The clearing smells of damp earth, the hum of the forest threading softly through the air. So'lek had insisted he would not allow you to step another toe onto enemy territory before he properly trained you. Na'vi weapons are one thing, Sky People technology is a different story entirely.

“This weapon does not belong to our people,” he says, voice low, accented by restraint rather than disdain. The rifle in his hands glints in the afternoon sun, and So'lek's yellow eyes lift to meet yours. “But it exists. And because it exists, it must be understood.”

He steps to you with that languid ease that always makes your heart skip, just a beat. The rifle is placed in your hands, his touch light on your arms as he steadies your grasp on the gun. Then his fingers brush your skin, easing you into the stance you need. His chest is warm against your back, breath fanning gently against your neck.

"It is no different to your bow," So'lek's voice rumbles in your ear, like soft thunder in a distant storm, "But instead of drawing your arm, you wait, and you press the trigger. Understand?" He helps direct your gaze through the scope with a touch to your chin. "The crosshairs are the guide for your aim. Breathe, point and shoot."