Chapter 13

Miles shivered. His hands dug into the soft dirt below him, and he tried his hardest to keep low to the ground, for two reasons. One, because he was terrified to slip and fall to his death, and two, because he saw that was how S'rrona climbed. She almost snaked up the side of the cliff, her chest nearly grazing the ground. Miles could barely see her in the dark and he was directly behind her, so he knew anyone below them would only see him climbing awkwardly. S'rrona's skin was different than Peyral's skin; in the dimness of the morning light, Peyral glowed under the rising sun. Her freckles shimmered as his did, but with S'rrona, she was completely dark.

S'rrona disappeared at the top of the cliff almost morphing into the shadows. Miles paused, looking around. Everything was so dark, even the moons' light wasn't enough to light up the dense forest. Even the glow of the plants wasn't enough to drive out the shadows that crept. Sweat coated his brow, and he jabbed his fist into the mud and looked down. Nothing beneath his feet but air. He couldn't see the ground; he could barely see any of the treetops.

His head squeezed, and he looked up at the sky, taking in a few breaths.

"You got this," he said to himself. "You got this. You have an ikran. You have been higher than this." But never climbing. He slapped his head, trying to knock the thoughts out. "Get it together!"

"Hmm?" Miles looked up; he couldn't see anything but two dim yellow eyes looking down at him. But he could smell her, the smell of soot and earth mixed with flowers. Something so familiar. "Did you say something?"

He shook his head. "No, I didn't."

S'rrona deep sighed before reaching her arm down towards him. "…help? …stuck?"

"No!" Miles said almost petulantly. "I am not stuck, thank you very much."

S'rrona's eyes narrowed. "You are welcome?" S'rrona disappeared again.

Miles closed his eyes and took a breath. He yanked his fist out of the dirt and started climbing again. Higher and higher he went, making sure to dig his toes into the dirt for balance. He reached the top of the cliff, rolling onto his side and stared at the starless sky, heaving heavy breaths. The grass was a cushion under him. A shadow passed over him and he was met again with two big yellow eyes. She smirked.

"Are you sure you are all right?" There was a laugh in her voice.

"Just catching my breath."

S'rrona chuckled. She stood over him, her legs on either side. She glanced up. "It is beautiful, isn't it?"

"Yeah," he said breathlessly.

"Have you seen anything like this where you were from?"

Miles shook his head. His gaze traced the soft shape of S'rrona's jaw, the curve of her cheek, and the broad strength of her shoulders, all highlighted by the brightness of the moons behind her. His heart raced, and he could have seen her ear twitch in his direction for a second, but she never turned. She was waiting for an answer.

"Nothing."

S'rrona turned. "What does the sky look like where you are from?"

Where he was from? Earth? He couldn't describe Earth; she'd know he wasn't referring to her moons and night. She'd know something was wrong with him, perhaps even become colder than she was a few weeks ago. No, he couldn't take that chance. There was a lot she had to know, but he couldn't tell her. At least not yet, and perhaps never, if he kept his head down.

But he had seen the sky at night on the boat. He saw it when that kid died. He saw it when he held the girl by her life. He saw it when Spider stared at him. When he made his decision. He saw it.

"Big," he said quietly. "Vast. I remember no stars, but I remember being watched."

"Watched?" She cocked her head to the side.

Miles shrugged. "Watched. Maybe looked at," he suggested. And he wasn't lying; he did feel like an eye was on him, that when the moons crossed the sun, the sliver of light left before the eclipse was the eye of some deity far away, observing.

S'rrona's eyes grew as wide as saucers; she came real close to his face. "What did it feel like? The person watching you?" A shiver ran down his spine. Not because he was so close to a beautiful woman, though that may have contributed it, but because this beautiful woman was looking for something. Anything. "Please," she whispered. "Tell me."

"It felt like something was watching me," he said. "I can't tell you more than that."

S'rrona's ears flattened, and she backed away from him. "I understand."

She stepped away from him and sat on the edge of the cliff. Miles rolled over and crawled to join her. He peered down at the vast darkness and shuddered; one fall, one misplaced step, would have either of them tumbling to their deaths. He backed away.

"Do you come out here…?" He tried to translate.

S'rrona was now in the dark, but he could still see some of her. The outline of her slender neck, how her back was ramrod straight, even when she was hunched over. A proud cat, like most of the Na'vi were. He wondered if he looked like that or was he still very much human.

"Off and on," She said simply. "When I have the time."

"You know this place pretty well," he added.

She nodded. "I came with my parents for a long time," she pierced her lips and took a breath. "Then with my friends. Now, by myself."

"There is nothing wrong with being by yourself," Miles said with a hint of laughter. "I'm like that all the time. You get used to it."

S'rrona stared at him. "Do you…think you are alone?"

Miles shrugged. "Not with you, never with you," he said. "But… The People-"

"They do not like new people," S'rrona said. "They forget our ancient teachings."

"Which are?"

S'rrona smiled up at him. "Your Na'vi has gotten a lot better," she said.

Miles looked at her, eyes wide. "I guess talking to you made it…not so hard."

S'rrona smiled and looked back at the forest. "My ancestors believed in welcoming people with open arms. We were once called 'the friends in the south.'"

"What happened?"

S'rrona shrugged, and Miles almost laughed; he doubted she knew what the gesture meant, only that she'd seen him do it before. "A hundred years ago, my grandfather died…too kind. My father made sure we were more scared..." Then something else he couldn't understand.

"Scared?" Miles asked. "You rescued me from…" he forgot the word for it in Na'vi. "You saved me."

She nodded. "I did."

Miles grinned. "Why?"

S'rrona paused. This is where she should have shrugged. "I do not know," she admitted. "Perhaps it is the Great Mother… Perhaps these are my true wishes." She looked at him this time, her eyes searching his face for something. "Tell me…your home."

All he knew was the Seadragon, but he did spend time in the Hallelujah Mountains; he could just make something up about them…

"Ikrans, everywhere," he said. "Everyone. Even babies."

S'rrona's eyes widen, and he couldn't tell if it was from excitement and disbelief or because she was terrified. "Ikrans?" She said breathlessly. "Babies rode Ikrans?"

"Had them for pets…"

"What is a pet?"

Oh, the Na'vi don't have pets. They had companions. "Companions, I mean."

"Do you have an ikran?"

Miles nodded once, his grin widening. "I do."

"Oh my…" she whispered. "Is it not…?"

"I do not understand…"

"Hard? Scary."

"Scary? No, our ikran love us," Miles scrunched up his nose. "Do you not have companions?" Because if they did, it was clearly not an Ikran.

"No," S'rrona said simply, and she said something he could not catch.

"Why," he asked. "Do your ancestors not like?"

S'rrona pouted. "I liked you…when you did not understand me..."

Miles understood, and he laughed, and S'rrona laughed with him, the sound like rich honey. "You're funny," he admitted, and he saw it this time, the quick flash of red against her dark skin. Almost like a flash bomb, it was gone as soon as it was there.

Silence fell between the two of them. What was she thinking when she looked at him? What did those beautiful eyes see in him? Looking at her, he saw someone gentle, kind, and curious. Strong-willed because to deal with Peyral, she had to withstand many things. But Miles also saw someone who didn't know where she was going.

The breeze about them made his hair fall in his eyes, and before he could reach to move it out of the way, S'rrona tucked the dark strand behind his ear. Her fingers grazed the tip of his ears, and they flattened against his head. Quickly, S'rrona removed her hand.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Did I hurt you?"

"No," he hurried. "You're okay."

"O…kay," she mimicked, the words forming more solid on her tongue than the last time. "Good."

"Good."

She smelled like warm summer nights and cool spring days. Like a campfire on the beach, like running through a feel of flowers after a fresh rain. Miles moved a little closer to smell her better. She did not flinch away; her eyes never left his face.

"S'rrona…" he began.

"You glow!" She cut him off.

Miles closed his mouth immediately and sat back. "What?"

S'rrona sat up straighter and touched his face. Her fingers were light, barely-there touches, but still, Miles couldn't slow his heart down. "You glow!" She turned his face to the side, then up, then down, examining him. "How?"

Miles didn't have an answer to this question; he just blinked at her. "What are you asking me?"

S'rrona groan under her breath and picked his arm up. She was right; he was glowing. The tiny freckles over his body were shining in the moonlight. He had always done this; it was normal for Na'vi, even the Recomms, to glow. Until tonight, Miles thought that was the default setting of all the Na'vi. He pulled his arm away from her and narrowed his eyes.

"You do not glow?"

"Most cannot glow," S'rrona said breathlessly. Her eyes roamed his body.

"But Peyral—"

"Peyral comes from…" and he didn't understand the word she used. She noticed this because her eyes rolled, and she put her hands in front of her in a bow-and-arrow fashion.

"Hunter?"

"Better than a guard," she tried another way.

Better than a guard. "Warrior?" He said in English, and it was her turn to cock her head to the side. Miles chuckled and copied the bow and arrow display. "Better than a guard."

"War…ri...ior…" S'rrona tried the words out. It was better than "okay," but still had a strong accent attached to them. "Her father was one, and his father was one, and his mother was one and—"

"I understand," Miles placed his hand out front for her to stop. "And you come from Tsahiks."

"And Ole'keytans," She said.

Miles remembered from Spider that a Tsahik had three options: Mate with an Ole'keytan, which would mean finding the strongest male in her clan and mating with them, mate with another Tsahik, but those clans were left far on the outskirts of any body of land and lived in isolation and peace, or she could be both. To Miles, being both made that woman fearsome because she believed no one could better protect her people on all home fronts than she could. He wondered which was S'rrona.

"…the night fruit to glow," he missed everything she said, being stuck in his own head.

Miles nodded. "Do you have an Ole'keytan," he hoped he said that correctly.

S'rrona paused, her smile faltering. "No…" She said softly. "We don't…have one."

"There is…one Tsahik in this clan," Miles was confidently.

"There is only one…." She confirmed. "Why?"

"Nothing," Miles said simply. "Trying to…talk."

S'rrona smirked, and he had the sneaking suspicion that she knew what he was thinking. But she did not let on; instead, she reached behind her back and pulled a slingshot. It was old, basically falling apart at the seams. Miles eyed her.

"I teach you how to aim," she said. "Because I do not want Peyral coming to my home and complaining about you again."

"Hold your arms up, MilesQuaritch!" S'rrona hit the bottom of his arm, pulling the weapon's leather back. He did not want to break it, but she insisted that it couldn't be broken. It was passed down from her great grandmother who was the Ole'keytan of the Lefpom people. Back when they were hunters and warriors. They had been like this for hours, trying to hit targets on trees. He hit the closer ones, it wasn't hard to gauge how far back he had to pull the strap, but the ones further away—he missed them all. The sun was coming up and his eyes were starting to sting. He wasn't tired, being up 24 hours was nothing new to him, but the sun was…painful. It was painful the day before. He saw S'rrona squint in the dim rays, cupping her hands around her eyes to see better.

Miles groaned. "Im trying," He said. His arm was on fire; he just wanted a break. "I don't know-"

"You do not know what?" She asked him, getting in his face. Her face was hard, with no semblance of the woman he was talking to hours before. "How to see?"

"Damn," Miles mumbled under his breath and when S'rrona gave him a look that his mother used to give him when she tested him to repeat what he said, but out loud, Miles looked away. "My eyes hurt…" He rubbed them with the palm of his hand. "Can't see shit…"

"What say…" S'rrona bit.

"Nothing," He said in Na'vi. "Speaking…to me…myself…"

"Stop talking," she snapped, lifting his arms. "Eyes...target."

Miles took a deep breath, out of annoyance or frustration, he wasn't sure, but he did as S'rrona told him, and his arms lifted. His elbow was perpendicular to his ear, and all his energy came down to the flick of his wrist.

"Shoot," S'rrona said, standing away from him. "Shoot!"

"I will," He snapped, the pain in his eyes like knives. "Damn!"

"Stop talking," she snapped back. "Shoot!"

"S'rrona, I am trying! I—" Miles accidentally released the leather, the rock was sent flying across the forest. He couldn't see the impact through the sun's rays, but he could hear the impact, the soft ding of metal, one of the many targets. He did it. He finally hit a target far away with that damn slingshot. He looked at S'rrona, a grin on his face.

She smiled. "You did it," She placed her hand on her chest then on his. "Proud." She was proud of him. Her smile faded. "Again." She handed him another rock. "Aim. Shoot."

Another release of a rock, then a soft ding against metal. He turned to her, his eyes wide. "I got it!"

They were like this for another hour before the pain of the sun was too much for either one of them to bear. Miles could see a little better than S'rrona, and he led her to the base of the cliff, strapping her to his back with one of the many vines so that he could climb down with ease. When they hit the forest floor, S'rrona sniffed.

"This way…" She took his hand, carefully maneuvering their way through the thicket.

When soft grass gave way to harsh rock, Miles could smell the familiar sent of ash and soot from the cave. He knew they were living under a volcano, Retrum told him this during one of their lessons, and that was why the sparkling stream was warm, even when the weather started to chill it, but he had no idea if it was active. Retrum said they were not under it the last time it exploded, but Miles had no idea how long the Lefpom People had been living there.

"Oh," S'rrona slowed her stride.

"What…wrong?" Miles asked.

But before S'rrona could speak, Miles heard the voice of the woman. Peyral. "Had fun…?" She asked, not even bothering to greet them.

"Peyral—"

"S'rrona te…" he couldn't get the rest of her name. "Where?"

"Cliff," Miles said abruptly.

Peyral narrowed her eyes to him. "What doing?"

S'rrona let go of Miles' hand and took her friend by the arm to lead her away. He watched as they fussed with each other, talking so fast and low that he had to strain to hear, and even then, he could not understand them. Most other times, S'rrona was meek with her friends, but today, she had some fire in her belly. She spoke with an air of authority that made Miles' stomach do backflips. Peyral eventually stopped talking and stood to listen to S'rrona. When she was done, Peyral nodded and pivoted toward Miles. She walked over.

"Go," she commanded. "Sleep. Hunt…night…" was all he could understand.

Peyral hissed before she brushed past him and disappeared into the sun's rays. He didn't understand how the rays didn't bother her, how it didn't bother many of the hunters. When he was working with Peyral, during the middle of the day, when he was not in the shade; he couldn't see anything. His eyes had become too accustomed to the shades of the cave. He needed to fix that.

"Come, MilesQuaritch," S'rrona called. "We sleep."

He followed her down the rocky path but couldn't help but look around every few paces. He could have sworn he saw eyes peering at him.