Chapter 11

Miles waited by the cave mouth, staring out into the night. If he could remember correctly, earth's darkness was something wholly different than the darkness on Pandora. Where the sky held nothing but a few twinkling stars that one may be able to see if they were far enough away from the city lights, on Pandora dark was truly never dark. The plants glowed colors of cool blues and whites. When he touched a tree, it was like it sang to him, lighting up under his touch. He'd seen animals crossing the rocky pathway to get to the lush green grass on the other side, only for the blades to change from green to a dull yellow with every step.

He much preferred the nighttime of Pandora to the nighttime of Earth.

…

What was he talking about? He had never been on Earth. These memories…it wasn't him looking at himself in the mirror. It was him looking at…himself? Or someone who was supposed to be him. Was it him?

The crunching of gravel under heavy feet caught his attention and Miles looked up to see Peyral and S'rrona walking. They didn't seem to see him at first, deep in a conversation where every once and a while S'rrona let out a trill of a laugh and Peyral chuckled under her breath. It was when Miles stepped into view that they stopped, their smiles dropping.

"S'rrona," he breathed, then he looked at Peyral, whose eyes were like daggers to his heart. "Peyral," he said flatly. Peyral whispered something sharp to S'rrona, who cut her eyes at her briefly, before walking away, brushing past Miles. He hissed, but turned his attention back to S'rrona, whose face never shifted from the wide-eyed stare she gave him. She kept her distance, her hands clasped behind her back. Miles took a step forward and was relieved when she did not take a step back. "I was worried," he said, even though he knew she didn't understand what he was saying. "You ran away last night and have been avoiding me all day. What happened? Did…did I do something wrong?" Wrong enough to be kicked out?

S'rrona cut her eyes into the darkness of the cave, but when Miles looked, he saw nothing but the very few torches that sat at the steps of each nest. But she was looking at something, he saw how her eyes traced along, as if she was watching what someone was doing. Her ears flattened then perked again.

"What are you looking at?" He may have said that a little too harshly because she snapped her head in his direction. If the Na'vi had eyebrows, she would have been raising a single one at him, with the way her mouth quirked to the side. "Oe lu fpom srak." Im sorry.

A ghost of a smirk crested on her lips before crashing down. Instead, S'rrona nodded to him and walked away, her hands still clasped behind her back. When he turned to watch her walk, he noticed the red rope mark on her palms and the small pear-like fruit half bitten in her hand.

Each session at the school made learning the language ten times easier for Miles. He now knew how to form small sentences and ask about the day and the weather. He knew how to answer with a simple word when someone asked about how he was doing. Pronouncing the words was a little harder, most of the sounds seemed to come from either the roof of his mouth or the very back of his throat, with sometimes a click of the tongue added in the mix. The kids in the class laughed at him and called him a few names he chose not to understand, but the adults were kinder. More helpful. Even Retrum, who made it clear that she did not trust him as far as she could throw him, made efforts to gently show him how to say things by tapping different parts of his throat with a stick.

The People were kinder to him now that he could talk to them. They offered him their drinks and their food, they gave him a knife made of some type of plant fabric and a dulling rock, and different loin cloths of various hues of brown. When he passed them, they brought their hands to their heads and smiled and Miles found himself doing it back to them, something in him almost forcing him to do it. He still did nothing in the village but go to lessons and go home. Maybe he would take a dip in the sparkling stream beyond the rock borders, but…he would spend his days making plates and cups and bowls. Painting and sowing rips in his clothes. He would practice his words until it sounded like it came from a Na'vi's tongue. Until it felt natural to him.

Miles wanted to tell someone about it. He wanted to run up to someone who knew him, really knew him, and tell them about what he was accomplishing and how he was accomplishing it. He couldn't tell the clan. There was no one around him that was like him. When he was on base, he had his people, his "clan" of Recoms who were learning the lay of the land with him. Whenever one of them did something astounding, even if it was something that a "baby Na'vi could do," according to Spider, they always congratulated.

They even cheered when Spider did something that even a "human baby" could, like tie a shoe. Something in Miles' chest always soared when he saw that boy do something "normal," for once. Reconnecting to his human self. He wondered what Spider would think about him learning Na'vi. Would he have a smart-ass comment in his arsenal? Would he be happy for him?

Would it even matter?

Even Peyral seemed to be impressed with his work when she overheard him speaking to a pretty Na'vi woman. Her eyes narrowing and her lips coming into a fine line before pivoting on her heels and walking away was the only indication that she was not irritated with his efforts. Maybe saying "impressed" was a bit of a stretch, but she was at least indifferent. She still seemed to follow him wherever he went, and she was in the same area. She still seemed to have her hand placed firmly on her club when she was around him, but at she knew he was trying. Miles was sure she would run and take that back to S'rrona.

S'rrona…

He hadn't seen her in a few weeks, and it was on purpose. She didn't seem to want to talk to him, always walking away or looking away. Her head was down when he passed her by. So, Miles found a new route to his destinations, navigating his way through the interconnecting tunnels of the cave. If she didn't want to talk, he wasn't going to make her, but he wasn't going to stand by and let her ignore him.

But he did miss her voice. And her laugh. And her smile.

Get it together, Quaritch! He snapped to himself. That Na'vi woman does not want you and you cannot have her. She was kind and he was grateful, that's it.

When it was time for the class to end for the day, Miles found himself hanging back. Retrum was cleaning the seats and the floor, her back turned to him. Miles cleared his throat and she nearly jumped out her skin. The older woman spun around, her hands to her chest, a soft hiss coming from her mouth.

"Do not do that, MilesQuaritch," she admonished.

"Sorry," he knew what she said because he had said it to him many times before, when it came to how he said words.

Retrum placed her hands on her wide hips and looked at him. "Yes?"

Miles tried to find the words in his bank. He knew some things, but he didn't know if it was enough to form thought, let alone a sentence. He had to try. "Work," he said tentatively. "I…work…"

Retrum stared at him, her head cocking to the side. "Work?" she said something in Na'vi he couldn't catch, then repeated the phrase. "Work?"

Miles nodded. "Work!"

Retrum bit her top lip, her fangs glinting in the dying sunlight. He eyes traced something behind him, and she raised her hand to call their attention. Miles turned around only briefly to see it was Peyral. He let out an internal groan and rubbed the side of his face. Peyral quickly walked over, stopping when she was nearly in front of Retrum her hand on her club, ready to draw.

Is she serious? He thought. She thinks I'm a threat, but she's the one walking around me like she's ready to beat me to death. He wanted to snap at her to chill out, that he wasn't going to hurt her people. But he remembered that he was a familiar stranger to her, an outsider from a strange land.

The two women exchanged words with each other. Their conversation so short and stunted and serious that Miles couldn't catch what they were saying. Instead, he looked around the cave. A young woman was setting up the big pot for the group supper. Around her, children fluttered around her feet, begging for a taste of whatever was in the pot. The young woman playfully swatted at the kids, but it took their mothers and father to rush them along before they left her alone. The young woman noticed Miles looking at her and she smiled at him, bringing her hand to her forehead before returning to her business.

"MilesQuaritch," Retrum broke through her thoughts. Miles turned to look at the two of them. She gestured to Peyral. "Tsakrr." Follow.

The leafy curtain of the nest twitched aside as Peyral and Miles walked in. She didn't even bother to hold it open for him and Miles caught the curtain before it gently slapped him in the face. He sighed and rolled into the S'rrona's nest, making sure his loin cloth was dusted and straight, running his hands through his hair now longer and curly. He hadn't seen those loops and loops of curls in almost 35 years…

…

No, he was 20-something. His former self hadn't seen those curls in only 35 years. But his former self was within himself—those memories…they belonged to him, but he didn't do them, physically. He—

"What?" A whisper came from across the room and Miles pivoted to see S'rrona standing with Peyral. Her eyes widened when she saw him, but nothing else in her face changed. Peyral whispered something in her ear and S'rrona looked at her. "Why?"

He could understand her a little bit better, now.

"Because…he…help," He only caught a few words Peyral said. "…Help…"

S'rrona's eyes narrowed, and she turned a stern and confused gaze on Peyral. She whispered something Miles couldn't understand. Peyral bit her lip and sighed. When she spoke, S'rrona stance softened. Her arms slacked to her side and a smile crested her lips. Her tail snapped back and forth, almost knocking over the vase of water she had on the floor at her feet. Peyral rolled her eyes, but she moved out of the way. She brushed past Miles, not giving him eye contact and left the nest, leaving Miles and S'rrona to stare at each other.

She picked up the vase and placed it near the fire. A small basket of dried…anything… sat on the floor with her and she took items that from the basket and started to tear things off of it and place in the vase. Miles stood, his hands itching to touch something like a pocket or his holster or something like a belt, to keep them busy.

They were quiet like this for a while, Miles standing awkwardly by the door and S'rrona sitting peacefully on the floor. He couldn't do this; he didn't know why she wouldn't talk to him. For weeks now, he was trying to get her to look at him, but she always elected to go the other way, or she would not come outside when he knocked on the side of the nest. He thought about just walking in, but he wanted no problems that would come with that action.

So, Miles made the first move. He crossed the room and planted himself right beside her, his hands reaching for whatever was in the basket. She slapped his hand away and the tough fatness of her palm made his hand raw. He held it close to his chest and stared at her…and she stared back, horrified. S'rrona's eyes were wide, staring at him as if she had killed him. She dropped whatever was in her hand in the vase and quickly took his hand in her own.

"Im okay…" he said in English, then said in Na'vi. "Oeru syaw, Ke lu," Im okay, no pain. They both knew that was a lie, but Miles gave her a small smile and she rubbed his hand gently.

"I'm…oh…kay," She tried the words out in her mouth. It was close, she pronounced "I" like "aim" and the "O" in "okay," was long, but she tried. She was trying to speak with him in his own language. Miles' heart thrummed fast and light in his chest. "I'm…Okay…"

"Tsìng," Good. She grinned, showing those long and sharp fangs. "You…no…talk…to me…" He tried to say the best he could.

"Sorry," she said. "…busy…Lefpom…" he could only catch every other word she said but he thought he understood. She was busy with the Lefpom people.

"Tsahik."

She glanced up at him and nodded once. "Yes," she sighed. "Help?"

"I want to help…you…" he hoped that came out the way he wanted to say it.

S'rrona looked back down, and Miles could swear he saw a hint of a red rise to her face, but when she looked back up, nothing was there but dark blue skin. She was smiling though. S'rrona let go of Miles' hand and clapped once before standing. "Follow."

They didn't leave the nest, instead, Miles only walked two steps behind S'rrona before they stopped. S'rrona squatted behind a set of pots made of earthly colors of ceramic and clay. They clattered together in sharp and thin tones. They were most likely empty. S'rrona rummage around behind the pots for a few seconds before coming back up with…bolas!

"This," she handed the weapon to him. Miles held the heavy object in his hand, weighing it like it was a newborn baby. He had only seen a Bolas on those old tv shows he used to watch at his grandmother's house during the summer. He didn't think they were real until one day on his tour in Chile, he saw a few hunters throwing it to capture birds. Weights attached to interconnecting cords that when thrown would tangle between the legs of the prey, causing them to fall or, at least, trip.

"What?"

"…hunter…" she placed a hand on his chest and smiled. "Hunter." She was telling him that he was a hunter, or he was going to be working with the hunters.

Miles shook his head. He knew what Pandora was like and even though he was a Na'vi now, he still did not know how to navigate the planet in order to not die. Hell, he almost died on this island and that was from either drowning or exposure. S'rrona rubbed his chest in a gentle way, her eyes never leaving his face, but she was serious.

"Oeru lu hawnu," Yeah, Miles didn't understand that. S'rrona's eyes hardened, and they were like gemstones. "Oeru lu hawnu," she said it again.

Miles shook his head, "I don't know what your saying—"

The leaf curtain of the nest flew open and in came Peyral with clothing folded in her hands. She stopped in her tracks when she saw S'rrona and Miles. Her eyes narrowed and she placed a single hand on her hip. Miles didn't understand what her deal was…until he looked down to see S'rrona's hand on his chest. He thought they were at least two feet away from each other, but when he looked back at her, he realized how close they were. Less than a foot.

S'rrona noticed this too and took her hand off his chest and placed them behind her back. She rocked back and forth on her toes and smiled sweetly at Peyral, who did not smile back. S'rrona gestured for Peyral to hand Miles the clothing and when he did, he realized these were protection pants.

"Peyral…hunt…" Peyral's mouth slacked but S'rrona held up her hand for no complaining.

Miles looked between the women, Peyral now fussing with S'rrona and S'rrona finally giving in and fussing back. As they went on, Miles realized what the issue was. How Peyral seemed to almost beg S'rrona for something, gesturing to himself whenever she spoke. He noticed how S'rrona also gestured to him, but in a way that looked like she was defending him.

This was the first time he would agree with Peyral…he did not want to be her hunting partner either.