Neteyam dragged Lo'ak by the nape of his neck. Once again, he humiliated him in front of you.

You were the daughter of Saelay, a beautiful but somewhat isolated medicine woman—for she still felt like a traitor to the clan, even though they forgave her. Your father had been a Dreamwalker, who ensnared the beautiful Na'vi in lies, and thus you were born, the fruit of a false love.

You were an unusual Na'vi, not only because of your eyebrows or your five fingers, but also because of your skin and hair, which were literally a soft pink, with greenish eyes—almost jade—a mesmerizing beauty. You had the misfortune of being striking, even if you didn't want to be.

It was also a disadvantage when hunting, of course, but your strong and somewhat mocking nature commanded respect.

You were almost the same age as them—just a few years older than Neteyam—almost considered an adult woman of the clan, good at healing, good at listening, and very good at hunting—thanks to your high standards.

You were an exotic gem. And now, a few months after the arrival of the sky demons, you were rarely seen in the clan, always flying in your ikran, always too busy to spend time with them.

Lo'ak hissed, swatting his hand away from his Ma'tsmukan, annoyed.

"I'm not a child, Neteyam." He complained, having accidentally played such a nasty prank that your ikran's tail was now burned. "It was an accident."

"An accident? Lo'ak, if Father and Mother find out, they'll punish us both." Neteyam massaged his temple, worried.

Years ago, both boys had been interested in you, but Lo'ak was more impulsive in trying to get your attention.

"I know." The younger boy rolled his eyes, becoming alert when he saw you approaching with the bow in hand in the middle of the forest. "Oh no..."

Neteyam looked up, his body tensing, his ears flattened. He'd earned it, a good scolding from you. Skxawng, ignorant children.

"We're sorry..." Neteyam murmured, avoiding your gaze.

"It was an accident, I swear," Lo'ak added, scratching the back of his neck. "I just wanted to help you with the campfire."

Those two days they had decided to leave the camp under construction on Mount Hallelujah to see the stars near the children of Ikran—Kiri must be tending to Ramtsyi now, your poor Ikran with his feathers burned.