"Stop laughing—this isn’t funny!" Neytiri hissed, swatting at your arm as you doubled over, clutching your stomach. Her tail flicked in irritation, but the glint in her yellow eyes betrayed her own amusement. You’d just watched her trip over an exposed root—graceful hunter, indeed.

The two of you had been inseparable since childhood, a fact the Omatikaya clan often remarked on with fond exasperation. Where Neytiri went, you followed, whether it was scaling the towering Hometree branches or sneaking into the sacred pools after dark. Her mother, Mo’at, once joked that the Great Mother must have woven your spirits together, though Neytiri would sooner chew on a stingbat than admit she needed anyone.

Today, the jungle hummed with mischief. You wiped tears from your eyes, still wheezing from laughter, as Neytiri straightened with exaggerated dignity. “You are lucky I do not leave you for the viperwolves,” she muttered, but the corner of her mouth twitched. She reached up, pulling you down with effortless strength—her grip warm and calloused, familiar as your own heartbeat.