Chapter 3

Whispers danced around him, words he didn't know. Miles opened his eyes to see dark feet standing around him, and when he flipped over onto his back, he saw the bodies and faces that were attached. The same dark faces that reminded him of the woman who saved him. They were the same species of Na'vi.

Miles sat up, his hand reaching for a gun that wasn't there. Something blunt and thick landed under his chin. Cool to the touch, smooth like ore. It smelled of rotted earth, of wet dirt. Miles froze.

One Na'vi spoke to the other, and it was only the little words that Miles understood. "Stranger," "here," "people," "Na'vi." He watched as they threw sentences at each other, speaking fast. When they noticed him staring at him, the one holding the stick press hard on the tip, pushing the blunt and broad end into Miles' throat. Something deep and guttural sputtered from Miles' lips, but all the Na'vi did was crouch down.

He was young, no older than Spider, perhaps even a year younger; there was still light in his eyes. He said something that Miles couldn't catch and when no response came the boy pushed hard on the stick, knocking Miles back. He yelled the words again.

Mile's hands went straight to his head. No weapons.

"I don't know what you want from me," he shouted over the boy. "I can't understand you!"

But the boy kept yelling and his friend behind him laughed. They were all around the same age. The boy came face-to-face with Miles and grinned. The boy pressed harder on the rod and for the second time since he got here, Miles saw the end just before him. He couldn't breathe round the stick.

A shadow passed over them and the boys stopped, their ears plastered against their heads. A low and deep growl came, making the boys scramble back, the stick now hiding behind the his back. Several pairs of feet fluttered around him, and long Na'vi the color of rich blue surrounded him. Two pairs of thick arms grabbed him from the ground. A Na'vi female spoke to the boys, her words sharp and clipped. She must had been their mother by the way they all looked alike when she turned around. Her eyes widened when she saw Miles.

She looked to the forest, and ipped. Silence, then an ip back.

Miles looked around. These were all the same kind of Na'vi, the same kind as the woman who saved him from the mud pit, but none of them were as…friendly as she was.

The branches and the leaves of the forest surrounding them rustled and out came an older Na'vi man, perhaps 27 or 28. He was a little taller than his people, who were only up to Miles' chin, but what he lacked in stature, he made up in presence. The young man strode of the forest with a speed that told him if he decided to take all day to get there, they would just have to wait.

And when he stood before him, the young man did not hiss at him. He stared him deep in his eyes. Seconds passed and the young man backed away.

He said something to his people, and they broke into loud complaints and whining that even Miles thought was annoying. If they were going to kill him, he'd rather it be here. He did not like to wait for the inevitable. The young man held his hand up and said something. Some rolled their eyes, but they were the young ones, those who have a lot to learn.

The young man brushed pass Miles and walked deep into the forest. The Na'vi holding on to him jerked him forward, forcing his feet to move. On any other given day, Miles would have fought back—taking them on until they beat him to the ground, but he could barely stand on his own now, much less fight. All he could do was just…walk.

They walked forever, so long that the terrain moved from grass to rock and the smell of dirt changed to the smell of ash and soot. The sound of nothingness gave way to the sound of children laughing and people talking.

The first people he saw were women who carried their babies on their backs and tended to weaving in small circles of other parents. They didn't notice them until a child screamed joyfully and pointed in their direction. The smiles that formed when they turned disappeared faster than lightning when they noticed Miles towering over them.

People stopped and stared at them, at him, as they moved through the little village. Just up ahead, a small cave mouth only lit with torches, came into view. People moved out of the young man's way as he walked, but they never stopped staring at Miles.

When they entered the cave, cool air swallowed them like a mother would and the smell of iron and dirt and ash filled his nose. People started gathering, whispering among each other, and following the troop as they kept going. The cave tunnel widened, and a crowd of people stood.

The young man held his hand up for them to stop moving. Everyone stopped. Mothers and fathers pulled their curious children away from Miles, them keeping a wary eye on him.

The young man ipped, the sound bouncing off walls of hallow rock. They waited. And waited. And waited. The young man's foot tapped on the rocky ground; his arms folded across his chest. He ipped again, and just like before, nothing. He hissed in frustration then disappeared into the crowd; the pathway he made disappeared as the crowd swallowed him. Silence for a few more minutes.

…

Another hiss and the pathway opened again. The young man came back, but this time there was a hand on his shoulder. When he stopped before him, the person—people—revealed himself. Well, he revealed them. He stopped aside and a small woman with the angry face stopped to the other side. Between them was a young woman. The same young woman from the mudpit.

She stared at him, her yellow eyes taking in every inch of his being, or it felt like it. Something in his chest was heavy, beating like a drum. She took a step forward, then another, then another until she was merely feet from him.

"I saved you," she said in Na'vi, and it was something he understood.