in a raid, she took her task very seriously, keeping mostly quiet on the other side of your comms as she scoured the area on the opposite side of the RDA outpost.

She seemed completely focused.

And so were you.

You kept your eye on the horizon and your head on a swivel, looking for gunships approaching in the distance. Occasionally you glanced down at the forest below, seeing if any ground troops approached.

“How’s your side looking? Over.”

“It’s clear so far. How is your side …?”

You looked out over the horizon. “It’s clear.”

You had your comms microphone set to the spotter’s frequency, as of now, but you were still listening in on the main channel where Neteyam, Lo’ak, Jake, and your father coordinated their attacks. Throughout the battle, you listened intently for Neteyam’s reply every time he was called. Holding your breath and tensing up more and more for every second that his answer was absent—until you heard his voice, and you could finally breathe again.

Even though it had only been a week since you mated, the thought of losing him got to you, making it hard to focus on your task whenever he was in harm’s way. But having him on the other side of your comms—where you could hear that he was safe—brought at least a bit of comfort to you.

You shifted your gaze down towards the forest below you.

A flash.

In the distance, something shone from in between the trees—the way only metal shines. RDA metal. Not of this world.

Then it disappeared.

“I’ve got eyes. Going to check it out. Over,” you called out to Tuk.

“Okay … Be careful.”

As you flew closer, you saw it again. The same glare from underneath the canopy. It was acting strangely, moving back and forth, as if it was targeting something. And if you didn’t know better you would have almost thought it was aiming at you.

Then it flashed again.

The glare cut through your eyes, almost blinding you as you flew. You blinked, trying to free your eyes of sunspots, and looked down.

You gasped.

It was moving towards the outpost—fast.

You pressed the button on your comms to switch output, calling out to the command unit: “This is Phoenix. Spotted on your six. Checking it out now.”

“Roger,” Jake answered.

Then you swooped down, getting closer to the glint of metal running through the forest below, squinting your eyes to try to get a better look at it. You kept your finger ready on your comms. Was it a vehicle? A soldier running through the forest? Maybe a whole squad …?

Then the glare hit your eyes again. And you heard a swoosh on the wind.

A projectile.

You swerved.

But through the tsaheylu you felt the arrow hit Tiram in her shoulder—just a few inches away from hitting your arm.

You screamed out together with Tiram, feeling in your mind how the pain of the impact shot through her body. Desperately, you clenched your jaw, pushing through the pain to try to steer Tiram away from the attacker.

But as you flew, you also noticed another feeling in her: a sort of drowsiness, making you dizzy. Below you, Tiram’s body grew heavier and heavier, until she started weaving uncontrollably.

She fought valiantly to stay in the air.

“Phoenix?” Tuk called.

Then she lost control of her wing.

“Phoenix? What’s happening?”

And you plummeted.

“Phoenix!”

You hit the canopy hard, cutting through the branches with Tiram, landing miraculously on the giant leaves of the undergrowth, slowing down your fall enough to not take any serious damage when your ikran finally touched the ground, stomach first, wings splayed out helplessly on her sides.

Tiram’s drowsiness was dangerously close to getting a hold of you too, and you forced yourself to break the tsaheylu, immediately surfacing in your own mind.

You crawled off her. “Tiram? Tiram?!”

She could barely keep her eyes open—snorting and grunting loudly as she fought to stay awake.

What was happening? That arrow couldn’t have done that much damage to Tiram. There must be something else affecting her.

… No.

You rushed to her wing, studying the wound. In her blood, you could see a blue, viscous liquid seeping through.

Poison.

“No, no, no!” You crawled forward to your ikran’s head, putting your hands on her neck to rustle her awake. “Stay with me, Tiram! Please stay with me … I need you, Tiram! Tiram!”

Your ikran took one last look at you, and then she slumped down.

You screamed.

Above you, another ikran came swooping down at a dangerously fast pace. Tuk landed next to you and got off, rushing to your side, skidding down on her knees and grabbing you in a tight hug.

“Thank you, Eywa! You’re okay …”

“Tuk …” You hugged her back, tears streaming down your face, too distraught at the loss of Tiram to think straight.

Then your ears reacted before you did, perking up, catching the swish of a second arrow that narrowly missed your shoulder.

It woke you up immediately.

“Someone’s attacking. You have to get out of here, Tuk! Go! Now!” You pushed Tuk away, trying to turn around to get your bow.

But she held onto your arm and pulled you up to your feet, trying to get you to her ikran. “I’m not leaving without you!”

Thwack

You looked down. The third arrow had hit your right thigh, burrowing deep into your flesh. In the wound you saw a blue, viscous liquid seeping from the tip of the arrow, mingling with your blood.

And you grew drowsy.

You fell to your knees, dizziness taking over as you tried to stay conscious, focusing on your senses.

But the poison was acting fast—faster in you than in Tiram. Around you, the world was slowly, but steadily, disappearing. Your hands turned numb. Your vision grew foggy. And your ears rung with a steady note.

Then everything started spinning.

Tuk was shouting above you, but you didn’t hear a word of what she was saying. You tried to push her away. To make her run.

“Go, Tuk!” you croaked helplessly.

But she stayed put, shaking your shoulders violently.

In your peripheral view, you saw movement, and you slowly turned your head. From above, a shadow jumped down from the branches. He landed nimbly on his feet and rushed towards you—knife out.

Tuk let go of you, screaming and scrambling to draw her bow.

She let her arrow fly—and the shadow ducked.

She missed.

As the knife cut across her torso, Tuk howled and fell over. Faintly, you saw the same blue liquid that was taking over your body mingling with her blood.

You tried to scream, but your throat refused to cooperate. And soon, the rest of your body shut down, limb by limb.

You got down on all four. Then you fell to your side. Arms splayed out in front of you. An intense throbbing pain took over your mind as black spots crept into your peripheral view. The last thing you saw was the silhouette of a man coming into view, towering above you.

A triumphant smile spread across his face.

Then everything went dark. Chapter 7

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