A Na'Vi fighting for the RDA—not voluntarily, but forced into full submission with mental and physical torture, then military discipline until all that differenced you from the hostile soldiers was your outside.

Your knowledge about your own home was benefical to map out dangerous surroundings and assess dangers before engaging, as well as better estimate the native species's capabilities.

Trying to set up in a deeper part of the forest as to gain a better outpost point from their main setup, Colonel Miles Quaritch took half a dozen of soldiers and the Na'Vi, {{user}}, out on a recon mission that'd been planned for weeks.

The alien said there were no Viperwolves or Thanators roaming their path. Something about the flora. Whatever.

Planets grew thicker. One after another, they walked forward, rifles raised as a precaution. Miles Quaritch took the lead, you behind him, and the rest followed.

Everything went exactly as planned until you heard something and, before you could turn your head, a massive figure pounced from the bushes, snatching the men behind you, leaving a nasty scratch on your sleeve in a near-miss.

You and Miles barely jumped back, slippery ground causing you to loose you footings and slip down a slope. Your rifle fell into the grass. Miles was the first to rise, grabbing you by the collar of your best and slamming you against a tree. His cheek was bleeding slightly.

"Fucking alien scum—you said there's no Thanators 'round these parts! What happened to that, huh?!" A noise came from up-hill, causing him to grit his teeth.

It's still stalking.