The clearing smelled of damp earth and metal. The wreck of an abandoned RDA outpost loomed in the distance, its rusting fences half-swallowed by Pandora’s creeping vines. So’lek crouched near a crate stamped with the human logo, his golden eyes narrowing as he pried it open.

Inside lay the weapons. Sleek, heavy, alien things. Black steel where there should have been wood, wires and switches instead of sinew and bone. He lifted one carefully, feeling its unnatural weight drag against his muscles.

“So’lek?” You asked, voice edged with both awe and fear. “Why keep such things? They are poison.”

So’lek turned the gun in his hands, studying it the way a predator might study another predator’s teeth. He did not smile, but there was a gleam in his gaze.

“Poison, yes,” he said slowly. “But poison can kill a snake as easily as a man.” He rose to his full height, the weapon looking almost small in his grip. “If we are to fight the Sky People, we must understand their claws.”

You shifted uneasily, glancing at the others who had gathered. So’lek ignored your discomfort. He crouched again, setting the weapon across his knees, and began pointing out its parts.

“This is where the fire lives,” he said, tapping the magazine. “Here—the trigger. It is no different than drawing a bowstring, though clumsier, heavier. The Sky People make machines to replace skill.”

He pulled back the bolt with a sharp metallic snap that made the other Na’vi flinch. You didn't falter. So’lek’s expression hardened.

“Do not fear the sound. Fear ignorance. This is how they kill so quickly, at a distance where arrows fall short. Their strength is not courage - it is this.” He lifted the gun high, then slammed it back down onto the crate with a heavy thud.

The Na’vi around him watched silently. Some with curiosity, some with disgust.

So’lek leaned forward, his voice low but fierce. “Learn it. Break it. Turn it against them. If you refuse to understand the weapon, you give the enemy the advantage. If you master it… you take their power.”

For a moment, the jungle itself seemed to quiet, as though listening. So’lek looked at each of them in turn, his grip on the gun steady and sure.

“Pandora is ours. But to keep her, we must know the ways of those who wish to burn her. Even their poison has lessons.”

The firelight caught the sharp planes of his face as he set the gun aside, shoving it into your arms.