#avatar 2009

[l-auteur-fleur]

Mantis Doesn't Whistle Part 2: Bitter Water Made Sweet

PART 1 — PART 1.5 — YOU ARE HERE — PART 3 (coming soon)

Pairing: jake sully x fem!na’vi!reader

Description: Though your future with Jake is marked with uncertainty, your love for him is not. But you're not sure that love will be enough when his secret is revealed and turns your world upside down.  You should have known that you had grown far too accustomed to the metallic smell of his skin.

Word Count: 14.1k

Content Warning: Fluff, smooching, canon-typical violence, death, injury and blood, war, angst, inner turmoil, arguing, a little bit of human!jake, mentions of medical treatment like an injection and medication, (let me know if there is anything i missed) ! 

Author's Note: THANK YOU ALL FOR WAITING SO LONG FOR PART 2 !! i really hope it lives up to your expectations !! it’s crazy that i posted the first part on March 11th and its August now. i genuinely had meant to get this out before June ! 

Speaking of June, thank you @junebugonjupiter for all of your invaluable encouragement, support, and feedback !! it’s a blessing to be writing with you !! i hope to never take you for granted ♥️

thank you to @wooperdedenne @trickbxbes and @aizawasprimarybabymama for your suggestions/requests !! there will be a time jump in part 3 (yes, you read that right) ! enjoy !!

Eywa, give him strength, you prayed. 

The warmth of the fire was almost as oppressive as your nerves, but the rhythmic sound of each slice of your knife steadied your heart. You busied your hands in attempts to distract your mind from your worries by aiding in preparations for the celebration that would hopefully follow the Uniltaron. The night would be full of jubilation only if the rite did not kill Jake first.

You tried to focus on cutting the season’s ripest harvest into even pieces, ignoring the looks your mother and Serunga' sent you. Their chatter was more like noise as they peeled fruits, skewered meats, fanned the flame, and stirred the huru (cooking pot) that hung above it. You glanced at Dr. Augustine, who was pacing nearer to the spiral in her tawtute (human) clothes. She feared he might perish. He was the first dreamwalker to ever attempt the dream hunt and the effects of kali'weya (poisonous arachnid) venom were unknown and could be deadly. Not even Mo’at knew what eltungawng (brainworm) would do to his mind. 

Though the odds were set against him, Jake insisted. He had worked too hard for a worm to “stand in his way,” he had said. Above all he had accomplished, all he had proven thus far, Jake’s acceptance into the clan depended on his victory over death, his second birth. 

Even if all went right, Uniltaron was not pleasant. While you had been with Jake as he successfully bonded with his ikran, you could not bear to witness him in so much pain. You remembered the feeling of the hard ground meeting your flesh as the trance separated your spirit from your body. The thought of Jake screaming and writhing as the elders watched and chanted made your stomach turn. 

Still, your pupil, your beloved, was strong. This you knew.  

After a time, an electric murmur passed through the common area and the room’s atmosphere of sharp anticipation gave way to wonder. You looked up from your task to see Jake appear from the lower levels of kelutral (Hometree). The knife you held dropped onto the ground as you stood. 

He was striking, with white swirls of paint accentuated every curve and sharp angle of his body. You remembered the feeling of his skin under your fingers and the soft, sureness of his eyes as you helped him prepare for the rite of passage. He stopped at the base of the spiral and you felt tears of pride and relief welling in your eyes. Eywa had been so faithful. 

Giddiness filled you as you rushed forward, pushing as close as you could but finding it impossible to make it far. Everyone swarmed toward the newest, unlikely member of the clan, where he stood with Tsahìk and Olo’eyktan at his sides. 

The hum of excitement quieted as Eytukan began to address Jake with long awaited words, “Ngenga 'itan Omatikayaä luyu set. Na'viyä luyu hapxì.” (You are now a son of the Omatikaya. You are part of The People.)

You swallowed down the waves of emotion that threatened to spill over as you listened to each word the Olo’eyktan’s powerful voice spoke. Jake was no longer your student, but an equal in the eyes of the clan; though he had been equal in matters of the heart long before this day. 

Jake looked so handsome standing there as Eytukan placed hands on him, silent, steady, and reveling in his accomplishment. Spreading outward like ripples in a pond, the people joined to create an interconnected web around him. You did your part by placing your hands on the Na’vi in front of you, almost feeling the pulse of energy that flowed through each person. 

Mo’at spoke an ancient saying over Jake, one that had been passed down through generations of warriors, and now blessed a dreamwalker. Her blessing echoed throughout Hometree with a profound finality. Everyone’s arms lowered. 

Once Tsahìk set him free, you had to consciously still your feet from running to him. Jake was being congratulated by those around him, other warriors, slapping a hand on his back, and some even gesturing that they saw him. He grinned and nodded thanks to each of them, but he moved quickly through the crowd, eyes darting around until they landed on you. 

His mouth tipped into a lopsided smile and he walked toward you with an earned confidence he did not possess when his training first began. He had come a long way in a very short time. You met him halfway and Jake caught you as you threw your arms around him.  

“Well done,” you breathed, squeezing him tightly before pulling back to study his face. “How do you feel?”

“That was freaky,” Jake began, looking increasingly troubled. “I saw… I don’t even… know what I saw.”

“It is not for me to know yet. Have you told Tsahìk?” you asked, reaching up to brush stray hairs from where they stuck to his tacky forehead. 

“Yeah.” 

“She will interpret your vision for you.”

He nodded, lips pressed together as his gaze strayed down thoughtfully. 

“I knew you could do it,” you continued, smiling. Jake seemed to push past whatever was bothering him and he returned your smile.   

“Then why have you been crying?” he asked, bringing a thumb up to wipe the wetness from your cheek. 

“I am proud,” you replied. Jake may have been reborn, but it felt as if your life had just begun. “Lawnol fills my spirit. Great joy.”

“Mine too. I couldn’t have done it without you,” Jake said softly, cupping your cheek in his hand. You pressed your nose against his and closed your eyes. “But I’m wiped. I could use some serious rack time,” he mumbled. 

You pulled back, brow furrowed in confusion and you chewed on the foreign words, “Rack?” Jake opened his mouth to respond but you cut him off, “Wait! Do not tell me. I know it.” 

You squeezed your eyes shut, earning a laugh from Jake. “Need a hint?” He asked.

The meaning came to you as you shook your head, and your eyes popped open. “Hahaw (sleep)!”

“Yeah, that’s right, baby,” he laughed. “Good job.”

“See? I have been learning too.” Grinning proudly, you did not fail to observe the tired squint of his eyes. “I think a hawtsyìp (nap) is a good idea. Wash quickly so you can rest before we celebrate,” you recommended with a kiss to his nose. “Find me when you return.” 

“Yes, ma’am.”

After you finished the task you had abandoned earlier, you ran out of Hometree and waited at the entrance. Soaking in the sun, you were thankful for the breeze, even if it was a bit sticky. Excitement took over any other emotion that had plagued you since Jake walked where you stood for the first time all those months ago. There had been many ups and many downs, but you were sure of the finality of this accomplishment, of this day. Your spirit felt settled. 

Weeks before, Jake had sought your mother’s blessing to court you and her hesitance came as a blow. She required confirmation from Eywa before a mating ceremony could be planned. Would Jake’s successful completion of Uniltaron speak loudly for itself as the sign she needed? You had also hoped to assuage her with reassurances from Jake’s human scientists about other logistical details. Jake told you that he would speak to Dr. Augustine before the Uniltaron, but he had yet to relay her words.

You wondered if Kìreysì was unsure, too. It was easy to forget what set Jake apart, that he split his time between worlds. He had weaved himself so tightly into every part of your life, even into your being, that you could not imagine a life without him. You would overcome the challenges, you welcomed them, as long as he could stay by your side. 

Jake’s small figure appeared in the distance, almost as if to confirm your thoughts, and you waved to him as he approached. Your yawnetu (beloved) looked refreshed and pleased to see you, but his feet dragged a little and gave away his exhaustion. In his hand, Jake held a flower and tucked it behind your ear when he got close enough. 

He smiled fondly down at you. “Found you.”  

“Yes, now come with me.” 

You threaded your fingers with his and brought him up to your family’s kelku. Pushing past the curtain of beads, you found it empty just as you hoped. You let go of his hand to retrieve the gifts you had tirelessly crafted and stored away for this day.  

“You know, if you wanted to get me alone–“ 

The smug look on Jake’s face disappeared and his eyes lit up when you turned, holding the matching necklace and armband out to him. The sight of them brought back memories of the fight that had your work spilled on the ground and trod. They held quite a story, but you hoped your love for him shone through every detail.  

“Pretend you have never seen them before,” you requested quietly.

You held your breath as he took them into his hands, anxious to know what he thought now that they were complete. Jake had no family nor a beloved one here when he arrived, but you hoped you could be both to him in time. He studied the intricate weaving with admiration, and your heart soared. 

“To mark your achievements,” you explained, pointing to each detail. “Leather from our first hunt together and stones from the swotulu (sacred river).” 

“Nobody’s ever done anything like this for me,” he spoke softly, looking at you with his beautiful yellow eyes. “Thank you.”

“Oeru meuia (my pleasure). It is the least I could do for you.”  

“No, it isn’t. I know how hard you worked on ‘em,” Jake began, running his fingers over the woven leather. “The trouble they caused you. It means a lot.” 

“Hard work is made easy when love lightens its burden,” you insisted, and Jake’s eyes softened. 

“Help me put them on, would you?” He asked.

You slid the arm band up his bicep and he leaned nearer, tilting his chin up so you could secure the necklace around his neck. His skin was warm under your touch. He kept you from moving back by grasping your hands in his, and looked into your eyes. 

“Thank you,” he said again, his voice low. “For everything.”  

You smiled and squeezed his hands. “You have done what many deemed impossible. You have proven yourself and earned your place among the people. You are a strong warrior.”

He cocked his head to the side and smiled down at you. “I had a good teacher.” 

“This is true, too,” you agreed playfully. “But I am your teacher no longer.”

“You got that right,” Jake said and he dipped down to kiss you softly. 

In the silence of your kelku, you stared up at your feather’s bow where it hung once again as you prepared for the night’s celebration. Jake had restored it back to its stand before he left to rest in his snonivi (single person hammock). The sight brought you comfort and a wave of unexpected excitement. Its presence there confirmed Jake was now your equal. He would no longer need the weapon, for tomorrow he would begin making his own Direhorse Bow from a branch of Hometree. 

With a lightness fluttering in your chest, you styled your hair and changed into ceremonial dress, your most beautiful pieces. After some time, Serunga' appeared at your kelku’s entrance to fetch you down. She found you crouched on the floor adding the finishing touch to your ensemble. You had saved a stone that matched his accessories for your own waytelem (song cord) and wanted to wear it proudly tonight. 

“Come!” She exclaimed, with teasing exasperation. “Ma’ y/n, you cannot be late! It is your man’s celebration.” 

You grinned up at your friend before quickly tying the last knot and looping the songcord into your loincloth. “Kivä ko (Let us go)!”

Together, you and Serunga' descended the spiral, giggling like young children. Music from below floated up the trunk and welcomed you to the celebration. Upon arriving you found bodies swarmed around the common area and the chatter of their voices mingled with the aroma of roasting food.  

You quickly spotted Jake beside Mo’at, both looking very serious as they spoke, and excused yourself from your friend. Serunga' regarded you with a knowing and amused look as you split off and ran toward him, sending an apology over your shoulder.     

Jake broke apart from Tsahìk when he saw you nearing. He presented himself to you with his arms held slightly away from his body, palms facing up. The new battle band he wore was flecked with golden fibers that caught the light of the sun. The piece of armor marked the achievement of training through insurmountable pain with a fierce determination. It gave you great comfort to know that with it on, Eywa would watch over him as he soared through the sky, both now and forever. 

Jake’s brow lifted as he watched you stop just before him to take him in. Paired with your gifts to him, the battle band made him look especially Na’vi, while also accentuating features that were decidedly not. The armband wrapped around his toned bicep and his knife rested on the broad expanse of his muscled chest. His built figure tapered in where the cumberbund hugged his waist. 

Jake’s mouth curved up into a smirk when your eyes finally met his and he reached out to press his fingers under your chin, gently shutting your mouth which had parted in wonder. 

“You look great,” he mused. Heat rushed to your face and you smiled back at him a little bashfully as his own eyes glided over the details of your ensemble. 

“As do you.”  

The night was full of delicious food, energetic dancing, and high spirits. Jake laughed more than you had ever heard him and his charming smile never faded. He kept you near with his lingering touch even as you both moved through the space to converse with different groups, and in and out of the continuous dance.

“When will your vision be performed?” You asked Jake over the jubilant noise, having lost track of time. You took the cup he handed to you and took a sip of the sweet liquid. 

“Mo’at said I didn’t have to,” Jake replied with a shrug. “Said there’s more to be revealed. I don’t know.” 

You glanced sideways at him in puzzlement but the worry could not take root as the drums picked back up and Jake pulled you into the next dance.

The sun had set, and after a hearty meal you and Jake snuck away from the celebration for a quiet moment. You laid in the soft, red-tipped zeswa (grass), resting your head on Jake’s shoulder. He held you to his side with an arm around you, pointing up toward the vast, twinkling night, and showing you the small star where he had come from. You hoped to be like those stars, shining brightly beside him until the end of the age. Surrounded by ancestors, friends, and children. 

Breaking a peaceful silence, Jake spoke quietly, “Y/n, you know my real body is far away, sleeping.”

“This body is real. The spirit within it is real,” you reassured, resting a palm above his heart. “You have taught me that spirit is all that matters.”

You turned toward him and saw his eyes held the stars of the night within them. Using the hand that rested on his chest to push yourself up, you propped yourself over him. Your hair hung beside your face and cast Jake in a deeper darkness. He watched as you smoothed a hand over his chest, then his shoulder, and lowered slowly until the softness of his lips met yours. 

Warmth grew and spread from your chest and out through your limbs to the tips of your being as you kissed him. Jake’s fingers slipped into your hair as he cradled the back of your head, pulling you down and impossibly closer. He wrapped his other arm around your waist, resting a palm flat against your back. You could taste the spices that lingered on his lips from the feast and his warm breath fanned out over your skin. 

In the midst of deep contentment and fluttering affection, was the feeling of forever. Though your future with Jake was marked with uncertainty, your love for him was not. There was no doubt who either of you had chosen. You had never been so sure of anything.

—

Lek’ann was right.

Embers floated down from the grey sky like burning atokirina', littering the plumes of smoke like flaming stars. Omens of the curse you had brought upon your people. Fumes stung your nostrils and eyes as you came to, blinking away debris. The taste of death was on your lips. 

You laid on the singed grass in the aftermath, limbs sprawled around you after having been thrown from your ikran by the blast that brought down Hometree.

Ears ringing, you could barely hear the cries and groans of your people not far from you. You drew in a breath that sounded like a distant sob to your ears. Warm tears streamed down the sides of your face as the weight of your whole life collapsing around you crushed your spirit into the ground. 

He had known. He said nothing until it was too late. Hometree was gone. Everything you had ever known was gone. Your family’s kelku, your father’s bow, the Mother Loom and the sacred Blue Flute with it. Your ancestral home fell before your eyes, crushing the poor souls not quick enough to flee from under its shadow and all hope with it. 

Now, it burned.

You gasped for shallow breaths as sobs wracked through your body, the movement clearing the numbness of your arms and legs. Your entire body stiffened as a sharp sting shot up your leg where a large splinter stuck up through your thigh, warm blood pooling where you lay. You clasped your hands over your lurching chest, squeezing them together as pain was added to your grief. 

“Help me, Great Mother,” voice hoarse, you desperately pleaded over and over. You hunched over and cradled your leg in your hands, staining your palms red. Mind racing and blank all at once, you were unsure of how to pray as panic mingled with sorrow. 

Your name came from afar, but there was no doubt who the ragged voice belonged to. His words to you, from what felt like an eternity ago, echoed, unwelcomed, in your mind. 

“I fell in love–with the forest, with the Omatikaya People–with you. And by then, how could I tell you?” 

Love. The word was a dagger in your heart. You did not know what to believe. The truth of his betrayal was revealed in his confession, but he had begged you to trust him, to listen. How could you? Love and betrayal were incompatible. 

The future you had built up in your mind crumbled down with kelutral. There was tì'awpo (selfishness) in your heart and your people paid the price. You should have known that you had grown far too accustomed to the metallic smell of his skin. 

Sky People bring only pain and devastation. 

Jake’s voice grew louder, edged with desperation, and your chest constricted. You could not face him. You dug your fingers into the dirt and your heart pounded in your ears as you struggled to drag yourself behind a fallen branch. Clawing the bark, you used your good leg to lift yourself over. You grasped your leg with a cry of pain as your back hit the ground again. 

Your head swirled and you dully heard Jake calling your name, his steps heavy as he neared. He swore when he entered the clearing, crouching down by the blood stained grass. His eyes followed the trail of red you left behind and he stood again.

There was more rustling and a woman’s angry screams tore through the air just above you, startling you out of a stupor that blurred the edges of your consciousness. Neytiri placed herself between you and Jake, pushing him back as he attempted to reach you.

“Go away!” She shrieked. 

“Neytiri, please–” 

“Never come back!”

Jake’s voice came no more and a weighty yet hollow feeling carved itself within you. Neytiri’s wails filled the air as shivers wracked your body. Though you had never known the forest to be cold, a chill overcame you. 

You caught a glimpse of Neytiri’s wild, tear-stained face before the color drained from the sky and trees, and the world went dark. 

—

What happened next, you did not know. Your mind was a vortex of dreams, memories and reality, sharp with pain and grief. Figures moved like spirits across your field of vision, eyes barely open long enough to see. The sounds of people singing songs of mourning, calling out to Eywa, droned endlessly around you. 

When you came to, the forest was eerily still and the quiet deafening. You brought a hand up to shield your eyes from the glow of the Vitrautral Ramunong (Tree of Souls) as you straightened. The sky was dark and the people lay sleeping all around you, motionless. You squinted against the blinding purple light, energy pulsing from each tendril as they hung in the windless night. 

Your eye was drawn to a small movement by the base of the tree. A man knelt praying. His face was shadowed, but you felt in your heart that you knew this man. The strength of his shoulders and the slope of his nose. Could it be your father? You shot up and drew nearer to Vitrautral Ramunong. Each step propelled you forward until you were running, almost floating.

You called out to him, but when the man turned you were face-to-face with Jake. Your heart dropped like a stone. You scrambled backwards, foot catching on a root as you twisted away, sending you to the ground with a yelp.

Your hands and knees splashed into water. Wings flapped furiously around you, whipping your hair over your eyes and into your mouth. When you tore it away, you saw a fkio (tetrapteron) with her young on the bank of the river. You had seen this before. The strange familiarity of the scene nagged at you, but there was no time to think. 

The fkio’s young spread their vibrant orange wings all at once, morphing into one giant expanse striped with shadows. Their purple mother was unmoving and her sharp eyes bore right into yours. She opened her beak, shrieking so loudly your ears rang and you flinched back.   

You woke with a start, heart beating wildly. Taking in your surroundings, you found that you were beside the Mother Tree, but had not moved, not run toward her. The sky above you was the pale blue of dawn instead of night. Bodies slept restlessly around you, scraped and bruised. 

Your limbs felt stiff and you blinked away the confusion of your dream. You had never dreamt so vividly and neither had you been visited by your spirit animal since your dream hunt. A searing pain stabbed through your leg as you tried to sit. A sticky dressing of herbs and thick leaves wrapped around your thigh and the sight of it brought everything back. 

The loss felt so deep that a sinking, numbness overtook you. Heavy and trembling all at once, your gaze stayed fixed on the fibers that held your leg together, tears wetting your cheeks, until your mother stirred beside you. 

“Parultsyìp,” she breathed in relief, gathering you into her arms as you crumpled. 

Three days. It had been three days since the fall of Hometree. While you had been slipping in and out of consciousness, the people had found refuge where connection to Eywa was deepest in all the forest.

At each eclipse, song cords were sung to remember those who passed through the Great Mother’s eye. A ritual to remind you that the darkness had an end and that the sun always returned no matter how hard it was to believe. 

Between the almost endless time of prayer and communion with Eywa, Tsahìk and Tsakarem cared for the hurt. Mo’at and Neytiri had been treating you since your unconscious body was carried to the new settlement and they checked on your leg multiple times a day and prayed with you. 

Your wound was deep, and you were weakened from the fight against blood loss and infection. Yet, it was not just your injury that made you weak. All the hurtful things Lek’ann believed about you, said about you, were proven to be true. You were soft-hearted, easy to manipulate, easy to string along, easy to betray. 

For days you had laid among all the wounded, feeling and seeing the accusation in every eye that landed on you even through the haze of pain. And you could not blame them. It was your weakness, your trust, that brought upon all this trouble.

The warm touch of a hand on your shoulder tore you from your thoughts. You brought your gaze up as Mo’at crouched beside you. 

“My child,” Mo’at greeted, making quick work of removing the dressing on your leg. Her eyes were kind, though filled with sorrow. “What troubles you?” 

“I am cursed, Tsahik,” you whispered, closing your eyes in shame. “I must be.”

“What makes you think this?” She calmly inquired, picking out and discarding the moss that she had used to pack the wound. 

“I do not have a strong heart,” you gritted out, resisting the urge to pull away from Mo’at’s continued prodding. “Each time I open my heart, I bring trouble for our people.”

She hummed in thought, dipping fresh moss and plant fibres into a bowl of poultice. “There is strength in having an open heart.” 

Your throat was so tight your next words sounded half choked. “I am as guilty as he is. You never should have trusted me.” 

“If what you say is true, I share a piece of the blame, too.” Tsahìk paused, but never slowed in her healing work. “I have been Tsahìk for most of my life, but do not have all the answers. What I do know is that Eywa’s hand is on his life. The Great Mother sees what we cannot see and we must trust her.”

“How could Eywa allow this to happen? 

“Do you believe you truly know Jakesully?” Mo’at asked, meeting your eyes with her sharp gaze. 

You blinked heavily. You thought you did, better than anyone else, but clearly you did not. Heartbreak twinged the relief you felt that you were not mated to a traitor. Was it Eywa’s mercy for your naiveté? Jake let you dream of the future like a love-sick fool, playing along like he had wanted it too. 

“I… I do not know,” you answered quietly.  

“Pray that he will make the right decision when the time comes,” Mo’at counseled, “It will come. What he does next will decide our fate, and prove that he is one of us in his heart.” 

You were both silent as she packed your wound and re-bandaged it. The pain of the ordeal left you tense and lightheaded when it was complete, but you reached out and touched Tsahik’s arm before she could leave. 

“I am sorry about Olo’eyktan,” you whispered. “Eytukan was a compassionate and wise leader.” 

“Thank you, child,” Mo’at answered with a sad smile. “The living will mourn the dead, but they are at peace.”

The next morning before sunrise communion, one group of hunters prepared to accompany the foragers, while another group prepared for an attack. With the death of Eytukan, Tsu’tey became Olo’eyktan. In his attempts to protect what remained of your people, he led a group of Na’vi warriors on counter attacks against the RDA. 

Each time, they returned with disappointing reports. They found no success against the machines the cowardly humans hid inside of, but that did not stop them from trying. 

Laying on your side in the indigo light, you watched your peers as they saddled their ikran and went out into the forest to find pa’li to ride. You would have ridden with your brothers and sisters if it had not been for your leg. You felt useless. You would do anything as penance for the part you played in the devastation of life as you had known it. The only thing you could do was pray, and so you prayed. 

Once the songs of morning praise commenced, you closed your eyes and tilted your face toward the sun. You prayed for Eywa’s ear to turn toward your people, for her guidance and provision. Though you were weak, Eywa was strong. 

You prayed for the protection of the warriors and foragers that would risk their lives for the sake of your own. You prayed that Serunga' and her grieving family would find peace amidst the loss of her brother. For Mo’at, Neytiri, and all in mourning. For Tsu’tey and for every soul he had now led.  

You prayed for yourself, for your wound and the weight in your heart that made every breath burdensome. Like a grounded bird you had none of your own strength left to rely on. 

For the first time in days, you prayed for Jake, and not about the things he had done or how much he had hurt you. With Mo’at’s words in mind, you petitioned the All Mother that he would be wise and do what was right.      

As the prayer left your lips, a shadow passed across your face before your ears even heard the change in the wind. Your eyes flew open. It moved too quickly to be a cloud and there was only one beast so large.  

Toruk. Once his shadow was seen, it was already too late. 

Screams and gasps erupted from the crowd of singing people as they scrambled for cover that did not exist in the stone basin. Your heart dropped to your stomach as your mother pulled you off the ground. Even the ikran around you were thrown into a frenzy, fleeing from the predator’s attack. 

Your leg made you stumble, and you looked over your shoulder as Toruk neared. Against the glare of the sun, something caught your eye. Silhouetted, a figure rode atop the fearsome creature. You stopped dead in your tracks.

“Toruk Makto,” your mother gasped from beside you. “Oe ngenga sweri, Ma ‘Eywa.” (I praise you, Eywa.) 

The great beast stretched its expansive, broad wings to slow its descent before landing on its clawed feet. There was a noticeable shift in the air as the man slid down from Toruk’s back, calming the beast with his touch. Only someone with a pure soul could become Toruk Makto. Someone destined to be a hero, a savior, said to lead the people to victory during times of great sorrow. He was the answer to your people’s prayers.

Momentarily, Toruk Makto was blocked from your view, but your stomach felt like it dropped out from under you at the brief glimpse of his profile. Blood pounded in your ears, louder than the wokau (pendulum drum), as Jake stepped down from the boulder. Your mother caught you as you swayed on your feet.  

The crowd parted with every step Jake took, many reaching out their hands in reverence toward him. He approached the Mother Tree where Mo’at and Tsu’tey stood with careful steps, but his gaze wandered over the crowd. You knew he was looking for you and for a split second, you wanted to be found. Part of you felt the pull toward him, longing for things to be as they were. But any pride and excitement quickly shriveled up inside you, knowing that nothing could ever be the same between you. You shrunk away and turned your head to stare at the ground instead. 

Echoes of Jake and Tsu’tey’s conversation made it back to where you stood as it was passed from person to person. In near perfect Na’vi, he had said, “Eo ngenga kllkxem ohe, alaksì Omatikayaru, kìte'e sivi.” (I stand before you, ready to serve the Omatikaya people.)

Your heart and mind were torn. His words were just what you wanted to hear, but were they just the empty promises of a traitor?

For a moment, your thoughts drifted from Jake as word that Dr. Augustine was fatally wounded rippled through the crowd of people. Kìreysì had been one of the only advocates for your people, a second mother to many of your peers, and the only tawtute to have taken a bullet for protecting Na’vi children. 

It was said that Jake was going to bring Kìreysì back to petition Eywa to save her, and you watched as he rushed back through the crowd to Toruk. Just as before, his gaze swept over the people and you regretted following his movements when his eyes met yours. His step faltered and your eyes widened, your grip on your mother’s arm tightening. 

Jake’s expression contorted with a mix of emotions, but it held a hesitant question. You looked away hoping that was answer enough, desperately hoping he would not come to you. When you looked back up, Toruk was in the sky, his wings stretched wide. Cries of amazement were drawn by the spectacle and the crowd began to buzz. 

Jake was Toruk Makto, rider of Last Shadow. And yet, you still felt empty.

For what might have been all night, the people had called out to Eywa in one voice, “Srung si poeru, ma Eywa” (help her). Begging for Her mercy and to allow Dr. Augustine to live, to walk among you. Each bond with the roots of Mother Tree glowed a bright green, and you all swayed to the All Mother’s powerful heartbeat. 

Despite your efforts, Kìreysì’s wounds were too great for the transfer and another life was lost. From your spot you could see Jake kneeled, hunched over the small body of his friend. A tense and silent moment passed before the set of Jake’s shoulders drew back with strength.

He pulled himself up and addressed the people, pausing to let Tsu’tey translate every sentence, “The Sky People have sent us a message… that they can take whatever they want... and no one can stop them…Well, we will send them a message.”

“You ride out as fast as the wind can carry you,” he ordered. “You tell the other clans to come. Tell them Toruk Makto calls to them! You fly now, with me! My brothers! Sisters!” 

His hearers were so entranced that they were unconsciously leaning forward, drinking in every word he uttered. It was the emotion in his voice that convinced you that he did fall in love with the forest, with the people, and with you. That it was more than just a word. A rush of shivering warmth erupted over your skin. Jake Sully had chosen a side. 

But would that be enough? 

“We will show the Sky People that they can not take whatever they want! And that this... this is our land!” He concluded with strength, earning a thunderous ovation. 

Tsu’tey raised his arms with a shout, before he, Jake, and Neytiri dashed through the crowd toward their mounts. Toruk descended from where he perched on the rim of the basin at Jake’s call. The sight of the predator still evoked a flicker of fear within you. 

The sun seemed to have risen with the flaming wings of Toruk and the passion of his rider. His words stirred the hearts of your brothers and sisters and they obeyed. Those who could, ran to mount their ikran, determination and hope bright on their faces as they rushed past you to join Toruk in the air. 

You curbed the deep desire to go to your ikran, to do something. How could you when you could barely even take one step? 

You were surprised to see Serunga' when she came bearing niktsyey (food wraps) for midday meal, wordlessly lowering beside you. You nibbled on your food, chewing quietly for a moment before asking, “You did not fly out with the others?” 

She shook her head with a scoff and kept her gaze forward as she answered, “Would you have?”  

You looked down at the food in your hands, made by someone who refused to be useless. “Yes.” 

Serunga' shifted and her eyes bore into the side of your head. “Even after everything he has done?”

“For our people.” You nodded. “I owe them that.” 

“He should have had the foresight to become Toruk Makto before devastation rained upon us,” Serunga' said with venom, gesturing to all the wounded and the mourning people. “What cruel irony that the ‘mighty force’ sent to aid us is the traitor who brought it upon us.”

“We cannot choose how Eywa answers our prayers,” your mother’s voice came. You looked up as she approached with a water carrier slung over her shoulder. “He succeeded in what only five have done before. Was it not an act of atonement?” 

You peered at your mother and regarded her with a frown. She made it sound so simple, like all her reservations about Jake were wiped away by one action. If this was the sign she had been waiting for, it came with a great cost. 

Serunga' took your hand and when you met her gaze, you saw she was unconvinced. The paint of mourning marked her visage and ran down to her chest in a thick white line. “He may be helping us now, but remember, tsmuke (sister), fwäkì ke fwefwi (Mantis doesn’t whistle).”

“Enough, Serunga',” your mother chastised and your brow drew together at the harshness of Serunga'’s words. “You know better than to believe that people are unable to change. He has made his intentions and loyalty clear.”

“Intentions,” your friend repeated bitterly. “Intentions mean nothing. Wanting to do good is not enough.”  

“We must honor the man we know he can be,” your mother urged. “Otherwise he will stay the traitor and the failure you say he is.” 

Serunga' shook her head as she stood. “I know you love him, y/n, but remember, he will always be a human.” 

Later, as you rested, you ran your fingers over the bracelet of uneven, wooden beads that clung to your wrist. Each imperfect sphere was unique to the touch, but it was almost as heavy on your wrist as the thought of Jake was in your heart. 

You knew you should not treasure the traitor’s gift, but you did not have the strength to discard it. Not when the others had burned with your home. It was the only one of his gifts that remained and you clung to it; and with it the memories of the early days of your growing love. Like fire and ice, his thoughtfulness and sincerity were contradictory to his betrayal. 

What Serunga' had said sunk deep within you. Her anger was at odds with your mother’s reason, wrestling like viperwolves in your mind and heart. You had said those same words to Jake about another man on the day you met him, a Na’vi man whose true colors were not determined by the pigment of his skin. It was Jake who had lightened that load which had weighed heavily like a yoke upon your shoulders with his easy smile and comforting presence. 

You were so sure that Ewya had given him to you as much as she had to your people. You had defended Jake from the accusations that his human nature made him deceitful– evil –as many had good reason to believe. You saw in him a pure soul long before he bonded with Toruk; you were the last person he would have needed to prove that to. 

But his lie, the secret that he kept, was like a blood stain upon a garment, seeping red into its beautiful fibres. You had prepared for the challenges that would come against you and Jake, but not those that might come between you. How foolish you had been. 

What else had Jake kept from you while you were too distracted by your own problems, and then by your love for him, to see what was plain? Could it have all been one big ruse? 

You squeezed your eyes shut. You could not bring yourself to believe that. You did not want to. Not when, despite everything, it was his smile you wished to see on the faces of your children.  

Jake had brought hope with him upon his return, and yet it was hard to picture a life beyond this moment at all. There was now a war on the horizon, and with it the promise of more loss. Everything was different, and the uncertainty made the future seem grim. Far from the starry hope you felt just days before. Days that had felt more like lifetimes. 

You curled into yourself as your thoughts ran in circles, keeping sleep at bay until it came all at once.  

—

Thousands of Na’vi came pouring in over the next few days. Your people had gone as far as they could, with an extraordinary haste. The loss of your clan’s tsamkuk (war drum) in the destruction of Hometree made quick communication with neighboring clans more time-consuming. But fifteen clans answered Jake’s rallying call with fervor, mobilizing quickly. It was unlike anything you had ever seen.  

As you watched the sky in awe, the sight of each warrior atop their ikran added to the growing feeling of hope in the encampment. When they had all arrived, they joined the urgent preparations for battle that consumed the area surrounding the stone arches. Every Na’vi moved with purpose. Even if you could not join the fight, you helped make arrows for it. You refused to be useless.  

The demon ship that had brought Dr. Augustine to the Mother Tree had returned. Blowing up dust into the air as Jake’s friend, Trudy, flew it under the cover of the sheltered cave where all the children, elderly, and injured Na’vi had been relocated. Jake came jogging into the cave after the ship and a wave of regret and longing filled you at the sight of him, threatening to break your tired heart. 

Curious children surrounded the ship at a distance, trying to catch a glimpse of the tawtute (human) and another uniltìranyu (dreamwalker). But your eyes followed Jake, whose head had been shaved on each side, the remaining hair styled into a braided mohawk that cascaded down his broad back. Each braid was intricately ornamented with feathery leaves and colorful beads. They swayed as he greeted his friends and your work laid unfinished in your hands. 

Your heart twisted, and something burned within you. Not only did he adopt Omatikaya tradition with the transformation, he was also readying for war. What you saw was not a simple style and likely required assistance. It must have taken someone many, intimate, hours to complete for him. It could have–should have–been you to do it.   

You had forfeited that right by pushing him away. He had forfeited that right by lying to you. But you remembered the closeness of it, how his hands ghosted over your waist as you kneeled between his legs. How his bright yellow eyes trailed over your face as your fingers intertwined the wispy strands of hair that always fell across his forehead.

Those same eyes caught your own when he turned to leave, and you both froze. He tried to offer you a smile, and with a sharp breath, you quickly tore your eyes away to avoid its sting. You stared at the arrow that you gripped in your fist, feeling the rapid throb of your longing heart all the way in your fingertips. 

A report from the scientists at Hell’s Gate confirmed that the humans would strike the next morning. There was no time left and the apprehension of war suddenly loomed over the encampment. Your stomach turned throughout the solemn, last-minute pre-battle ritual held that night. 

A hastily prepared feast was given to strengthen the body, while dances demonstrated moments of prowess and glory from previous battles for encouragement. Then to strengthen the spirit, everyone moved to surround Vitraya Ramunong once again, where Mo’at led prayers until Naranawm (Polyphemus) shone in the sky. 

As one people, two-thousand Na’vi joined together to petition Eywa’s help and protection over the lives of all those who would join the fight against your ruthless adversaries. You closed your eyes and let the beautiful sound of all the singing voices wash over you, praying in a spirit-moving unity for Eywa’s favor. For the fight was ultimately on behalf of all life on Pandora, and she who gives life. 

After Mo’at concluded the collective supplication, many warriors slipped away to find their own quiet places to prepare themselves for the day ahead. Others retired to their encampments, but you passed countless non-warriors that remained seated as you slowly limped toward the Mother Tree. You would not be surprised if they prayed the entire night, and unceasingly, until the battle was over. 

Not wanting to waste the painful effort of having climbed down into the stone-shielded basin where the Vitraya Ramunong stood, you approached it with Serunga'’s supportive strength. The willowy branches of Mother Tree cast a purple hue over everything, alighting the underside of the stone arches that protected it. 

“Is this a good spot?” Serunga' asked as she helped you lower onto a large surface root.  

“Yes, perfect,” you replied a little breathlessly. “Thank you.”

She smiled faintly, but her tail moved restlessly behind her. You knew she was impatient to perform tsaheylu, no doubt to see her brother. Though her opinion of Jake had not changed much, she would fight tomorrow. To remember all the dead and to protect the living.   

“Go. Take all the time you need,” you said, giving her a light push. “I will be here. I cannot go far without you.” 

With a nod Serunga' found a spot within view and quickly connected her queue to a glowing tendril. Her eyes closed and her lips stretched into a grin. A rare sight. You admired your friend’s joyful expression for a little longer and gently took your kuru into your hands. 

However, before you could make tsaheylu, your ears flicked toward the sound of a familiar voice nearby.     

“I’m probably just talking to a tree right now, but I need to give you a heads up.” 

It was Jake’s voice that came from around the trunk of Vitraya Ramunon. 

You slowly rose and braced yourself against the tree as you moved. Peeking around, you found Jake kneeling on the ground. He was reaching for his tswin (queue) and brought it up to form a connection with the Great Mother. Looking up at the glowing bond with eyes full of uncertainty, Jake took a deep breath before speaking. 

“If Grace is there with you, look in her memories,” he continued, slowly. “She can show you the world we come from. There's no green there. They killed their Mother, and they're gonna do the same here.”

Your fingers dug into the bark under your hands as you listened to his desperate plea. It was as if you had stepped into the dream from days before, watching just as you had then. Curiosity and malaise warred inside of you like the cold and warm air that conceives a storm. 

“More Sky People are gonna come.” Jake’s voice was laden with dismay. He shook his head and elaborated, “They're gonna come like a rain that never ends…Unless we stop them. Look, you chose me for something,” he said with conviction, “I will stand and fight. You know I will…” His voice softened into a whisper, “But I need a little help here.”

His head bowed and his shoulders rounded forward. A flash of light flitted just beside you, tearing your attention away from Jake for a moment. Your eyes caught and followed the atokirina' as it floated up into the air and joined the many that lingered above Jake. 

As if in answer. 

You gasped, loud enough for Jake to hear, and he whirled around at the sound. His ears found you before his eyes, and you swallowed thickly when they did. Tired, yet beautiful, golden eyes were sadder than you had ever seen them and made your heart twinge as they darted all over you. The exhaustion of a man pushing himself to his limits was plain in shadows underneath them. 

“Y/n,” he breathed and the broken sound of his voice alone made tears well in your eyes. 

Jake stood to his feet and let his kuru fall as he took a hesitant step toward you, gaze lingering low, no doubt on your leg. You flinched back and tore your eyes away from him, feeling your walls tumbling down with him so near after so long apart. You could not meet those eyes, his expression so tender, so hopeless, and looked anywhere but.

“I have no right to ask you to hear what I have to say…” Jake began, and the confidence of the man you knew, standing in front of your people and speaking with strength, seemed to have drained out from him. “You have every right to push me away, to hate me, but please, give me a chance to explain.”

Hate was a strong word. Unmoving, your gaze lifted and fixed on his five fingers that reached out to you. Everything in you wanted to take it, and the shameful desire kept you frozen to your spot. The desire to hold him, to finally feel the warmth of his embrace, hear the beat of his heart under your ear and know he was alive.

“Please, baby,” he pleaded.  

“Do not call me that,” you snapped without thinking, the familiar words an echo of an old, deep hurt. The foreign term of endearment was too much for your heart to handle. With it, came to mind every time Jake had said the word to you. Always with love. Always with sincerity.   

Jake's exhale was defeated, unbelieving, fingers curling into a fist as it fell to his side. “I’m sorry,” he professed quietly. “I’m so sorry.” 

“I know you are.” You started quietly, the beating of your heart almost drowned out the sound of your voice as you spoke. “But what you did, Jake… I cannot forgive.” You swallowed thickly and kept your eyes locked on the strong roots of Mother Tree, trying to keep waves of your pent up sorrow from pouring out all at once. “I spent every day with you. I taught you everything I knew. I gave you everything, my future… All under false pretenses.”  

“That’s not true–” 

“You knew.” You shook your head, voice rising and breaking. “The whole time. How can anything be built on a lie? You betrayed my trust, Jake. You lied to me knowing everything I went through. Used me and strung me along. Made me into a fool; letting me dream of a future you knew we could never have.”

“It wasn’t a lie. Nothing about how I feel about you was a lie,” Jake rushed to explain and you frowned. “I didn’t know I would fall in love, and that this place would matter so much to me.” He took a breath. “I messed up…Big time. I was following orders, trying to prove myself to people who don’t care about anything but themselves. They used me like a pawn in their game. And I let them. But–”

“Was I part of those orders? Part of the game?”

“No, baby, no,” Jake said in disbelief, taking a step closer to you. He gestured between you. “This isn’t a game to me. It never was.”

Your eyes snapped up to his and searched them for any sign of untruth. He held your gaze and neither of you looked away. You wanted desperately to believe him, his eyes were begging you to. 

“How do I know what you say is the truth? How will I ever know?” You asked, sounding pathetic and desperate.

“I came back. I’m here now,” Jake insisted, eyes imploring. “You’ll just have to trust me. That’s what people do when they love each other. They trust each other.”

“And they are honest,” you countered sharply, making him wince. 

“I should have told you, I know, but I didn’t want things to change,” Jake confessed and you shook your head. “I couldn’t figure out a way to tell you without losing it all. I was trying to buy time, but it was too late.”

“Selfish, selfish, you are selfish!” you accused, digging your nails into the rough bark as your tail lashed behind you. 

“I'm selfish, okay? Is that what you want to hear?” Jake’s brow shot up. “I'm selfish and scared that I'll lose the one good thing that’s ever happened to me.” 

“I defended you, told everyone who doubted you that you are not like them, but you are all the same,” you lamented, shutting your eyes again. “My people have lost everything. All because of your kind.”

“My kind? You knew that I was a human long before any of this and that didn’t stop you from choosing me.” Jake paused before continuing more calmly. “I’m on your side. I may be human, but I’m one of you, too…” He sighed, and muttered, “A traitor either way you look at it.” 

You stared at him. He surely looked it; a dreamwalker with one foot in each world. 

There was no doubt what side Jake was on, not anymore. Not after hearing his words to Eywa and all he had done since returning as Toruk Makto. Only someone truly desperate or truly reckless would attempt it, and only one truly worthy could achieve it. And yet, his betrayal weighed heavily in your chest, a greater wound than the one on your leg. It poisoned the silence between you now, accentuating the foreboding night in all its solemn loneliness. Made only lonelier by love once freely given and now withheld.  

“They called me one too,” you finally said, wrapping an arm around your middle. “For teaching you our ways. For loving you… I was completely blindsided. You kept things from me when I could have helped you. Did you not think that I would?” 

Jake’s furrowed brow lifted. “And if I told you did, would you have listened? Would the people have left Hometree like I begged you to?”

You hesitated. “No–”

“No, you wouldn’t’ve,” Jake retorted. “I learned pretty quickly that you never would’ve given up your home, not for anything they could offer.” He shook his head. “Y/n, the clan would’ve thrown me out or cut my heart out if they knew that’s why I was here.” 

“But how can you love something and let it be destroyed?”

“You saw what they can do,” he said, gesturing vaguely toward the surrounding forest. “They would’ve taken down hometree and you with it, even if you tried to fight back.”

“Look around you, many have already lost their lives, Jake,” you reasoned. “We might have had a chance if–” 

“And I’ll carry those deaths with me for the rest of my life,” he started, regretfully, “But you don’t know half of it. They want to wipe this place, your people, from existence! An explosion so big it’ll be like you were never here. And it’s gonna be on me if they do.” 

Jake frowned and you felt your face fall into the same expression before he continued, “You don’t stand a chance against them, ready or not. We don’t stand a chance if there isn’t some kind of miracle.”

You looked up at the delicate strands of Mother Tree, chewing over his earnestness and a harsh reality. “Eywa does not take sides,” you told him, bittersweetly feeling somewhat like his teacher again. “She protects only the balance of life.”

“But she hears us, right?” Jake countered. “You taught me that.”

You nodded slowly. “Yes, but she will not answer all of our prayers,” you clarified, feeling the weight in your chest only grow. “As much as we want her to.”

“I dreamt about him,” Jake announced, gaze unfaltering. 

Your brow furrowed. “Who?”

“Toruk. His shadow fell on me during my dreamhunt,” Jake explained, and you realized that his vision had never been shared. He looked up at you and put a hand over his heart. “And when I was in the place the eye does not see, I knew exactly what I had to do. It was like Eywa told me herself.” 

You blinked, trying to process the new information. 

“If she believes in me, can’t you?”

“There is nobody who believes in you more than I do,” you confessed, closing your eyes and swallowing down the tightness in your throat. “But look where that got us, Jake.”

His jaw moved in a way that you knew meant he was trying to gather himself. It took a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “I can’t promise that I won’t mess up again, but I like the guy that I become when I'm with you. You showed me that there’s so much more… You taught me to see.” His lips twisted and curved down. “I don’t deserve a second chance, believe me I know, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, ‘cause… I've got nothing, not without you.”

Jake held out both of his hands to you in a gesture that resembled surrender or an invitation. You grasped for words to push back with, excuses to keep him at bay, but could not find them.     

“Come morning, I'm goin’ out there for us. For our future. Our children and our children’s children,” he continued and you swallowed, clutching at your throat as it worked to keep down a surge of emotion. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, but I can’t do this without you. I just… I need to know that when the fighting is done, if I make it, that I’ll have something to come back to.” 

If. The thought of never seeing him again, of losing him, made you feel sick to your stomach. Mo’at and your mother’s wisdom clashed with the bitterness and hurt that hardened your heart toward the man you loved. Like a blow to the stomach, the word made you falter, and the muscle in your thigh twinged. The spasm sent a jolt up your body and weakened your knee. Jake stepped forward as you cried out in pain. You clung to the Mother Tree, as tears pricked your eyes and you scrunched up your face to try to keep them from falling. 

You held up a hand, and breathlessly managed, “I am alright.” 

“It’s getting late,” Jake said, deflated, tentatively stepping onto the root you stood on. 

“Jake.”

“You need to rest,” he insisted, voice soft and tight. “Let me help you get back, okay?”

“Jake, listen to me,” you said again, straightening your spine, and wiping the wetness that leaked from your eyes. He stopped, hands hovering in the air. With a steadying breath, you met his gaze with your watery one. “You will always have my heart, but like my wound, I will need time to heal.” 

Jake’s jaw ticked, but he nodded. “I understand.” 

“We can never go back to before. Not my people… not us…” you continued, feeling choked. Especially at the sight of his glassy eyes. “I cannot promise anything, but we do not know what tomorrow may bring, so go with my love. I hope it will be enough.” 

“Thank you,” he almost whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

“I know.”  

—

Your heart beat widely in your chest all through the night, and you could not get the image of Jake’s face nor his words out of your mind. Paired with the ache of your leg, you had barely slept, and it was doubtful that anyone had. Your nerves were alight and fraying with anticipation for the impending battle, and you felt the same energy in the air the next morning. Everyone had awoken early, ahead of the rising sun, and each encampment bustled with the final preparations for war.    

The knot in your stomach made it hard to eat and your eyes drifted from the food you were nibbling to find Jake as he approached you. Your eyes widened at his sudden appearance, but you could not help but marvel at the tsamopin (warpaint) on his body. They mirrored the coloring of Toruk and made him look like the fierce warrior he had proven himself to be, powerful and strong. 

The details of his regalia became clearer as he neared, revealing the human gear that he wore alongside the Na’vi adornments. He had kept on the necklace and armband you had made him, and your restless heart ached.  

You were lost in thought until Jake spoke, his voice cutting through the clouds of your mind like sunshine, “Take this.” 

He had crouched down to your seated level and you met his gaze, earnest eyes rimmed with black paint. He had not been so close to you in days, even the night prior, and the nearness of him filled your stomach with fluttering lortsyal (shimmyflies). 

Jake gestured to his hand that was held out to you. Within it were unfamiliar items, identical to the ones he wore around his neck and by his ear. You blinked and your brow furrowed. 

“Comms; so I’ll know you’re safe, even when I’m out there,” Jake explained, the low rumble of his voice steady, but laden with an edge of strain. “My voice will come through this part, right in your ear.” He held up the small piece. “And you just have to press this to speak,” he continued, reaching up and pressing his fingers against the band around his neck. “I’ll be able to hear you. So will Neytiri, Tsu’tey, and Norm and Trudy, they all have one.” 

“How?” you asked, regarding the human technology with suspicion as you gingerly took them. 

“It picks up the vibrations directly from your throat,” he elaborated, using both his hands to close your fingers around the objects. “Please, wear it.”

All you could focus on was the feeling of his hands around yours, and the cold that replaced them when he let them fall. You looked up and were struck by the somber expression on his face as he awaited your answer. So you nodded, though you were unsure. 

“And stay here, under cover, unless you hear otherwise,” Jake continued. “If I tell you to run, run. Take your mom, everyone, and get as far away as you can. Understand?”

You nodded again and something almost unreadable flashed in Jake’s eyes. You had only seen it once before, right before the fall of Hometree. It was fear. And it was gone in an instant, and he nodded in response to yours. 

His gaze dropped and his fingers brushed over the bracelet that still held its place around your wrist before he drew back again. Then, with a clenched jaw, he took a deep breath through his nose, and stood to leave.    

Sympathy and longing rose up in you all at once, along with the urge to gather him in your arms and tell him everything would be alright. You knew he needed it, but you could bring yourself to do neither. 

Instead, you reached out and touched his arm to stop him. He faltered and turned back, and your heart skipped a beat. A spark of hope flashed across his question-filled eyes, so soft and so like the way he looked at you before either of you had realized it was love that grew between you. 

Your mind overflowed with a million things you could say, but the forefront thought struck you deeply: Come back to me.   

“Thank you,” you managed, rather than the confession of your heart. Still, you were sincere, meaning every word. “For coming back. For fighting for us.”

Jake offered you a bittersweet smile. “I’ve finally found something worth fighting for.” 

“Etrìpa syayvi (good luck). Eywa is with you.”

You had watched from the cave as your brothers and sisters took flight. It was impossible to miss Toruk, whose imposing figure led the force of Na’vi warriors on ikran into the sky. You noticed a lone fkio flying beside the great apex predator and in a way, felt you were among them.

In reality you sat with your mother in the sheltered cave as Jake had advised. Tension charged the air, and with all the warriors gone, it was eerily silent. You held your mother’s hand tightly as you filled the silence by praying aloud, desperately repeating Jake’s prayer for the Great Mother, the Warrior Mother’s, help. Your eyes were screwed shut, praying like you had never prayed before. 

Wary of the foreign objects, and unsure that you wanted the battle in your ear, the communication technology that Jake gave you laid on the ground in front of you. The earpiece hummed alive sporadically, catching your attention each time. You guessed the mumbling sound would be speech if you put the technology in your ear. You could almost make out Jake’s voice when he spoke, and it only spurred you to pray harder.   

It was not until you perceptibly heard a startling cry of dismay from it that you snatched it off the ground and held it to your ear. Your pulse quickened and you jumped at the sound of Neytiri’s voice crackling over the system as if she was just beside you.       

“I am down,” Neytiri wheezed, sounding broken. You caught your mother’s worried expression, but held a hand up to stop her from interrupting. “Seze is dead. Tsu’tey is near death. They are very close. There are many.” With a throaty cry of panic Neytiri continued, “Lefngap aioang (a metallic beast) is advancing toward the tawtute tìftia kifkeyä (human science) dwelling, Jake–... I cannot–... hurry–...” 

Your breath was caught in your throat waiting for her next words, but they never came. You fumbled with the earpiece, frantically checking if you had broken it and brought it back to your ear a few more times. The silence was thick with unease, but you knew one thing. Jake was in trouble. 

“What is it?” Your mother asked, resting a hand on your shoulder. 

Your brow drew together and your jaw set in determination. You knew what you had to do. You finally met your mother’s eyes and her brow shot up.  

“Maite (my daughter),” she began in warning. 

“I have to,” you asserted, attempting to stand on your own. 

“Ftang (stop)! Pey (wait)!” Your mother rushed to support you as you swayed.  

“Sa’nu, I am going with or without your help.”

With your mother’s reluctant assistance, you slung your bow across your shoulders and carried your quiver to the mouth of the cave. You called for your ikran, the sound lifting out of your throat with a practiced ease. 

“Your leg,” she begged incredulously with a tight grip on your arm. “Let someone else go.”  

“All the warriors are out there already… fighting, dying,” you reasoned, watching as your loyal friend came flying toward you. “I have to do something.” 

She leveled an apprehensive look at you and you closed your eyes, they stung with the frustration of helplessness. 

“I cannot just let him die… I love him,” you admitted, voice shrinking to a whisper.  “If my leg is the price for his life, I would pay it. Many times over.” 

Your mother frowned, but did not protest as you attempted to mount your ikran. With a groan of effort you threw yourself on top of her, and with the lift of her wing you slid into an acceptable position. There was already sweat on your brow as you settled and the wound on your leg protested with every movement. Still, you made tsaheylu with her and felt her steady heart beating like it was your own. 

You looked down and took a steely breath. “Pray for us,” you requested. 

“Fakrr.” Always.

—

You flew as quickly as you could. All around you were ikran, without riders, attacking demon ships, and below you the creatures of the ground fought back with a stampede. The trees shook with the conflict and the animals’ powerful cries inspired strength within you as you looked on in awe. You had never seen anything like it. Pandora was defending herself. 

Eywa had heard Jake. 

You whooped in triumph as you witnessed small victories, and you urged your ikran to move swiftly with an internal command. The wind whistled as it rushed past you, stinging your cheeks. But it swept your hair up behind you and took the dread and doubt from within you, carrying it away. 

Surely Eywa would give your people the ultimate victory and surely you could save Jake.

It was exhilarating to let arrows loose and watch them strike the demons down. You had hit two flying ships before your eyes were drawn to a large fire below. The glint of a silver shape among the trees made your pulse quicken. An Omatikayan warrior fought fiercely against a shield-that-walks, but instead of attacking the Na’vi, the demon turned and crushed the metal of the large box.   

You circled, assessing the scene. You knew the warrior was Jake by his movements, but something was wrong. He was not recovering from a fall he had taken, almost as if he struggled to stay awake. 

Land, you commanded your ikran with urgency when he collapsed again. 

With an inhale you notched an arrow into your bow and drew back as you descended near the shield-that-walks. You aimed for the white-haired tawtute that controlled the metal beast, but he suddenly turned. He grabbed Jake by his tswin, Jake’s own knife poised to slice his throat. 

Jake’s blood curdling wails of pain met your ears and turned your stomach over. The strong feeling that rose inside you was not fear, but something else: anger. It spurred you forward.

Attack! You lowered your bow and flattened your body against your mount as she crashed into the metal beast with her talons. You managed to pin it down, but a metal arm moved quickly to slap you off with great strength. It sent you both tumbling to the ground, ripping your kuru out of tsaheylu. 

The impact took the breath from your lungs and you gasped for air. The grass beneath you prickled against your skin as your vision cleared of the dark spots that danced across your eyes. 

The heavy clomp of metal machinery broke through to you and you pushed yourself up. Your ikran stood before you defensively and you used her to shakily pull yourself onto your feet. The shield-that-walks made its way toward Jake, where he laid unmoving on the ground. You had no time to think, no time to plan. Just one thing was sure, the tawtute must die by your hand. 

Reaching for your bow, you found emptiness where it usually rested on your body. You steadied your breath and pushed the panic away as it threatened to take over. The second your eyes spotted the weapon, you grabbed two arrows and lunged forward. 

Every step was a reminder of your weakness as pain shot up your leg, but you had to be strong. For Jake. For your future. Moving as fast as you possibly could, you snatched up your bow, pulled an arrow back and aimed at your target. Vrrtep (the demon). 

Your exhale carried the arrow, as well as a prayer, through the air and your bowstring snapped back into place. 

Before you even dared to blink, the tail of your arrow lodged itself in the man’s chest. Shock marred his ugly face, but he did not fall. You grit your teeth, eyes not leaving the enemy, you staggered to Jake as you swiftly loaded your next shot. With your feet planted firmly over his body, you released the next arrow. It sailed through the air in an instant, landing just where you had intended. 

Your victim’s arms flew out upon the arrow’s impact, and froze in the air. You lowered your bow as the shield-that-walks teetered, and crouched low. Withdrawing your knife from its sheath, you snarled.

When the tawtute and his metal armor finally tipped over and crashed to the ground, you turned and reached for Jake’s face, searching for signs of life. 

“Ma’ Jake?” 

His eyes were shut and his jaw was slackened. Your hands felt numb as they shook with panic. Why was he not returning? 

You tried again, shaking his shoulders and calling his name louder and more desperate, but he remained unresponsive. Just like how he was when he had fainted that final day in Hometree. 

His soul was elsewhere. 

The realization sent a chill through your body. Over your labored breaths and the rapid beating of your heart, you could faintly hear the alarm blasting from somewhere near. Your ears tipped toward it and you looked around to find its source, the metal dwelling. 

“Kehe (no),” you breathed, eyes widening. You pushed yourself up and rushed to the crumpled dwelling, crying out at a tearing sensation deep within your injured leg. 

You stumbled, but desperately pulled yourself through the broken window. Inside, your eyes scanned the room and found a tawtute on the floor. Though you had never seen his human form before, you knew it was Jake. He lay unmoving on the floor atop shattered glass. 

He was too still. 

“Jake,” you called frightfully, drawing nearer and gathering him into your arms like you should have that morning. “Jake!” 

He did not move, he did not even breathe, and his open, blue eyes stared past you. 

Tears blurred your vision as you frantically looked around the small space. Blood stained the box on the wall where Jake had likely been reaching for with his cut up hands. The mask that hung from it caught your eye. It was just like the one the ugly koaktan (old man) had been wearing. You hastily grabbed it and put it over Jake’s face. 

“Please, please, Great Mother,” you begged, trembling as each second of his unconsciousness stretched out unbearably. You laid a hand over Jake’s heart and prayed. 

You could not lose him too. 

For so long you had separated the human from the Avatar, but now it was clear to you that they were one in the same. In that moment, something deep within you knew. Your soul recognized his. So familiar was the small form you held in your hands. He was the same man that had picked the flowers that reminded him of you, whose laugh lifted your spirits as you had flown in the skies together, the man that wrapped you in his arms and made you feel whole. 

You stilled as Jake’s faint breath fogged the mask before his eyes fluttered, then widened. His hands rushed up to his face, and with a press of a button, he finally gasped for air. 

“Irayo, Ma ‘Eywa (thank you, Eywa). I’m here,” you assured shakily. “I am here, Jake.” 

Gulping down the oxygen, his chest moved rapidly. His eyes darted around and finally focused on you, sharpening with recognition. They were so blue, so beautiful, and full of sorrow. 

He reached up to rest his hand on your cheek. “You came for me,” he whispered hoarsely. “You saved me.”

Relief in the form of a sob wracked through you as you covered his small hand with yours. His voice was the same. 

“Yes,” you got out and he wiped away the tears as they dripped down your cheeks. 

Jake stiffened. “Quaritch, he-“

“Is dead.”

The tension left his body at your words, and he sagged in your hold. He had been carrying so much on his small shoulders, so much you did not see. You held him tightly, like you had wanted to for days. 

You rested your cheek on the top of his head as you shielded his ears from the alarms that continued to blare. So different and yet the same, this was the man you loved, in any form he might take. And you treasured the sound of each breath he took, because it was the reassurance that he was alive.  

“I missed you, baby,” Jake whispered. 

“I missed you, too,” you sniffled, cradling his head in your hand. “I am sorry for doubting you. You have shown me your heart long before this day. I should have stood beside you. Faced things together like we said.” 

“I gave you good reason to,” he countered, smoothing his small hand up your arm. “Baby, I—“

You pulled back and shook your head. “I forgive you.” 

“You do?”

“Jake,” you said, laying a hand over his heart again. “I see you.” 

His eyes turned misty. “I see you,” he returned, breathlessly. 

—

Hell’s Gate boasted an incredible lack of color. It was as if Eywa’s light refused to shine upon it. The grey building, the facilities surrounding it, and the man-made ground stood in bleak contrast to the lush, green forest. Your ears picked up the whispers of an ongoing war as you flew toward the building, body curled protectively over Jake’s. His thin legs rested against yours and you wrapped an arm tightly around his middle. 

Neither you nor Jake were in any condition to keep fighting, with your injury and the limitations of his human body. Something had to be done, but the only place Jake could relink to his Avatar was in enemy territory; where all the laws of Eywa were broken. Your ikran carried his wheelchair in her claws, making her teeter, but the metal turning wheels were something that Jake could not live without. 

“I never wanted you to see me like this,” Jake had admitted after it became apparent that his legs did not function as they should. “Weak. Useless.”

Your mind still reeled with the revelation as you cautiously flew in a wide curve around the base, hugging the line of trees to get to the labs as Jake instructed. You could not shake the way his lips pressed together in shame. You knew how it felt to be weak, to be useless, and it broke your heart to know he harbored such self-contempt, even hiding parts of himself from you. 

Before you could reach the Avatar Compound, a commotion below broke through your thoughts and caught your attention. A metal machine crashed into the side of the building and what looked like clothed Na’vi climbed into the broken windows. A man in white garment stood on top of the machine with his hand raised in a foreign gesture. By Jake’s victorious cheer you knew it must have been a good thing. 

Once you landed, some humans ushered you both through the base, the cold air and the icy floor making your bare skin prickle. You learned from them that the scientists had taken control of the Operations Center and that the RDA’s SecOps were ordered to retreat. Jake wheeled himself in his yellow chair, speaking to them more quickly than you could follow. You limped beside him feeling more lightheaded by the minute. Blood seeped through the wrappings and dripped down to your foot, leaving a trail behind you as you walked. 

Soon, you found yourself sitting on a strange, soft surface in what the humans called the “Ambient Room.” The lights were harsh on your eyes and a strange whirring made your ears twitch, but the scientists were kind, and spoke like Dr. Augustine as they treated you. Fresh dressings were applied around your thigh and they had lessened the pain of your wound with an injection that left your leg numb and your eyelids heavy. Even with the fog that clouded your mind, you questioned if the relief was worth the corruption of metal upon your skin and in your blood.  

It was clear that you did not belong; you were too blue, too tall, and too confined. Everything went against what your people believed. It made you restless and eager to leave. Jake’s world was vastly different from yours with its stone structures, metal objects, and turning wheels. The realization that you knew so little of his life apart from you nagged at your already unsettled heart, and you were not sure if it was because of your lack of asking or his unwillingness to share. What else did you not know?

Still, you kept your eyes on him, your only source of comfort, as he wheeled around the lab. Through the windows of the room, you watched as Jake spoke with some other humans, wanting him near. He eventually parked in front of you, glass separating you from him. His blue eyes were like the sky, even in a place with no sunlight. His gaze lingered low, on your leg, before traveling up to meet your eyes. He gave you a lopsided, half-smile and tipped his head to the side. It was strange to see such a familiar expression on his pink, human face.

You managed a smile back, gesturing for him to come inside.

The door hissed loudly before Jake rolled in, wearing a mask again. The glare on the glass made it difficult to see his face. 

“How’s the leg?” he asked with a forced lightness.  

“The medicine is strong,” you answered simply. 

Jake nodded and his hands twitched restlessly where they laid in his lap. You reached out a hand to him, wanting so much to rest in the comfort of his embrace. His rough palm slid into yours and he held it tightly. 

You both knew your leg was in poor condition. The scientists that treated you said something about a procedure, but there was nothing they could do now with the base on lockdown. Even so, you were hesitant about human intervention, a rejection of Eywa’s power. Surely Tsahìk could heal your wound.  

“They’re warming up a link unit for me,” Jake said after a moment of silence, and your spine straightened. 

“Are you well enough for this, Ma ‘Jake? To return so soon?” you questioned, taking in the paleness of his skin and the tiredness in his eyes.

“I gotta get back in there,” he replied, smoothing his thumb over your skin. “The people trusted me to lead. Things are looking up but the battle’s not over.”

“I will go with you,” you stated, shifting your weight and starting to move.

“No, baby. You’re going to stay put,” he said, firmly. “That’s an order.”

“But–”

“You’re staying here,” Jake cut you off with a strength that made you quiet. He gestured to your leg with the tilt of his chin. “You won’t make it far on that and there’s not much I can do for you like this. You have to wait it out here.” 

“You cannot leave me,” you anguished, tightening your grip on his hand. “I cannot… I cannot stay here.”

“I’m sorry, baby, it’ll just be for a little while,” he reassured, though his brow was drawn. “You’ll be okay. I’ll come back for you as soon as I can.”

“Promise?” 

“I promise,” Jake vowed. “Now get some rest.”

Jake kept his word. It was early the next morning when you woke from a deep, dreamless sleep at the familiar feeling of his skin against yours. He cradled you against his azure chest, keeping you secure, as he took you out of Hell’s Gate’s oppression and all the way back to Vitraya Ramunong. 

“We won,” Jake’s warm breath tickled your forehead as he whispered, “We’re going home.”

The sun was rising above the na'rìng (forest) as you flew atop Toruk and the fresh smell of dew filled the air. The vast expanse below you looked refreshed and alive in the morning light. From so high up, there were no signs of war though you knew scars would remain on the land and in the hearts of its people. But it was a new day, a beautiful day, and one you would never forget.

Masterlist

Part 1 | Part 1.5 | You Are Here | Part 3

Notes/Afterword

I don’t know the exact timeline from the fall of Hometree to the battle, I think it's about three days, but I extended it a day or two to give the story some more time to breathe ! One of the deleted scenes expanded on the counterattacks by the Na’vi before the official battle and so I wanted to honor their efforts and include it here. 

I pulled some dialogue from deleted scenes/the original script.

I wanted to share why I chose a fkio as reader’s spirit animal ! The fkio/tetrapteron are known to nurture their young. According to the survival guide, none take more care of their offspring with as much attention and duration as the tetrapteron. For a person/Na’vi, I’m sure that would extend to all that they love and hold dear. I hope Lek’ann’s nickname/petname for reader makes more sense now !!

I'm also curious to know how you would interpret reader's dream !! let me know in the comments !!

Thank you all so much for reading and for all the love and support that you have shown “Mantis Doesn’t Whistle” !! And keep an eye out for part three, the epilogue !

taglist: @junebugonjupiter @wiilddogs @riristarrrr @itskekeelise @aizawash0e @wooperdedenne

[fruitmilkshake]

Some songcords i made ⊹ ࣪ ˖

[icouldhelpyoufeelingcook]

I had a funny moment, and I remembered when I was really bored I discovered that some novels, games, and horror games were called "The Freaks Circus."

I suddenly realized that 035 actually has kids! Damn, I didn't expect Neko he love SCP Foundation.

Also I make adult/dark versions Spider :p

[blueberrybats]

Day 7 of daily doodles.

[sddrnora]

call me a hater but i really don't want Recom Quaritch to be redeemed, like ever. let him be with the Mangkwan away from the Sullys or let him die actually for once. yeah yeah "dead man's memories" and he sorta deserves to be his own person detached from the RDA who definitely see him as property (whether thats human him or Recom him) but he's still a force of colonialism and has killed innocent people and animals for the sake of finding one man. he don't deserve no redemption lol.

for clarity, i don't hate Quaritch as a character (human or Recom), but redeeming a colonizer leaves a bad taste in my mouth.

[mexicanyosh1]

Dawg I never posted ts 😭🥀

(Might be a sign for me to get off the Avatar side of tumblr lol)

[r4tbastard]

Recent Akwey photos

[vals-stuff-and-things]

For: @zaffyrr