Laila blinked hard through her grimace, fighting against her exhaustion to remain on her feet. Thick beads of sweat dripped down her brow and along the sides of her paled blue face. She counted silently in her head, keeping track of her breathing as a way to distract herself from the pain. Her left arm, which remained cradled and tied to her neck by a green tank top, stayed clutched tightly to her chest as a way to keep it as still as possible.

It had been nine days since the incident and still she did not know if her comrades had survived. The first three days following the accident, Laila stayed huddled against the barricade wall in the destroyed shack, listening and waiting for any signs of life from the other side. It was certainly possible that they were able to close off and stabilize their room, the same as she had. They could be alive and searching for her, yet she couldn't hear them because the rubble muffled their calls. On the fourth day, when Laila finally decided to return to her Avatar, her spirits were dampened. The Na'vi bodies of her friends had not moved. She managed to keep her hopes up, though. Depending on the extent of the damage to the link units, it made sense why they could not return to their Avatars. It didn't mean they were gone...

This thought - the very possibility that her friends remained alive and trapped under the rubble - is what fueled her now. Laila had stayed at the site for seven days. Thankfully, her room held enough supplies in the cabinets to keep her human body alive for weeks to come. The same could not be said for her Avatar. Her alien body was already greatly damaged and starved, but the woman understood the consequences of letting her Avatar die. So, Laila made one of the hardest decisions of her life; she had to pull her arm from the rubble.

The pain was unbearable. She did her best to dig herself free at first, but the continuously shifting dirt and rock proved impossible to do so. She had no other choice but to pull herself free. The bone was certainly broken if not completely crushed, and the weight of the rubble tore at her skin. By the time she was finally free, a large, deep gash raced down the length of her forearm. She used her shirt to clean the wound, though it continued to bleed until the shirt was soaked in red.

When Laila was a child, she used to hunt with her father. She remembered the first time she had taken her shot at a deer, and how unsteady her aim had been. The buck ran deep into the woods, leaving a trail of blood in its wake which she and her father tracked to a creek where the trail went cold. They searched for hours with no sign of the wounded creature. It was pure coincidence when Laila happened upon it. The only reason she noticed it at all was because of the slight movement of its head, its antlers of which jostled the branches above. The deer had settled itself into the bank of the creek under some brush. Its entire body had been covered in mud, as if the animal had rolled in the bank like a pig in its wallow. Later, after putting the buck at rest with one final shot, her father told her that injured animals would pack their wounds with mud so as to clot their blood quicker.

Much like the wounded deer, Laila wandered aimlessly in the direction of the creek, and she used the mud to seal her wound. That was days ago, and it had indeed stopped the bleeding. Unfortunately, Laila's luck never seemed to last long. The scheduled supply drop never came, and her arm was infected. She did not know what condition the rest of her team was in and she knew she could not risk waiting for help any longer. So, she set out in the direction of Central Command. Walking would take days, maybe even weeks at her rate. Her body was bruised, beaten, broken, and she couldn't remember the last time she had eaten. If they happened upon her, Laila would take a shot at a lemur-like prolemuris, but she had no luck as aiming and shooting her rifle with only one working arm proved impossible. After missing a hexapede, a creature that most resembled a deer, she decided to conserve what was left of her ammunition. Instead, Laila gathered some berries she remembered were safe to eat from a survival course taken on her first day on Pandora. They did nothing to ease her hunger, but rather made the emptiness in her stomach more noticeable. Now, Laila couldn't bear to stomach the fruit at all. When she had taken a handful for breakfast, a wave of nausea overtook her and she vomited what little she had eaten and she had not tried to eat again since.

That sick feeling had not gone away. At first, she thought it was simply exhaustion due to everything that had happened. The climb down from the floating island did nothing for her already shredded feet and ruined arm, but that was two days ago and she only felt worse. Even at rest, her heartbeat never seemed to slow. Although her body remained drenched in sweat, she trembled with sharp chills. She couldn't be sure, but as she continued to stumble forward, she could have sworn she saw Miles.

Her vision was blurry. She could not make sense of her surroundings past the fuzzy mix of colors, but she could see him. If she focused hard enough, she could even make out the flash of his blue eyes or silver hair. She blinked and shook her head, though the disoriented feeling continued to swirl in her buzzing mind and she tripped over her feet, nearly falling face first into the dirt.

"You're slipping, soldier."

"I'm fine," she waved him off. Miles Quaritch chuckled, the sound echoing and growing and suffocating her.

"No you're not. You're dying."

"That's not funny." She stepped too close to a tree and her toe snagged a root, which knocked her off her balance and she had to steady herself against the bark.

"Ain't nothing funny about it. That busted arm of yours is killing you."

"I need to sit down." Laila sagged against the tree as the earth beneath her throbbing feet began to slip away. Suddenly, Miles was in front of her and he clapped his hands inches from her face. She flinched, the noise like that of an explosion against her eardrums.

"Don't you quit on me now, soldier! Since when do you give up?"

"I'm not giving up," she spat, the agitation she felt for the whole situation only worsening due to Mile's pestering. "I just need to rest."

"If you sit down now, you won't get back up. You're on an alien planet for God's sake, Laila! Are you really going to let a little broken bone take you out?"

The world around her spun and tilted before her eyes. She was unable to focus her sight or her mind as a memory occurred to her through the buzz that pounded her brain. She laughed. "Remember when Connell broke his toe? When he was trying to hitch the trailer back in Nigeria?"

At first, Miles did not answer, seeming surprised by her sudden change in subject. Then, he crossed his arms over his chest with a short shake of his head and a following chuckle. "Screamed like a cat with its nuts caught," he drawled fondly.

"Had me thinking he was shot. It didn't hurt, he said. I was just mad at myself..." Her voice trailed off, fading into the echo of her drumming heart. Her eyes flickered and her head rolled against the bark of the tree as she fought against the weight in her eyelids. Her chest tightened and she bit her bottom lip hard. Unknowingly, a tear streamed down her cheek. She no longer wanted to remember Connell, or Meyer, or Ski, or even Miles. She just wanted to sleep.

"Hey, don't go closing your eyes on me."

The tip of Laila's flattened, feline-like nose scrunched and she flashed her fanged teeth in as her previous surge of anger flooded back. "Go to Hell." Laila tried to shove him out of her personal space, feeling suddenly enclosed and unable to breathe, but the movement worked against her. Her knees buckled and she fell to the floor hard, yet all she felt was exhaustion. "I just need some rest."

"Now you look at me," Miles crouched before her. Her eyes flickered, trying to make out his features, but the only thing she could see somewhat clearly was his finger in her face. "You get your ass back up and you start marching. I ain't letting you die on me, pretty girl."

"I'm tired, Miles," she whispered, no longer able to fight against the pull of the darkness that ebbed in around her. "I'm really tired..."

The black clouded her sight completely, the pain left her body, and Laila fell into the wake of nothingness, part of her knowing exactly what this would entail. Laila Richardson was dying. The panic she thought would be associated with this revelation did not come. It was peaceful, like being lost at sea and allowing the calmness of the water to do to you as it pleased.

Then, a voice spoke from the darkness, overtaking the remnants of Mile's own call of her name. It was not a familiar sound, and Laila could not understand the warm feeling that came with it. The voice could not be described in words. It was feminine, yet not. It was far away, but close. Laila could almost not hear it, yet she could make out every word that surrounded her entire being.

Your heart is damaged, but it will heal

Your future is difficult, but you will persevere

The world is cruel, and it is beautiful

You will die, and you will be reborn

The evening air was still and quiet, almost unsettlingly so. There were no calls from within the trees, and no audible footsteps against the thick foliage. Even as the hunter stalked the forest, no sound came from his careful steps. The Na'vi male scanned the distant clearing through the dangling clump of branches, keeping his head low as he searched for the herd of hexapede he had been tracking. His skillful yellow eyes swept over what was visible of the clearing, then the trail in the grass before him. He only saw aged, faded footprints in the dirt and nothing more. Tension gripped the warrior's strong muscles and he placed his hand against the hilt of the dagger strapped to his hip. The forest was far too quiet, and with no sign of the herd, he knew he was not the only predator hiding in the shadows.

A branch snapped behind him and he turned instantly, meeting the wide, startled gaze of a much younger Na'vi male. He bared his teeth in warning and motioned with his hand for the younger to duck down, and he did so without another sound. The hunting party of three had been tracking this particular herd for hours now, but the trail had suddenly gone cold some time ago. The leader of the group was a proud one, and he refused to either backtrack or admit defeat, even as the sun began to set. He knew the two young boys were tired and wished to return to Hometree, yet he continued pushing them. This would be the boys' first hunt, and he would be damned to let it end in failure. Now, he feared he had led them into danger. Of course, he was confident in his abilities to fight off whatever might have been stalking them, but having two inexperienced kids tailing him could prove a problem if backed into a corner. He would much rather avoid a fight. And return home with a downed hexapede, Eywa willing.

Despite his confidence, he could not fight back the feeling that something was different with this silence. He was quite experienced, having had his first hunt with his father by the time he could pick up a bow without waver. And yet, he could not recall a time where the forest had been so still, or he had felt so nervous. Not knowing the cause annoyed him greatly, and it may have contributed to his reason to continue the hunt. Something was wrong, and he would discover the reason.

With one last glance over the clearing, the Na'vi decided to creep his way closer to the treeline for a better view. Before he could take his first step, however, the breeze picked up and a familiar scent hit his nose. Sky People.

"Tsu'tey!"

The Na'vi male's ears flickered at the sound of his name and he stood to his feet instantly. He spun on his heels, searching for the one who had called for him. His heart dropped as he saw Poa'hik, the boy who had stepped on the branch, and no one else. "Where is he?" Tsu'tey barked. To his dismay, Poa'hik only shrugged. Again, Tsu'tey heard his name echo through the trees, and he darted in the direction of the voice quickly. Just as fast, he ripped the large dagger from its sheath, readying himself for what fight was to come.

Like a leaf in a stream, Tsu'tey swept through the brush and the trees on light feet, his skillful strides long and delicate despite the uncomfortable feeling in his gut. He called out to the boy, who answered instantly and was thankfully much closer than before. Tsu'tey jumped over a broken tree and took a sharp right turn around a thicket before he finally caught sight of the kid.

"Ru'atan!" the elder male said, capturing the boy's attention. To his relief, Ru'atan did not seem to be in any obvious danger, though that did not stop Tsu'tey from doing a quick sweep of the area. When the Na'vi saw no sign of any immediate danger, he grabbed the boy's arm and yanked him close. "I told you not to leave my side."

"There was a sign from Eywa!"

That caused Tsu'tey to pause. "What sign?"

"Atokirina!" the boy said eagerly, though his smile faded as his elder merely scoffed.

Atokirina were sacred, yes, but seeing one did not necessarily mean it was a sign from Eywa. Tsu'tey often saw the seeds of the Tree of Souls floating in the breeze, searching for their final resting place upon the earth to take root. "That is no sign," he huffed. He began to take his leave, tugging the boy along behind him as he did, but the boy resisted. Before Tsu'tey could question this, Poa'hik finally rounded the thicket. His face was a few shades darker as he fought to catch his breath, yet suddenly paled as his eyes landed upon something behind the other two.

"Woah," he breathed while taking an unsure step back. Tsu'tey followed the boy's gaze, and his heart leapt into his throat. In his rush to find Ru'atan, Tsu'tey had forgotten the smell he had caught on the breeze. The silence of the forest had momentarily left his mind, and his search of the area had completely overlooked the foreign creature.

Resting against a tree a few feet to Tsu'tey's right lay a woman. Despite her familiar Na'vi features, her heritage was unmistakable. Her suffocating scent that burned Tsu'tey's nose, the oddly colored fabric that wrapped up the length of her legs and around her torso, and the large, metal weapon across her lap. "Tawtute!" Instinctively, Tsu'tey's nose wrinkled in a snarl and he forced Ru'atan behind him, shielding the child from the dangerous being that came from the stars.

"No!" the boy shouted, fighting against the much stronger Na'vi's hold. "Brother, you must not harm her, please!"

"It is a demon, Ru'atan!" Tsu'tey snarled. With one mighty push, he shoved the boy away from him and ran at the sleeping monster. In one fluid motion, he grabbed a fist full of the woman's hair and yanked her head away from the tree and back, exposing her. With his other hand, he placed the freshly sharpened blade of his knife against her throat and pushed, preparing himself to slice into her soft flesh. Then he stopped.

Tsu'tey's large eyes met a sight he had never seen before. Small, glowing roots stretched out from the bark of the tree, remaining connected to the woman and refusing to release their hold. Like the thin web of a spider, the purple tendrils met the woman's flesh then branched out across her cheeks, against the back of her neck, along her left shoulder, and finally disappearing under the stained fabric that concealed her arm. Curiously, Tsu'tey released his grip on her hair and instead took hold of the green fabric. With a single smooth cut, he sliced through the cloth, revealing her arm fully. The woman's left arm was covered entirely in the glowing purple-white roots which cradled her arm securely, almost protectively, pinning it to her chest. It occurred to Tsu'tey that the demon may already be dead and nature had simply begun to replace the filth of her body. However, a weak moan escaped her lips and he caught sight of the slight change in her pitiful breaths. Tsu'tey sneered. "What is this?"

"It is a sign!" Ru'atan said again. He came to stand beside Tsu'tey while Poa'hik remained a few feet back, choosing to observe from afar. "Eywa has chosen to spare her life. Look," he pointed to her arm. Tsu'tey's eyes narrowed. Just beyond the coverage of the tendrils was a wound. A large, very deep wound from what he could tell.

"It's not a sign," he concluded simply.

"But-"

"Eywa would not save the life of a demon." He returned his blade to her throat directly over the shallow cut he had already caused. "I'll put the creature out of its misery."

"No!" The boy smacked away Tsu'tey's hand and positioned himself between the two. Taken aback, the elder male's tail swished in agitation and he hissed, demanding the boy's submission. Ru'atan's ears flattened and he ducked his head, but he did not back down. "I'm sorry, brother," he said sincerely as he lowered into a crouch beside the sleeping woman, "but I won't let you kill her. It is Eywa's will." The boy pulled the demon away from the tree and into his arms, guarding her from the great warrior. The fragile tendrils released their grip upon her flesh, letting go with soft pops as she slumped into the boy's hold.

Tsu'tey did not initially know what to do. Never had he seen such a sign from Eywa, which still shadowed him with doubt, and never had Ru'atan defied him in such a way. It simply did not make sense to the male. Why would Eywa save the life of a sky demon? And why, out of all the Omatikaya people, did they have to be the ones to find her?

Ru'atan had always been sensitive to Eywa's call. From a very early age, the boy was more gentle and caring than the others in regards to nature. He once found an injured kenten, Tsu'tey recalled. The poor lizard had flown itself into a thicket of thorns and torn its wings, rendering it a free meal for any passing, hungry creature. It was the way of life, Tsu'tey had told him, but Ru'atan refused this answer. He spent weeks nursing the kenten back to health and, to Tsu'tey's surprise, it lived. Now, as if the boy had found another harmless, injured animal, he had made his choice to protect the human wearing the skin of his people, and Tsu'tey knew he could not change the boy's mind.

The older male scowled, the fingers around his blade tightening to the point his arm shook. It crossed his mind to take the woman's life anyway. After all, the boy was no match for the warrior, and they both knew this. Tsu'tey decided against this very quickly. He knew Ru'atan would never forgive him for such a thing. So, with an exasperated snarl, he slipped his blade back into its sheath and crouched in front of the boy. "Give her to me," he said. It was not a question, and the boy did not hesitate. He passed the unconscious woman to Tsu'tey and he swept her into his arms as if she weighed less than a pebble. He stood to his feet, his tail smacking Ru'atan in the face lightly, then he marched away from the tree and past the startled Poa'hik.

"Where are we taking her?" Poa'hik asked nervously. Ru'atan fell into step beside the other boy as they followed their teacher. Poa'hik glared at him and bumped his shoulder to show his annoyance for the situation and the two began a small shoving match, which was quickly ended by a warning growl from Tsu'tey.

"We will take her to Hometree," the older male said. The two boys gawked at the revelation, though Ru'atan could not contain his triumphant smile. Unbeknownst to the boys, Tsu'tey had his own, victorious smirk playing at the corner of his lips. "She will face the will of Tsahik. If she survives."