She came to get away from her memories. She didn't realize she'd be landing in such a mess. The girl who had always solved her problems by running is about to learn 'What Makes A Warrior'.
Here's chapter 1! Yay.
I am not ignoring the story potential brought on by Terry being on Pandora long before Jake, but those will have different chapters.
Thanks to everyone who favorited/alerted, and special thanks to Flowerchild23, kamiccolo's rose, rukoitalian65, Black Dragon 42, TurtleFeathers, Winter's Sentinel, Chocolate Teapot, and Swirlypasta for the reviews!
So anyways, read and review please. ^_^
What Makes A Warrior
Chapter 1: Fresh Meat.
====Story Start====
Her ears flicked carefully, searching for the origin of the rustle she was certain she'd heard. Terry remained calm, panic would only cloud her senses and make it harder to discern whether or not she should be concerned. Another rustle drew her eye and she breathed a silent sigh of relief when she realized it was just a young Direhorse that had wondered off, returning to the herd. A smile curled her blue lips up at the corners before she went back to the painting she was working on, greenish-gold eyes focusing intently on the canvas.
Just before the brush in her hand reached its destination there was a sudden vibration around her neck. With a grimace on her face and a tail twitching in agitation she put the ear bud in its proper place and pushed the button that answered the call. "What?" Her tone was calm, dry, but had an underlying irritation that was clear to anyone who'd ever spoken to her before.
"Doc Augustine says it's time to come in. You've got newbies to meet 'n' greet, or had you forgotten?"
"Hoped to be forgotten, more like." The resounding burst of laughter in response briefly turned her scowl into something closer to a smirk. "Remind me, why do I do what Grace tells me? I'm not one of her science geeks, why do I have to welcome the fresh meat?"
A snort. "Because, somehow, the two of you have managed to become friends. You probably bonded over a mutual hatred of all things Homo Sapiens." A true enough statement, she hated almost every human being at Hell's Gate, with very few exceptions. Then again, most weren't overly fond of her either, there wasn't much use for an artist in such a hostile place according to the soldiers and the scientists tended to not be overly impressed with anyone without a doctorate. But Gracie liked her and she liked Gracie, and for a person like her that was more than enough. It helped that she was also on good terms with the pilot she was currently chatting with, Trudy Chacon.
"Hey, Tru?" She received a quizzical hum in response to her interruption. "What did you think of them? The fresh meat?"
"Wouldn't know. I haven't met them yet." Her tail lashed a bit more violently at that bit of information.
"You mean to say that you're pestering me about something you haven't even done? Hypocrite."
Another laugh, louder this time. "And not ashamed to admit it. Now hurry your blue ass up, before the doc gets irritated."
A smirk crawled across her lips as she began to pack up her supplies, mischief clear on her felinesque face. "Oh, I don't know. I think it'd be pretty funny to see how pale they'd get, faced with the formidable Doctor Grace Augustine in all her fury on their very first day."
A snort. "You're awful."
"You love me." The quip was instant, their friendship was developed enough that they almost didn't need to think at times.
"Just get your ass here before the Doc starts fussing at me." A click.
"Tru? …Trudy? Did you just hang up on me? You hung up on me. Jerk." But she was grinning as she took the communicator out of her ear and let it rest on her collar instead. Another rustle behind her had her stiffening, only her ears and eyes moving. She couldn't hear anything else.
Another human might have simply dismissed it as their imagination, but Terry had been alone on Pandora before, so she knew that silence after sound was not something to be taken lightly. She carefully set the canvas she'd been holding down and shifted about until she could see over her shoulder. There was nothing that she could see, but that didn't mean anything at all.
She was contemplating taking a step forward to investigate when her communicator buzzed again, making her jump. This time when she answered, it was with more of a snarl, "What?"
"I don't remember you clearing your excursion with me." The stern, disapproving voice on the other end immediately pulled her attention.
She snarled. "Last I checked, I don't have to clear previously sanctioned excursions with you, Quaritch." Her pupils were wide, ears flat, tail thrashing. She was ready for a fight with the sound of his voice alone.
Miles Quaritch found her to be the singularly most useless, most irritating individual on base. He chose to deal with her personally because he didn't trust her. The feeling was mutual.
"You're not where the parameters of your mission dictated." He was already irritated with her.
She smirked. "Well. Isn't that unfortunate?" She knew she shouldn't bait him, Quaritch would happily keep her locked up and out of his way if she gave him the opportunity, but she couldn't help her antagonistic behavior. "Shame I'm not one of your little tin soldiers, all that military training seems to do them so much good." The jab was a reference to the convoy they'd lost just that morning to the Na'vi forces who didn't much like their digging up the forest for a metal.
At this point she recalled the noise that had disturbed her, but she figured that by now either whatever it was had left, or it had no interest in her. She went back to packing up her supplies. "I'm coming back in anyways, so don't get your man-panties in a twist." She also grabbed the bag of plant samples she'd collected for Grace. The doctor was always asking her to keep a lookout for something.
"Get. Back. To. Base." And like Trudy, he hung up on her.
"Get back to base." She was mocking him, wiggling her hips with each word and scrunching up her face like she'd tasted something disgusting. "One day I'm going to punch that man in the face. And it will be glorious." And it would be. It might be the last thing she ever got to do, (She was not combat trained, and he would probably wring her neck.) but it would still be glorious.
She took a last wistful glance of the peaceful scene she was leaving behind, then turned and headed in the direction of her special shed. It was the place where she left her unfinished art, and the pieces she'd done that would never see the light of day.
Those were the beautifully tragic pieces depicting the terrible wounds in the forest- where the mining was taking place. The Company would destroy those paintings if she tried to send them to Earth and she wouldn't be able to stop them. Part of the reason they allowed her to paint at all was because her pieces were well received, and they used her art in their publicity campaigns.
Paintings that could be taken in any negative light would not further their goals in any way. But she couldn't leave the scenes unpainted, so she hid them away. Maybe, when she was finally forced to return, she could sneak them with her.
Terry did not notice the being that padded silently out of the foliage after she left.