Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

After the devastating war with the RDA, scientist Norm Spellman remains on Pandora — no longer just as a researcher, but as a father. He adopts fourteen Na’vi orphans who have lost their families, striving to build a new home for them among the remnants of the old world. His life is now filled with care, love, and doubt… and everything changes when he brings home a human infant — a baby girl found at one of the abandoned science outposts, with no known identity or past.

Now, Norm must do more than be a father. He must unite two worlds within one family — the world of the Na’vi and that of humans. And his children must learn to accept, protect, and love someone so different from them… yet just as deeply in need of a home.

Chapter Text

Norm Spellman was a scientist but more than that, he was a man with a heart large enough to hold the weight of a world that wasn't his. After the war with the RDA, he made a choice few would dare to make: he adopted fourteen Na'vi children, each one a soul left adrift in the aftermath of loss.

His own life had been carved by sorrow— the death of a beloved mentor, the fading echo of a lost love - yet through it all, his compassion remained unshaken. He carried it in his eyes: tired, yes, but gentle, always. Eyes that saw pain and met it with understanding.

The home he returned to, once built for avatars, was no longer a cold station of science. It had transformed into a sanctuary - a place where the voices of children filled the air like birdsong at dawn. Laughter bounced from wall to wall. Quiet moments of thought and healing settled in the spaces between.

Norm cradled the infant gently in his arms, his lips pressed into a nervous line. There was hesitation in the furrow of his brow, a flicker of doubt dancing behind his eyes. This decision - this one more choice - felt heavier than most. Yet, he never looked away from the baby's sleeping face, as if searching for silent confirmation in her peaceful breath.

To Norm, she wasn't just a child. She was a symbol - a fragile seed of healing, a new beginning rising from the ashes of all he had lost. Taking her in wasn't just about care; it was about hope. About rebuilding something whole from the broken.

He knew the road ahead would be difficult. He wasn't just a guardian anymore - he was a father trying to forge a true family, where every child, no matter their origin, could feel safe, wanted, and deeply loved.

She was given a name soft and beautiful, a name they spoke with warmth.

From that moment on, she was known as Y/n.

...

For many, it was a shock. One thing was adopting fourteen Na'vi children, orphaned after the war.

That already seemed like madness.

But when Norm Spellman, the tired, quiet scientist, took a human infant in his arms and declared that she was now his daughter, even the most patient of those who knew him couldn't hide their astonishment.

"Why are you doing this?" some asked.

"You already have more children than half the clan," others said.

"You already have more children than half the clan," others said.

And some just watched in silence, with confusion - perhaps even a hint of judgment.

But Norm never answered. He didn't argue, didn't explain. He simply held the little girl in his arms, and his gaze - warm, but weary spoke for him. He owed no one an explanation. It was his choice. His responsibility. And it wasn't for them to bear.

...

At Norm's request, the eldest children went to the outpost. A few weeks earlier, he had told them about the upcoming addition to their large family

Erao, always curious and quick to notice every detail, saw a human infant for the first time in his life. His eyes widened in surprise, and without a second thought, he ran straight to their father, forgetting all sense of decorum. Norm stood holding the tiny Y/n in his arms.

"Papa!" he exclaimed, unable to believe what he was seeing. "Is that... is that a real human baby? She's so small! Where did you find her?"

Askuuk, though the eldest, couldn't hide his astonishment either. He approached more slowly, but his eyes were glowing with interest. He was used to seeing humans only as adults - cold, armed with metal tools, but a baby? A little one, just like them, only... human? He pressed his lips together, unsure of what to say.

Kel'ha, watching the infant, felt something warm begin to spread inside her. She stepped closer to her father with curiosity, though a trace of awe lingered in her movements. Her eyes sparkled as she looked at the baby, then up at Norm.

"She's so tiny..." she whispered, stepping forward and reaching out gently, as if afraid to frighten the child. "Can we hold her? What does she feel like? We've never seen a human child before."

Norm, noticing the tenderness in her voice, gave a small, soft smile and nodded.

...

No one ever found out where the baby had come from, or how she ended up at the scientists' base. There was no information about her - not a trace of her parents, not even a name. But one thing was clear: she was no more than a month old.

She had been born on Pandora a world as breathtaking as it was dangerous for a human child.

But the greatest danger of Pandora wasn't its creatures or its wild terrain.

It was this: with every passing day, you couldn't help but love it more.

...

The Spellman family wasn't the only one growing - other families, like Jake and Neytiri's, were also welcoming new life.

The Sully family had been growing with each passing year, filled with love and life. Now, once again, they were awaiting a miracle - another child, still growing in their mother's womb.

...

A narrow stream whispered as it flowed over the stones.

Four children splashed through the shallows, their bare heels kicking up water, laughter ringing out over the bubbling current. One, playing the role of "tag," lunged to grab his sister's shoulder, but she leapt away with ease, ducking behind an exposed root before springing forward again. The arc of water she left behind shimmered in the sunlight like a spray of glass.

When the youngest Na'vi boy stumbled, Norm instinctively leaned forward, ready to catch him. But the boy was already laughing, scrambling up, and dashing after the others. Norm eased back again, letting the game carry on, flowing freely with the stream.

...

Max walked quickly toward Spellman's communication station, holding the crying Y/n tightly against his chest. She wasn't responding to any of his attempts to calm her down.

"Norm, buddy, please-disconnect already!" he said anxiously, rocking the child in his arms. But his efforts only made her cry louder.

As if the gods themselves had heard his plea, Norm disconnected from his avatar at that very moment. Max immediately started tapping on the tablet with one hand, still holding the ssobbing

Y/n with the other as she clung to his shoulder.

"What happened?" Norm asked in surprise as he sat up and reached out for her.

Max passed the child into her father's arms.

"Come here, my girl... my little one,"Norm murmured softly. "My little girl is already three years old, isn't she, Y/n?" he said, kissing her on the forehead.

"Her tears are worse than any crash or system overload," he sighed with quiet bitterness, watching as she finally began to breathe calmly against his shoulder.

"She misses you, Norm. A lot," Max added, his voice low.

He fell silent for a moment, searching for the right words.

Max lowered his eyes and shifted his shoulders awkwardly.

"No one expects you to be perfect," he said quietly.

"But they all need at least a present dad, Norm. Not someone burning himself out trying to be everywhere at once."

Silence followed. The only sound was Y/n's steady breathing as she nestled against her father a soft, living reminder of what all this was for.

Norm didn't answer. He stared past Max's shoulder, his fingers still gently stroking his daughter's back. But his gaze had drifted far, lost somewhere beyond the station walls.

He nodded - not in agreement, but in acknowledgment. A quiet admission.

"Yeah... I know," he murmured. "I've known for a while."

...

The Spellman household was lively and warm the children were having lunch, chatting across the table and chewing loudly. To an outsider, it might have seemed like chaos, but for them, it was the most familiar and comforting part of the day.

Askuuk, the eldest son, and his sister Kel'ha sat proudly on one side of the table - the morning hunt had been a success, and it was thanks to them that the family had fresh meat and root vegetables today.

"Vi'an, sit properly and eat in silence," Kel'ha said sternly, not even looking up from the food in her hand.

Her voice was aimed at their younger brother, who, paying no attention to his tired sister, bounced on his seat while voicing the animal toys in front of him.

"Grrr! I'm the hunter from the great forest, and you're my prey!" he growled, making his thanator figurine pounced.

Kel'ha clenched her jaw.

"Vi'an... I swear, I'll turn you into a hunting trophy myself."

"Pfft...!" Luta barely held back a laugh, covering her mouth so she wouldn't give herself away. Her twin, Tita, only rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, "Is he ever going to grow up?"

Askuuk shot Vi'an a stern, almost fatherly look.

"Papa will be back soon with Y/n. Eat before it gets cold. And stop talking to your food."

With that, he finally turned his attention to his own plate, tearing into a piece of meat with practiced ease after the long morning hunt.

Across the table, Erao quietly set aside a portion of food a careful arrangement of meat and vegetables -saving it for their father without saying a word.

Luta and Tita exchanged a glance. "He's always so serious," Luta whispered, not with mockery, but with a quiet note of respect.

"Yeah." Tita nodded, biting into a piece of root vegetable.

Vi'an frowned but obediently began to eat, occasionally glancing toward the door as if hoping their father would walk in any second.

Erao finished setting aside the food for Norm, carefully covering it with a broad leaf to keep it warm. "He's just gonna say he's not hungry again..."he muttered. "But I know. He's just forgotten what it's like - to eat on time.

Chapter Text

“They’re back! The Sky People are back!” Norm’s shout tore through the silence, making hearts clench in terror. “Drop everything! Take only what you need! Two minutes — we can’t be here!”

Once, this house had been their haven. A place where they grew up, laughed, dreamed. Now it was just a remnant of a life they had to leave behind without looking back.

Fear coursed through their veins like a cold wave. Even the eldest of the children, already burdened with the weight of adult life, froze for a moment, as if refusing to believe what was happening. But the survival instinct prevailed.

Without wasting a second, the older ones grabbed weapons and ran for the exit. They called for their ikrans, their voices lost in the rustle of the night forest, where every shadow seemed to hide a threat.

The dark sky flickered with flashes of warning, and the ground beneath their feet felt unsteady and treacherous.

This was not just a night of farewell to their home — it was the night the last pieces of the world they had known came crashing down.

...

Ikrans dove from the sky like shadows against the distant flashes of lightning. Their wings sliced through the damp night air with a sharp hiss, carrying the fugitives away from danger.

The children clung to the necks of their loyal companions, gazing down at the tiny lights of the home they once had — growing smaller with every wingbeat, until they vanished completely.

Below, in the firelight, enemy figures were already gathering.

The night roared with wind in their ears, reeked of cold fear and bitter smoke — and only hearts filled with pain and anger kept them from looking back.

Pandora met them in silence. The silence of those who survived. And those who knew the cost of escape.

...

“The blue stripes make me faster,” declared Spider with importance, smearing paint across his shoulder with his fingers. Uneven blue lines marked his skin.

You sat a little off to the side, near your older Na’vi brothers. They were quietly chatting among themselves, discussing something in low tones, while you patiently wove a basket from supple leaves and tough plant fibers, your fingers deftly threading the strands together.

A fire crackled nearby, scattering golden sparks into the air. The warm aroma of roasted fruit and freshly picked roots wafted from the flames, their juices hissing in the heat. The camp was alive with calm routine: someone was mending ikran straps, someone laughing as they told stories.

“Skxawng,” Kiri snorted, calling Spider a fool in the Na’vi tongue, and began helping him apply more even stripes of thick, warm paint that smelled faintly of berries.

You stifled a giggle. One of the brothers - the one sitting closest caught the motion and raised an eyebrow in silent question. You simply shook your head with a soft smile.

"It's nothing," you replied, continuing your work.

The fire crackled gently, and the soft night breeze carried the scent of flowers and damp earth. In that moment, it felt as if the whole world was holding its breath, offering a rare peace and comfort.

"I'm serious. Even the animals respect me more," Spider continued confidently, tracing another line of paint. "They sense me less as a human."

You silently kept weaving your basket, listening in on the conversation. On Pandora, every little thing could mean the difference between life and death - especially for a human. This planet was beautiful, but alien. You wished you had been born Na'vi, or at least had an avatar body. But–no just human. Sometimes it felt like parasite on this world. you were being a

Suddenly, Kiri, still smiling, stopped him with a light touch to the shoulder.

"Wait! You're human?!" she gasped with mock surprise.

Spider smirked sarcastically and pretended he was about to smear paint on her. Kiri laughed and backed away just in time, hiding a grin.

And the air between them filled again with a light, joyful mood - under the quiet crackle of the fire and the whisper of the night forest.

"Sey'li, I'm done. Can I go now?" you asked, setting the finished basket aside after what felt like hours of work.

The older Na'vi exchanged a lazy glance and nodded, letting you go for a while.

"Just don't go far," he reminded. "Dad and the others will be back soon. We might need help."

You smiled and flashed an "OK" sign with your fingers, then got to your feet and jogged lightly over to Spider and Kiri.

"What are you up to, my blue friends?" you asked playfully as you ran up to them.

"Boosting my power," Spider replied with great importance, holding out a hand smeared with blue paint. "Want some?"

"If you even try to smear me with that stuff again..." you warned, squinting at him.

Spider laughed, and you both noticed a few nearby Na'vi whistle and cheer teasingly.

Suddenly, a long trumpet sound echoed through the air - alarming, yet joyful. The whole camp stirred; people stood, dropped what they were doing, and began moving toward the open clearing, where the powerful beating of wings could already be heard.

"Hurry! Kiri! Spider! Y/n!" Tuk called out, breathless, waving you over. "Our warriors are coming back! Let's go meet them!"

Without wasting a second, you all took off running toward the clearing, where the sky was already trembling with the arrival of the ikran.

You, Kiri, and Spider took off running toward the edge of the camp. Your feet slipped slightly on the damp stone floor of the cave, thick with the scent of moisture and smoke. The wind was picking up, carrying the sound of heavy wingbeats toward you.

The camp was quickly stirring to life. Na'vi dropped what they were doing, grabbed their weapons, and lined the paths. One hunter raised a ceremonial horn, and a deep, resonant note rolled across the camp.

Cheers and calls followed–voices raised in welcome for those returning from battle.

There was strength and pride in their voices, but also unease. Not everyone always made it back.

Your heart raced as the first silhouettes of riders on ikran came into view.

Kiri briefly squeezed your hand - just once as if to share this moment with you. Spider looked up, eyes fixed on the approaching shadows.

...

You reached the edge of the cliff just as the Sully family's ikran began landing one by one on the stone. Their wings beat powerfully, stirring clouds of dust into the air.

One look at Jake Sully's face made it clear–something wasn't right.

"Oh no..." you muttered under your breath, catching yourself just in time.

Then you noticed something strange–Neteyam wasn't riding his own ikran, but Jake's. That only happened if a rider was injured, or their mount was too.

As expected, Jake immediately began reprimanding Neteyam and Lo'ak. His voice was harsh, laced with anger but underneath, there was clear worry.

You and Spider instinctively kept your distance, not wanting to interfere. But standing still felt wrong, so you started helping checking gear, loosening tired ikran harnesses, all the while glancing back at the scene.

"Kiri, help your grandmother with the wounded," Jake ordered his daughter.

Kiri pressed her lips together, clearly wanting to argue. She didn't want to leave - not while her brothers were under fire. But eventually, she gave in. With Tuk, she headed off to join the clan's elder healer.

You and Spider exchanged a glance. You felt awkward witnessing the family dispute, even though Jake's words weren't unfair. He wasn't just a father - he was the clan's leader.

Finally, Jake let Neteyam go to get treated, giving in to Neytiri's silent plea. His attention now shifted fully to Lo'ak.

And that's when the real storm began–figuratively, and perhaps literally.

You stepped away from the tired ikran and moved closer. If you were going to get caught in this mess, might as well try to help your friend.

"Hey...!" Spider hissed your name in a loud whisper.

You didn't turn–just raised a thumb over your shoulder to let him know you were fine. Spider exhaled heavily, shaking his head in defeat.

Approaching, you gently took Lo'ak's hand in yours, inspecting him for injuries. Luckily, nothing serious - just scrapes and bruises. A bit of salve would do.

Lo'ak lowered his eyes, clearly ashamed. He didn't try to speak in his defense his father's piercing stare– not under

Jake, not even glancing your way, said sharply:

"Go to your father. Check on Norm."

His tone was cold a command, not a request. You nodded silently, hiding the disappointment on your face, and turned away toward where Norm would be.

The last thing you heard as you walked off:

"And wipe that paint off your face."

Jake's voice again not a father now, but a commander speaking to his son.

...

You made your way quickly through the camp toward Norm.

The path wasn't long, but each step seemed to pull you further from the safety of childhood. Around you, Na'vi and humans rushed about - tending to the injured, carrying supplies, salvaging damaged equipment.

A tall Na'vi warrior passed by you, his chest slashed with bloody wounds, armor shattered. His eyes were tired, yet full of determination. Others followed in haste, carrying a comrade in their arms–unconscious, his legs hung

The air was thick with the smell of blood, burnt wood, and the bitter scent of healing herbs used on wounds.

You could only guess what these smells were–if not for the mask on your face. You involuntarily clenched your fists tighter, forcing yourself to keep moving.

Carefully weaving between hurried humans and Na'vi, you finally saw him.

Norm's tall, wiry avatar stood out among the others - his blue skin smudged with dust. His tail twitched with nervous tension, and his broad shoulders seemed burdened with too much weight.

The moment he saw you, Norm stepped forward, his amber eyes glowing softly.

You nearly ran to him.

He dropped to one knee to meet your height and instantly pulled you into an embrace. His long arms wrapped around you like a shield, holding you close to his strong chest - and again you heard that deep, steady heartbeat.

You clung to the fabric of his bandolier. He probably smelled like a mix of herbs, smoke, sweat and something comforting, almost home - like.

For a moment, the world around you disappeared –there was only you and him.

"I missed you too," he whispered, kissing the top of your head.

You smiled involuntarily, though something inside twisted at the pain and weariness you heard in his voice.

When he gently pulled back, placing you at arm's length, you immediately began inspecting him. Your eyes darted across his shoulders, chest, arms checking for injuries. Just a few scratches and dirt on the bandolier–no serious wounds.

"Dad, are you okay?" you asked anxiously.

Norm smiled faintly.

"I'm okay. Nothing serious."

"The others? Askuuk? Vi'an? Kel'ha? Erao?" you added quickly.

He nodded softly.

"They're alive."

You nodded too, though the anxiety in your chest still lingered.

Norm brushed a hand over your hair, then rose to his full height his towering three meters reminded you again how small you were next to him.

He turned toward a pile of weapons–rifles, grenades, heavy belts loaded with ammo.

"Listen," he said seriously. "Go to Mo'at. It's dangerous here. If you accidentally touch something..." - he nodded toward the box of grenades – "it could end badly."

You didn't argue.

"Okay, Dad," you nodded.

Before leaving, you hugged his strong arm again. Norm leaned slightly and gave you a playful wink.

"Go on, little one. Be my eyes out there."

With a small smile, you ran off in the direction of a familiar tent among the others.

Behind you, your father - still tall, dependable, strong around him – returned to the chaos

Just before you slipped from his sight completely, you caught a glimpse of the rest of your family from the corner of your eye.

Askuuk - tall and strong, with a firm, nearly cold gaze stopped beside Norm without a word, giving him a short respectful nod. His face, as always, was focused emotions rarely showed there, but in this silent gesture was a readiness to help and share the burden.

Next came Vi'an, a little late. He was younger - barely nineteen. He still looked leaner, lighter than his older brothers, and now, rubbing his neck, he grimaced in discomfort. The long flight and tension of battle clearly weighed on him more heavily.

Erao arrived last.

A bulky bandolier of weapons hung over his back — rifles, grenades, and strange instruments that clinked with every step. He carefully set the load down, snorted, and brushed soot and dirt off his hands.

His face, usually bright and cheerful, was stern now — Erao fully understood the seriousness of the moment.

The smell of battle still lingered around them. Smoke, ash, and the faint, metallic scent of blood.

You seemed to arrive just in time.

Neteyam winced softly in pain as Kiri carefully applied salve to the deep scrape on his side.

Nearby, Lo'ak and Spider were already exchanging knowing grins, quietly snorting with barely-contained amusement.

"A great warrior," Mo'at, the clan's tsahik, remarked with a warm, teasing tone in her voice. Despite the irony, pride still shone in her eyes for her grandson.

Without hesitation, you sank down onto the mat directly in front of Neteyam to be at eye level with him.

You sat cross-legged in the Pandoran way, comfortably settling on the soft woven rug. Gently, you reached out and touched his shin—where his skin was lightly scored with scratches.

You touched him carefully, almost weightlessly, as if silently offering support through your hand alone.

Neteyam gave you a small smile in return, his eyes softening for a moment.

Beside you sat Tuk, clutching a large bowl filled with healing berries mixed into a medicinal paste.

She held it with both hands to keep it steady, watching the treatment of her brother with curious eyes, occasionally wincing when she saw it hurt him.

"Celebrate their return, but don't forget,"

Mo'at said. "The true strength of a warrior lies not in how high he rises, but in how he stands after he falls. And in those he chooses to fight for."

Her words brought a quiet over the group. Even Lo'ak, usually playful, nodded silently, eyes fixed on the fire.

The warm breeze stirred your hair. The night smelled of smoke, damp earth, and the promise of peace after battle.

...

Together, your cheerful little group made your way through the large tent reserved for the avatars.

"They're totally going to kick us out again," you whispered, though you continued walking with the others.

"We'll be quick!" Lo'ak waved it off with a grin.

Inside was a scene of organized chaos-some were brushing their teeth, others wrapping bandages around themselves or helping each other, while a few had already dozed off, lazily chatting in low tones.

Your father, Norm, was among those tidying up before bed. A toothbrush stuck out of his mouth as he mumbled something unintelligible.

"Hey, Spider!" he suddenly called out to your usual partner-in-crime.

Before you could blink, Norm whipped the towel off his neck and smacked Spider across the butt with a playful smack.

You barely managed to stifle a laugh, quickly rushing ahead to avoid catching flak from the scientists who had already warned you not to wander in here.

"You're gonna pay for that!" Spider growled, turning around with mock outrage.

"I'm looking forward to it," Norm replied with exaggerated innocence, pulling the toothbrush from his mouth.

"Pff!" Spider mimicked him, throwing his hands in the air dramatically.

As expected, you were quickly "caught."

"Hey! Where do you think you're going?! Avatars only!" one of the female scientists called out in a stern voice.

Kiri wasted no time mimicking her in a high-pitched, sing-song tone.

"Sorry!" Lo'ak chimed in quickly.

...

After the long and "epic" journey from the tent to the lab, you and Spider finally took off your exo-packs with a sigh of relief. The sense of freedom was almost physical.

Your Na'vi friends, on the other hand, quickly put on their breathing masks-the Earth air was dangerous for them, though not immediately deadly.

"Yeah, ha-ha," Spider said sarcastically. "You know what's really funny? You guys can breathe our Earth air for hours. We get ten seconds in yours-if that."

He gestured toward you as he said it.

"Exactly!" you chimed in, adjusting the straps of your top over your shoulders as you walked toward the familiar group of scientists.

Spider darted ahead, reaching them first. He fist-bumped Max as he passed, then-wasting no time-snuck in and gave your father a sharp pinch on the nipple.

"Ow!" Norm yelped with a disgruntled chuckle, jerking away.

"Ow..." you echoed, laughing along with Spider.

The lab had its own kind of coziness. A faint smell of antiseptic, the soft hum of equipment, and dim lighting created a sense of safety, a place that felt alive-despite the exhaustion on everyone's faces.

...

You stood with Spider and Kiri, watching an old video recording-footage of Grace Augustine. A brilliant scientist, a sharp mind, a kind heart-that's how everyone who'd known her described her. And you believed them. In a way, you even envied Kiri. She knew who her mother was, she knew the kind of woman she had been.

And you? Who was your mother? Norm's wife, a Na'vi from another clan. Definitely not someone you could call your own. She had always been... neutral-positive, at best. Not an enemy-but not a mom either.

Lost in thought, you didn't notice Lo'ak until he strolled by, lazily propping one long leg on the lab table with casual grace.

"So who do you think knocked her up?" he asked with a smirk, nodding toward the screen.

"My money's on Norm," Spider chimed in, flashing a smug grin.

You rolled your eyes.

"Have you no shame?" Kiri said sharply, frowning, and you nodded in agreement.

"What? It makes sense!" Lo'ak insisted. "Teacher's pet! Always glued to her in the lab..."

"I'd rather die, drink some acid." Kiri snorted. "No offense, Y/n"

You wrinkled your nose and raised an eyebrow at her.

It was a weird thought-those two together. The age difference alone was enormous...

Turning away, your eyes landed on the amnio tank, where Grace's avatar floated in thick fluid. She looked so peaceful in her sleep.

"See? Right there! In every clip, he's always by her side!" Spider exclaimed, pointing at the screen.

You silently pinched his thigh in response.

"Ow!" cried the second-class clown.

"I can just picture it," Lo'ak went on, theatrically placing a hand on his chest. "Their avatars sneaking off into the forest together..."

You smacked him hard on the butt. That yelp was no joke this time.

Before he could even react, Kiri gave him a playful shove.

"Enough."

It all still felt light-hearted, fun-until Spider suddenly muttered:

"Sometimes it's better not to know who your father is."

The air thickened. The jokes stopped cold.

Even the hum of the lab seemed to hush.

Sadness settled silently between you all.

Spider turned away, leaning his side against the glass capsule.

"Whatever," he muttered. "I don't even remember him."

"Don't worry about it," you tried to comfort him.

"Save it," he snapped, eyes dark.

You exchanged a glance with Lo'ak. It hurt, seeing him like this. He did know who his father was. And his mother. But he also knew that everyone else who knew his father carried that look-hatred. Whether they showed it or not.

And again, something twisted inside you. Jealousy? No... more like longing. He knew where he came from. You didn't.

"You're nothing like him," Kiri said softly, wrapping her long limbs around his waist.

There was such truth and warmth in her voice.

You spotted a sturdy box nearby, climbed on top to match Spider's height. He was still staring off, leaning on the amnio tank, stubbornly avoiding everyone's gaze.

You leaned forward slightly, trying to catch his eyes. The pain there was almost physical. He held himself together with the strength of his people-their jokes, their touches, their warm voices. Without that, he might've fallen apart long ago.

You reached out and gently touched his shoulder, careful, as if afraid of breaking something fragile.

"Hey..." you called quietly.

For a moment, he looked at you-his eyes still heavy with sadness.

You squeezed his shoulder a little more firmly, trying to let your warmth speak for you.

"We'll always be together. We've made it through so much already... And you've proven, again and again, how much you mean to us."

He glanced down at your hand-and for a moment, a tiny, almost invisible smile touched his lips. Like he was clinging to the comfort you offered.

At that moment, without a word, you knew that even the smallest touch could keep someone from drowning.

...

Chapter Text

Вот дословный перевод сцены на английский язык:

---

Along the interwoven, moss-covered branches hanging above the misty abyss, children were racing — agile silhouettes sliding between the vines as if they had become part of living Pandora itself.
Lo’ak moved ahead, confidently leading the way, used to such heights.

Spider, his eyes gleaming and every movement filled with carefree challenge, leapt forward, overtaking him.
"Last one’s a rotten worm!" he shouted, grinning over his shoulder.
Lo’ak dashed after him, not falling behind for even a second.

You and Kiri rushed after them, holding onto your close friend as if the whole forest was guiding you.
Your hair streamed in the wind, and your faces glowed with joy.
A little behind, but just as eager, Tuktirey bounced along, laughing at the jokes.

Reaching the width of a branch protruding over a chasm, the children sat down one by one, breathing heavily but smiling like they had just survived a great adventure.

Below them stretched the misty forest; above — floating mountains — the whole world seemed like a playground to them.
Spider was the first to lie on his back, hands folded behind his head.

— That was amazing, — he said, looking up at the sky. — Almost like that time I jumped off the arch near the ikran nests.

— Almost, — Lo’ak smirked, sitting down beside him. — But that time you landed on your butt, remember?

— Just like you, — Kiri chimed in, throwing moss at her brother.
Still catching your breath, you lay down between them.

— That was better than any of Askuk’s lessons, — you muttered, staring at the sky. — We should do this every day.

— If we went out every day, dad would drag us back by the ears, — Tuktirey giggled, sitting nearby and starting to weave a crown from the flowers growing at the edge of the branch.

...

The sky above the far edge of the forest trembled with the vibration of rotor blades.
Through the thick clouds appeared a “Scorpion” — an RDA transport gunship, silently gliding above the treetops.
Its metallic body sharply contrasted with the living breath of Pandora’s jungle.

Inside sat people in camouflage, in armor, with lightless gazes — not scientists, not diplomats.

Soldiers. Recoms under RDA command, approved and ready for combat.

"Coming in for landing. Eyes on the horizon," said the pilot, maneuvering the aircraft above a small clearing.
Branches flew apart under the force of the rotors as the Scorpion softly touched down.

— We go on foot from here. Quiet, — ordered the Colonel, checking his weapon. — We’ll launch drones at dusk.
As they moved further in, the forest grew silent again, as if holding its breath.

...

The forest was fresh after a recent rain, the humid air filled with the scent of leaves and earth.

You, Lo’ak, and Spider carefully climbed the gnarled trunk of an ancient tree, following the glint of strange metal barely visible through the foliage.

There, tangled in the canopy, stood an old Samson — a combat helicopter from the time of the RDA war.

— You think it’s really from back then? — you asked quietly, gripping the rough bark.

— Looks like it. Seems the tree swallowed it, — Spider said, pulling himself higher. They climbed in silence.

The metal body, exposed to the sky, was cracked, as if the machine itself was tired of existing.
Below, Tuk stayed on the ground, holding her hand over her mouth.

— Hey! — she called. — Are there any dead bodies?

— Let’s see, — replied Socorro, already reaching the open hatch.

He peeked inside and, without hesitation, crawled in. You watched him, while Lo’ak, too big to fit, could only observe from outside.

Inside it was dark, quiet, smelled of mold and stale air.
Sunlight poured through the broken cockpit glass, illuminating the space.
Broken equipment… and a figure collapsed in the pilot’s seat.

A skeleton, still in gear, with torn patches.
The helmet lay at his feet.
The vest’s metal was rusted through.
Fragments of the external mask scattered nearby.

— He died right here, — Spider said, squatting near the remains. — Alone.

You watched silently, not looking away.
You didn’t feel fear — only a strange stillness of time.
Everything here was frozen.

Samson held a piece of the past in its hands.

Suddenly — a loud noise.

The cockpit window shuddered from an abrupt hit.

– BOO!– shouted Lo’ak, slamming his fist against the cracked glass.

You and Spider flinched. You even let out a frightened gasp, clutching your chest, while Spider snorted and smiled.

– You’re insane,– he muttered, rolling his eyes.

Lo’ak smirked, stepping back, but his smile faded when he saw how intently you were examining the solemn interior of the old pilot’s cabin.

- This…- you ran your fingers over a faded tin box with a barely distinguishable manufacturer's name.

Most of the items turned out to be rusted relics: an old metal flashlight, a worn notebook, even a broken communicator.

- Are you going to take it?- Spider asked, watching you.

You paused for a moment — and then changed.

- Just don’t tell anyone. If my dad sees it, he’ll start asking questions. And if he finds out where we were — he’ll definitely forbid us to come back.

- Especially if he hears about the skeleton,- smirked Lo’ak. - We’re gonna be in trouble.

- Exactly,- you carefully packed a few things into your bag, hugging it to your chest.

- This is ours. Like a memory. Like history.

Just as they were about to climb down from the tree, Tuk suddenly looked up and frowned.

- Hey... where’s Kiri?- Everyone froze.

No one had noticed when she disappeared.

Only the faint swaying of branches and the rustle of movement hinted that someone had just passed deeper into the forest.

Spider went first, gently parting the branches and listening carefully. His voice echoed between the trees.

- Kiri?.. Kiri, where are you?- Step by step, he moved deeper into the forest, and the voices of his friends faded behind him.

He knew that when Kiri heard Eywa’s call, she could wander far, as if in a trance. It had happened before, but lately, it was becoming more frequent. Ever since the humans had returned to Pandora in full force, she had grown quieter, more distant.

Eventually, despite everything, he saw a familiar shape.

Kiri had laid down on the soft grass, curled up on her side as if she had just lain down for a moment… and fallen asleep. Her face was calm, even serene, like someone who felt completely safe. Around her floated an atokirina, softly glowing in the air, as if watching over her.

After regrouping and making sure she was alright, the children continued exploring.

They walked narrow, winding paths between towering trees and came upon the giant roots of an ancient, powerful tree — one as old and mighty as Pandora itself. The roots stretched above the ground like bridges, and the children carefully made their way along them, taking in the view.

Then, Lo’ak suddenly stopped. He crouched down, looked at the damp bark, and then at the ground near its base. He jumped down and fell to his knees.

- What is it?- Kiri asked.

Lo’ak touched a footprint in the wet soil.

- Too big for a human,- he murmured thoughtfully.

- Avatars?- Spider guessed.

You thought the same — though it seemed unlikely. Your own avatars didn’t wear boots of that size. But you still hoped it was someone familiar.

- Maybe… but definitely not one of ours,- Lo’ak said confidently.

You stood beside him, frowning. Your fingers tightened around the strap of the bag where you had packed the trinkets from the wrecked Samson. Now they felt distant, unimportant. You looked at the prints in the mud, as if trying to see through them — to the one who left them.

«If it’s not one of ours... then someone came. Someone we don’t know.»

That thought squeezed your chest. You weren’t a coward, but you also didn’t waste time when it came to real danger.

You looked at Spider, then at Kiri, who was silently staring in the same direction the tracks led, as if she sensed it too. Then you looked at Lo’ak. His face was tense; he was already moving again, deeper into the forest. And the others followed him.

- We need to tell someone,- you murmured, mostly to yourself. -This isn’t just someone passing by.

No one answered.

Everyone was staring into the forest, where the trees stood too close together, and the shadows seemed far too dark.

You moved slowly, almost soundlessly, as if you were part of the forest itself. The roots beneath your feet were slippery with moisture, and the air was thick, charged with tension. Even the insects seemed to be holding their breath. The branches above hung low, as if listening in.

The tension was like a drawn bowstring.

The tracks led onward, and with each step, they began to look more and more wrong.

- We shouldn’t be here…” Kiri said anxiously and irritably. -Dad’s going to kill us.

- Shh, come on,- Lo’ak said, glancing at Spider with a mischievous grin and a spark of excitement in his eyes.

He leaned forward slightly, nodding toward the half-collapsed lab and the figures ahead.

- We have to take a closer look,- he whispered. - Let’s go.

No one argued. Splitting up would be madness. This wasn’t some dumb horror movie — this was Pandora, and on Pandora, you needed to stick together.

Step by step, crouching low, they pushed through the thick undergrowth, carefully stepping on the damp ground, hiding behind the roots.

Every movement was like dancing on a knife’s edge — one wrong step, and everything could fall apart.

You walked a little behind, trying not to lag, but your thoughts were drowning in sensation.

You couldn’t hear what Lo’ak and Spider were saying. Their voices, muffled like sounds under water, didn’t reach you. Everything around you felt muted, as if the world had emerged from sleep but hadn’t fully awakened.

The pressure in your chest grew with every second. It wasn’t just anxiety — something in the forest had changed.

The air felt heavier, the sounds unnaturally muffled, like the moments before a storm. Your heart beat faster, fingers tightening around your bow, even though no real danger could yet be seen.

You could feel a lump rising in your throat. Something was wrong. Very wrong.

- We’re leaving,- Lo’ak said shortly, his gaze sharp and tense as he looked at the others.

You immediately stepped closer, your voice anxious.

- What are we going to do?

You hadn’t heard the whole conversation, didn’t know the details, and your tone reflected your uncertainty.

Instead of answering, Lo’ak pressed a finger to his ear, activating his communicator. A faint crackle of static flickered in your own ear — he was switching frequencies and transmitting coordinates and information to his father.

His voice was calm and steady, like a trained fighter used to this kind of situation. But there was still a hint of worry in it.

You stayed silent, but wild thoughts were already racing through your head. What would she tell Dad? And more importantly — what would Askuk say?

“Just don’t let him be the first to find out…” you thought anxiously. “He always looks at me like I’m reckless. And it’s all because of Lo’ak… He didn’t even do anything wrong. He’s just… like that. Too brave, too stubborn. But why does everything bad always have to be his fault?”

You felt it heavily — a knot tightening in your stomach.

“Dad… maybe he’ll understand. But Askuk — no. He’ll say I put myself in danger again. He’ll say it. You’re older than that fool, smarter, wiser. As if he’s forgotten that I want to do things too, think, live — not just sit quietly behind walls…”

You lowered your eyes to your clenched fists, tight with tension.

You needed to come up with something to say.

Something that would explain why you had to go with them…

In the distance, Lo’ak, Spider, and Kiri were already pushing through the thickets.

You slowly began to follow them, your lips pressed into a firm line.

The explanation hadn’t come yet, but she knew — its consequences would answer for everything.

Twilight was falling fast. The air cooled, and the dense treetops turned dark blue and crimson. The scent of damp wood filled the air.

Tuk looked back and shouted:

- Run! The eclipse is near!

But she didn’t even have time to take a step before a massive figure emerged from the shadows.

An avatar — not from their clan. A huge blue hand grabbed Tuk. Her sharp scream split the air.

- Tuk!- Kiri cried out.

Lo’ak and Spider instantly drew their bows, pulling back the strings and aiming at the place where the stranger had appeared.

You were a bit behind them, near the root of a tree, checking your bag to make sure everything was in place.

The sudden scream made you flinch, and you turned around.

From all sides, as if rising from the ground itself, avatars began to appear. They emerged from bushes and low ferns in utter silence, like ghosts. They were armed with firearms — heavy, deadly. Their movements were smooth and coordinated — clearly not wild or wandering scavengers.

How? you panicked. How didn’t we hear them? How could they be so quiet?..

You bolted instinctively, only now fully realizing the scale of what was happening.

Your heart pounded as your legs carried you desperately — just get away, just let at least one of you escape.

You needed to call for help.

You needed to…

But you hadn’t made it more than a few steps before someone appeared out of thin air.

One of the avatars — tall, massive, unfamiliar — stepped forward and grabbed you by the waist without hesitation.

The force of his grip knocked the air out of your lungs.

You screamed and struggled, but his hold was firm. He lifted you into the air effortlessly, like a toy. Your legs kicked helplessly, fear and rage choking your breath.

- Let me go!- you shouted, trying to break free, but he didn’t even look at you.

He turned and carried you toward the clearing, where Lo’ak and Spider were slowly lowering their bows to the ground. They were immediately seized by two more avatars and forced to their knees.

You were still squirming in the air until he tossed you like a sack to your knees beside them.

Your fingers trembled, hair fell over your mask, and your eyes darted around — Who were these avatars? Why were they here? And how the hell were they so damn quiet?

Slowly, you lifted your head. You were surrounded. And among them — not a single familiar face.

In terror, Tuk was calling for her older sister, and Kiri was trying to calm her in the Na’vi tongue.

Panic would only make things worse.

The soldier holding the little girl didn’t like her crying, and he yanked her braid roughly to silence her.

Two more avatars entered your line of sight.

One of them was carefully studying each of the children.

A bald avatar walked over to Kiri and grabbed her by the wrist, twisting her arm palm-up.

Then he motioned to another avatar — the one with the rank of colonel — and reported something to him with interest.

- Half-breed.

That avatar stepped closer. He looked young, about twenty, with a cold, piercing gaze.

His movements were firm and deliberate — he carried himself like someone used to giving orders, someone who thought. He peered into Kiri’s face, seemingly comparing her to someone from memory…

Then he turned to Lo’ak and stepped forward.

- Show me your hand.- His voice was calm, but the threat in it was unmistakable — like ice crawling down your spine.

You held your breath. Something in that man’s tone made your heart pound — not from anger, but from pure fear.

Lo’ak, the fool, didn’t even flinch. Without breaking eye contact, he raised his middle finger. Then he hissed at him.

That was a mistake. The avatar smirked and immediately grabbed his kuru, yanking so hard that Lo’ak let out a deep, painful growl.

You watched in horror, unable to speak a word. Your fingers trembled, your thoughts spiraled into chaos.

It all happened so fast, you could barely process it.
What now?
What were you supposed to do?

Spider, still kneeling, was shouting something in Na’vi. His voice trembled not from fear, but from fury — like a storm he was barely holding back.

Meanwhile, the Colonel was still holding onto Lo’ak’s braid. His eyes were locked onto the boy. Five fingers.

He understood everything — without a word, without a question.

He spoke in English, but Lo’ak, stubborn or foolish, deliberately replied in Na’vi. Then the man asked again, this time in rough, broken Na’vi, demanding to know where his father was.

You stood frozen, paralyzed by fear, as if something had clamped around you. Your eyes were wide open, your breath shallow. Your heart was pounding so loudly it felt like even the enemies could hear it.

When the Colonel yanked Lo’ak’s braid again and the boy growled in pain, something inside you broke.

Your vision blurred, and tears began to fall — silently, without a sound.

You didn’t even try to wipe them away. You simply lowered your gaze to the ground, to the dry leaves and damp dust. You couldn’t look anymore. It was too much. Too terrifying. Too painful.

You managed to retreat into yourself, to sink deep into your own mind — as if silence, as if not breathing, not feeling could make it all disappear.

But instead of safety, there was only pain. Guilt. Helplessness. The fear that maybe… maybe no one would come. That maybe you wouldn’t get out.

You barely heard what the Colonel was saying. Everything around you became muffled, like underwater — indistinct, dim, as if you were slowly drowning in your own fear.

Through the haze of dread and tears, you still managed to lift your eyes for just a moment.

Ahead, a little to the side, the Colonel had dropped to one knee — face-to-face with Spider.

You heard every word. And with each one, the pieces fell into place. You understood who the Colonel was.

Quaritch.

Miles Quaritch, right in front of you — and suddenly everything made sense. That’s why he was so interested in the human boy.

...

Trying to piece together a new mosaic… Colonel Quaritch.

That name echoed in old records like a threat, a curse.

They said he wasn’t human…

He burned forests. Hunted the Na’vi like prey.

The father of war.

…A video on your father’s tablet. Tall, stone-faced. His voice was always a command.

No “if.” Only “move.”

…They said he was dead.

Killed by Jake Sully.

Stopped for good.

And now he was speaking to him.
The man looked at him… like he knew him.

Everyone knew Quaritch had a son.

A child they couldn’t send back to Earth.
Miles… Socorro. Spider.

…

Time seemed to stretch intentionally, your heartbeat growing louder with every thump.

The sounds around you dulled — like everything had sunk beneath water. You didn’t even notice when he came closer.

Quaritch.

He was already in front of you, staring straight into your face.

No words. No rush. As if he were trying to see beneath your skin, beyond your eyes — deeper.

His gaze was steady, calm, predatory.
You froze. You couldn’t even look away.

There was no expression on his face, and that only made it worse.

Quaritch stood there, never taking his eyes off you.

You felt his stare digging into your face, like he was searching for an answer there.

A teenager. Definitely. But… hell, how old was she?

Dates, faces, fragments of data blurred in his mind.

He knew Miles’s age.

He remembered who had been on the base.

Who had survived — and who hadn’t.

But you…

He didn’t know you.

He squinted.

- Shit…- he muttered under his breath. “Who the hell are you?”

He took a step forward, towering over you, staring you straight in the eye.

- Did you grow up with him? — he glanced toward Spider. - Who are your parents?

You swallowed hard. Your throat clenched from within.
Tears still clouded your eyes, but you lifted your chin, trying at least to match your voice to the steadiness of your gaze.

"I... I... I just live here..."

Quaritch squinted, as if he either hadn’t heard you, or didn’t believe you.

- With who?- he asked more quietly — which only made it more terrifying. - Who takes care of you?

You turned your head, looking at the faces of your friends — Lo’ak gritting his teeth and hissing, Spider frozen, Kiri and Tuk’s eyes wide with fear.

Your heart was pounding, but still, you answered.

- Norm... Norm Spellman… He… he raised me...

Quaritch straightened, his jaw clenched.
That name clearly meant something to him.

- Well, well,- he muttered, nodding to someone behind him. - Breeding like rabbits, huh…

You swallowed hard.

- Norm Spellman, huh? That clueless scientist who thought he could play daddy?

A quiet chuckle came from behind him.

...

"That’s it," Kiri declared, crossing her arms. "I’m a grandma now. I sit around sipping herbal tea and complaining about my back."

She dramatically slumped down onto a tree root, gave a long sigh, and closed her eyes like life had really worn her out.

Beaming with joy, you tugged Neteyam’s hand.

"You’re the dad! And I’m the mom! We’re a family!"

"And who are our kids?" Neteyam asked with a faint smile, trying to keep a straight face.

"Them!" — you pointed at Lo’ak and Spider.

"Hey! I don’t wanna be in this game!" Lo’ak grumbled, folding his arms.

"Shh! You’re the grumpy son," you declared firmly, stamping your foot.

Spider snorted.

"Fine. If Lo’ak’s gonna whine, I’ll be the obedient one. Maybe I’ll get dessert for it."

You busily sat everyone down, placing “bowls” made of large leaves in front of them.

"No playing until you eat!"

"What’s for lunch, mommy?" Spider asked with exaggerated drama.

"Leaves, berries, and roots," Neteyam replied, lifting a spoon to his mouth. "All made with love."

"How long do I have to hide in the bushes after eating this masterpiece?" Lo’ak groaned to Spider.

"Eat, children, before it gets cold!" you said sternly, handing Spider something that looked like a dead caterpillar.

"Husband, help me with the children!"

"Yeah, yeah… sons, listen to your mother," Neteyam mumbled, trying to keep a straight face — but the twitch at the corner of his mouth betrayed a smile.

"Never again," Lo’ak hissed, leaning toward Spider, who just chuckled softly.

A fragile, warm moment of childhood — like a breath of air before the storm.

...

You were all standing in a straight line, staring at the ruins of the abandoned base.
Your hands were clenched so tight in front of you that your wrists ached. No one was allowed to sit, not even those struggling to breathe from exhaustion.

Only standing. Standing and waiting.

Every time someone moved the wrong way, they were yanked by the braid.

“Don’t move. Stay still!”

Darkness thickened. The air grew cold and damp.

And then, from deep within the safe jungle, where the ancient trees grew, came a faint call.
The cry of a bird, high above. Soft, familiar, aching to the heart.

A signal.

Neytiri.

Chapter Text

You exchanged a cautious glance with your friends upon hearing the piercing, achingly familiar cry of the birds.

Everyone understood instantly — it was Neytiri.

Beside you, Kiri whispered a prayer, and you prayed silently too, just hoping not to rile the avatar who held you captive.

Three...
Two...
One...

The whistle of an arrow cut through the air — a perfect headshot. Almost immediately, a second arrow found its mark. Another soldier fell.

You jerked back sharply, feeling the wind in your hair for the first time in what felt like ages.

Chaos erupted. The flashes of RDA gunfire lit up the darkness. Thunder, screams, running.

Desperately you tried to peer through the fogged and rain-splattered glass of your mask, where were your people? Your kin?

No one. You were alone.

Without hesitation, you charged forward, guided by instinct.

They can handle it. They must.

Behind, gunfire rumbled and distant commands from Quaritch carried over the battle’s roar.

You ran blindly into the darkness, and then you tripped. Something hard struck your shin, and you fell face-first into the wet mud.

– Ah!– you cried out.

Your mask was instantly smeared over, obliterating your view.

You scrambled up, wiping the glass with your bound hands. It was nearly impossible.

“Damn it...”

Suddenly, someone grabbed you forcefully by the shoulders and yanked you aside. Without thinking, you kicked and scratched, claws digging into powerful hands.

– Hold on! Easy, easy, calm down!– came a voice. –Breathe slowly... It’s me, Se’yli. Your older blue brother.

The familiar Na’vi voice pierced the fog of panic. You froze, gasping, still blind behind the smeared glass.

Se’yli wiped it clean in swift strokes, clearing your view. Through the blur, you recognized his worried but familiar face.

Next to him, another blue face, feminine this time, appeared. You blinked, trying to see.

– I thought you were… You… Oh Eywa…– you whispered, voice shaking with relief and fear.

– Get out of here, quickly,– the female Na’vi said, it was Nora, your elder sister. – Sky-people will be here soon.

– What about the others?– you turned, dread squeezing your chest.

– They can handle it, they’ve got Toruk Makto and Neytiri,– Nora replied, confident.

– But—

– Don’t worry about that!– Se’yli cut in sharply, scooping you up like a feather and lifting you onto his ikran’s back.

In the next instant, you soared into the sky. Cold wind slammed against your soaked skin. The mask fogged anew. But none of that mattered.

You were alive. And you were not alone.

...

You entered the outpost one by one, breathing heavily through your mask. Your hands trembled as you tried to free yourself from the exo-suit — straps tangled, locks stubborn.

Nora knelt beside you immediately and began removing your gear with gentle precision.

Her warm palm brushed your cheek, soft, almost maternal — sweeping wet hair from your forehead.

You still couldn’t believe you were safe.

While Nora unfastened the straps, Se’yli donned his own breathing mask and handed another to your sister.

– Here. Take this before the oxygen drops,– he murmured, glancing around.

The lab was unnervingly silent. Almost engulfed in darkness, with only a single lamp glowing softly over the worktable.

...

They’ll definitely tell your father, you didn’t doubt it for a moment; he probably already knew… along with everyone else, especially Askuk.

Oh... how you'll be in for it when you face his harsh, icy gaze.

You perched on the edge of a table, hugging your shoulders. Your hands trembled from either the cold or the weight of realization:

How could you have predicted it? Who could have foreseen that a dead man would rise from the ground… and return in the body of an avatar?

And is it even an avatar? After all, didn’t they all rise from the dead? Doesn’t that mean none of them have operators like your familiar avatars?

– What the hell am I thinking about…?– you whispered, pressing your forehead into your palms.

There’s really no shortage of things to overthink.

The room was dim, only a faint panel in the corner glowing with a soft, cold light.

And in that light — him.

Askuk stood with his arms crossed over his chest, unmoving like stone. His eyes, like two blades. Face cold. No smile. Not even a fake one.

You still couldn’t understand how the Na’vi, with their size, could move so silently.

– Where were you?” he asked quietly. But his voice rang so sharply that even silence seemed to echo.

– Askuk, we— Nora began, stepping forward, but the look he shot her made the words die in her throat.

You tensed, feeling everything inside you shrink, but still, you answered.

– We got caught in crossfire. There were RDA soldiers. We made it out. It's fine.

– Fine?– He took a step closer. Loud and heavy, like every word a blow.– You almost died, and you call that fine?”

– But I came back...– you tried to defend yourself, but your voice wavered.

– You weren’t supposed to go there!– he barked.
–What did I tell you?!
You think you can do anything, huh? Just because you can shoot a bow?! Or because Lo’ak called, and you’re ready to jump into any mess with him?!

You froze. There it was. Lo’ak.

– You just don’t like him,– you breathed. –You’re always angry when he’s around.

Askuk raised his head. His gaze sliced the air.

– He drags you into chaos. Every time. And you blindly follow.

He paused for a moment, then added quieter, almost with pain.

– If they hadn’t made it in time... you’d be gone. Shot. That’s it.

You couldn’t take it anymore and shouted:

– I’m not a thing! Not your property!”

– No. You’re my sister. And I won’t let you die over something stupid. Even if you hate me for it.

Silence fell.

He stood across from you, tall, grim, with that icy face.

Se’yli was quiet, jaw clenched, but he said nothing. He knew now wasn’t the time. Nora stood a bit to the side, glancing back and forth between you and A’skuk with worry, but she didn’t dare step in either.

Suddenly, quick footsteps echoed down the corridor. Soft, but hurried. And then Norm appeared in the doorway. In his human body.

– What’s going—” he stopped when he saw you and A’skuk standing face-to-face, your breath shallow, shoulders tense. Se’yli frozen, unsure what to do, Nora rigid, fingers clenched.

Norm’s gaze darted between you and A’skuk. His pupils widened. He immediately sensed something sharp and invisible hanging in the air.

He didn’t wait for an answer. Seeing your tear-flushed face, soaked and muddy clothes, hair tangled with leaves and twigs —

He rushed to you at once.

– Sweetheart… Hey, baby girl, are you okay?– his voice trembled as his hands landed on your shoulders, then gently on your cheeks, your temples, as if checking for injuries.

– What happened? Are you hurt? Does anything hurt?– he quickly ran his hands over your body.

His eyes jumped from your hands to your eyes to your breathing — trying to make sure you were here. Whole. And only then, briefly, did he glance at A’skuk — and tension flickered across his face.

When you didn’t answer right away, Norm, still keeping a hand on your shoulder, turned to the others.

– What happened? Se’yli? Nora?..

They exchanged glances, clearly unwilling to speak first.
Se’yli bit his lip. But Nora finally dared to part her lips.

The silence was cut off by A’skuk’s low voice, filled with steel and venom.

– Ask your daughter.– He emphasized the last two words like a chasm between them.

His voice snapped like a slap.

He didn’t look at Norm, only past him, off to the side, jaw clenched, fingers tight.

Askuk was already turning toward the exit when Norm, still with a hand on his daughter’s shoulder, said sharply:

– Stop. Not in that tone. I won’t let you speak to me like that, Askuk.

The young Na’vi froze at the door without turning. Only his tail twitched in irritation.

– You want me to just stay quiet when she almost died again?– he said hoarsely, voice shaking. –You want me to say ‘it’s fine, she’s okay’ and move on?

– I want you not to come at me like I’m your enemy,– Norm answered firmly, his voice hardening with that unmistakable tone, the one the children had known since they were little. A tone that didn’t lead to shouting, but made the words stick for a long time.
Askuk turned, and something sharp flashed in his face — like a blade. But behind that anger, there was trembling hurt.

– Don’t forget whose daughter she is,– he said with biting sarcasm. –Not mine. I’m just the one who has to chase after her because she never listens to you.

–Enough,– Norm stopped him. His voice lowered, turned sharper. –I understand that you’re angry. But now is not the time. She’s alive, that’s what matters.

Askuk clenched his fists, his shoulders trembled, so much was boiling inside him he didn’t know where to put it. But he didn’t argue anymore. He just turned away, hiding his expression.

– I’ll go.

– Mhm. This time you’ll go. But at dawn, we’ll talk,– Norm said and turned his focus back to you, making sure once again you were completely unharmed.

Se’yli stood in the back of the room as if he were glued to the floor. He avoided looking at either A’skuk or Norm, only occasionally stealing glances at you.

Nora, unlike him, stood closer, but she too remained silent. Her gaze darted between Askuk and Norm.

Her heart was breaking. She knew Askuk spoke harshly, but he did it out of fear for you…

...

You barely slept that night. Lay on your side, staring at the wall, listening to every sound outside the door. Waiting.

Spider always came. A bit later, a bit quieter than usual, but he always came. He’d lie down beside you, breathing heavily from the long day, sometimes mumbling in his sleep — and that was enough to calm you.

But that night, the door never creaked. No one came.

You lay like that until dawn, exhausted from waiting, and only in the early morning did you finally drift off for a couple of hours. Without hope. Expecting nothing.

Maybe he stayed with the Sullys.
Maybe… he just couldn’t...

...

The morning was unusually grey. No bird songs, no laughter outside, just a light wind slipping between the walls of the outpost.

And no smell of coffee either.

Instead, a persistent whisper filled the corridors. Anxious, agitated murmurs, snatches of sentences, heavy glances.

The Sully family is leaving the clan.

Just like that. No goodbyes, no speeches. Some said it was Jake’s decision. Others whispered it was an order — they had to leave so as not to endanger the others.

But you didn’t care who decided or why.
You ran out of the outpost without even washing your face. Your skin still warm from sleep, but worry had woken you long ago, thundering in your chest, tearing your thoughts apart.

No. It can’t be.
They can’t just leave. Without a word. Without goodbye.
You barely felt the ground under your feet as you ran, stumbling around corners. The air was damp, morning-cool, but your cheeks burned from fear and disbelief.

You didn’t have to look for long.
Up ahead stood the familiar tent. At the entrance, familiar silhouettes moved quickly, gathering belongings, carefully packing them into bags and harnesses.
A few ikrans waited nearby, shifting restlessly from foot to foot.

It was true.

They were leaving.

Your legs stopped, refused to move.
Your heart clenched until it hurt.

And your eyes searched automatically — Neteyam, Lo’ak, Kiri, Tuk… Spider.

He wasn’t there.

They really were going.
The Sully family was packing quickly, but with coordination — as if the decision had been made long ago.
No one was crying. No one arguing. No one looking back.
Everyone was silent.

Except for you.
Inside you, everything screamed.

How could he?

As the clan leader, as the Toruk Makto, as a man who had shared fear and pain and hope with you — how could he just run away?!

Someone did come up to you, though.

Kiri.

She quietly stepped away from the others, leaving her things on the ground. She walked slowly, as if unsure how to begin. But in her eyes was everything already — fear, guilt, helplessness.

– Spider was taken,– Kiri said.

Plainly. Clearly. As if it were already a fact too heavy for her to fully grasp.

Everything inside you shattered. The world seemed to go silent — no wind, no footsteps, no tent noises, not even your own breath.

– What?– you whispered, your voice barely more than air.

Kiri took a slow step closer.
There was something broken in her eyes.

– That night… when they surrounded us. It all happened so fast. Flashes, gunfire, panic...

To be continued…

You shook your head, stepping back as if from a blow.

— No…

— He was caught in an explosion and fell down. I saw them grab him. I was going to run to him, but mom pulled me back. She screamed at me not to go.

Kiri’s lips were trembling, but she tried to speak steadily. Though her voice still cracked every other word.

— And then dad said we couldn't go back. That if we tried, we'd be killed. That Spider... would manage.

She turned away, quickly wiping her tears, and you suddenly understood — she hated herself for it.

— We're leaving the camp. — she added dully. — We're going far away from the conflict zone.
Dad decided... it's better this way. For everyone.

— And Spider?! — you cried out. — You're just… going to leave? Leave him with them?

You stared at Kiri, and the more you heard, the heavier your chest became. Words lost their meaning — only their weight remained.

Spider was taken. They left. Left him.

You shook your head, slowly at first, then faster, as if it could erase what you’d just heard. But inside, a wave was rising. Growing, pressing, relentless.

– We shouldn’t have left him… we shouldn’t have!– you blurted out, but your voice immediately broke, as if something had grabbed your throat from the inside.

The tears came without warning. Hot, angry. You tried to cover your face with your hands, but the mask got in the way. Your whole body was shaking as if from cold, your breath broken and uneven, as if you were suffocating.

- He would never leave us... never...

You dropped to your knees right in the mud in front of the tent, not caring who saw, not caring about anything. Your chest heaved as if the air of Pandora no longer belonged to you. Only tears — only them.

Kiri rushed to you and dropped down beside you. She hugged you tightly, as if trying to hold you — or herself — together. And she cried. Silently, sobbing, her face buried in your hair.
As if you both were part of the same pain.

— I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… — she repeated through the sobs. — I… I couldn’t… I wanted to stay…

You were both shaking. You were both just children who had lost someone they loved.

And the world, it seemed, kept on living. But inside you, it had ended.

...

Tarsem, now the new olo’eyktan of the Omaticaya clan, stood tall and firm, taking on the burden that Jake Sully once bore. He showed no fear, only an inner resolve — to be worthy of his people.
Behind him, one step back, stood Kel’ha, his mate, your older sister. She looked at her husband, at her leader, with pride. In her eyes there was not just love, but strength, support, and roots.

The entire Omaticaya gathered at the Tree of Souls to say goodbye.

The wind sang through the leaves, as if Eywa herself was mourning.

Mo’at solemnly passed the mantle of leadership to the new chief, then Tarsem, without hesitation, drew a sharp blade across Jake’s chest — a thin line of blood trickled down, symbolizing his death as olo’eyktan.
He stood with his head held high, passing his strength to the next.

You stood aside, as if you no longer belonged to this picture.

Loneliness squeezed your heart.
It was quieter than any pain, but more inescapable.

You lowered your gaze. And then, felt a weight and warmth.

Norm, in his avatar body, silently laid his hand on your head — gently, as if afraid to break you.
He said nothing. And he didn’t have to.

...

Before that, you had said goodbye to each of them. First, to Kiri.
She held you tightly, hugged you like she was afraid this truly was the last time.

— We’re connected, you and I, — she whispered into your hair. — I’ll speak to you through every root if I have to…

Then it was Tuk — small and sunny.
She clung to you with her whole body, like a kitten, and whispered:

— Daddy took the tablet. I’ll call you every night. Before bed! I promise! Just don’t go to sleep early, okay?

You laughed, but your throat clenched.

— It’s not the same… — you whispered, looking away.

Then Neteyam. Quiet, reliable. He hugged you without saying a word. He was just there. His warmth and strength were like air — necessary.

— Don’t talk like we died, — he whispered. — We’re alive. We’ll always be with you. Even if we’re far.

— Yeah, sure… You’re just calming me down so I won’t cry, — you said with a shaky smile through tears.

Lo’ak was last. Clever, as always. He squatted in front of you, puckered his lips dramatically.

— So what… a goodbye kiss?

— Ew! — you snorted, pulling back. — Lo’ak, you’re such an idiot!

— Well, at least I made you laugh… — Kiri smiled, stepping closer.

You all stood there, hugging, not letting go. No one wanted to be the first to say goodbye.

— Come back… at least for my eighteenth birthday, — you joked weakly, looking at Neteyam.

He didn’t answer. He just squeezed your hand and nodded.
A promise without words.

...

Then everything happened too fast.
The ikran took to the sky, carrying a part of your world with them.
You stood and watched until the sky became empty.
And only then did you allow yourself to take a step back. Into the depth of silence.
They were gone. Maybe forever. Maybe not. Even Eywa didn’t know.

Now it all depended on them.

And you — stayed.
With pain, with hope, and with a world that suddenly felt far too big… and unfamiliar.