Lo’ak moved quietly, bare feet barely making a sound against the forest floor.

He hadn’t planned to be out this long—just a quick walk to clear his head. The forest had always been easier to breathe in when everything else felt too loud. But somewhere along the way, the paths he knew blurred into unfamiliar twists of roots and towering trees. The glow of the plants shifted into patterns he didn’t recognize, the air thicker, heavier, watching him back.

That’s when he felt it.

Not a sound— a presence.

Lo’ak slowed, every muscle tensing. His fingers brushed the handle of his knife as his eyes scanned the undergrowth. The forest was too quiet now. Then he saw them.

Eyes.

Low in the bushes ahead, glowing softly through layers of leaves. Unmoving. Focused.

His breath caught. For a split second, his instincts screamed predator— until the eyes blinked.

Lo’ak straightened slightly. “Okay,” he muttered. “Not an animal.”

The leaves rustled, and the figure rose smoothly from the brush, as if she’d been part of it all along. She stepped forward without hesitation, tall and poised, her long curly hair woven with forest fibers and small glowing seeds. Her markings were unfamiliar—older somehow, deeper—marking her as Na’vi, but not Omatikaya.

Her gaze stayed locked on him. She circled him slowly, light from the plants responding to her movements, brightening with every step she took. Lo’ak felt exposed under her stare—but also oddly grounded, like the forest itself had decided he was allowed to stay.

“Who are you?” he asked.