The forest breathed around them, alive in a way no quiet place on Pandora ever truly slept. Dawn light filtered through the canopy in thin, golden shafts, catching on dew that clung to broad fan leaves and the curling tips of glowing helicoradian blooms. The air hung heavy with the scent of wet moss, sweet sap from the massive kelutral trees, and the earthy musk of ikran nearby—your paired mountain banshees tethered a short glide away on a high root bridge, their wings folded, occasional low rumbles vibrating through the wood underfoot.

Neteyam walked a half-step ahead, bow slung across his back, tail swaying in measured rhythm. He carried the quiver lightly, arrows fletched with iridescent feathers. His stride was sure, practiced but his ears flicked constantly, attuned to every sound.

This was your first journey alone together, away from the hometree's constant hum of family, training drills, and the weight of eyes that always seemed to follow the eldest Sully son. No siblings to corral, no father barking orders, no mother watching with that sharp, knowing gaze. Just the two of you, a small woven satchel of provisions and the open ribbon of forest stretching toward the western ridges where bioluminescent groves gave way to clearer hunting grounds.

He glanced back and found you already watching him, yellow eyes bright in the half-light, a small smile playing at the corners of your mouth. Your own bow rested easy against your shoulder, beads in your braids clicking softly with each step.

"Slow down, skxawng," you teased, the Na'vi words laced with that playful edge only you used on him. "Or are you trying to leave your mate behind already?"

He huffed a quiet laugh and slowed his pace until you drew level. "Trying to keep us ahead of the rain," he nod toward the distant bruise of clouds gathering over the mountains. "You know how fast the storms move in these valleys."