Just a quick note:

This is the beginning of Act 2. We will be introducing more characters. I know people have sent me messages on my social media accounts about it, and don't worry, I did not forget. This story, however, is about S'rrona. I want to clarify something else: This story is not a prediction of Avatar 3, despite elements of the movie being in this fanfiction. This movie follows a random woman from a random tribe who got pulled into the war against her will.

If you like, you can send me reviews here; I always try to answer. I am a new writer, and this is my first fanfiction in almost five years. I am always looking for advice and support.

Chapter 12

S'rrona saw Peyral and Miles off two days after that first conversation. She stood by the cave mouth as Peyral stomped way ahead of Miles and he casted glances back at her every few paces. His eyes read that he was unsure about this decision. S'rrona was also unsure about this decision, but she had to try. After she and Peyral returned from the waterfall some weeks ago, they sat in the main room of her nest, lit by the fire between them, and spoke. Low and hushed voices made sure not to leave the rock walls of her home.

"You must be kinder to him," she said to Peyral. "We do not know what he has been through."

"I do not trust him, S'rrona," Peyral said, her voice firm.

"Why?"

Peyral said nothing at first; her eyes shifted around the room as if to come up with a reason or put it together in her head so she could say it tactfully. Peyral closed her eyes and sighed, shaking her head. "I don't know."

S'rrona wanted to smirk, but she bit the inside of her cheek and fixed her gaze on her friend. "We must not judge what we don't know."

Peyral leaned forward. "What we don't know may kill us all in the end," she said quietly. "All the people we care for here in this clan…they are our first priority. I know you want to be a good person, but being a good person to one means sometimes being a bad person to others."

S'rrona looked away at that point, afraid that Peyral could read her eyes and know what she was thinking. How she didn't like the position she was in. She felt it was unfair that a single wrong move could send everything out of balance. She was only 28—not a child, but hardly old enough to know all about the world.

She still needed her parents…

Peyral did not need to see her face to know something was amidst. The silence was enough. She sighed again and looked up at the ceiling. "I will…attempt to be a better…person toward this Stranger Man," and when S'rrona beamed at her, Peyral pointed a thick finger. "But do not expect me to like him."

She shook her head. "I will expect nothing of the sort."

Three weeks later, she pushed them out to be with each other. Maybe then Peyral will see the good in Miles like S'rrona saw. Maybe they would come back, smiling and laughing, forming a budding friendship that could last through the years. Or maybe only one of them would come back…

S'rrona shuddered at that thought. Perhaps she made a big mistake.

"I see you, Tsahik," a woman said. The chilled water shivered S'rrona down to her bones. Fall was coming. "Have you come to speak to The Great Mother?"

S'rrona nodded simply. "And you?"

The woman lifted her queue, detached from the roots of the Tree of Souls. "I have just finished. I'm just sitting here for peace."

S'rrona nodded again. "Then peace you shall have," she moved away from the woman. "Do not mind me."

The woman smiled before closing her eyes and placing her forehead on the roots. The Tree of Souls was a series of interconnecting roots that huddled together at the very end of the Lefpom people's cave system. S'rrona had never seen the leaves or the bark of the tree because that did not concern her. All she cared about was the health of the roots that fueled her people. The tree rose so tall that it escaped their underground world and if S'rrona squinted hard enough, she could sometimes see the light of day come in from whatever opening. Usually, the only light came from the small stream behind them, its random lights coming from the fish that swam by. Many of her people swam across the stream to get to the Tree of Souls, cleansing their bodies before they sat before Eywa. It wasn't a requirement, but many did it.

S'rrona took her queue in her hand, feeling the thick curls of the braid between her fingers. She bit her bottom lip, thinking about what she wanted to ask the Great Mother. The last few times, she was quiet to her questions. S'rrona asked about the lack of children in her clan, she asked about the mysterious Na'vi, and she even asked about Miles suddenly appearing, and each time, Eywa was silent. Each time, S'rrona left without an answer. It was starting to get annoying.

"Please…" she whispered, soft enough to not be within earshot of the other patrons. "Please, please…"

S'rrona connected her braid to the tree, and like always before, she felt her breath get taken away. Suddenly, S'rrona was standing in a vast green, grassy field. She glanced around her and saw nothing but the white sky, cloudless or perhaps too filled with clouds. A cold breeze fluttered around her, brushing against her shawl, caressing her cheek like a hand. It cooled her skin.

"You are here, Great Mother," S'rrona grinned. "You have not abandoned my people."

The breeze continued to flow around her, rustling against her hair, going down her spine. "I have questions I need you to answer." The breeze turned a little more robust for a brief second before calming back down. A signal from Her to continue. S'rrona lowered to the ground, planted firmly against the soft grass. "Tell me about the children, please." The breeze continued to flutter around S'rrona, but the intensity never changed. There was no answer. "Please, there is a couple who is expecting a child, and I need to know if this curse of my people will go away. I beg, please answer me" S'rrona's voice cracked a little, but she took a breath, trying to refocus. She could not cry under the eye of Eywa. She was Tsahik, and she was chosen to be the leader of her people. She must be brave. She must be sure of herself. When the breeze gave nothing away, S'rrona sighed. "What of the strangers my people see…" At that, the breeze grew a little stronger. S'rrona's ears perked up, and she looked around. The breeze danced away from her, brushing through the grass in a line away from S'rrona. She watched until the line stopped. "You wish for me to follow?" More grass laid down as the breeze turned into the wind, then died down again. S'rrona stood. "I come."

Eywa led S'rrona to an edge of a cliff, so high up that she could almost see the next island over. No cliff like this existed on her island. She looked down but only saw the crashing of waves against black sandy shores.

"What am I supposed to be looking at?"

The breeze brushed against her neck, and S'rrona looked to the side to see a handful of small creatures running across the shore. She squinted. She couldn't quite see who they were, but she knew they were Na'vi and not any Na'vi that belonged to her tribe; they were too stark against the blackness. They hurried on light feet.

"Who are they?"

No answer from Eywa, meaning S'rrona should keep watching. The figures, perhaps about five of them, stopped at the base of the cliff. Now, S'rrona could see them clearer. They were the color of ash, like the ones her people claim to have seen before. In their hands were black sticks, and they huddled. Suddenly they looked up, and S'rrona hid, even though she knew they couldn't see her. The group broke apart, creating a wider circle. One of them, the one wearing something red on their crown, threw an object on the ground, and a bright flash sent S'rrona stumbling back.

"What was that?!" She almost shouted.

S'rrona crawled to the cliff's edge in time to see four Na'vi running off in different directions with fire on the black sticks. The flash that came was now a blazing fire that roared in the night, lighting up the shore around the last standing Na'vi, the one wearing red. That Na'vi looked up, and S'rrona could see their face this time. A woman with eyes as intense as a beast. For a moment, S'rrona could have sworn they made eye contact in the dark, but then the woman picked up a black stick and held it to the fire. The stick came ablaze, and the woman ran away.

S'rrona looked to the side of her, to the breeze that never left. She coughed a little, feeling a tickle in her throat. "What was that about?" She looked. "How long have I been standing here? It's dark."

The breeze circled her, whipping at her shawl for her to follow. S'rrona turned around only to fall to the floor. Feet in front of her, so close she could feel the heat on her toes, a fire blazed. A noise came from somewhere, the sound like screaming, but she couldn't find the source, and she knew it wasn't coming from her. The sound was almost as loud as the roar of the flames, and they danced around each other, coming to a crescendo.

"What…is going on?" S'rrona shouted over the sound. "Great Mother! Please!"

But it wasn't the Great Mother who answered; it was a man's voice. A man who she did not know.

"S'rrona!" She turned around to see two figures stepping out of the smoke. They looked like Miles, light blue with stripes that came down to their feet. The man held a metal thing strapped to his back, and the woman a bow with the arrows strapped. She had never seen them before, and they did not look at her; they looked past her, but no matter how many times S'rrona looked behind her back, no one was there. The woman's ears were perked, and her tail slashed the air behind her. She snarled and leaped across the field, disappearing into the burning smoke. "Neytiri!" the man snapped, bounding after her.

The screaming turned into a wail that turned into a cry of rage. More screaming came, the sound of many souls in pain. S'rrona covered her ears, mashing her thick palms against her head. She looked up to see Miles standing above her, looking down at her. There was nothing in his eyes, no happiness or sadness, not even rage. S'rrona scrambled to her feet and tried to place a hand on his shoulder, but the figure that was Miles disappeared under her touch. She turned to see what he was looking at but could only get the briefest glance at a body before it, too, disappeared.

There were so many things happening at once S'rrona couldn't keep track of what was happening and the noises. The noises seemed to enter her, crashing each other in her chest until she, too, wanted to scream, but in pain.

"Great Mother!" She cried out, falling to her knees, coughing on the smoke. Her eyes watered, and she slammed them shut. "Great Mother! Please!"

And that second "please," the screaming stopped, and the fire died down. The choking grasp of the smoke on her throat released and the heat against her skin disappeared. The cool wind drifted around her, gentle like a mother's hand. S'rrona gasped, placing her hands on the soft grass, feeling the blades between her fingers. She looked up; the sky was back to its original white; the smoke made her think it was dark.

Through shuttering breaths, S'rrona said, "What was that?" It was harsher than she had ever spoken to the Great Mother before. "What did all that mean?" The breeze fluttered away, dissipating. "Great Mother!" But nothing came. "Great Mother, answer me! What did all that mean?" And when nothing more came, when all was still around her, S'rrona leaned back on her knees, looking up at the sky, the smell of water in the air. A storm was coming.

S'rrona skipped out on the clan dinner, making the prayer short. Instead, she ate in her nest, facing the fire. She wasn't even thinking about anything, just…watching the dancing flames lick the wooden stick over it.

A knock on the nest came, and before she could say anything, in came Miles. She hadn't seen him since she walked him to the cave mouth. In her stead, S'rrona sent a member of the guards to greet Miles and Peyral when they returned from their hunt. While Peyral did not listen to the guard when he said S'rrona was not in the mood to be seen, Miles did not come to visit her. She liked that.

Peyral ranted at her, complaining that Miles did not know how to shoot a bow and arrow. How he couldn't throw the bolas fast enough. How he ran hard and alerted all the animals they were there. He wasn't quiet, he was too tall, he was too light—he stood out. Food was not plentiful that day, but it was only his first day. S'rrona was sure he would get it together.

"May I…come in?" He said slowly as if trying on the words for the first time. Seeing how it fit on his tongue. He cocked his head to the side when S'rrona did not answer. "I come back…" He turned to walk away.

"MilesQuaritch," S'rrona said softly, and when he turned around, they met eyes. Mile's yellow eyes glowed like an internal flame under the single fire in the middle of the room. "I am sorry…"

"Sorry?" Miles stepped in. "Why?" Short and clipped sentences, a sign he was still learning.

"Because I am being rude," S'rrona stood, dusting off her clothes. She bowed to him before bringing her hand to her forehead. "I see you."

He copied her. "I see you." S'rrona bit her top lip. "Are you alright?"

S'rrona took a seat, the heat of the flame hugging her. "I spoke to Great Mother." Miles lingered in front of the door. "She showed me something…."

"And what…that?" He asked.

"I do not know," S'rrona couldn't say it. "I saw many things and nothing at the same time."

Miles took a seat across from her. "What?"

"You…" She said simply, then narrowed her eyes. "I saw you, and it wasn't you."

Miles narrowed his eyes too. "What?"

S'rrona gestured her face almost wildly. "Not you," she said a little louder. She wasn't mad at him. She was just…confused. She couldn't describe what she saw to anyone; they may think she was losing her mind. And Eywa wasn't listening to her. "There was nothing in your eyes."

Miles sat silently for a few seconds as if to translate the words into his native tongue. "I don't understand."

S'rrona sighed and placed her face in her hands. "I do not understand either."

And they sat like this, S'rrona breathing heavily in her hands and Miles staring at her. S'rrona heard the quick shuffling of feet and the intense smell of sweat and the forest. She looked up to see Miles sitting next to her. He looked at the fire, too, his eyes dancing with the flames.

"You are upset…" he said simply. "I am sorry you are…upset…" he translated it wrong, switching the verbs and the nouns, but S'rrona understood what he meant.

"Not upset…" she said, twisting her hair at the corner of her temple. "Frustrated. No one is listening to me. I try to tell Peyral to trust you; she does not want to listen. I want the clan to trust you; they only tentatively listen. I tell Vrrtep not to leave the island, and he goes anyway. He has been gone for three months now. I try to ask Great Mother, but she no longer listens. What have I done wrong?" She looked at him and could feel the stinging pain of tears behind her eyes. "And I try to talk to you, but you cannot understand me. You probably cannot understand what I am saying now…" Her lips quivered, and she stared at the dirt floor of the nest.

A rough and took hers, and she looked up to see Miles looking down at her. His hands were calloused, rough to the touch, and they scratched the top of her hands. S'rrona glanced down at their hands and saw how small he was compared to hers. They were delicate, almost fragile compared to her thickened palms. He rubbed her hand softly, slowly, the rough callouses scraping up and down.

"I am listening," Miles said silently. "I hear you."

And his gaze was so intense that she could actually believe him. His blood raced under his skin; she could hear his heart thump wildly in his chest. She wondered if he could hear her steady beat, but if he could, he never made a move to let her know.

"I hear you, too," S'rrona said. She took Miles by the hand. "Come with me."