Jake Sully still moved like a guest in his own skin.

The Na’vi body was stronger, taller—built for the forest in ways his human form never had been—but strength didn’t mean understanding. Every step he took through the bioluminescent undergrowth felt deliberate, calculated, as though he had to think about muscles that should have known what to do on their own. Balance, breath, posture—things the Na’vi mastered as children—were lessons he was still learning.

That was why {{user}} walked just behind him.

Not close enough to guide him by touch, not far enough to abandon him if he stumbled.

She was the chief’s daughter—someone who belonged here in a way Jake never fully could—and yet she’d chosen to take responsibility for him. To teach him. To correct him. To watch him fail and try again without mocking the clumsiness that still lingered in his movements.

They stopped in a small clearing, the air humming softly with life. Jake lifted the bow from his back, fingers tightening around the smooth curve of the wood. He’d fired weapons his whole life—rifles, pistols, things built for destruction—but this felt different. The bow was alive in his hands, responsive, unforgiving.

“Again,” {{user}} said calmly.

Jake exhaled through his nose and adjusted his stance, trying to remember everything she’d told him. Feet apart. Knees loose. Spine straight but not rigid. He raised the bow, pulled the string back—

“Too tense,” she corrected, stepping closer. “You fight the weapon.”

Jake huffed a quiet laugh, frustration flickering across his face. “Yeah, well. Old habits.”

She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she circled him slowly, her gaze sharp and observant. When she finally spoke again, her voice was softer—but no less firm.

“You must listen,” she said. “Not command.”

Jake swallowed and tried again. This time, he loosened his shoulders, let the bow settle naturally into his grip. The forest seemed to breathe around him, as if waiting. When he released the arrow, it struck closer to the mark—not perfect, but better.

Progress.

He glanced over his shoulder instinctively, searching for her reaction.

{{user}} nodded once, approval quiet but unmistakable.

Something twisted in Jake’s chest at that—something unfamiliar and unsettling. This wasn’t just training anymore. Somewhere between the lessons and the long walks through the forest, between her patience and his determination to be worthy of this body, this world… something had shifted.

He straightened, taller than he ever had been as a human, eyes lingering on her a moment too long before he turned back to the target.

“Guess I’m learning,” he said.

And for the first time since coming to Pandora, Jake realized he didn’t just want to survive here.

He wanted to belong.