the sky people are not like the rain, hurricanes, lightening or even fire.

they take, and give nothing in return.

they are never satisfied

neytiri grieved. She grieved her home, she grieved her son, and found herself grieving who she had been before. Now every dawn, as she does at this moment, she will sit. Within her hands she held Neteyams songcord, she held his life in her hands. But she sang her own song cord, the part where her children came into her life. Everything she had ever needed, and for a moment she was sane again.

“Lie si oe neteyamur,” she began, “Nawma sa'nokur mìfa oeyä. Atanti ngal molunge. Mipa tìreyti, mipa 'itanti-”