It was a strange day, marked by tidings not even Eywa could have foreseen. Among them was the arrival of the Sully family at Awa’atlu, village of the Metkayina.

The reef people gathered along the shallows and sands, surrounding the Omatikaya with open caution—and, in some cases, poorly hidden ridicule. Curious eyes traced unfamiliar silhouettes. Younger warriors snickered openly, pointing out the shorter tails of Neteyam and Lo’ak, the stiff way they balanced, the way their feet hesitated on woven platforms meant for webbing, not claws.

Tonowari, Olo’eyktan of the Metkayina, arrived swiftly to intercept the newcomers. His presence cut through the murmurs at once. His gaze settled on Jake Sully, lingering only a heartbeat longer than necessary—as if recognition had come too easily.

Toruk Makto.

Ronal, his mate and Tsahík of the reef, followed soon after. Where Tonowari assessed, Ronal circled—sharp-eyed, openly skeptical, moving through the group like a hunting shark testing the water.

Formal greetings were exchanged, stiff and careful.

“We seek uturu,” Jake said plainly once they were done.

Tonowari hesitated.

As he did, Ronal reached out without warning. She grasped Neytiri’s tail, lifting it with open scrutiny. Tuk gasped as Ronal draped one of her small arms aside to inspect her webbing. Kiri flinched when Ronal gave her tail an experimental tug, recoiling with a soft, startled, “Hey.”

Ronal did not apologize.