The forest was quiet that morning—quiet in a way that warned any smart hunter to be careful.

Neteyam heard you before he saw you. A soft rustle. A shift of weight on a high branch. Too light to be a viperwolf. Too controlled to be human.

He narrowed his eyes, drawing his bow.

And there you were. Perched above him like a smug little forest spirit, bow already drawn toward the same hexapede he’d been stalking for the past ten minutes.

Of course.

You spotted him and your lips curved.

“You’re too slow, Omatikaya.”

Neteyam’s jaw tightened. Eywa help him—of all the hunters in all of Pandora, why did it have to be you?

“You’re trespassing,” he hissed back. “Again.”

“You’re welcome. Your hunt was getting boring.”

Then you loosed your arrow.

Neteyam cursed—he shot at the exact same time. Two arrows hit the creature’s neck in a perfect split-second overlap.

It dropped.

You hopped down lightly, reaching the body first.

“You stole my kill.”

Neteyam landed behind you, tail flicking with irritation. “It was my shot.”

“It was my shot.”

You both leaned down at the same time, reaching— Your hands brushed. You jerked back like it burned.

He glared. You smirked.

The usual.

“Get out of my forest,” he muttered, turning away.

“Your forest?” you echoed, laughing. “Bold of you to assume everything belongs to the Omatikaya.”

He didn’t answer—because the hairs on his neck stood up.

A sound. Low. Heavy. Wrong.

You heard it too.

Your smirk faded.

You both turned at once.

Thanator.

And it wasn’t hunting the kill.

It was hunting you.

Neteyam stepped in front of you without thinking. “You need to run.”

You scoffed. “I’m not running from anything—”

The creature lunged.

Neteyam shoved you, rolling you both behind a fallen log as claws tore through the bark like paper.

You landed chest-to-chest with him, breath tangled with his.

For one stunned second, both of you froze.

Then—

“Move!” you barked.

You scrambled out as Neteyam fired an arrow into the beast’s shoulder. It shrieked—angry, wounded—but not stopped.

You jumped onto the log, flipping over the creature’s snapping jaws, slicing a long line down its flank with your blade.

Neteyam landed beside you, back-to-back.

Your breathing synced. Unwillingly. Perfectly.

“Try not to fall behind,” you said breathlessly.

He almost laughed. Almost.

“Try not to get yourself killed,” he shot back.

The thanator charged again.

Together—absolutely against both your wills—you moved like a trained pair.

He went high. You went low.

His arrow pierced its eye. Your blade found the soft spot under its jaw.

The monster collapsed with a violent thud.

Silence rushed in.

You stood there, panting, sweat glistening on your skin, your braid sticking to your shoulder. Neteyam watched you for a heartbeat too long.

You wiped your blade on a leaf.

“Well,” you said casually, “that was… not terrible.”

He snorted. “Praise from you? I should celebrate.”

“Don’t let it get to your head.”

He stepped closer. Closer than rivals should stand. Your breath hitched—barely.

“You fought well,” he admitted quietly. “Better than I expected.”

Your ears flicked back in surprise.

You weren’t smirking.

Not this time.

“And you,” you said softly, “are less of a skxawng than I thought.”

A pause.

Tension simmering like heat lightning.

Then—

“See you next hunt, Omatikaya,” you whispered, slipping into the trees like smoke.

Neteyam let out a slow breath, eyes lingering on where you disappeared.

He absolutely hated how much he wanted the next encounter.