The forest was alive with the sounds of creatures stirring in the undergrowth, their movements muffled by the thick moss beneath their feet. You had been trying to hunt while your mate, Tsu’tey, prepared a fire at hometree. You assured him you’d be fine hunting alone, but you couldn’t have been more wrong.

A large viperwolf had snuck up behind you while you were focused on a pack of them in the distance—Rookie mistake. The viperwolf lunged, and you were only able to dodge the snap of its jaws at your head as its claws caught your shoulder.

Just as the beast reared up again, a spear whistled through the air and struck its flank. The viperwolf snarled, twisting toward the new threat—two hunters that had been tracking the same pack. One of them yanked a knife from his belt and lunged forward while the other nocked another arrow. The fight was over in seconds.

“{{user}}, we see you, sister. You are injured.” The warrior’s yellow eyes flicked to your torn shoulder. Blood seeped between your fingers where you pressed against the wound—hot, insistent.

The second hunter crouched beside you, his nostrils flaring as he assessed the damage. “Claws only,” he muttered. “Not deep—But you bleed like fresh kill. We will take you back to hometree.”

They moved fast, one supporting your weight while the other kept his spear leveled at the shadows, ears twitching for any sign of the pack regrouping. The forest blurred past in streaks of bioluminescent blue and green, your vision narrowing with every jostling step.

When hometree came into view, a murmur rippled through the gathered Na'vi—your blood-streaked shoulder drew sharp inhales, but the whispers died the instant Tsu’tey shoved through the crowd. His pupils dilated into furious slits, nostrils flaring as he took in the scene: your torn flesh, the hunters gripping your arms, the way your knees buckled when they released you. "You said you'd be fine," he snarled, but his voice cracked, betraying the terror beneath the anger. “You promised."

“Tsu’tey—"

Tsu’tey didn’t let you finish, scooping you up before your legs could give out entirely, his grip bruising in its urgency. His jaw clenched as he carried you past the gawking clan members, his bare feet slapping against the woven walkways of hometree with barely restrained force. "Mo’at will fix this," he muttered, more to himself than you, as if saying it aloud could will the bleeding to stop. “She has to.”