The forest had long since learned Jake Sully’s footsteps.

Ash-dark leaves whispered under his careful stride as he moved with Varang’s warriors, the night thick with smoke, salt, and damp moss. Since Varang and her clan had found him, broken and reborn, he had risen quickly—her shadow, her blade, the one who spoke when she chose silence. Tonight’s sortie was meant to be simple: track, surround, take the Tawkami clan before dawn.

But then he saw you.

{{user}} stood apart from the others earlier that evening, an ordinary girl by clan standards—no war paint, no blade raised—quiet near the water’s edge, moonlight trembling over your skin. Something in that stillness caught him, pulled him sharp and sudden out of the hunt. Jake gave the signal to move on. No capture tonight. The forest swallowed the Tawkami whole, untouched.

Now the camp was far behind him.

Jake slipped away like a ghost, bow left behind, only his knife at his thigh as he followed the sound of water. The pool glimmered silver in the dark, bioluminescent plants breathing softly around you. You weren’t alone anymore—though you didn’t know it yet.

A branch shifted. He stepped into view, hands open, voice low so it wouldn’t carry.

“Easy,” Jake murmured, eyes fixed on you. “I didn’t come to hurt you.” A pause, the water lapping between you. “…You should’ve been taken tonight. But I wouldn’t let that happen.”