[AN] This is something I started for the hell of it after seeing Avatar for the first time and wanting to make some OCs to put in Pandora. I've done quite a few chapters now, but I'll upload it bit by bit so as not to overwhelm you, haha. It's still in progress now. Hope you enjoy it! :3

Chapter 1

Casting a quick glance behind him at the dark blue eyaye leaf mounted in the branches of a small tree, the bright red streak through its stem pointing in his direction and proclaiming the path he was on as the right direction back to the lake, Ash'teth cursed under his breath. One of the clan's children had no doubt moved it, most likely because they knew he would be coming this way and thought it amusing to confuse the poor simple village joke. After a moment, he let a wry smile curl his lips; he was probably, on second thoughts, being too paranoid. Na'vi children had the right to mess around and play - they didn't mean to personally cause him trouble. Just because he had been a quiet, hesitant child, more content to sit under the hanging leaves of the nearest tree and put all his concentration into making toys and ornaments, it didn't mean every other young member of the Omaticaya was. He just wished they didn't have to persist with changing the brightly-coloured leaves the clan used as signposts round every other day. Ash'teth, despite being twenty years old, would readily admit he could be a bit of a simpleton at times; incidents like this only served to accentuate that fact.

"Right," he muttered to himself in Na'vi, thumping the tip of his bow down in the soil and putting the other hand on his hip as he glanced up towards the canopy of trees above. "Got to work out the right direction from this mess. And sort out the signs for everyone else while I'm at it. OK, first question - which direction did I come from?"

For a long moment, Ash'teth stood where he was, looking around him blankly. His forehead creased into a frown, then into a deeper one. He tapped his foot, willing his brain to start working. He shifted position and put his other hand on his hip, taking the bow with the other, trying to deny the inevitable. Eventually, he was forced to admit what he had known all along: he had already forgotten which path he'd taken.

"You skxawng," he berated himself, sinking down into a crouch on the forest floor and kneading his forehead with his knuckles. "Idiot, idiot, idiot."

He stayed that way for a long while, willing his brain to suddenly leap back into life and proclaim that he simply had to go in that direction to get to where he wanted to go. But there was nothing. Letting out a groan, Ash'teth moved to get back to his feet - then froze, head snapping round, at a rustle in the trees barely twenty metres away. Feline ears twitching to catch every sound, he listened hard, his one working eye sharp with concentration. There it was again. Barely perceptibly, his shoulders slumped with relief; it couldn't be anything larger than a yerik. For one panic-stricken moment, he had been absolutely convinced he had just been caught alone in the forest by a thanator.

Suddenly, a triumphant smile crossed his face, baring sharp canine teeth. Perfect! I can get dinner, and then I'll have an excuse for getting back late to the clan. The only problem was actually catching said dinner. Hunting had never been his strong point - yes, he owned one of the most elaborate and beautiful bows in the clan, carved from the wood of Hometree as the laws dictated and carved lovingly to the best of his abilities, but to be perfectly honest he couldn't do very much with it. Yes, he could use a banshee bow brilliantly while atop his ikran, Txep'renu's, back, but that was different. In the forest, there were branches and vines and roots to trip up and distract even the wariest hunter, and his blind right eye made his coordination skills weak at the best of times. He was much better in the sky, where there were no distractions, no inhibitions, only freedom.

Shaking his head firmly as if to force his thoughts back on track, Ash'teth silently drew an arrow from the quiver slung over his back and nocked it to the bow, holding the string loose for the moment as he crept forward over moss-strewn rocks and tree roots. Lithe frame effortlessly avoiding the closely-packed tree trunks, he worked his way in the direction he had heard the sound, gaze flicking up and around him at intervals to be sure the hunter wasn't, in turn, becoming the hunted. The Na'vi had to be careful, seeing as the forest they inhabited was shared by thousands of other creatures both predatory and benevolent, but as long as they kept to Eywa's will they would be protected. There had to be a cycle in life; the People could feed themselves on the creatures that they shared their home with, but they should never kill more than they needed, and they would always be sure to send a prayer to Eywa whenever they made a kill for their victim's soul to be sent to her. However, there were incidents when the wildlife of Pandora made it perfectly clear all by itself that it wasn't about to be taken advantage of; Ash'teth remembered vividly the time, several months ago, when he had accidentally pulled one too many leaves from a paywll, or 'water plant', and the thing had hurled dozens of spiky needles at him in self-defense. He knew, with a grimace, he would never forget the defensive mechanisms of Pandora's often hazardous ecosystem again - if not by memory, by the faint pinprick scars he still bore on his hands and arms.

Dragging his mind back into the present for the second time in several minutes, Ash'teth glanced up to see, sure enough, the distinctive shape of a yerik a dozen feet away in a small clearing, pawing the ground with one cloven hoof, fan-like structure on its head aloft; it had probably scented him. He would have to work fast. Out of habit, Ash'teth closed his right eye - despite being half-blinded three years ago he still hadn't managed to stop himself doing it whenever he aimed a bow - and lifted the weapon, pulling the string taught-

Then almost let out a yelp of alarm as the yerik suddenly emitted a piercing squeal and bounded straight towards him, leaping right over his head so fast he barely had time to realise what was happening. Righting himself and making a grab for his bow - which he had dropped in his alarm - Ash'teth looked behind him through a curtain of wayward black hair to see that the creature had already vanished into the trees. The normally docile animal moving at such haste meant only one thing: it had sensed something that meant a lot more danger to it than he did, and it was close by.

Reflexively clutching his bow, Ash'teth pushed his unruly fringe out of his face and cast his gaze around him, fighting back the instinctive urge to either run or simply, as was his usual response, panic. Charging off in a random direction and making more noise than a herd of titanothere was only going to make things a thousand times worse. Spotting movement in the trees about a hundred metres away, too far to discern anything in detail, Ash'teth silently replaced his arrow back in its quiver and slid his bow over his back so the string rested on his chest to keep it there. Shifting to the side until he was behind the trunk of a large tree, he gripped the bark with nimble three-fingered hands and began to climb, a little clumsier than most Na'vi his age but far more agile than any human. Several times he froze partway up, hearing the approach of whatever creature it was down below, but then carried on moving, determined to get into the relatively safe canopy of the trees. The only creatures that could reach him here were mostly harmless; even the massive thanator wouldn't clamber up this high unless it was desperately hungry for one particular Na'vi by the name of Ash'teth. Don't forget the toruk, he added inwardly, then silently cursed himself again. Why are you such an idiot? Stop scaring yourself. It's probably nothing.

Reaching a large, relatively sturdy-looking branch, he climbed up onto it and flattened himself onto its surface, resting his stomach and chest on the rough bark and wrapping his prehensile tail around it to keep himself balanced. His bow slid forward and bumped him on the back of the head, and with a frown of irritation he pushed it back again, keeping his gaze trained on the forest floor, now thirty metres below him.

A minute or so later, they came into sight, and he blinked in surprise and then alarm. He wasn't seeing a group of prowling viperwolves or a lone direhorse. He had heard of these creatures landing on Pandora and of their exploration of its forests and mountains, but never seen one himself. Several feet shorter than the Na'vi, wearing hard grey armour and carrying what appeared to be large, clunky weapons, they were humans.

Despite himself, Ash'teth couldn't resist leaning further over the branch to get a better look, peering at the humans with unrestrained curiosity. One of them roughly cut down a large shrub growing at the side of the path they walked on to get it out of his way, and Ash'teth felt his brow furrow in irritation; there was no need to kill it. He simply had to step over it. They were speaking in their own language, which he didn't understand a word of; every now and then one or two of them would lift the strange-looking weapon they held and sweep it slowly around them in response to a noise in the forest. They seemed wary, eyes flicking everywhere as if expecting to be leapt on at any moment. Despite his awe and fear of the creatures, Ash'teth couldn't help but feel a little smug; they were scared of his kind and the world they inhabited. Despite all their - what had the other Na'vi said they called it? Oh yes, technology - and powerful weapons, they were frightened of what this world could do to them if it chose to turn on them.

You should be scared, Ash'teth told them silently, keeping his gaze trained firmly on them and not moving an inch as they disappeared further into the forest. When I tell the rest of the clan you've been here, they are not going to be happy.

He waited a good ten minutes more to ensure the humans were a good distance away, then suddenly leapt into motion, landing on his feet from the thirty-metre drop to the forest floor and bursting into a sprint that carried him through the trees at a steady lope that could keep pace with a viperwolf. He didn't know much about the humans, but he knew that the sooner he got this news back to the clan, the better.

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Lifted from deep sleep into full wakefulness in the space of a breath, Danny blinked for several moments, momentarily confused, then resisted the urge to sigh when he realised he wasn't where he had expected to be; it had simply been another dream. When he wasn't actually there, his mind was fixed on the landscapes of Pandora, as if despite his body being physically within the RDA compound, his mind permanently strained against its bindings. He hated it; not the sheer joy and exhiliration of running free in the planet's forests, but the link between the two, his real life and that wonderful existence out there that could never be his. There was always the inevitable return to reality.

The same bed, the same room. The same body. Glancing aimlessly around the room - the dull grey ceiling, the scattered belongings he had little use for because he could barely reach them, the photographs his parents had brought back from their exhibitions into Pandora - Danny lifted off the oxygen mask across his mouth and nose for a moment to try and get a breath of fresh air - not that there really was any in this place - before replacing it. There on the bedside table was a small stack of books, most of them bearing titles concerning the Na'vi and the flora and fauna of their world, the others novels that would allow him to, in his mind, escape this miserable existence just for a short while. Danny had been born with an illness that no doctor could cure, a dilapidating disease that left him feeling drained and tired at the best of the times, exhausted and near-paralysed the worst. His parents suspected it was to do with the toxic atmosphere of Earth, where he had been born, in a place once known as England. Now all the continents seemed to have merged together, become one giant mass of pollution. He couldn't be more grateful that his parents, working as scientists for the RDA corporation, had chosen to dare to make the long and hazardous journey to Pandora, and to bring him with them. He himself had been surprised he had made the journey; taking a terminally-ill eighteen-year-old boy who was too frail to get out of bed most of the time on a journey thousands of miles across the universe and getting him there in one piece seemed like a miracle. But it was obviously meant to be, because he was here. He just couldn't help but wonder why.

Maybe just to lie here and admire some different scenery than the sprawling grey mess I once called my home, Danny mused, listlessly lifting a hand to turn the blinds across the small window. Faint streaks of Pandoran sunlight highlighted folds of fabric on his bed and the spine of a book that had been left lying open on its front when he had fallen asleep reading it. Looking out upon the grasslands of this strange planet, leading into lush green forests and those legendary floating mountains, he felt a smile cross his face. Despite everything, he felt deep down that Pandora was worth it. He knew that his parents were some of the bravest people he knew and that they were doing everything they could to help him come to terms with what was happening to him, but the one thing that had never been spoken between them was how long he had left to live. They all knew, but it had never once been put into words. But he was somewhat glad he would be able to live out his final years - months? - here. He loved it. And that was why he couldn't be more grateful to the RDA, despite their work, despite everything they represented that he disapproved of, for creating his avatar.

His avatar. Even the thought of it brought a smile to his face. Upon seeing the human-Na'vi hybrid bodies the corporation had created to allow humans to explore Pandora under the guise of one of its native people, his parents had commissioned the RDA to make one for Danny. It had taken a lot of persuasion, expense and bribery to convince them to do it, but in the end it was more than worth it. In his avatar, Danny could explore Pandora at will. He could walk, run, swim, breathe the fresh clean air, and forget everything he had left behind. It was only for a short while, but it was everything he longed for. It was freedom.

Levering himself slowly up onto his elbows, Danny turned and glanced behind him at a small square window placed in the wall of his room within the compound. Next to his own room, his avatar was placed separately to the others since it wasn't being used for specific RDA purposes; he also guessed it was to prevent him being a nuisance to the other avatar users while wandering aimlessly around, getting used to being in a Na'vi body again, content simply to be out of his own body for a while. He didn't mind; in fact, he was glad he could see his avatar, or his 'other self' as he liked to think of it, whenever he wanted, and remind himself that whenever everything became too much, there was always an escape, no matter how ephemeral it may be.

As he peered through the thin layer of glass into the room beyond, Danny momentarily caught sight of his reflection in its surface. An uncontrollable mop of blondish-brown hair that, despite being straight, was bafflingly resistant to any kind of hairbrush or comb, falling into large eyes of a bright, lucid green. A thin face, pale and unwell, nose and mouth partly hidden under an oxygen mask - though obviously the RDA compound was sealed off from Pandora's toxic atmosphere so its inhabitants could breathe safely, it wasn't enough for Danny. It had never been; his body needed more of everything just to keep him alive. He could barely remember a time when he had not been surrounded by wires and machinery. It had almost become part of the scenery, a background. Almost. He could never truly forget it was there.

Closing his eyes for a moment and pausing to rid himself of his wandering thoughts, Danny then glanced up and peered through the glass of the tiny window. Lying on a slab in the centre of the dull grey room beside his own was the motionless form of his avatar. Nine feet tall, with skin of iridescent blue-cyan and an elegant, lithe frame, it looked hardly anything like him, but it was all he wanted to be. Well, he amended as he looked back towards its face, it does look a bit like me. How could it not, when it's got my DNA? Sure enough, under a shock of unruly black hair that, despite the difference in colour, looked strikingly like his own, his avatar possessed the same wide eyes - avatars' eyes were traditionally smaller than real Na'vis', but with large eyes being a feature of his own, Danny seemed to have passed on the trait to his avatar - small nose and gentle mouth that seemed to be begging to curl into a smile at any moment, even when his expression was neutral. Its build was slightly less muscular than the average Na'vi, having taken after Danny's slender shape, and due to its human DNA it possessed eyebrows where real Na'vi did not, and ten fingers and toes instead of eight. Having been artificially created, his avatar wore the same type of clothes as the humans, just a plain khaki shirt and black trousers; all in all, it would stand out a mile from any real Na'vi. That was why he had never attempted to approach them, no matter how much the urge to run into the forests of Pandora and never come back nagged at him. He would never be accepted. And of course, he couldn't do it anyway. He would never be free of his real body - the one that was inevitably dying.

"Danny? What are you doing?"

He jumped and glanced towards the doorway to see his mother, Fiona Kingston, leaning against the frame, still wearing her white overalls but with the top part unzipped down to the waist, showing a tight dusky pink t-shirt and the waistband of a pair of jeans. A pair of oversized goggles rested on her head and her light brown hair was escaping its tousled ponytail. Danny's parents were younger than most would be to have a son his age; he had never mentioned it to them, but he was surprised that, having a son with his condition at such a young age, they had managed to cope and hadn't simply given him away to be someone else's problem. He couldn't be more grateful to them for persevering, but sometimes their laid-back façade gave way to expose their genuine concern and fear for their sick son.

"Uh… just looking," he replied lamely, his voice its normal quiet tone due to the effort he had to expend just to make it louder. As his mother raised an eyebrow he reluctantly laid back down and pulled the covers back up. "What? I woke up. It's not a crime."

"Might have to arrest you under the Unlawful Awakening Act," she replied jokingly, heading over to him and planting a gentle kiss on his forehead; Danny screwed up his face in mock disgust. "You should be sleeping. I heard you tossing and turning last night from across the corridor. Were you in pain?" Her eyes met his, already knowing he was going to lie.

"No." He stubbornly refused to meet her gaze. "I wasn't."

She let out a low sigh and stood up straight again, resting her hands on her hips and glancing absently towards the window between Danny's room and his avatar's. "You want to get back out there again, don't you?"

"Can you blame me?" Danny retorted softly, then sighed as well and began playing with a strand of his unruly fringe, looking hard at the material of his pillow as if it was to blame for all his troubles. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be getting cross with you. You're right, I didn't sleep well."

"I guessed already, sweetheart. Do you want more painkillers?"

"No. No, I'm fine. If they pump anything more into me I might be in danger of exploding." Danny managed a smile, but it was humourless. "Can I just get out there again? Into Pandora? Then I can forget it all - hurting, being ill, everything."

His mother observed him for a long moment, her expression veiled with pain as indecision raged behind her calm façade. Danny looked away, unable to bear seeing that look on her face. He knew that he was asking to use his avatar more and more recently, more than he should be, and that she knew that meant he was in pain - and it was becoming unbearable. Eventually, she sighed, and looked down at her shoes.

"I'll see what I can do, sweetheart. But I can't promise anything."

"Thanks." Danny managed a tiny smile, and watched as she turned and left the room, anxiety and fear weighing down her stride.