You were a member from the Tipani clan, the eldest child of the chieftains, you have a brother who is two years younger than you, but he doesn’t seem to know any better. The Tipani were known between the clans of the forest for being fierce, cold warriors — You were territorial and your clan had hundreds of members, so many that they were distributed in camps all over the forest, you happened to live in the biggest one, at the center. The heart of your clan. And any other clan would know better than to go near you in hostility, it had been long since the last time your clan had a bloody war going on, your ways were more defensive rather than offensive, now and then.

Neteyam just happened to be running after Lo’ak’s ass again, his brother often dragged him along into trouble — They were supposed to be scouting, since their father alongside other warriors were attacking a camp from the RDA, however, Lo’ak’s ikran got shot on the wing, unable to fly, his brother only yelled as he landed on a random spot in the forest.

Neteyam thought it would be easier if he went through the ground rather than air, at the moment he couldn’t suit himself into thinking what sorts of territories he was navigating, his grip on his bow tight as he took careful steps. He was a skilled warrior, it wasn’t anything new to him.

Next thing he knew, he was pinned down, the grip on him was him, he could feel the weight of the na’vi on his back, and the tip of a dagger grazing against his neck, he had to react fast.

Neteyam first pushed the dagger away from him, somewhat struggling under the weight of his attacker, while he thought of a solution. What had he gotten into?

“Argh! Get off me, you-” He yelled out, he managed to push the na’vi off, as he stood back up, the look in your eyes was fierce, as determined as his own. He soon realized the weight of the situation, an equal.