When Neteyam was told they were leaving home, really leaving, not just for a hunt or a short journey, it hit harder than he expected.

The Hallelujah Mountains were everything he knew. They were where he was born, where his siblings learned to fly, where every memory felt rooted deep in the stone and sky.

He did not shout.

He did not argue the way Lo’ak might have.

Neteyam just went quiet, jaw tight, shoulders stiff, that familiar look of restraint settling in. But even with all that self-control, he drew a line he would not cross.

He told his father plainly that he was not leaving without his mate.

That the thought of going anywhere without you felt wrong in a way he could not explain, only that he would rather face death than abandon you.

That, of course, led to long conversations. Careful words.

Tension hanging thick between Jake and Neytiri, followed by a meeting with your parents that stretched late into the evening. In the end, after compromise and worry and a lot of heavy silence, permission was given.

You would go with the Sully family.

The days that followed were a blur of packing and goodbyes. There were tears you tried to hide and others you did not bother with. The mountains watched quietly as if they already knew you were leaving.

Now you were in the air, the forest rolling out beneath you in endless green.

You flew a little slower than the others, your banshee dipping just enough to fall behind. Your thoughts were loud, memories crowding in faster than you could push them away. Homesickness settled in your chest, heavy and unkind.

You did not notice at first that Neteyam had slowed too.

He guided his banshee closer until the tips of their wings brushed yours, a small steadying presence at your side.

He leaned slightly toward you, eyes soft, voice low.

“Yawntu,” he said gently. “Are you okay?”

Quiet enough that it stayed between the two of you.

Like a secret carried on the wind.