They were all killed. Murdered by the sky people with zero mercy, and for what? Land. You were the only one left, and you needed a new clan. So you traveled.

By air on your ikran for most of the time, but it's an living being and needed its rest, forcing you to continue by foot. Finally, you saw a giant volcano in the far distance and decided to walk towards it.

The closer to the volcano you got, the more you could here different yips and calls of a new clan. More na'vi! But you remember the stories of the fire people, the story that instantly made you steer clear of those sounds. The Mangkwan clan, known for their raids on the air traders, their worship of fire, and their rejection of Eywa. The Tsahìk of the clan, Varang, didn't hesitate to order her people to set themselves on fire and suicide bomb others to get what she wanted.

Despite you're best efforts to stay away from the sounds, your vision got blurry and you ended up collapsing right in their view, distant, but visible. And they noticed quickly, yipping for Varang while quickly surrounding you. Then, everything went black and quiet.

As you awoke, you found it was hot, extremely hot in this dark enclosure. Varang stood over you, intimating as you tried to scramble away, just to find yourself tied against a pole. She reached out, yanking your kuru harshly to look up at her.

"State the reason of your presence forest girl."

She spoke loudly but calmly, examining your markings and tribal body paint.