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“Ma Lo’ak,” she murmurs, trying her hardest not to smile. “You are as restless as an ikran fledgling. Sit still.”
Lo’ak giggles, tipping his head so far back that his braids brush against her arms. “But I am an ikran. See?” He flaps again, little elbows whacking harder against her.
or, neytiri tells lo'ak about seyzey and jake teaches him to ride a pa'li
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