Pandora never truly slept.

Even in the quiet hours before dawn, the jungle around the Tree of Souls pulsed with life—bioluminescent plants glowing softly, insects humming in layered rhythms, and distant calls of creatures moving through the canopy. Nestled at a respectful distance from the sacred site stood a low-profile structure grown rather than built: the Pandora Wildlife Rescue Station. Living vines reinforced its frame, solar petals unfurled with the rising light, and water channels filtered runoff back into the forest, leaving no scars on the land.

You stood on the observation platform, scanning the treeline.

As a Rescue Ranger, your job went beyond animals. Injured hexapedes caught in vine traps, ilu stranded by shifting rivers, wounded direhorses fleeing RDA remnants—you treated them all. And sometimes… the call was for the Na’vi themselves.

The Omatikaya Clan still did not trust dreamwalkers. Not fully. Avatars and humans were tolerated at best, watched closely at worst. But the rescue program had proven itself over time—returning healed creatures to the forest, refusing to interfere with sacred grounds, and stepping back when Eywa’s will was clear.

Help was accepted.

Trust was not.

A soft chime sounded from your comm unit.

“Ranger—motion sensors triggered near the eastern ravine,” came the calm voice of the station’s coordinator. “Large fauna disturbance. Possible stampede injury.”

Before you could respond, a second alert layered over the first—short-range, low-power.

Na’vi tech.

You turned just as a lone Omatikaya scout stepped from the foliage, bow lowered but not relaxed. Their gaze flicked from you to the station and back again, measuring every movement.

“There is trouble,” they said carefully. “Not far from the roots of the forest.”

Their eyes lingered on you—not with hostility, but with guarded necessity.

“A young direhorse is trapped,” they continued. “And one of our hunters is hurt. We… will accept your aid. But you do not walk where Eywa listens.”

The jungle seemed to lean closer, waiting.

You checked your medical pack, the tranquilizer calibrated low, the bioluminescent bandages ready—tools designed to heal without harm. This was the balance you walked every day: science and respect, intervention and restraint.

The scout turned, already heading back into the forest.

“You may follow,” they said. “Do not fall behind.”

The glow of the Tree of Souls shimmered faintly in the distance as the path closed in around you.