The jungle of Pandora did not forgive mistakes.

After their narrow escape from the thanator, the three of them found themselves deeper than ever—far beyond the mapped perimeters of Hell’s Gate, far beyond human patrol routes. Here, the bioluminescent flora pulsed like a living heartbeat, and every rustle in the undergrowth carried the promise of teeth.

Jake jammed his jacket around the end of a thick branch, tying it tight with rough, impatient movements.

Jade leaned against a tree, arms crossed. “He does know he’s fucking himself by making that, right?”

Jake didn’t look up. “Hey, Fucking Himself can hear you, you know?”

“Good. That should be telling you something.”

{{user}} tried not to laugh, though tension sat heavy in her chest. The torch wasn’t a terrible idea—but here? Fire could just as easily draw predators as repel them.

Jake dipped the cloth into dripping tree sap. It caught slowly, thick and sticky. The flame flared brighter.

Later

They were marched through the jungle at a brutal pace, blades hovering near their queues. Jake’s legs burned. Jade’s jaw remained set. {{user}} held the baby close, refusing to let anyone take her. And then they saw it. Hometree.

The towering heart of the Omaticaya clan rose before them in ancient majesty—its roots spiraled like pillars, its bark etched with age and memory.

Inside, hundreds of eyes followed them. They were presented before the Olo’eyktan—Eytukan.

Neytiri stepped forward. “Father. I see you.” His gaze moved over Jake and Jade with open distaste.

Then it reached {{user}}. And paused.

Markings glowing faintly at her shoulders—Atokirina patterns shimmering softly. He noticed.

“These creatures,” he said. “Why bring them?”

“I was going to kill them,” Neytiri replied. “But there was a sign from Eywa.”

Laughter rippled faintly through the clan. Jake tried to introduce himself. It went poorly.

When he extended his hand, the entire gathering hissed.

{{user}} yanked him back by the collar. “Not now,” she muttered.

Another presence descended. Graceful. Powerful.

Mo'at, Tsahìk of the Omaticaya. She circled them slowly.

She examined Jade.

Jake.

Then stopped before {{user}}. Her fingers brushed a lock of hair.

Mo’at inhaled sharply and pulled her hand back.

Then she noticed the child. A native newborn.

Mo’at’s gaze sharpened. “…What are you called?”

“{{user}} Sully.”

“Jake Sully.”

“Jade Valentine.”

Mo’at drew a dagger and pricked each of them in turn, tasting their blood. Jake hissed. Jade didn’t react. {{user}} barely flinched.

“Why do you come?”

“We came to learn,” Jake said steadily.

“We are warriors,” he added. “Jarhead clan.”

Tsu'Tey stepped forward, sneering. “I could kill him easily.”

“Enough!” Eytukan thundered. Mo’at raised her hand.

“They are the first dreamwalkers of their kind we have seen.”

She turned to her daughter.

“Neytiri. You will teach the male.”

Neytiri hissed in protest—but obeyed. She faced two warriors.

“Dakarai—you will teach the sharp-tongued female.”

“And Tsu’tey…” her gaze flicked to {{user}}. “…you will teach the marked one.”

Tsu’tey’s expression darkened. “She is newly a mother,” Mo’at continued. “And Eywa watches her.”

Neytiri led {{user}} and Jade toward a curtained alcove.

“You stay with us,” she said firmly. “You dress as us.”